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JBroabtoap iHtbiebal Hibrarp

Edited by

G. G. Coulton and Eileen Power

®$e dialogue on jUtracles

Volume I

JBroabtoap fflrbiebal library

Edited by G. G. Coulton and Eileen Power
r

The Unconquered Knight

By Gutierre Diaz de Gamez

Miracles of the Blessed Virgin Mary

By Johannes Heroic

The Dialogue on Miracles

By Cats arms of Heisterbach

The Goodman oj Baris

By A Bourgeois of Palis, <. 1 }9J

The Autobiography of Ousama

Anecdotes from English A15. Sermons

Anecdotes from Thomas of Chantimpre'

Published by

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY

PLATE

THE APSE OF HEISTERBACH

Vol. I)

[ front

®fje ©ialogue on Jfttracles

f)Z
C 1513

l Z 7
v. i

CAESARIUS OF
felSTERBACH
(1220 - 1235 )

Vol. I

Translated by H. VON E. SCOTT and C. C. SWINTON BLAND
with an Introduction by G. G. COULTON

Published by

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
NEW YORK
1929

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY HEADLEY BROTHERS,
l8, DEVONSHIRE STREET, E.C.2 ) AND ASHFORD, KENT.

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION BY G. G. COULTON . VH

PROLOGUE I

BOOK I : OF CONVERSION 5

BOOK II : OF CONTRITION 6 1

BOOK III : OF CONFESSION I23

BOOK IV : OF TEMPTATION I93

BOOK V: OF DEMONS 313

BOOK VI : OF SINGLENESS OF HEART . 39I

BOOK VII : OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY . 453

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PLATE

I The Apse of Heisterbach. From J. P. Seddon, Rambles
in the Rhine Provinces , 1868, p. 44 Frontispiece

II An Early MS. of Caesarius. In the Royal Library at

Dusseldorf, of the 14th century To face p. 4

III A Cistercian’s Faith. From a MS. of about 1400 in the

Royal Library at Dusseldorf. The words are those of
Dist. Ill, ch. 1 To face p. 122

IV The Abbey of Maulronn. The most important of these

buildings date from about Caesarius’s time. The view
shows two of the fishponds, and numerous dependents’ lodg¬
ings side by side with the monastic offices within the
precincts. By courtesy of the Syndics of the Cambridge
L T niversity Press To face p. 264

V The Class-room and the Rod. From Brit. Mus. MS.
Roy. VI, E.6, fol. 214. By courtesy of the Syndics of
the Cambridge University Press To face p. 406

VI Three Medieval Houses in Cologne. From Sulpiz Bois-
seree, Denkmale d. Bankunst, etc., 1833, plates 34 and 35.
The right-hand house was pulled down in about 1825 ;
all three were probably built in the life-time of Caesarius.
The central house may still be seen in the Rheingasse,
though whole streets have been swept away round it. It
has sometimes been attributed to the wealthy family of
Overstolz ; on the other hand, it is often called “ Temp¬
lars’ House ” To face p. 414

INTRODUCTION

Picturesque monastic ruins are less frequent in Germany
than in Great Britain. At the Reformation, princes some¬
times did what should have been done with us; they converted
the dissolved abbeys into schools, colleges or hospitals. Thus
the CiSfercian monastery of Maulbronn in Wiirtemberg has
remained in a wonderful State of preservation; it was made,
like the neighbouring abbey of Blaubeuren, into a ProteSlant
theological seminary; and thus it presents not a ruin, but
probably the completeSt specimen of a medieval CiSlercian
house in Europe. Other dispossessed houses seem to have
been pulled down more rcmorsely than with us; but almoSt
as much medieval work has been destroyed, in those districts
which clung to the Roman obedience, by the monks them¬
selves. In Germany as in other countries, they rebuilt when¬
ever they could find the money; so that great monasteries
like Admont in Austria, Dissentis and St. Gall in Switzerland,
show less medieval masonry than the average English ruin.

HeiSterbach is here a fortunate exception; its ruined apse,
beautiful in itself, is set in happy surroundings. Lying amidst
the moSt picturesque and therefore the moSt familiar of Rhine¬
land scenes, it is yet sufficiently secluded to escape the
commonplace touriSl; and even Germans, unul recently, have
honoured it with little notice. Yet the associations of this
abbey, as readers of the present translation may discover, are
if possible more interesting than the ruin or the valley, and
may rival even those which cling round “ the caStled crag of
Drachenfels.”

The foundation and early years of HeiSterbach Abbey are
told by Caesarius, but in fragmentary sketches and allusions

vii

Introduction

which may be supplemented here. Like many other Cister¬
cian houses, our own Fountains included, it began on a scale
of asceticism and independence of natural conditions which
proved too much for human endurance, and was exchanged
for more reasonable self-denial.

One of the famous Seven Mountains by Konigswinter on
the Rhine is now called Stromberg, but was also named
Petersberg, from a chapel which Stood on its wooded creSt.
Very likely this was a converted pagan temple, just as Godes-
berg, to which it looks across the Rhine, was originally
Wudinsberg,“the Mount of Woden.” All round Stood caStles,
Still to be seen in their ruins, built by warlike prince-bishops
of Cologne; Drachenfels, Wolkenburg, Rolandseck, and
presently, as we shall see, Godesberg. These mountains had
Still earlier warlike traditions; battles that had been woven into
the medieval epic of Theodoric the Goth, or “ Dietrich von
Bern.” The highest of them, the Auelberg, had in earlier
ages been the tribal folkmoot-place; thus the whole group
had commanded attention from time immemorial. The
chapel on Petersberg was occupied in 1134 by a Knight named
Walter, who “ had escaped, naked, from the shipwreck of
the world,” and had gathered a small group of like-minded
penitents, with whom he formed a community which lived
under the rule attributed to St. AuguStine. Innocent II and
CeleSline II granted the convent formal letters of protection;
but the brethren found it a hard Struggle for existence on this
upland, where the only free soil was what they could clear for
themselves. At the death of their founder Walter, they
moved down into the fertile Sulzthal, and formed a new
convent at Reussrath.

Archbishop Philip of Cologne (1167-91) found fresh inhabit¬
ants for this deserted Petersberg. The CiStercian reform
was then in full force; hence the Archbishop drew, (in his
own words) “ water from that Stream wherein it flowed moSt
pure.” He raised a small band of CiStercians from the
convent of Himmerode in the Eifel diSlrid, who were willing

viii

Introduction

to fight againft inclement climate, niggardly soil, and the
devils who were known always to resent monastic enroach-
ment upon their ancient solitary reign. The new foundation
had its difficulties, external as well as internal. The Arch¬
bishop (writes Csesarius, Book IV, ch. 64) “ was rebuked by
certain men of the province who feared for their heirs.” In
his Homilies (Vol. II, p. 15) Csesarius puts it more explicitly
still; “ such a disturbance was aroused in the province, not
only by knights and villagers, but even by the Count himself,”
that the beneficent prelate found himself confronted with
a Storm. “ But he answered a good word, a holy word,
saying: ‘ Would that there were in each village of my diocese
a convent of just folk, who would praise God without ceasing
and pray both for me and for those who are committed to my
care! Methinks my Church would then be in a far better
Slate than now; for they would profit many men and harm
none. They take not other folk’s goods, but share their own
with all men.” This claim, at that early Stage of Cistercian
life, was substantially true, and the opposition was disarmed
when the Archbishop took legal guarantees from the monks
against undue enroachments. Twelve monks and an abbot—
the number which had been traditional all through the
Benedictine centuries for a complete “ convent ”—set forth
from Himmerode in April 1x88-9 (Bk. VIII ch. 91). “ As their
barge was borne down the Rhine, (according to the witness
of all who Still survive) they saw in the heaven above them
a circle of light, wherein were seven suns .... by which
circle I understand the eternity of the Holy Spirit; and, by the
seven suns, His sevenfold gifts, wherewith the province was to
be illuminated by the good example of this monastery.” But
this convent on the Petersberg lasted not even so long as
under the AuguStians. The CiStercians, in their turn, found
the climate and soil too unfavourable; moreover, Cistercian
tradition was always to settle monasteries not in cities or on
hills, but in wooded valleys, often near the head-waters of
the Stream. In 1192, therefore, they left for Petersberg and

ix

Introduction

setttled in the dale at its foot, at a spot called HeiSterbach, or
Beech-beck. Here, in course of time, they verified both the
Archbishop’s predictions and those of his critics. They
settled first in mere farm buildings which Philip granted
them, to which they added a wooden chapel. But they
rapidly grew in fame of sandtity, and therefore in wealth :
Caesarius points the moral in a tale beloved of Luther and
of Browning, Date and Dabitur, (Bk. IV. c.c. 68, 70). On the
one hand, during the terrible famine of 1197, the abbot
slaughtered an ox for the poor on every day except faStdays,
and fifteen hundred are said to have been kept from Starvation
during the worSt days; on the other, their charity was
rewarded a hundredfold even in this life, (IV. 65). They were
soon great landowners not only in their own valley but as
far off as Bonn, Cologne, Miihlheim and the WeSterwald.
Cxsarius tell us how the mighty Innocent III himself would
have taxed these CiStercian possessions, like other Church
property, for the Crusade of 1204; but the General chapter
prayed so vehemently to the Virgin Mary, and she sent so
threatening a message to the Pontiff, that he feared and
repented, (VII 6; cf. 7.) Before Caesarius was dead, the
Order which had begun in such poverty and self-denial was
already earning a reputation for rapacity. But his book,
like the Exordium Magnum Cifierciense of his contemporary
Conrad von Eberbach, tells mainly of the palmy days of the
Order; and for that we are most grateful to him.

In his lifetime, and mostly under his own eyes,
the monastery was born and grew up to its full Strength
if not to its greatest wealth. He saw it Struggle
through the years of terror when two princes were
fighting for the Empire, and two churchmen for the
Archbishopric of Cologne, while both wars surged back¬
wards and forwards over the crops and homeSteads of the
Rhineland peasants. He saw the foundation of the great
abbey church in 1202, its dedication in 1227, and probably
some further years of continuous leisurely building, as the

x

Introduction

funds dribbled in, until all was completed to the very western
portal. The choir was frankly Romanesque in Style; the west
end, as Boisseree’s drawing shows, had pointed arches in the
newer Gothic Style. This church was one of a notable group
in the Rhine district; it may be compared with the roughly
contemporary buildings of the Apostelkirche at Cologne, St.
CaStor at Coblenz, Limburg Cathedral, or the churches of
Sinzig and Andernach. All of these are more or less influ¬
enced by the Burgundian Style which reached such simple
quiet perfection in the beSt CiStercian churches, where that
puritanism which was one of the fundamental principles of the
Order imposed severe artistic restraints, yet left plenty of room
for individual expression. The large marjority of CiStercian
churches have a plain square east end; but HeiSterbach, like
Pontigny and a few others, ends in a semi-circle with a cluStcr
of chapels. There is a very definite reason for the simultaneous
erection of so many churches in Rhineland; in the civil wars
of 1198-1208 Coblenz, Andernach, Sinzig, Remagen and Bonn
were all burned, and the sanctuaries were rebuilt as soon as
money could be found. In excuse for Ctesarius’s conviction
that it was impious in Innocent III to dream of taxing HeiSter¬
bach for the Crusade of 1204, let us remember that the monks
were then spending heavily on the choir which, in its ruin,
is one of the most picturesque in Germany.

HeiSterbach, in later days, seems to have lapsed into
the uneventful and undistinguished mediocrity of moSt
monasteries, even in the CiStercian Order. No such
distinguished inmates are recorded, whether monks or
gueSts, as those of whom Caesarius tells us. 1 Scarcely
a generation after our author’s death, the abbey fell into
a gulf of debt —debita infinite —and the abbot was de¬
posed (1285). The budget was balanced by expedients
common enough at the time, but dubious in their effeCts—
a yearly fair, repeated grants of indulgences for pilgrims,

1 See index under Theodoric of Wied, Ludwig of Are, ChriAian of Bonn, Conrad
•of Thuringen, Caesarius of Prum, Nicholas the Archpoet.

Introduction

and (what had been moft Aridity forbidden in earlier
Ciftercian days) permission for women to worship in, and
bring their offerings to the alms-boxes of, the abbey church
(1309-1317). In the next century came a reforming abbot
(Christian II. d. 1448), The religious wars brought distress
again; the abbey was burned in 1588, and plundered in 1688-9
and 1703. It was dissolved in consequence of the French
Revolution (1803) and sold in 1810 to be broken up for build¬
ing materials; fortunately the enthusiastic antiquary Sulpiz
Boisseree drew the church while it was only half demolished.

Of Csesarius himself we know little beyond what he tells
us casually on his way from one tale to another. He was
probably born at Cologne; certainly he knew the city well in
early life. The Rhine in history has been perhaps the greatest
of all trade routes; and in 1200 it was at its beSt. The sur¬
viving gates and fragments of town wall at Cologne seem
gigantic when compared with even York or Chester in
England; moreover, here and there, even villages were better
fortified than our English towns; for the feudal lords were as
ubiquitous and predatory as the workers were busy and rich.
The great Stone house which Story connedts with the name of
OverStolz, in the Rheingasse at Cologne, but which perhaps
belonged to the Templars, Still survives amid many clearances
and changes around, and is as sound and habitable now as it
was seven centuries ago. Cologne painters are praised in con¬
temporary poetry, and the goldsmiths were unsurpassed. “The
pidture drawn by Rudolf von Ems in his well-known poem
Der Gute Gerhard shows, even at that date, a refined man of
the world, with courtly culture, who can move as freely among
bishops and princes as among his own fellows, the burghers
and merchants. With all his modesty he yet speaks of ‘the dig¬
nity that all men should have who busy themselves with com¬
merce,’ and thinks that even a princess may fare worse than
to find herself ein reiches Kaufweib by marriage with a
merchant’s son.” 1 In other epics, by poets who knew Cologne

1 Kaufmann, pp. 18, 19.

xii

Introduction

only from world-report, the city is represented as an abode of
counts and princesses, and a scene of constant chivalric
exploits. Knights of Cologne distinguished themselves in
sober history, as crusaders and as combatants in the wars
between Pope and Emperor. Never was all this truer than
in Cat sari ns’s own day. He lived to see, or hear of as local
news, King John of Jerusalem coming to visit archbishop
Engelbert and humbled like the Queen of Sheba by what he
saw; Still more magnificent was the visit of the Emperor
Frederick II with his new English bride in 1235. Cacsarius
may juSt have lived to see the firSt Stone laid, in 1248, of the
present Cathedral choir. He was at HeiSterbach when the
Emperor Otto sought refuge in Cologne after his defeat at
Bouvines, and finally slunk out almost as his rival Frederick
marched in by the opposite gate, and presently guttered out in
obscurity like a spent candle.

The rapid increase of wealth quickened every form of
city life; here, as in the great cities of Italy, trade and war,
culture and riot went hand in hand. Catsarius, who must
have been born in about 1180, which would make him an
almoSI exadt contemporary of St. Francis, would see much
the same contrasts of luxury and poverty which the Saint cf
Assisi saw, on an exaggerated scale. He tells us incidentally
of minStrelsy and wine (VI. 7); from other sources we hear of
the great Whitsuntide dances at Cologne. Caesarius, in his
boyhood, had “ often ” seen a drunken youth running naked
through the Streets (IV. 6); gamblers, again, would play away
their laSt shreds of clothing, and hang themselves in despair
(IV. 44); even at a solemn funeral service, some of the scholars
would be dicing or pulling each other’s hair while the reSt
chanted the requiem (I. 32). The clergy, though comparing
favourably with neighbouring Bonn, and displaying more
than one Parson Adams, contained a disconcerting variety of
Trullibers, of whom the most picturesque, perhaps was
Bertolph surnamed “ Guzzle-bacon ” (Vorator Lardi, IX,
59), or perhaps the Abbess of the Eleven Thousand Virgins,

xiii

Introduction

revelling down the ftreet with her attendants and preceded
by clerics wrapped in nun’s mantles (VI. 5). Cassarius,
fortunately for himself and for us, was not dependent as a boy
upon clerics of this latter kind. His makers were two of
the beft men whom he describes in his whole book, Rudolf
and Ensfrid. 1 The former was “ Scholafticus,” or Mafter
of the Cathedral School; he had been a lefturer at Paris and
was a man of real learning and upright life. Ensfrid had
begun as Rector of Siegburg and ended as Dean of the
collegiate church of St. Andreas, which ftands near the weft
end of the Cathedral, and forms a moft pifturesque boundary
to the garden of the present “ Ewige Lampe ” hotel. That
side is of later Gothic work; but a great part of the church is
Still as Caesarius saw it; where he sat as a schoolboy, children
Still sit for their catechism. Ensfrid had many virtues, and
it was not the leaSt of them that he differed from moSt medie¬
val pedagogues as to the value of severe corporal punishment.
Our hero was Still in his schooldays when he caught a fever
and came near to death. The cure prescribed, on religious
grounds, fortunately coincided with what a modern hydro-
therapiSt would choose for medical reasons; and he was
miraculously healed (X 44). Miracles and visions were of
common occurrence in the city; here was “ das grosse, heilige
Koln,” which was said to count as many churches and chapels
as there are days in the year; and Czesarius, while his intellect
expanded under Rudolf, was in sympathy with the mysticism
of Ensfrid. Moreover, this was evidently a brittle world. He
heard Henry, Cardinal Bishop of Albano, preach in Cologne
a crusade againft Saladin, who had juft taken Jerusalem;
then, in 1188, came this third crusade, with its miserable fail¬
ure and the ftartling death of the great Emperor Frederick 1;
then came the disaftrous civil wars; all these things, with other
sufferings that came more nearly home to the common people,
sank into our author’s soul. He writes: “ In our days there
would seem to be a fulfilment of what the Lord saith in the
1 The relevant passages may be found ini. 32,; IV. 26; I. 38 ; IX. 22 ; VI. 5.

Introduction

gospel: ‘ nation shall rise againft nation, and kingdom
againSt kingdom, and great earthquakes shall be in divers
places, and famines and pestilences; and fearful sights and
great signs shall there be from heaven ’ ” (X 47). It was
not a comfortable world, even in “ the great and holy
Cologne ” ; and at laSt he resolved to give it the go-by. “ In
the days when King Philip made his first campaign of ravage
in the diocese of Cologne, it chanced that I journeyed from
Walberberg to Cologne with abbot Gevard ” of HeiSterbach,
the man who, only a year before, had dealt so mercifully with
the Starving poor. “ On that journey he exhorted me moSt
earnestly to conversion, 1 yet with no efifedt, until he told me
that Story of the angel-reapers at Clairvaux,” which will be
found in its due place (I 17). Caesarius delayed only three
months, to perform a pilgrimage he had vowed to Rocama-
dour; and then, without the knowledge of his friends, he
slipped off and entered as a novice at HeiSterbach, in the laSt
weeks of 1198 or the first of 1199. As fellow-novice he had a
far more aged friend, Gottfried the “ scholaSticus ” of St.
Andreas, who had been tutor to Archbishop Philip of
Cologne. The old man found CiStercian life very hard, and
almoSt gave in; Caesarius comforted him, encouraged him to
open the Bible and pitch upon a verse for his guidance; and
this brought him safely through (IV 49, 94). There and else¬
where he shows very clearly how much courage and persever¬
ance went to the making of a true CiStercian in those early
days.

Caesarius became in due course MaSter of the Novices and
Prior of HeiSterbach, apparently reaching the latter dignity
in 1220. As Prior, he was constantly the Abbot’s companion
on rounds of visitation; we find him near Aachen, at Burt-
scheid, at Stuben on the Moselle, at Hadamar and finally at
Eberbach, where Conrad was finishing, or had recently

1 Conversio, in medieval Latin, almoft always means the adoption of monaftic
vows. This conversion of Csesarius may be compared with that of his younger
contemporary, the Franciscan Salimbene of Parma, which I have translated in
Chapter IV of From St. Francis to Dante.

XV

Introduction

completed, his Exordium Magnum Ciflerciensc, a book almost
as precious for its scenes of monastic life as that of Caesarius.
He was also at Groningen, and in 1233 at Marburg, swarming
with pilgrims for the recent canonization of St. Elizabeth of
Hungary. By this time his literary reputation was assured.
His own Abbot, the Abbot of Himmerode, and the Arch¬
bishop of Cologne all pressed him to finish this present Dia¬
logue and his closely-related book of Homilies, with the Lives
of the martyred Archbishop Engelbert of Cologne and of St.
Elizabeth. He was recognized on all sides as one of the
profoundeSt theologians and casuiSts of the Rhineland, and
consulted accordingly. Men got hold of his unfinished
manuscripts and copied them without his leave. He must
have died somewhere between 1240 and 1250, or perhaps a
little later. Nearly a hundred manuscripts of his different
works have survived even to the present day; and one of the
Dialogue, dating almoSt from his lifetime, was probably
written in the very Abbey of HeiSterbach. This Dialogue,
so exa< 5 tly suited for the inStruftion of early 13th century
novices, kept its popularity in the cloiSter for a very long time.
It was Still read publicly in CiStercian houses on the verge of
the Reformation; and it was quoted by the biographer of
Johann Wessel, as an instance of his hero’s independence of
judgment, that he found it too legendary for true edification :
“ It would be better to have theology and the devotions of
Bernard presented before the Brethren; for this contains not
only absurdity, but much that is dangerous.” 1

In Wessel’s age, with its intellectual and spiritual awaken¬
ing, this criticism was already justified; and, from the Stridtly
modern points of view, it might be put even more Strongly.
European society was not ripe for the Reformation in 1230 as
it was in 1480; and many of the things which displeased an
advanced thinker like Wessel had, in earlier days, been
commonplaces not only of ordinary, but also of what passed

1 E. W. Miller and J. W. Scudder, Wessel Gansfort (Putnams, N.Y., 1917), vol. II.,
p. 342. from A. Hardcnberg’salmoft contemporary life of Wessel, who died in 1489.

xvi

Introduction

for higher theology. Caesarius’s eschatology, for instance, is to
us extraordinarily crude. Yet, in his day, there was probably
no single exception among orthodox writers to the creed
expounded by so balanced a philosopher and theologian as
St. Thomas Aquinas—that the large majority of mankind
will find their way to inconceivable torture in hell, and that
the small minority of saved, looking down from heaven upon
these torments, will rejoice in God’s justice as manifested
therein. Bearing this in mind, we shall see how truly
Cxsarius mirrors his own times.

For his whole book is essentially truthful, even where we
condemn its faSts as untrue; the things may not always be
vera in detail, but the author is uniformly verax. Where he
knows a Story only by hearsay, he tells us so, as in the famous
reply attributed to the Legate at Beziers: “ Kill, Kill! God
will know his own! ” His anecdotes are mainly local, drawn
from his own experience or those of his immediate friends;
but a good many are of far wider historical significance; his
interest for us springs from his own lively interest in so many
different things; to him we may truly apply what Dryden
said of Chaucer: “Here is God’s plenty.” Moreover,
wherever he can be checked by contemporary documents, he
has never, I believe, been convicted of more than the ordinary
small lapses of memory into which we fall in recalling distant
years.

In 1851, J. Strange published an excellent edition of the
Dialogue in two volumes; for the Homilies we must still go
to the unprocurable edition of CoppenStein (1615). There
is an excellent brief Study of Csesarius and his writings by A.
Kaufmann (Cologne 1850) to which I am much indebted: it
is now out of print. A well-illuStrated monograph on the
abbey buildings has recently been published by E. Beitz
(Augsburg, Benno Filsen, 2 Mk.) With regard to transla¬
tion, I believe that the present version here published is the
firSt to appear in any language, often as the public desire for
some such vulgarization has been expressed.

xvii

Introduction

A word muSt be added concerning the translators, both
of whom I am happy to count among my fellow-collegians
and friends. The Reverend H. v. E. Scott, though mainly
a mathematician, had always a natural and very real love for
the classics, which grew rather than withered under the daily
drudgery of reading them with pupils not always very
advanced or interested. Among those pupils was Laurence
Oates, the “ gallant English gentleman ” of the South Pole
Expedition, whose character, like that of many others, owed
very much to a tutor distinguished in nearly all branches of
athletics, intensely sociable and generous by nature, trans¬
parently honeSt, and Straightforward even to bluntness. After
nearly thirty years of Strenuous tutorial work, Scott undertook
the largeSt, and far from beSt-paid, of all the parishes in
ChichcSter diocese. His parishioners soon found out that he
denied nobody, even at the times that he moSt needed reSt;
and I seldom saw him eat an entirely uninterrupted meal in
those days. During the War, when his brother sent him food
from Canada, he shared it with his people. The work broke
him down in 1921; after many warnings from his own doeftor,
he consulted a London specialist, who found serious heart-
trouble, and told him plainly that he muSt resign his living or
die within a few weeks. When once he had settled down
into enforced retirement, he began upon the translation of
Czesarius, which had long been planned. Scarcely a day
passed without two or three fresh pages, until a sudden
paralytic Stroke in December, 1922. Even then he pressed on
firit with his own hand, and then, after a second Stroke, by
the devotion of his wife, to whom he di< 5 tated until the days
came when his words became no longer intelligible; and thus
this laSt labour of an exceptionally laborious life was perforce
broken off.

After his death, I was fortunate enough to enliSt Mr. C. C.
Swinton Bland, late HeadmaSter of Ripon School, whose
familiarity with classical Latin has now emboldened him to
make more than one venture into the Middle Ages.

xviii

Introduction

Mr. Bland is responsible for about one-third of the translation,
the index, and a great deal of hard work in proof-reading and
general revision. I cannot answer in detail for two volumes
which time will not permit me to revise; but of one thing I
am sure, that the reader will here find, on the whole, from the
two translators, as true a picture of Catsarius as Ctesarius
has given us of his own times. Classical scholars, face to face
with medieval Latin, may easily trip here and there over a
technical phrase; indeed, many slips of that kind may be
found even in works written by professed medievalists, and
published under the segis of learned societies. But to this
present translation, as to the original book, we may confidently
apply Montaigne’s words: “C’cft icy un livre de bonne foy,
lefteur.”

G. G. CoULTON.

XIX

PROLOGUE.

“ Gather up the fragments that remain that nothing
be loii.”

It has been my duty, in my responsible post, 1 to rehearse to
the novices some of those miracles that have been wrought
within our Order in our own times, and are Still of daily
occurrence; and I have been asked with much insistence by
many to perpetuate them in writing. For they said that it
would be an irrevocable loss if those accounts should fall into
oblivion, which might serve for the edification of posterity.
Although I felt myself unfitted to do this, both because of my
scanty knowledge of the Latin tongue and my fear of the
detractions of the envious, yet the commands of my abbot
were laid upon me, together with the advice of the abbot of
MarienStatt, and these it was impossible to gainsay. Mindful
also of the saying of the Saviour, which I have quoted, while
others are breaking whole loaves to the people, that is, are
expounding hard problems of Scripture, or writing down the
more important occurrences of modern days, I have collected
the crumbs that fell and have filled twelve baskets with them
for those who are poor, not in grace, but in learning. For
under that number of heads I have divided the whole work.
The firSt book treats of conversion, the second of contrition,
the third of confession, the fourth of temptation, the fifth of
demons, the sixth of the virtue of simplicity, the seventh of the
Blessed Virgin Mary, the eighth of various visions, the ninth
of the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, the tenth
of miracles, the eleventh of the dying, and the twelfth of the
pains and glories of the dead.

Now that I might arrange my examples the more effec¬
tively, I have introduced, in the manner of a dialogue, two
persons, to wit, a novice who asks questions, and a monk who

1 As mafter of the novices.

I

Prologue

gives the answers; because, when the name of the author is
withheld, the tongue of the detractor finds nothing to feed
upon; nevertheless, if any desire to know his name let him
put together the initial letters of the twelve books. 1

I have also inserted accounts of a great number of events
that took place outside the Order, because they were edifying,
and were, like all the red related to me by religious men.
God is my witness that I have not fashioned from imagination
one single chapter in this dialogue; moreover, if any of the
details happened otherwise than I have set them down, the
responsibility mud lie on those who narrated them to me.
And because this dialogue contains so many miracles, I have
called it the Dialogue of Miracles.

My reasons for so arranging the books are these : Because a
man can be converted on the outside, without contrition, the
fird book discusses conversion. Because conversion is useless
without contrition in the sinner, contrition holds the second
place. Also because contrition of itself is barren, unless it be
followed by oral confession, the discussion of confession follows
next. Further, since confession is rarely enough to wipe out
the penalty due to sin, the quedion of satisfaction will fitly
succeed, and I have shown this to be temptation (iv. i).
Again, because demons are the authors or indigators of temp¬
tation, there follows the book that treats of them. Also,
because simplicity of heart is the bed antidote to temptation,
the treatment of simplicity succeeds that of the demons.
These six parts refer to merits, the remaining six to rewards.
Moreover, the science of numbers requires that they should
be so arranged. For as unity is the base of all numbers, so is
conversion the darting point of all righteousness. The second
place is befitting to contrition, which is twofold, expressing
itself in grief of mind and pain of body. The third place
for confesson, for it is threefold (cf. iii. i), the confession of
praise, of faith, and of guilt. Temptation holds the fourth
place, because there are four who tempt us : God, the devil,
the world and the flesh. The fifth place is suitable for the
devil, because five is the apodate number. The sixth for
simplicity, for six is the number of perfection, and simplicity

1 They formed the words: cesarii mvnvs.

2

Prologue

is that which makes “ the whole body full of light ” (Matt,
vi. 22). But the reasons for such positions, both of these firSt
six and of the others following, are more fully shown at the
beginning of each book. And because by the blessing of
ChriSl, the collected fragments are so multiplied that they may
be compared with whole loaves in quantity, I have divided
them into two volumes, as the twelve loaves of the shewbread
were set in two rows (Lev. xxiv. 6), six books being placed in
one and six in the other.

PLATE i!

)ncipir DtftuWbo*113- fct omftflloiie

catutuhtm t)nimun« x ■'&

T--t-- ts*- r _ 4.

mebefiomo co

ft (Boms qumiu
fruchtofa eft om
ms contrmo"

uiMfcfcebemtts

___ qui^ fit cottftC

So .* quaa* cc bebeai-'que (it dm

UltTU£> «* quid ftutW ,Tk»nvmi>*

AN EARLY MS. OF C/ESARIUS (Di.t. III. c. I

Vol. I)

[face p. 4

THE DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES

BOOK I

OF CONVERSION

CHAPTER I.

Of the infiitution of the CiMercian Order.

I desire to speak of conversion 1 , and therefore I invoke the
aid of Him, who speaketh peace to His people and to His
saints (Ps. lxxxv, 8), and to those who are converted at the
heart. He it is who inspireth what should be written, who
guideth the pen, who beStoweth the rewards of toil. From
Him cometh the conversion to salvation, because His mercy
turneth away His wrath from those His power hath converted.

Novice. —Before beginning your discourse upon conversion,
will you please tell me where, and by whom, and under
what pressure our Order was founded, so that having thus
laid the foundation you may build the spiritual walls upon
it with those living, polished and precious Slones that have
been vouchsafed to the earth ?

Mon\. —In the diocese of Langres 2 there is a monastery
called Molesme, well known to fame, conspicuous in religion,
ennobled by illustrious sons, of ample possessions and no less
rich in virtue. And because there can be no laSting
companionship for wealth and virtue, some of its members,
truly wise and lovers of virtue, with a clear perception of
higher things considered that though they were living honour¬
ably enough in this monastery, yet the rule was far less Slri<ft
than that to which they had vowed themselves. They there¬
fore, a little band of twenty-one monks, with the abbot Robert,

1 Conversion does indeed signify complete change of heart, and is used with
that meaning by Cesarius, but his general use of the word, as in the case of ail later
medieval writers, is in the sense of profession or taking the monadic vows.

2 According to another MS., Lyons.

5

The Dialogue on Miracles

consulted together, and with one consent set out for a wafte
and solitary wilderness called Citeaux, determined there to
support themselves by the work of their own hands, as
enjoined by the rule.

And so, in the year of Our Lord’s Incarnation, 1098, upheld
by the advice and support of the venerable Hugo, Bishop
of Lyons, and at that time legate of the papal see,
and of the pious Walter, Bishop of Chalons, and also of the
illuftrious Prince Odo, Duke of Burgundy, they began to build
an abbey in this place. And because the monastery from
which they had gone out had been built in honour of Mary,
the Blessed Mother of God, both they and their successors who
came forth from this monastery determined that all their
churches should be dedicated to the honour of the same
glorious Virgin. Not long afterwards, by the command of
Urban II and with the consent of Walter of Chalons, because
the monks of Molesme called urgently for the return of their
abbot, Robert went back to them and Alberic, a pious and
holy man, was chosen to fill his place; and by his diligence,
the grace of God working with him, that Valley grew no little
in repute, and all things needful were added to them.

On the death of Alberic, Stephen, a man of equal sancflity
and an Englishman, succeeded. Hitherto they had been but
few in number, because layfolk shrank from their auSlerity,
though reverencing them for their holiness of life : but now
in their fifteenth year, they were joined by S. Bernard with
about thirty companions who came thither to bow their necks
beneath the gentle yoke of ChriSt. From this time forward
that vine of the Lord of Sabaoth began to grow and expand
and to extend its branches from sea to sea till the earth was
filled with the fullness of it. La Ferte, Pontigny, Clairvaux,
Morimond were its firSt offshoots, whose abbots became of so
great importance that together they make a visitation to their
father the abbot of Citeaux, and are in turn visited by him one
by one.

Novice .—What is a visitation?

Mon \.—A visitation is a means of preserving discipline.
The early fathers instituted two methods for the corre< 5 tion of
faults and the promotion of charity, to wit, the General

6

Of Conversion

Chapter and the early visitation of the monasteries. Then in
the year of our Lord 1115 was founded the house of Clairvaux,
whose firSt abbot was Bernard, and in the year 1134, that of
Hemmenrode; then in 1188, on the 17th of March, our
convent, with its abbot Herman, went forth from Hemmen¬
rode and on the 22nd of the same month came to the mountain
of Stromberg. Four years afterwards it went down into the
valley of PeterSthal. 1

Novice .—From what I have heard, the Order of the Black
monks, Benedictines and Cluniacs have the same Rule as ours;
can you tell me why there is so great a difference in the dis¬
cipline?

Monf (.—Know that the Cluniac monks and the CiSter-
cians have the same Rule, but different ways of observance.
They say that the rigour of the Rule was modified by certain
holy fathers, in order that a greater number of souls might
find salvation in the Order. With regard to the habit, in
which the greatest diversity may be seen, this is what is laid
down in the Rule of S. Benedict, c. 55. “ Monks are not to

dispute about the colour or quality of their dress, but muft be
satisfied with such kinds as are to be found in the province in
which they live, or such as may be mo£t cheaply obtained.”
But enough of these things. Keep this fixed firmly in your
mind: that the author of our Order is the Holy GhoSt, S.
Benedict its founder, and its reformer the venerable abbot
Robert.

CHAPTER II.

What conversion is, why it is so called and what
are its various hinds.

Novice .—I have been thinking of the order of your pro¬
posed instruction as shown in your preliminary discourse, and

1 This valley is commonly called Heifterbach.

7

The Dialogue on Miracles

I am puzzled to understand why you have placed the grace
of conversion before contrition, because it seems to me an utter
absurdity that anyone should be converted until he has firSt
repented of his sins.

Mon\. —Repentance sometimes goes before conversion and
sometimes follows it.

Novice. —I should like you to show me this by examples;
but firSt will you tell me what conversion is, why it is so called,
what are the various kinds of it, and under what circumstances
it takes place?

Monl\. —Conversion is a turning of the heart, either from
bad to good, or from good to better, or from better to beSt.

The firSt turning is at the heart and that is contrition, the
second in the heart, which is devotion, and the third from the
heart, which is contemplation. Conversion at the heart is the
return from wilfulness to grace, from sin to uprightness, from
vice to virtue. Conversion in the heart is advancing in charity,
and going from Slrength to flrength (Ps. viii. 7) until the
God of gods appears in Sion, that is, in contemplation.
Conversion from the heart is the soaring of the spirit in
contemplation. Contemplation has its plane above the
heart, wherefore it is called in the Scripture ascensiones
in corde (Ezek. i. 14). Further the word is conversion
because it is a total and complete turning; as it is said,
“ He who forsakes one vice but Slill clings to another, does
indeed turn, but he is not converted. ” There is another kind
of conversion, when a man changes his monastery and his
habit, through zeal for some particular form of Religion, and
such a conversion may often take place without contrition.
Nor is it of any value in the sight of God that a sinner should
leave his abode and not his sin, should change his garment and
not his heart. It is an unnatural thing to carry the heart of a
wolf beneath the clothing of a sheep.

Novice .—Does this often happen ?

Mon\. —Yes, I will give you an example.

Of Conversion

chapter III.

Of the Prior of Clairvaux who was converted' for
the sa\e of theft, but was marvellously changed.

Brother Godfrey 1 of our monastery, who was formerly a
■canon of S. Andrew in Cologne, told me, when we were
novices together, a Story worth remembering. He said he
had been told by a well known monk of Clairvaux that a
certain clerk, a regular vagabond, like those who spend their
youth wandering through different provinces, came to Clair¬
vaux, not indeed in any zeal for the Order, but that he might
Real something from the monaRery under the cloak of
Religion. And so he became a novice, and during the whole
year of his probation was continually plotting to get the
treasury of the church, but was unable to satisfy his evil desires
because it was too well guarded. So he thought within him¬
self, When I am actually a monk, and have the right to serve at
mass, I can easily and secretly take those chalices and get clear
away. And it was with this intention that he made his pro¬
fession, promised obedience and assumed the habit. But the
merciful Lord, who willeth not the death of a sinner, but
rather that he should be converted and live (Ezek. xviii. 23,
32), changed his wicked will in marvellous fashion and of his
great mercy converted the poison into the antidote. For no
sooner had he put on his monk’s dress, than he became con¬
trite and truly converted, and made so great progress in holy
religion, that no long time afterwards his sandtity of life
brought him to the high office of prior at Clairvaux. And, as
I have already said, his sin became a medicine for others, for
thereafter he would often tell his Rory to the novices, who
found in it great edification.

Novice. —-I should much like to know how so great and
wonderful a change was wrought in him.

Mon\. —I think that as the firR and chief cause was the
mercy of God, so the secondary cause was the virtue and

1 In the technical sense of taking the vows.

2 This Godfrey is called Scholafticusin II. 16 and IV. 49. He is not the Godfrey
•of VI. 5 and XI. 43, 44.

9

The Dialogue on Miracles

blessing that abides in the sacred robes themselves; as one of
the ancient fathers says: The habit of a monk hath a bap¬
tismal virtue. 1 Many know Henry, the lay-brother of
Hemmenrode, who was mailer in the grange called Hart, who
bore witness that the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove hovered
over the head of a certain novice when he was being blessed
by the abbot upon taking the vow.

Novice. —It is a great encouragement to me to hear this,
but there comes to my memory a thought of much terror ; 1
have heard that some have entered the Order full of good
intentions, youths of exemplary innocence, who yet in process
of time have looked back and perished.

Mon —Often too have I heard of such cases. John, the
lord archbishop of Treves, a wise man, who knew all the
secrets of our Order, used to say that it was rare for those who
came to the Order in early youth or manhood to be truly
fervent in spirit unless their consciences were burdened with
a deep sense of sin. Indeed, and it is a pitiable thing to have
to say, they either live lukewarm and unsatisfaftory lives in
the Order, or else they leave it altogether; and the reason is
that they do not know the wholesome terrors of an accusing
conscience; they presume upon their innocence, and so when
temptations assail them, they are less able to resift. You
know about our brother, who within this laft month was
deceived by a woman and deserted from a neighbouring
grange?

Novice. —Yes, I know the sad ftory well.

Monk —About him I have good reason to know that he
was a youth of virgin purity and of such rigorous self-discipline
that there was no other in all our community of whom I
thought more highly.

Novice. —Truly the Lord, as says the prophet is wonderful
in His doings toward the children of men (Ps. lxvi. 4).

Mon{. —I will tell you also another thing, that happened in
our mother Hemmenrode in the days of our elders, who-
related it to me.

1 Jerome : Ep. 25 De obitu Blesillae.

10

Of Conversion

chapter IV.

Of the novice in Hemmenrode.

There came here one day a certain youth who very earnestly
and humbly sought admission; he was taken in and lived
among us without giving any cause o£ complaint. He was
especially beloved by a venerable prieSt named David, of
whose saintliness wonderful things are told ; and this good
old man would often urge him on to religious exercises with
his persuasive words. Often would he and the youth recite
alternately all the sequences 1 and all the sweet canticles about
our Lady, by which pradice the old man drove to Stimulate
the devotion of the younger. In the same year, when that
north wind (Jer. i. 14, 15) was blowing, the wind that
engenders every kind of ill, the novice began to waver and
told the holy man of his danger. But though the other
comforted him with many wise discourses, all was in vain,
the temptation only grew Stronger, and at laSl despairing of
his own constancy he said ; “I am going now, at once, for
I cannot endure it any longer.” “ Will you wait for me,”
said the saint, “ while I go to the church to pray?” “ Yes, ”
he promised. But while the man of God was hastening to the
place of prayer, the youth, afraid of being hindered by his
holy intercessions, hurried away with all speed and returned
to the world. When the venerable prieSt came back from his
prayer and found the young man had gone, he groaned and
said: “ It is not given to all to hold faft to the Order.”

Novice .—These are Stupendous things you tell me. The
Prior of Clairvaux, whose Story you related before, was con¬
verted in and through his own perversity; this youth was
perverted in the very process of his conversion. Teach me,
I pray you, your thoughts on these matters.

Mon \.—I say with the saint, it is not given to all. In the
firSt let us magnify the manifest mercy of God, in the other
let us tremble before His hidden judgment (Rom. ix. 15).

Novice .—Will you go on to explain under what impulse,
and on what occasions worldly men are attracted to the Order ?

1 Liturgical canticles which are sung before the Gospel at Mass or at Vespers. .

II

The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter v.

On what occasions men are converted.

Mon\. —The occasions of conversion are many. Some
seem to be converted by the diredt call and inspiration of God,
others on the contrary by nothing else than an instigation from
the spirit of evil, some by a certain levity of mind; but the
greatest number are converted by the ministry of others, as
by the word of exhortation, or the power of prayer, or the
example of a Religious life. Then again a vaSt number are
drawn to the Order by different necessities, such as sickness
or poverty or captivity or shame for some fault, or some danger
to life, or by the terror and foretaSte of the pains of hell, or by
a longing for the heavenly country. All these are illustrations
of those words of the gospel: Compel them to come in
(Luke xiv. 23).

Novice. —Though all these causes seem likely enough, yet
I shall be much better satisfied if you will give me examples
of each.

Mon \.—I will begin then with an example from which
you may understand how men are converted by the dire#
call of God.

CHAPTER VI.

Of a canon of Liege, who was converted by the
preaching of S. Bernard.

When S. Bernard was preaching the crusade in Liege in
the time of Conrad, king of the Romans, a certain canon of
the Cathedral, lying proStrate in prayer before one of the altars,
heard a voice from heaven saying to him : “ Go out and

listen, for the gospel hath come to life again.” And he rising
from his devotions went out and found the saint preaching
the crusade againSt the Saracens; he was giving the cross to

12

Of Conversion

some, and others he was receiving into his Order. He,
pricked to the heart, and led by the inward un&ion of the Holy
Spirit, took up the cross, not indeed of that overseas expedition,
but of the Order, judging it better for his soul’s health to
imprint the enduring cross for ever upon his heart than to sew
the short lived sign upon his garment for a season. He had
read the words of the Saviour, Whoso taheth not up the cross
daily and followeth me is not worthy of me (Luke ix. 23).
He said not for one year or two, but daily. Many after pil¬
grimage become worse than before and are more deeply
entangled in their old sins; these are like dogs that return to
their vomit like sows that have been washed to their wallow¬
ing in the mire (2 Pet. ii. 22), while the life of the monks who
live ftriftly in one continual cross, because obedience crucifieth
them limb by limb (cf. viii. 19).

Novice. —You think then that the Order is a higher vocation
than a pilgrimage?

Mon\ •—ft ls judged higher, not by my authority, but by
that of the Church; the Ciftercian Order holds an indulgence
from the Apostolic See that whoso hath taken the cross or
bound himself by a vow to any pilgrimage, if he desire instead
thereof to enter the Order, he shall be held guiltless in the
sight of God and the Church. Moreover if these two vows,
to wit, of the Order and of pilgrimage, were held to be equally
efficacious to the soul’s salvation, then change would be made
from one to the other indifferently—whereas if a monk desert
his Order to take the cross, or, what is less heinous, undertake
a pilgrimage without the express permission and command of
his Order, he is adjudged not a pilgrim of Chrift, but an
apoftate. Well does the successor of Peter, to whom especially
the keys of the kingdom of heaven have been given, know
that it is far better inwardly to Strive without ceasing againSt
the temptations of sin than outwardly to confront for a time
the swords of the Saracens. Nevertheless there were some, as
I shall presently show, whom S. Bernard would not allow to
come to conversion though they themselves desired it, but
ordered them to be marked with the cross.

Novice. —I am glad that I asked you this question, since
it has brought me so illuminating an answer.

*3

The Dialogue on Miracles

Mon \.—The said clerk together with his friend Walter
followed S. Bernard to Clairvaux and there both became
monks. It happened at this time that a band was to be sent
out to Aulne, a monastery of regulars, because the monks of
this place had consented to submit themselves to the Order,
and this Liegeois had a great desire to go with the other
brethren; but he was afraid to tell his desire to the abbot, left
perchance it should seem to spring from no better motive than
a desire for change; and so he turned to the Lord, and prayed
that He would show him what He would have him to do.
And a voice came to him : “ Ask what thou wilt, and it

shall be done unto thee.” Straightway he went to his abbot,
and spoke out boldly : “ Father, if it be your will, gladly

would I go with these brothers.” And the answer came at
once, “ Go with them in the name of the Lord.” So both
he and Walter went with the new convent to Aulne, and not
long after he was made prior there. On a day when he was
chanting the sext of our Lady, one of his monks made the
sign to him that he wished to make his confession, and because
he was thus engaged, he signed to him to wait a little. And
soon that sext was over, and both of them passed into the
choir. While the prior was ftanding in his ftall an angel of
the Lord, as was afterwards evident, in the likeness and
dress of this same monk, proftrated himself at the feet of
the prior as if about to make his confession : and when he
sought to raise him up, he vanished. And the prior be¬
thought himself, and he realised that this had been the
guardian angel of the monk who desired to confess, and that
it was a sign of rebuke to him for his repulse.

Novice .—I marvel greatly that the holy angel of the Lord
should deign to proftrate himself so humbly at the feet of a
man.

Monl {.—When our superiors refuse us that which they are
bound to use for our soul’s health, and especially that which is
suggefted to us by our guardian angel for our help, it is as if
the refusal were made to the angels themselves. The angel
indeed proftrated himself before a man, heaven before earth,
gold before dross, that by such an aft he might reprove him
for his negligence, and by the shock of fear might make him

Of Conversion

more careful thenceforth. When the office was over, the prior
called the monk to him and said “Now make your confession”
and he replied “ Indeed, Sir, I can well wait till to-morrow.”
But he cried out vehemently: “ I will not taSte of food this
day until I have heard your confession.” It was then the
dinner hour : but the monk yielded and made his confession :
and the prior vowed to God that from that time forth no kind
of circumstance or occupation, no beginning of an office, no
service to the Mother of God should ever prevent him from
hearing a confession when once he had seen the accuStomed
signal of desire. When age increased upon him, and he
could no longer perform the duties of his priorate through
weakness of body, he exchanged the toil of Martha for the
quiet of Mary : for he made vows to God that he would recite
the psalter from beginning to end every day; and so, filled with
virtues, he departed to be with the Lord and was joined to the
company of the holy angels. Walter his countryman, who
told this Story to Dom Henry our abbot, from whom I heard
it, related how he longed to depart and be with Chriil
(Phil. i. 23), and would cry daily, " When shall I come to
appear before the presence of God ! ” (Ps. xlii. 2) and how the
divine voice made answer " Thine eyes shall behold the King
in His beauty " (Is. xxxiii. 17). When he died, a bright Star
appeared in broad daylight over the place of his passing, and
was seen throughout the whole province.

Novice. —That is credible enough; since the vision of that
shining Star would show the virtues of the departing soul.

Mon\. —That is well said; and it is to be remembered that
it is an almoSt unheard-of thing for any Star to be visible in
the sky when the sun is shining. Assuredly the appearance
of it above the dying saint was a sign that his holy soul in the
beauty of its virtues was .truly united to ChriSt the Sun of
Righteousness (Mai. vi. 2).

Novice. —I do not marvel that ChriSt should so excellently
glorify the death of a saint whom He had so clearly called.

Mon!{.— I will tell you now of the conversion of a monk,
which was wrought, as you will clearly see, by the call of God,
by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit alone, and by no other
agency whatever.

*5

The Dialogue on Miracles

CHAPTER VII.

Of the abbot Gevard, who before his conversion was
seen in a cowl by Dom Everard, the parish priefl of
S. fames’ in Cologne.

In the church of S. Maria im Capitol in Cologne there was
a canon named Gevard, at that time in early manhood and
much occupied with worldly vanities. At a certain festival
at this church he was in his usual place, and there was present
also the parish priest of S. James’, Dom Everard, a man both
upright and spiritual and honoured throughout the city for
his saintliness. Now when he came to the entrance of the
choir and looked within, he saw Gevard tonsured and in the
habit of a CiStercian monk Standing among his fellow canons;
and he wondered greatly and said to himself: “ When can
Gevard have become a monk ? ” And when he realised that
this was a vision, he came to the conclusion that it was a
prophecy, as indeed the event proved. And because the pur¬
pose of the divine will cannot be changed, it was necessary
that what God had foreshadowed for him should in every
particular be fulfilled. Wherefore after a short lapse of time
it came about that this youth to the astonishment of many
bade farewell to the world, and entered the monastery of
Hemmenrode, and became a novice there. And when the
aforesaid prieSt heard of this, he came to Hemmenrode, and
visited Gevard and told to all the novices the Story of his
vision. This I heard from father Frederick, a monk who
was present when the holy man was speaking. Later Gevard
made so great progress in Religion that he succeeded the lord
Herman, who was the firSt abbot of PeterSthal; and under him
the monastery made great advance as well in spiritual life as
in worldly goods. Moreover if these recent examples have
not proved enough, I will give you further undoubted proofs
from the words of S. Bernard.

Novice. —I shall indeed be glad to hear them, for they have
not yet come within the limits of my reading.

16

Of Conversion

CHAPTER VIII.

Of the conversion of Mascelin, a cler\ of the Bishop
of Mainz.

Once when S. Bernard had gone into Germany to mediate
peace between Lothaire king of the Romans and the grand¬
sons of his predecessor Henry, Albert the Bishop of Mainz
sent a clerk of his, Mascelin by name, to meet him. When he
said he had been sent by his lord to do him service, the man
of God looked upon him for a while and said : “ Another Lord
hath commissioned thee to serve Him. ” And when he,
terrified by the words of the saint, continued to assert that he
had been sent by the bishop, the blessed Bernard replied :
“ Thou art mistaken; a greater Lord hath sent thee, even
Chrift.” At laSl he understood the meaning of the saint, and
said : “ Do you think that I desire to become a monk ? that be
far from me; I have never dreamed of such a step, neither has
the thought entered my mind.” Nevertheless although he
persisted in his denial, the servant of God continued to affirm
that it muSt moSt certainly come about, not because it was he
that had originated the thought, but because God had so
ordained. On that same journey the clerk was converted,
bade farewell to the world and became a monk in Clairvaux.
You see then how in this man there was no desire for conver¬
sion, and how the will of the Holy Spirit wrought in him
unaided.

Novice. —I agree with all you say; but give me, I pray you,
an example of the contrary, how some are converted by the
dired impulse of the evil spirit.

Mon\. —Here is an example.

CHAPTER IX.

Of the conversion of Dottor Stephen de Vitry.

We read in the life of the aforesaid father that once there
came to Clairvaux MaSter Stephen de Vitry, a man of great,

17

The Dialogue on Miracles

learning, for the sake of conversion, as everyone thought.
While the whole valley was rejoicing at his coming, thinking
him so important a convert, the blessed Bernard exclaimed,
“ The devil hath brought him here : he hath come alone :
alone shall he return.” For to this end he had come, that he
might carry back again to the world certain novices whom he
himself had formerly intruded in letters. That he might
not cause pain to the weaker brethren, S. Bernard admitted
the man, and although he knew well that he would not per¬
severe, permitted him to become a novice. But the evil spirit,
after whispering all that year into the ears of the novices by
the mouth of this servant of his, found no profit in his venture,
and carried him back, Still alone, and with much confusion
of face, according to the prophecy of the man of God. Listen
also to another example from our own neighbourhood.

CHAPTER X.

Of the conversion of the priefl Goswin, who ran
away during his probation, carrying flolen goods
with him.

There came to us two wandering prieSts seeking admission;
but since there was scarcely any hope of their perseverance,
their requeSt was refused. One went away, but the other,
whose name was Goswin, begged so hard to be allowed to
Stay that at laSt he was admitted. He continued on probation
for barely six weeks and then one night during Matins, in
obedience to the orders of him who had brought him there, he
fled carrying with him what he had been able to Steal.

'Novice. —Perhaps he came with guileless intentions.

Mon\. —Assuredly not. While he was Still in the gueSt
house with his companion, and was finding great difficulty in
being admitted further, the one said to the other, “ Although
they are so Stern with us now, we shall yet find means to
deceive them.” This was overheard by one of our lay-
brothers without their knowledge.

18

Of Conversion

Still more often have we found men converted from a
certain levity of mind.

CHAPTER XI.

Of a canon of Cologne who withdrew before putting
on the habit.

A young canon of Cologne once came to us, more, as the
sequel showed, from levity of mind than from any real desire
for conversion, and we, especially the younger brethren, were
overjoyed at his proposal, but the lord Gevard, our abbot,
though much importuned to receive him, refused, because he
recognised that levity was his only motive, seeing that he had
gambled away his clothes and had come indeed clad in nothing
but a tunic, and he soon returned by the way he came, nor
was he ever heard again to speak of conversion.

CHAPTER XII.

Also of another youth who was taken from his
probation for the purpose of paying his debts and
never came back-

Another youth of a noble and wealthy family, came to us
without the knowledge of his parents and easily obtained
admission; I do not wish to give the names either of this novice
or of the laSt mentioned, for I Still hope that they may
come back, and I am unwilling to cause them any unnecessary
embarrassment. Three or perhaps five days after he became
a novice, his friends came full of grief, and with many prayers
exhorted him to return to the world. They knew that he had
loSt a sum of money at some game and had taken the vows

The Dialogue on Miracles

more from chagrin than from devotion. For some time they
could not prevail upon him, but at laSt succeeded in persuad¬
ing him to go and pay his debt on the condition that he should
come back immediately. So not by the violence, but by the
cunning of his friends he was drawn away and never came
back. Now he had made his solemn vow with his hands be¬
tween the hands of the abbot, and for the breaking of this vow,
he was brought before the consistory court. He defended him¬
self by producing a letter from the Pope’s legate and by every
means in his power, asserting that he had made his vow
thoughtlessly and in distress and confusion of mind; more¬
over, if that had not been the case, he would have followed
the example of our abbot Henry.

Novice .—May I know what that was ?

CHAPTER XIII.

Of the conversion of the abbot Henry.

Mon \.—In the church of Bonn this same Henry was a
wealthy canon, and, by the inspiration of God, he secretly left
the deceitful world and, being kindled with a longing for the
CiStercian Order, came to our house to seek admission.
While he was Still in the gueSthouse, his two brothers, who
were knights, heard of his flight, and being worldly men who
set more value upon carnal and temporal pleasures than upon
spiritual and eternal happiness, they were much troubled by
what should have been a joy to them. They came in haSte
and sent before them a young lad to take him a pretended
message from his mother, so that they might use the oppor¬
tunity to tear him by force from the convent. And when this
boy had brought him into the place of ambush, the knights
ran up, threw him upon a horse in spite of his unwillingness
and resistance, and to the great grief of the whole convent,
took him away; for he had not yet put on the monk’s dress.
For some time he Stayed quietly with them, but when they

20

Of Conversion

had grown sure of him, he fled away again, and hastened to
put on the habit that he might make the Sep irrevocable. His
conduct was the exatfl opposite to that of the other two, because
his conversion was not prompted by the vice of levity, but by
the virtue of constancy. This example and some others that
I purpose to set down here for edification, I remember that I
have already written in the “ Moral Homilies upon the Infancy
of the Saviour.”

Novice .—Surely it is a grievous sin for a novice to return to
the world.

Monk {.—How serious is the fault may be easily seen from
the punishment that follows it.

CHAPTER XIV.

Of the miserable death of Leo, an apoHate novice.

Before I joined the Order, there was a certain canon of the
church of S. Maria im Capitol in Cologne who bade farewell to
the world and assumed the habit of religion in Hemmenrode.
His name was Leo and I knew him well. Two brothers of
his, who were knights of some influence in the world, were
very angry when they heard of his conversion and hurried off
to Hemmenrode. Long they urged him to return to the
world, and dwelt upon the austerities of the Order; then they
changed their mode of attack and spoke of the entanglement
of his debts, saying that it would be only right for him to come
back firSt and settle them, and then they would let him return
to serve God without opposition, nay more, they would them¬
selves escort him back. The wretched novice, led away by their
arguments, consented to go, not perceiving the snare of the
enemy. When the abbot Herman saw this, he groaned, and
in deep grief said to the knights, “You are this day casting
your brother out of Paradise and lodging him in hell.” Return¬
ing to his prebend, he became worse than before, giving more,
pains to gratify his luSts than to pay his debts. After a few

21

The Dialogue on Miracles

years he fell grievously sick, and by the juft judgment of God,
the extremity of his sickness changed into madness, and when
his friends admonished him concerning confession and com¬
munion, he kept crying out continually the names of various
women with whom he had sinned when in health. Then they
cut up puppies and placed their warm flesh upon his head as
if for a remedy, but this profited him nothing; for no flesh
could heal his madness, which was sent him as the penalty of
apoftasy. Hear also an example of yet another novice.

CHAPTER XV.

Of the awful death of the novice Benneco, and
how it is not lawful for novices to return to the
world after taking the vow.

A certain knight whose name was Benneco, a native of
Palmirsdorp, was on probation with me as a novice, a man
indeed of ripe age, but with little devotion to religion. He
was tempted in many ways, but would not liften to the advice
of his brethren, and as a dog to his vomit, so did the wretched
man return to the world. When repeating this the second
time, he was forftalled by sickness and died in his own
house and in secular dress without giving any sign of repent¬
ance. At his death a fearful ftorm of wind raged round the
house where he lay, and a vaft number of crows hovered over
the roof; and these portents caused so much panic that none
was left to tend the dying man save only one old woman. See
then how they die, who depart from God.

Novice. —I think that that ftorm of wind and multitude of
cawing crows was an evident sign of the presence of demons.

Mon\. —Surely; for the Saviour saith, “ No man putting
his hand to the plough and looking back is worthy of the king¬
dom of heaven.” That knight, because he “ looked back ”
in apoftacy, because he would not repent of his sin, caused
joy among the minifters of hell.

22

Of Conversion

Novice .—If it is so mortal a sin for a novice to return to the
world, what then is the meaning of S. Benedict's instruction,
that when the rule has been read over to the novice, it should
be said to him: “ This is the law under which thou desireSf
to enliSt; if thou canSt keep it, go forward; if not, go in peace.”

Mon \.—Of the two ills the holy father prefers that the
novice should depart while Still a novice rather than desert
as a monk after making his profession. Whence he judges
the novice to be unbound with regard to the place, but bound
by his vow. Quite apart from those who have put on religious
dress and have once and again promised constancy in the
presence of the whole Chapter, even secular persons, who
have by word alone made the vow between the hands of the
abbot are by no means permitted to follow a secular calling or
to enter into matrimony. In cases of necessity the lord Pope
will give a novice a dispensation to exchange into a less severe
Order, but even he cannot permit him to return to a secular
life. Thus, from what I have said you can see that some are
converted by the direct call of God, while others are prompted
by the instigation of the evil spirit, and others again by mere
levity of mind. That many are converted by the ministry
of others is indisputable; for as of old in the tabernacle of God
curtain drew curtain, so to-day in the church of God brother
draws brother in the three ways of exhortation, prayer and the
example of a holy life, a triple cord which is not easily broken.

Novice .—May I have examples of this ?

CHAPTER XVI.

0 / the conversion of Henry the cripple of Clairvaux.

Eleven years ago there died in Clairvaux a monk called
Henry, an aged and holy man, crippled indeed and broken in
body, but tender and loving in heart; to him God gave many
consolations, often and in many ways revealing Himself to
him; he was mighty in the spirit of prophecy and full of all

2 3

The Dialogue on Miracles

spiritual grace. At the time of the general Chapter, many
abbots would come to visit him and ever received much edifica¬
tion from his discourse. Gevard, our lord abbot, was his
familiar friend, and to him he related the whole Story of his
conversion. When S. Bernard was preaching the cross in the
diocese of ConStance it happened that Henry was present to
hear him, and since he was a rich and powerful noble with
many caSUes, who with all his wealth had many crimes upon
his conscience, he was pricked to the heart by the sermon of
the man of God, and said to him, “ Sir, if I were not terrified
by that cuStom which I understand prevails in your Order ,—1
mean that you send indifferently to all parts of the earth those
who join your company,—I would submit myself to you forth¬
with.” The saint replied, “ I will not receive you with any
conditions; but this I can promise you, that if you become a
monk in Clairvaux, in that monastery you shall surely die.”
When he heard this he made his submission; and because he
was well skilled in both French and German, he was
appointed the abbot’s interpreter. Now a servant of his, a
crossbowman, a man of cruel temper and prone to the shedding
of blood, when he saw what had happened, was maddened by
the conversion of his maSter, and placed a bolt upon his cross¬
bow that he might slay the abbot. And immediately he was
Stricken by the angel of the Lord and fell back and expired.
Henry, terrified by his sudden death, and above all appalled
that his soul should be loSt, and knowing the holiness of the
abbot and his power of working miracles, fell at his feet,
humbly imploring him with great insistence to deliver the
wretched man from the jaws of hell by restoring him to life.
The blessed saint was moved to compassion by the grief of one
and the perdition of the other, and on his knees besought God
with tears, who quickly raised the dead. And he, thus
restored to life, threw himself at the feet of his deliverer, and
prayed him with much weeping to receive him as a convert.
And the holy man made answer : “ I know that by nature you
are a wanton and perverse, and that it is not fitting that you
should live among the religious; therefore I bid you take the
cross and pass over the seas, and quickly find your end in
fighting againSt the Saracens.” So he did; he received the

24

Of Conversion

cross, passed over the sea, fought againSt the enemies of the
cross, was slain in battle, and came to appear before the
presence of God. At the same time a paralytic woman cried
out after the man of God, beseeching health of him; and since
she could not follow him, for he had already gone on before,
Henry, taking pity on her, lifted her on to his horse and
brought her into the presence of the saint, and set her down
when she had received his blessing. She then, made whole,
flood upright, and full of joy went to her home on her own
feet. This Story I heard from the lips of Gevard our lord
abbot. This is that Henry who was once sent by the same
holy father into a far-off country where the ice broke under
his feet and he was drawn far under the water; from which
deadly peril he was miraculously saved by the blessing of the
saint. Here you have an example of one who was converted
by preaching. But why do I seek examples from outside
when I can rejoice that this which I tell of others was truly
accomplished in myself?

CHAPTER XVII.

Of the conversion of the author.

At the time when King Philip firSf devastated the diocese
of Cologne, I happened to be travelling thither in the company
of Gevard the lord abbot of Walberberg. On the way
he exhorted me to conversion with much fervour but without
success, until he told me of that glorious vision of Clairvaux,
and how it is related that at a certain harveSI time when the
monks were reaping in the valley, the Virgin Mary, the holy
mother of God, and her mother, S. Anne, and S. Mary Mag¬
dalene, in full view of a holy man who was Standing on the
opposite hill, came down the mountain side into the valley in
a great flood of light, and wiped the sweat from the brows of
the monks and fanned them with the flap of their sleeves, and
the reSt of the wonderful Story. I was much moved by his

25

The Dialogue on Miracles

recital of this vision and promised the abbot that I would go
to no other monastery for my conversion, if indeed God should
give me the will. At that time I had bound myself by a vow
of pilgrimage to S. Mary of Rocamadour, and I was con¬
strained to fulfil it. Three months later when this was
accomplished, I came to PeterSthal without consulting any of
my friends, but guided and urged by the mercy of God alone,
and there fulfilled in deed that to which I had committed
myself in word, and became a novice. AlmoSt the same
experience befel another monk of ours, Gerlach de Dinge.

Novice .—This Story will surely be useful as an example to
those who are Still living in the world.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Of Gerlach de Dinge who was converted by hearing
a sermon.

Three years ago Dom Henry, who is now our abbot, while
visiting monasteries in Friesland on behalf of the abbot of
Clairvaux, happened to be entertained in the caStle of a cer¬
tain knight named Sueder. To this knight, who welcomed him
with much eagerness, he related, as he loved to do, some of the
wonderful things that had come to pass in the Order; and
among the company who listened to him was this Gerlach, the
knight’s nephew and a canon of the cathedral of Utrecht.
This man received the seed of the word in the field of his heart
as in a good ground, and not long afterwards brought forth
fruit a hundredfold. For he, as he told me later when we
were on probation together, began from that hour to incline
towards conversion and to consider diligently how he might
satisfy the desire that had been born in him. An opportunity
came to him of adting without arousing suspicion, and he set
out for Paris as if to continue his Studies; and after some little
Stay there he came to us, and becoming a novice, turned all
his Studies to spiritual learning. From these two examples

26

Of Conversion

it is clear that some are converted by preaching. Whoso
heareth the voice of the Lord calling him by inward speech
muil needs desire to call others by the word of exhortation.

Novice. —The examples you have given me about preaching
have fully satisfied me; now I pray you give me some about
prayer.

Mon\. —Juft as the exhortation of preaching converts
many, so does the power of prayer draw an exceeding great
number to the Order.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of the conversion of Henry, brother of the King
of France.

It happened that Henry, brother of the King of France,
came once to Clairvaux to speak with the blessed Bernard on
some worldly matter, and during his visit he passed through
the whole convent, asking all the monks for their prayers. The
venerable abbot, besides other advice that he gave him with
regard to the life of salvation, said, “ I truft in the Lord that
you will not die in your present condition, but that you will
quickly prove by experience how great is the power of those
prayers you have sought.” And indeed the proof was given
that very day to the wonder of many, who rejoiced over the
conversion of so exalted a personage. His own people
mourned and bewailed him as inconsolably as if they saw
him lying dead before their eyes.

Novice. —I am not surprised that he should be so quickly
converted, who had already shown himself so apt for con¬
version.

Mon\. —If you ascribe his conversion more to his own
merits than to the prayers of the good monks, liften to what
happened afterwards. When his companions and his whole
household were, as I have said, lamenting for Henry, a certain
Parisian named Andrew, driven almoft to madness by an

2 7

The Dialogue on Miracles

intolerable access of grief, kept crying out with curses and
blasphemies that his master was beside himself, witless, feeble¬
minded. When Henry besought the saint to labour for the
conversion of this man, he was answered : “ Do not be anxious
on his behalf, his soul juft now is in bitterness, but he is yours/’
He repeated these words in the hearing of Andrew, and he,
in his absolute abhorrence of the monaftic life, said silently in
his heart, as he afterwards confessed : “ Now will I prove you
to be a false prophet in this thing, for of this at leaft I am sure,
that what you have said will never come to pass. I will
upbraid you with this in the presence of the King and princes
in some notable gathering, that all men may know you for a
lying prophet.” The next day he went away, calling down
all manner of curses upon the monaftery, and wishing that the
valley itself might be torn up from its foundations. That
very night he was conquered and, so to speak, bound hand
and foot by the Holy Spirit of God, whose grace so drew him
and wrought in him that he could scarce wait for the dawn,
when he hurried back to the monaftery (to the aftonishment
of all), and showing himself a second Saul of Tarsus, made his
submission to the saint. Where, I ask you, was in this man
any willingness to be converted or any aptitude for conversion ?
See how this Andrew turned away from grace with all his
ftrength, and how the power of the prayers of the saints was
mighty to convert him.

Not/ice. —These are indeed stupendous wonders, and surely
it seems to me that the prayers of the faithful ought to be
coveted by sinners more than all else in the world.

CHAPTER XX.

Of the conversion of one who appeared to another
at night before the gate in the guise of an infant.

There was a monk in our house who, when he entered the
Order, left behind him in the world an only brother not yet

28

Of Conversion

old enough to take the vows. Fearing that he might become
ensnared in the hindrances of the world and his conversion be
thus impeded, he prayed to the Lord daily, and especially to
His blessed mother, that in answer to his prayers He might
deign to haSten on his conversion; for well he knew how easily
the young may be turned from their purpose and how
therefore every hour spent in the world was full of danger.
The merciful Lord gave heed to the pious zeal of the monk for
his brother, and put it into the heart of our abbot to admit
the boy, although he could not receive one so young without
some risk of exceeding his duty. On the night that he put on
the habit, one of our priefls saw this vision concerning him;
it seemed to him that a mofi beautiful matron flood before
the monaftery gate, holding a beautiful boy in her arms; and
when he asked her whose boy it was, she replied, “ He is the
son of the monk—” mentioning the elder brother by name,
and at the same time giving the name of the new novice. And
then the monk who saw the vision realised that this mofl
beautiful matron was the blessed mother of God. According
to the apofUe, whoso by word or example teacheth another to
live the good life, begetteth him as his own son in Christ
(i Cor. iv. 15 ; Phile. 10). The fadt that the ever venerated
Virgin Mary deigned to present him at the monastery gate,
as a mother might present her child, shows plainly that the
aforesaid monk had by his prayers obtained the conversion of
his brother through her infinite merit.

Novice .—These examples have convinced me of the power
of prayer; it remains that I should also be convinced of the
power of good example.

Monk ..—Know this, that many, without any exhortation
of preaching and unaided by any special prayers, are daily
drawn to the Order by good example alone, and by the proofs
of devotion, discipline and sandlity which they behold.

29

The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter XXI.

Of the mon\s Theodoric and Bernard, who at the
sight of a supplication for mercy at the burial of a
dead man, resolved upon conversion.

When brother Theodoric our fellow monk was Still a young
man in the world, he came to visit a certain priest, a relative
of his, who was then a novice; but not with any idea of being
himself converted. It happened at this time that a dead
brother was being buried, and after the interment, when the
antiphon “ O clementissime Domine ” had been said, and
when all the monks, gathered round the tomb, were humbly
beseeching pardon, and repeating, “ Lord have mercy upon
the sinner,” he was so pricked to the heart and so kindled with
a desire of conversion, that though he had resided the exhor¬
tations of the prior Gevard, now with many tears he sought
permission to take the vows, and with difficulty obtained it.
Often during our probation did he tell me that this was the
way of his conversion. Brother Bernard, too, of our convent,
told me that it was the sight of a similar supplication for mercy
in the monastery of Villers, that fird gave birth in him to the
desire of conversion.

Novice. —It is surprising that so small a thing should work
so great salvation in the soul.

Mon\. —Why should it surprise you? In size a pill is but
a small thing, but in efficacy its power is very great; it
traverses all the channels of the body, dissolves and ejeds ill
humours and makes a sick man whole. If so great good
results from the reception of one little material pill, why
should you wonder that a greater power, and all the greater
because spiritual, should come from the witnessing of one
supplication for mercy. Hear this also.

30

Of Conversion

CHAPTER XXII.

Of the conversion of Dom Adolphus, bishop of
Osnaburg.

Dom Adolphus, a youth of noble birth, and now bishop of
Osnaburg, had, when a canon of Cologne, come to a house of
our Order called Kloster-Camp. Here, after mass, he was
kneeling in prayer in the church, and saw how the monks,
both young and old, hastened to the different altars, and there
bared each his back to the scourge, humbly confessing his sins.
This sight, as was told me afterwards by an intimate friend of
his, wrought so Strongly in the heart of the young man that he
could not tear himself away from the convent, but despising
all the pomp of the world gave himself wholly to God, and
then put on the sacred dress of the monk. And in this new
life he so far succeeded that not long after, recommended both
by his noble birth and his sandtity, he ascended the episcopal
throne in the aforesaid church.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Of the conversion of Henry the chamberlain.

This was the manner of the conversion of brother Henry,
our chamberlain. When he was a clerk and canon of the
cathedral of Treves, and holding many other ecclesiastical
Stipends, he fell ill. In the hope of recovering his health, he
took money and arranged to go down the river to Cologne to
consult one of the many physicians in that town, and also to
derive some benefit from the change of air. When he came
opposite our monastery, he enquired the name of the place,
and when he learnt it, he said that he would like to ask

31

The Dialogue on Miracles

hospitality of the monastery, and so sent forward his servants
to the abbot with a request for horses to take him up the hill,
and these were duly sent. That same night he was converted,
whether by some vision that he saw, or by some Strong
impulse, I know not, but in the morning he sent back the
boat with his sorrowing servants, and putting on the monk’s
dress according to rule, made his permanent abode with us.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Of the conversion of the priefl Gerlach.

Brother Gerlach, who is a prieft and our fellow monk told
me that he conceived his firft desire of conversion from the
signs of devotion that he saw in one of our brethren. One
day when this monk, who is well known to you, was celebrat¬
ing mass in his parish, he showed so great a grace of tears,
as indeed was his wont, that Gerlach who was Standing at his
side as server, observed this grace with wonder and gave thanks
to the Lord. From that hour he so fell in love with the Order
that he could not reft till he had been made a member of it.
Many things more I could tell you of those who have been
converted by the example of others, but I muft be careful not
to be too long.

Novice .—From all you have told me it is clear that some
are converted by the word of exhortation, others by the power
of prayer, and others again by the example of a religious life.

Mon \.—I said above that there are many other causes that
are the occasion of conversion to many, such as sickness,
poverty, captivity, the brand of some infamy, danger to this
present life, the fear or the vision of the pains of hell, or simply
the longing for the heavenly life.

Novice .—I pray you add some examples of these.

Mon \.—We see daily how men are driven to conversion
by sickness.

Of Conversion

CHAPTER XXV.

Of Ludwig the \night, whose health came hac^ to
him after he had made a vow of conversion.

Three years ago a knight named Ludwig, of the caflle of
Altenahr, was in extremity of sickness, and the lord abbot was
summoned to visit the sick man. When the illness grew upon
him, and the knight was already in despair, he was advised by
the abbot to submit to the Order, and to repeat aloud the vow
of conversion according to cuflom. Both he and his wife
gladly acquiesced in this advice, and no sooner had he placed
his hands within the hands of the abbot and made the vow
than his appearance began to change in such a way that the
deathly pallor passed from his face, and the livid colour gave
way to a healthy flush, so that all those who flood by were
flupefied, marvelling at the gift of God to the dying man.
That the merciful Lord might the more plainly show that He
had healed the sick man because of his vow to enter the Order,
this same knight quickly became convalescent without the
sweating or bleeding or sneezing which always accompany
recovery from such a sickness. Nor was he ungrateful for the
divine mercies, but caused himself forthwith to be carried to
our monaftery where he became firft novice, and then monk,
and not long after departed to be with the Lord.

Novice.- —I gather from your words that you believe that a
sick man may prolong his days by penitence and prayer.

CHAPTER XXVI.

How God sometimes prolongs the life of a sinner
for his penitence; the example of Heze\iah.

Mon\. —That is not quite what I mean, for I do not think
that any man can prolong the time allotted to him by God;
but I believe that he can sometimes escape imminent death.
Indeed, if that were not so, it would be vain for the Church

33

The Dialogue on Miracles

to pray for the sick. Since the prayers of the saints bring back
life to the dead, how shall they not effedt a lesser thing, and
give health to those in mortal sickness? When Hezekiah lav
sick in penitence and tears, it was said to him by God through
Isaiah, / have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears; behold
l will add fifteen years to thy days (Isaiah xxxviii. 5). Upon
which passage Haymo speaks thus, “We must underhand
that, as it was granted to the firft man that he should be
immortal on condition of his obedience to God’s commands,
so in the foreknowledge of God the years here are granted on
condition that he live humbly and innocently before Him;
for those years, which pride had taken from him, humility
hath restored.

Novice. —These are deep matters, and I pray you to explain
them more fully by the testimony of the Scriptures, because
the problem of Divine foreknowledge has been the cause of
error to many souls.

Mon{. —The problem of Divine foreknowledge is indeed
for me altogether insoluble, for who hath \nown the mind of
the Lord ? or who hath been His counsellor ? (Rom. xi. 34).
Nevertheless the authority of the Scriptures can be found for
what I have said above. The holy Job, speaking of the
uncertainty of human life, says, Thou hafl appointed his
bounds that he cannot pass (Job xiv. 5). Notice that you have
in this passage a boundary of life allotted to man by God,
and that this boundary may not be passed. Yet a man by evil
life may sometimes anticipate this boundary as the Psalmift
bears witness when he says, The bloodthirfly and deceitful men
shall not live out half their days (Ps. lv. 25). If it is not
allowed them to live out half the days which they might have
lived but for their sins, it is clear that they die far within the
limits firft assigned to them. In the same way the good some¬
times deserve to anticipate their appointed end, as it is said
about one good man as a type of all the good : Yea, speedily
was he ta\en away, left that wickedness should alter his under-
fianding, or deceit beguile his soul (Wisd. iv. 11).

Therefore let foolish men cease to prattle foolish words and
to cherish foolish thoughts because in these days there are few
princes and few nobles who fulfil their days and come to a

34

Of Conversion

good old age. Why is this ? Assuredly because they plunder
the poor, and are choked before their time by the tears of the
poor. Would you like to hear this illustrated by the story
of a tyrant, who sinned the more recklessly because he believed
that no sin could shorten his predefined days?

Novice. —Indeed, I eagerly wish it.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Of predestination and the errors of the Landgrave
Ludwig.

Mont —I have heard from a certain religious man that the
Landgrave Ludwig, who died two years ago, had fallen into
a grievous error which was perilous, not only to his own soul,
but also to the property of his subjects. He was one of the
worSt of robbers and tyrants, who made innumerable exadtions
from the people committed to his charge, and took violent
possession of the property of countless churches. When he
was taken to task for these and many other wrongs by his
spiritual advisers, who put before him in confession the punish¬
ment of the wicked, and the happiness of the chosen, he made
this miserable reply: “ If I am one of the eledt, no sins will
be able to take from me the Kingdom of Heaven; if I am
already foredoomed, no good deeds will be able to confer it
upon me.” And as I have often heard from father Conrad,
our aged fellow monk, he used to put forward as an argument
to excuse himself to those who reasoned with him that verse
of the PsalmiSt, All the whole heavens are the Lord's; the earth
hath He given to the children of men (Ps. cxv. 16), for he was
well versed in letters, and the more hardened on this account.
When God-fearing men said to him, “ Sir, have pity upon
your soul; cease to sin, left the Lord, provoked by your sins,
slay the sinner in the midst of his sin,” he again replied,
“ When the appointed day comes for me to die, I shall die;
I shall not be able to put it off by living well, nor to put it
forward by living ill.” God in His mercy willing to bring

35

The Dialogue on Miracles

him to a better mind, and to call him back though Straying
so far away, began to scourge him with a sore disease. His
dodtor was summoned, a good and wise man, and no mean
expert in theology as well as in medicine, to whom the prince
said, “ As you see, I am very ill; give all your care to restoring
me to health.” The do<ftor, bearing in mind the peculiar
error of the man, answered, “ Sir, if the day of your death
has come, no care of mine can save you from it; but if you are
not deStined to die of this sickness, all medicine will be super¬
fluous.” And he : “ Why do you make me such a reply? If
I negledt myself, or take the advice of unskilled persons, I shall
die before my time.” When the dodtor heard this, he laughed
aloud and, seizing the opportunity, said, “ Sir, if you believe
that your life can be prolonged by the power of medicine,
why do you refuse to believe in the virtue of penitence and
good works which are the medicine of the soul? Without
these the soul muSt die, without them none can come to the
glorious health of the future life.” The Landgrave, recognis¬
ing the force of these words, and perceiving that there was
good reason in them, said, “ For the future, be not only the
physician of my body, but of my soul also, for by your healing
tongue God hath delivered me from a fatal error.”

Novice .—Did not this prince live a good life afterwards?

Mon \.—Alas no! He made promises in words which he
did not carry out in deeds. You will learn in the sequel what
sort of an end was his, and under how great a burden of sin
he died. But now let us go back to our former subjedl, and
leave this long digression which has followed upon your
question.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

How some are converted through poverty.

As the wholesome medicine of sickness draws many to the
Order, so too a vaft number are driven to enter by the furnace

36

Of Conversion

of poverty. Often have we seen and ftill daily do we see
persons who have been living for some time in wealth and
honour in the world, such as knights and merchants, coming
to the Order under the compulsion of poverty, preferring to
supply their need in the service of God, in whose hand are
all riches, than to endure the shamefacedness of poverty among
their relations and friends. When a certain honourable man
was explaining to me the way of his conversion, he added,
“ Certainly, if my affairs had continued to be prosperous, I
should never have entered the Order.” I have known some
who, when their fathers or brothers were taking the vows,
refused to follow their example then, but when they had
consumed all their property, they came covering their necessity
with the cloak of devotion, or rather, making a virtue of their
necessity.

Novice. —It is not necessary to ask for examples of such
cases, since we see so many come to the Order, converted on
that account; but happy are they who ftill possessed riches, and
counted them nothing for the sake of Chrift.

Mon\. —Not happy for possessing riches, but for despising
them. The widow’s two mites are more pleasing to God than
all the alms of the wealthy. Know also that some are con¬
verted through shame for some fault, or through the brand of
some disgrace.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of a canon who was converted through shame for
a theft he had committed.

There was a young novice in our house who was drawn to
the Order by the following circumftances. He had been a
canon of a church in Cologne, and had ftolen something from
his Superior, an honeft clerk in whose house he was living at
the time. It was a small 1 theft, but he was caught in the aft

1 Of a single apple. J. Strange.

37

The Dialogue on Miracles

by the servants and was so much ashamed that he fled from
the world, sought out our monastery and became a novice.
He preferred to serve God than to endure so great confusion of
face among his fellows. I had a poft in that Church at the
time, and underflood the cause of his conversion to be as I
have flated, and I was full of fears, because such a conversion
did not seem likely to have lafling results.

CHAPTER XXX.

Of a youth, in whose case a nun, made pregnant by
him, was the cause of conversion.

There was another youth who violated a certain nun, and
urged both by shame and fear, because she was nobly born, he
took the vows in our Order. So that what the devil had pre¬
pared for his ruin became for him an occasion of salvation.
The youth spoken of above deserted the Order, by the jufl
judgement of God, but this one is ftill persevering, the mercy
of God preserving him.

Novice. —As I see it, it is not of him that willeth nor
of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy
(Rom. ix. 16).

Mon^.—' That is true. That some also are converted by
danger to this present life, you shall learn by the following
example.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Of a nobleman who was saved from a capital
sentence by conversion.

When King Otto went to Rome to be crowned Emperor,
he left his kingdom upon the Moselle to be governed by his

38

Of Conversion

brother Henry, the Count Palatine, before whom a certain
noble was brought to trial as a freebooter and was by him
condemned to death. There came to the court, Daniel, the
abbot of Schoenau, and by his prayers succeeded in obtaining
from the Palatine permission for him to live and expiate his
sins in the Ciftercian monaflery. Thus a man who was con¬
demned to death for his crimes escaped the sentence by the
grace of conversion. I have often heard similar ftories, how
wicked men, condemned to various punishments for their
offences, have been delivered by benefit of the Order.

Novice. —Although these may seem small matters, yet they
are not to be regarded lightly, because they have a real value
for edification.

Mon\. —Let those, who are tempted to think lightly of
them, hear great and terrible things about those who have been
converted through fear of the pains of hell.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Of the conversion of the abbot of Morimond, who
died and returned to life.

Twenty four years ago there was an abbot of Morimond who
was brought to the Order in the way I am going to tell you;
the fiory was told me by Dom Herman the abbot of
Marienflatt, who saw this same abbot and heard him speak,
and watched all his adtions attentively, as of one who had died
and lived again. When he was a young man, he Studied at
Paris with the many other scholars there. Now since
he was of slow intelligence and weak memory, he was
scarcely able to grasp or retain any knowledge whatever, and
so he became a butt to all, for they judged him little better
than an idiot; and this was a source of great trouble to him,
and because of it his life became a burden. It happened that
one day he fell sick, and lo! Satan appeared to him and said
“ If you will do me homage, I will make you the greatest:
scholar in the world. ” When he heard this the youth was

39

The Dialogue on Miracles

terrified and replied to the suggestion of the devil: “ Get thee
behind me, Satan; never shalt thou be my maSter, nor I thy
man. ” And when he thus refused, the evil spirit took his
hand, opened it with some violence and thruSt a Stone into it,
saying, “ As long as you keep this Stone in your hand, all
knowledge will be yours ” and so disappeared. The youth
rose from his bed, went into the schools, where he propounded
hard questions, and easily surpassed all others in disputation,
to the astonishment of all who wondered at the knowledge and
eloquence of the erStwhile idiot, and were Stupified at so
marvellous a change. But he kept the secret well, nor would
he disclose to anyone the means by which he had gained his
extraordinary learning.

Not long after he fell ill with a mortal sickness,
and the prieSt was summoned to hear his confession.
AmongSt other things he confessed how he had received
the Stone from the devil, and with the Stone his Strange
knowledge. The prieSt cried out, “ Throw it away, unhappy
man, or you will never come to the knowledge of God.”
“ Stricken with terror, he threw away the Stone, which till
now he had always kept in his hand, and with the Stone gave
up all his false knowledge. What need of more ? The clerk
died; his body was laid in the church, and all the scholars
took their places round the bier to sing the psalms in the
Christian fashion. But his soul was carried away by demons,
who bore it to a deep and awful ravine, from which a sul¬
phurous vapour unceasingly arose. There they placed them¬
selves on either side of the valley, and those on the one side
hurled the miserable soul as if they were playing ball, and
those on the other caught it in their hands as it hurtled through
the miSt. So exceedingly sharp were their claws that they
far surpassed the sharpest needle or the keeneSt point of Steel,
nor, as he afterwards said, could any kind of torture known
upon earth compare with the agony he felt, both when they
hurled and when they caught him.

But the Lord had mercy upon him; and there came a mes¬
senger from heaven, a Being of noble and awful aspedt, who
delivered this word to the demons: “ Listen,” he said “ It is
the command of the moSt High that you release this soul whom

40

Of Conversion

you deceived.” At once they all obeyed and released the
soul, nor presumed any more to lift finger againfl him. So
now the soul returned to the body and reanimated the lifeless
limbs so that he revived and flood up, bringing panic-flricken
flight upon all the scholars who were sitting orderly about
the coffin. Coming down from the bier, he told all men that
he was alive, and made clear more by adion than by speech
all that he had seen and heard. For taking the vows immed¬
iately in the Ciftercian Order, he was so find with himself
and so ruthless in chaflising his body, that all who saw him
could clearly underfland that he had indeed experienced the
pains of Purgatory, nay, rather those of hell.

Novice .—I should like you to make it plain to me, whether
that place in which he was tormented, was within the bounds
of hell or of Purgatory.

Mon \.—If that valley was a part of hell, it is agreed that
he muft have made his confession without contrition. And
this is clearly proved from this, that, by the teflimony of the
heavenly messenger, he underwent that punishment because
he had consented to keep the flone.

Novice .—Mufl we say then that he consented to the devil?

Monl (.—-He did not consent so far as to do him homage,
but he did consent in this, that he did not at once hurl the flone
from him, but kept it carefully as a means of knowledge.
Indeed he was so enamoured of it that not even in sickness
did he at firfl lay it aside, but only with great reludance cafl
it from him at the urgent bidding of the priefl. If I should
say that that place was in Purgatory, then I am confronted
with these difficulties; firfl the absence of the holy angels, and
then the presence of the demons and the fad that they carried
off his soul at death, and were permitted to torment it so
cruelly. Mafler Rudolph, the Scholafticus 1 at Cologne,
whose school I used to frequent, taught us that no demon
might ever touch the souls of the eled when they left their
earthly prison, but that the blessed angels carried to the places
of Purgatory all those that were worthy thereof. He used to
illuflrate it like this: It is not fitting that gold should be puri¬
fied by a charcoal burner, but by a jeweller. Later, on account

1 A canon charged with the direftion of the schools.

41

The Dialogue on Miracles

of the sanftity of his life, he who had been thus recalled from
death was made abbot in Morimond, one of our four chief
houses, a man holy and devout in the sight of all. When I
asked abbot Herman about him, whether he had ever seen
him laugh, because it is said that those who have risen from
the dead are never known to laugh, he answered: “ Know
that I myself was on the watch for this very thing, nor could
I ever deteft in him any inclination to levity, so serious was
he and so gently patient. Never did I see him even smile, nor
utter any trivial word.”

Novice. —I wonder if he disclosed anything about the form
or powers of the soul.

Mon{. —Yes; he said that his soul was like a glassy spherical
vessel, that it had eyes both before and behind, that it was
filled with all knowledge, and nothing could escape its range
of vision. He told the scholars all that they had been doing
while they had been sitting round his bier, “ you ” he said
“ were playing dice: you were pulling each other’s hair ;
and you were diligently chanting the psalms.”

Novice. —I am glad to learn that this man, who put off his
body and saw and heard so many things in pain, passed by
all other Religious Orders of the Church and chose to enter
ours.

Mon\. —Rightly ought you to rejoice; and I will tell you
another flory that will greatly enhance this joy of yours.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Of a dead cler\, who had been skilled in necro¬
mancy and who appeared to a living companion and
persuaded him to enter the Order.

There were two young men in Toledo—as I have read, for
the flory was not told me by word of mouth—who used to
ftudy necromancy together, and it happened that one of them
was seized with mortal illness; and when he was near to death,
the other begged that he would appear to him within twenty

42

Of Conversion

days. “ Yes, ” he said, “ I will, if permission be granted
me.” Now on that twentieth day the survivor was sitting
in a church before the image of the Blessed Virgin, and read¬
ing psalms for the soul of his friend, when lo 1 that wretched
one appeared, showing his torments by heartbreaking groans.
And when he asked him where he was and how it fared with
him, he replied; “ Woe is me, for I am eternally lost on account
of that diabolical art which I learnt: for it is the true death of
the soul, as its title shows. And I counsel you, as my only
friend, to give up this accursed science, and take up a Religious
life and make amends to God for your sins.” And when
the living man begged him to show him the safeSt way of
living, he replied, “ There is no surer path than the way of
the CiStercian Order; nor if you search through every way of
life will you find any that furnishes fewer souls for hell than
that Order." He told him much else which I omit for the
sake of brevity, since they are all written in the book of the
Visions of Clairvaux. In fine, the youth abjured necromancy
without delay and became novice and then monk in the Cis¬
tercian Order.

Novice .—I admit that my heartfelt joy is doubled by this
Story.

Mon\.— Will you hear about a third clerk who was con¬
verted in almost similar fashion ?

Novice .—Indeed I very greatly desire it.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Also of a clerk, who came to the Order after seeing
the pains of the Landgrave Ludwig.

Mon{.— From an aged brother of ours named Conrad, who
has often told me the Story, I learnt what I now relate. He
is now nearly a hundred years old, and, being himself a native
of Thuringia and having seen much service in arms before
his conversion, knew a great deal about the life of the Land¬
grave Ludwig, of whom I told a long Story above in the 27th

43

The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter. When he died, he left two sons as his heirs, namely,
Ludwig, who died in the firft expedition to Jerusalem which
took place in the days of the Emperor Frederick, and Herman
who succeeded him, and died only recently. This younger
Ludwig, who was quite a reasonable and humane man, and
to say truth a good deal less evil than moft other of the petty
tyrants of our day, put forth the following proclamation : “ If
there be any one, ” it ran, “ who can give me true information
about the soul of my father, with unmistakable evidence of
its truth, I will beStow upon him a good farm.”

This came to the ears of an impoverished knight,
who had a brother clerk skilled in necromancy, to whom
he pointed out the promises of the Landgrave; but he
replied, “ My dear brother, it is true that I once used
to call up the devil by means of incantations; true also
that I used to get from him any information that I
desired; but for a long time now I have renounced all
those arts, and all intercourse with him.” But when the
knight continued to urge him in season and out of season,
reminding him of their poverty and the promised reward, the
clerk was overcome at laSt by his brother’s insistence, and
summoned the demon. Immediately he appeared and asked
what he wanted. The clerk answered : “ I ask your pardon
for having negle<fted you so long. Show me I pray you where
dwells the soul of my maSter the Landgrave.” Said the
demon, “ If you will come with me, I will show him to you.”
And he, “ Much do I desire to see him, if I can do so without
danger to my life.” And the devil answered “ I swear to
you by the MoSl High, and by His awful tribunal, that if you
will truSt yourself to my good faith, I will take you there
safely and bring you back unharmed.” Then the clerk,
taking his life in his hands for his brother’s sake, climbed on
to the shoulders of the demon, who quickly brought him to
the gate of hell. Looking within, the clerk gazed upon those
abodes of horror, where all manner of pains were being
endured; and he saw there a demon of terrible aspetft crouch¬
ing over the closed mouth of a pit. At this sight the clerk
was seized with a trembling in all his limbs : and that demon
cried out to the demon who was carrying him : “ Who is that

44

Of Conversion

you have upon your back ? Bring him here.” And the
other replied: “ It is a friend of ours, and I have sworn by
your mighty power that I will not hurt him, but will show
him the soul of his lord the Landgrave and carry him back
unharmed, that he may declare to all your measureless power.”

Then he without further delay moved aside the flaming cover
over which he was crouching, and putting a brazen trumpet
into the opening, he blew upon it so loud a blaSt that the whole
universe seemed to the clerk to become one vaSt blare. After
what seemed to him an interval of an intolerably long hour,
the pit all the while belching forth sulphurous flames, the
Landgrave, rising amid the clouds of sulphurous sparks, put
forth his head as far as the neck so that the clerk could see
him and said: “ See, I am here, that miserable Landgrave,
once your master; Ah! would that I had never been born! ”
And the clerk made answer: “ I have been sent by your son
that I may carry him back word of your condition; and if it
be possible to help you in any way, tell me that too, I beseech
you. ” And he rejoined: “ My condition you can see for
yourself: but this I declare to you; that if my sons will reStore
to certain churches certain property (and here he recounted
them by name) which I unjuftly seized and left to them to
inherit, they will confer great benefit upon my soul.” And
when the clerk said, “ Sir, how shall they believe me? ” he
went on “ I will give you a token unknown to any save my
sons and myself.” Then having received the token, and
having seen the Landgrave plunged again into the pit, he
was brought back to earth by the demon; and though he had
escaped with his life, yet he came back so exhausted and so
deathly pale that he was scarcely recognisable.

He carried the message of the father to the sons and told
them the secret sign; but with little profit to the former
Landgrave, for they refused altogether to make restitution.
Nevertheless the Landgrave Ludwig said, “ I recognise the
sign and have no doubt that you did actually see my father,
and I do not refuse to give you the promised reward.” But
he replied, “ Sir, let your farm remain in your own hands;
1 muSt consider only what may benefit my soul ”; and for¬
saking the world, he became a monk in the CiStercian Order,

45

The Dialogue on Miracles

glad to endure any kind of temporal suffering if only he
might escape eternal doom.

Here you have three examples of how some are converted
by the fear or sight of the pains of hell. I could tell you more
about this, but I propose to refer to it again under other heads.

Novice. —If men could only see such things, surely they
would not sin with so little thought.

Mon\. —That is indeed true. Hear now the laft example
which shows how some are converted, not by the ftings of
conscience, but by the desire of preserving their innocence, and
by the longing for their heavenly home.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Of the conversion of Godfrey the mon\ of Villers,
and of the revelations vouchsafed to him.

In the monastery of S. Panteleon in Cologne, which is of
the Order of Black Monks, there was a youth who lived a
blameless life of unsullied purity among his brethren accord¬
ing to the discipline of that Order. And this Godfrey,
kindled with longing for the heavenly life, and finding that he
could not live that life according to the injunction of his Rule,
came to us and begged mo$t humbly and earnestly that he
might be counted worthy to join our convent. Our abbot, fear¬
ing that his desire arose more from fickleness than devotion,
refused, alas! to receive him. Thus repulsed by us, he went
to Villers and quickly obtained what he sought. How Strict
he was in all observances, how saintly in life, how fervent in
his Order, God does not cease to show even to this day through
the miracles wrought by his relics.

Once the lord abbot of Villers, who had been our Prior,
came to visit us, and brought with him this venerable saint,
and, as I have been told by those who saw him, God gave
him at mass so great a grace of devotion, that the floods of
tears from his eyes besprinkled both the altar and his own
breaSt. And when father Lureke, who was then a novice

46

Of Conversion

and had been a canon of Bonn, asked him how he ought
to pray, he replied : “ When you are at prayer, do not speak,
but simply meditate upon the nativity, the passion, the
Resurretflion of the Saviour, and all else that you know about
Him.” For he longed to teach others what experience had
shown to be profitable to himself. He possessed also the
gift of prophecy, so that he would at times predid to the
monks coming trials, and would urge them to prepare their
hearts to endure them.

I will tell you also what a pious monk of Villers told me
about him. Once during his week of office in the kitchen,
he had been washing the feet of the monks, as is cuftomary
on a Saturday; and after compline, when he had closed the
church, for he was sacriftan, the Saviour appeared, girt with
towel, and carrying a basin, and said to Godfrey, “ Sit down
that I may wash thy feet; for thou, for a long time, haft
been accustomed to wash mine." And when he refused in
terror, He constrained him, and kneeling down, He washed
his feet, and so disappeared.

On a Tuesday in Holy week, when he was Standing in his
place in the choir, while the Psalm “ EruStavit cor meum ”
(Ps. xlv.) was being fervently sung by the convent, lo! the
glorious Virgin Mary, the mother of God, came down from
the chancel, and went round the choir as the abbot does,
blessing the monks, and so went out between the Stalls of
the abbot and the prior, as though she were going to the choir
of the lay-brothers. He followed her to see where she went,
but she was no more to be seen. And immediately, either
the next day, or the day following, he fell sick: and though
he was now nearing his end, he persevered in all the work
of the convent until EaSter, both lacerating his back with
scourgings, and washing the sacred veSfments with the
others; but at length overcome by his illness, he was laid
upon a bed in the infirmary.

And when the laSI agony was approaching, it happened to
be the dinner hour of the convent, and his attendant said to
him, “ I do not like to go to dinner, for I fear you may die
while I am away.” “ Go in peace," he said, “ for I shall
see you again before I die.” And while the monk was

47

The Dialogue on Miracles

sitting at dinner, Godfrey opened the door of the refafrory,
looked at him, and passed on his way toward the church.
The attendant was abounded, and thought that he had
miraculously recovered his health. Immediately after the
departure of Godfrey, the gong sounded to signify his death,
and the monk remembered the promise the dying man had
made him. When they Gripped his body for the washing,
they found his back so bruised with the blows of the rod,
that all marvelled greatly. Not long ago, by revelation from
on high, his bones were taken up and laid in the sanctuary,
where they are preserved as relics.

To Him be the glory, who thus shows honour to them that
turn to Him, to whom with the Father and the Holy Ghost,
be all honour and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

Many other flories are told of him, but I omit them for the
sake of brevity.

Novice .—I confess myself completely satisfied as to the
causes of conversion ; may 1 now hear something about its
manner or form ?

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Of the manner anti form of conversion.

Mon \.—We see some come to conversion with a certain
vanity and worldly oflentation, and others with a display
of great humility.

Novice .—Which of these is better ?

Monl —No one can doubt that a humble conversion is
pleasing to God; but indeed we muff judge the display of any
worldly oflentation according to the intention of the convert.
Some who desire to be received dress themselves in new clothes,
that they may not be repulsed as paupers and vagabonds;
others again, though rich, put on the cloak of poverty, that
their humility may make them the more worthy of admittance.
I will give you examples of these.

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Of Conversion

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Of the conversion of the knight Walewan, who
came to the Order in full armour.

A knight named Walewan, who desired to enter the con¬
vent, came to Hemmenrode arrayed in all his armour and
riding upon his charger, and thus armed entered the convent:
and, as our elders who were then present have told me, he
went, under the guidance of the porter down the middle of
the choir to the altar of the Blessed Virgin and there, with
all the convent looking on, he laid down his arms and took
up the monk’s dress. It seemed to him to be fitting and
proper that he should lay down the warlike trappings of the
world there where he proposed to assume the garments of a
soldier of ChriSt. He is Still living, a good and earnest man,
who at firft was a novice among the monks, but afterwards,
in his humility, preferred to become a lay-brother.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Of the humble conversion of the abbot Philip.

The conversion of the abbot Philip of Ottirburg was the
very opposite of this, as was related to me by a canon of Utrecht
who was present at the time. Born of honourable parentage
and canon of Cologne Cathedral he heard in Paris a ledlure
by Rudolph, a canon of the same Cathedral and president of
the schools, and inspired by Divine grace, he left his Studies
without the knowledge of his master. Now he was a young
man rather fastidious and always accustomed to be very well
dressed; and meeting a poor scholar, he persuaded him to ex¬
change clothes with him, and so came to a certain house of our
Order called Bonnevaux, and humbly begged to be received
there as a novice. The brethren, seeing him clad in an old
and worn out cloak, thought that he was some wandering poor
scholar, and refused to receive him. He felt the delay caused

49

The Dialogue on Miracles

by this repulse to be dangerous, and, when they Still denied
him entrance, he said at laft: “ If you do not let me in, perhaps
you will one day be sorry, and then, when you wish to do it,
it will be no longer possible.” Then at lafl they took him
in. When his maffer Rudolph heard of his conversion, he
was much grieved and came with several companions to the
monastery, but a house builded upon a rock cannot be shaken.
And because this same Philip humbled himself at his con¬
version, the Lord so exalted him, that within a few years he
was made abbot of that monaflery.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Of some who at conversion conceal their Holy
Orders for humility's sak^e.

So great is the virtue of humility that often for love of it,
clerks who come to the Order conceal the fa< 5 l that they are
not laymen, preferring the herding of cattle to the reading of
books, and holding it better to serve God in humility than to
be set over others because of their holy orders or literary learn¬
ing.

Now because it often happened in the Order that such men
after being lay-brothers became monks, and it was considered
desirable to prevent this for the future, four years ago it was
laid down in a General Chapter that those who had taken the
vows under such conditions should remain among the lay-
brothers. The same year there came one—he was I think a
deacon—who pretended to be a layman and was admitted as
a lay-brother. And when the abbot learnt about his orders
from some one who disclosed them, he brought forward his
case at the next Chapter. And because it seemed to them as
sensible men altogether absurd that one who had entered into
such high orders should be without the mark of the tonsure
and without the opportunity of exercising the funfhons of his
orders, they reversed the decision.

50

Of Conversion

Novice. —I am not surprised if some conceal their orders
at conversion, when we read that in former days that women
such as the blessed Eugenia and S. Euphrosyne and the blessed
Marina, through their zeal for conversion, even concealed their
sex.

Mon\. —Why should you wonder at this which took place
in former days, when we know it to have happened quite
recently and in our own Order ?

Novice. —I should very much like to hear all about that,
namely, who she was, and where and how so wonderful a
conversion took place (how she came to the Order, how she
lived as a monk, and how she died).

Mon!{. —I will tell you faithfully about this woman, who
she was, how she came to the Order, how she lived as a monk,
and how she died, as the Story was told to me by a monk who
had been on probation with her as a novice.

CHAPTER XL.

Of the marvellous conversion of the blessed Virgin
Hildegund who feigned to be a man.

In the town of Neuss, which is five miles from the great city
of Cologne, there lived a citizen, who had a beautiful and
beloved daughter named Hildegund. And when his wife
died, and the child was still very young, he took her with him
to Jerusalem, to pray at the Holy Sepulchre. On the way
back the father fell ill, and at Tyre he died. On his deathbed
he commended his daughter and all that he had to the care of
his servant. But this man being both unscrupulous and
greedy of money did not keep faith with his maSter, nor show
any pity for the dead, but sailed away secretly by night, leaving
the girl in the house, and abandoning her to misery and want.

In the morning when she rose and discovered that her faith¬
less guardian had left the country, taking with him all her
father’s property, she was terribly distressed, for she knew not

The Dialogue on Miracles

what to do nor whither to turn. Not knowing the language
of the country, she soon found herself without the means of
living and was reduced to beggary; kind people however
enabled her to attend the schools in that city for a year. After
that time there arrived some pilgrims from Germany, to whom
she explained the calamity that had befallen her, and prayed
them with tears to have pity upon her. One of these, of noble
birth and kind heart, and richer than the reft, comforted her,
and providing her with all necessaries, took the poor aban¬
doned pilgrim upon his ship, and brought her back to her own
country.

Now at that time a controversy was on foot in the
Church of Treves between two ecclesiaftics who had been
appointed to the bishopric, Wolmar the archdeacon, and
Rudolph the chief provoft; the former favoured by the lord
pope Lucius and the latter by the Emperor Frederick. Now
the Church of Cologne took the side of one of these parties,
and on this account desired to send a letter to the Pope, who
was then ftaying in Verona. But the carrier, fearing for his
life, because the ambushes set by the Emperor made it
dangerous for anyone to carry letters to the Pope, and thinking
this girl to be a young man, misled by her tonsure and dress,
conceived the idea of making her his subftitute. By prayers
and promises of reward, and by assuring her that a traveller on
foot would be much less an objeft of suspicion than one who
went on horseback, he succeeded in persuading her to carry
the letter enclosed in a ftick.

When she was near the city of Augsburg, she fall in with
a thief, who proposed that they should travel together, and
she, unsuspicious of evil, willingly agreed. When they had
gone a little way the thief heard a noise as of people pursuing
them, and pretending that he was compelled to retire, he
gave the girl his bundle containing the ftolen goods, and hid
himself in the thicket. To make the ftory short, she was
arrefted by the pursuers, dragged with the bundle before
tribunal and sentenced to be hanged. When she found
that nothing that she could say was of any profit, because
of the ftolen goods found upon her, she asked for and
obtained the help of a prieft. Confessing everything to him,

Of Conversion

she told him very simply the whole objebt of her journey and
the wickedness of the thief: and that she might induce him
to believe her, she showed him the reed containing the letter
to the Pope, and added, “ If the thief be sought for, he will
quickly be found.”

By the advice of the prieSt, men with nets and dogs
were sent to surround the wood ; the thief was hunted
and caught, and both were brought before the tribunal.
When the wretched man was compelled by torture to confess
his crime, he said, “ I am unjuStly forced to confess to a crime
which I did not commit; the man who was taken in possession
of the Stolen goods ought by civil law to be the one con¬
demned.” On the other hand the girl said that the bundle
had been treacherously entrusted to her, and that she wished
to return it to its owner; whereupon he replied : “ I deny that
the bundle is mine; the assertion of one person is not
evidence.” To this the maiden could make no answer; but
the prieSt intervening on her behalf, roundly asserted that she
was innocent, and had been deceived by the man’s cunning;
“ and if, ” he added, “ you do not believe my words, make the
trial by red hot iron, and it will quickly be shown which is
innocent and which guilty.” All agreed to the trial, and the
hand of the thief was found to be burnt, and that of the girl
to remain uninjured. Then the thief was hanged without
further delay, and the confessor and deliverer of the maiden
gladly gave her shelter in his own house.

And behold, at the instigation of the devil, who grudged
the maiden her escape, a relation of the thief, furious
at his dishonoured death, snatched away from the prieSt’s
house this innocent girl, who had been set free by the
judgment of God, cut down the guilty man, and hanged
her in his place. Without delay came the angel of God,
who supported the innocent vidtim so that she felt not the
conStridtion of the noose, and refreshed her with the
wonderful sweet fragrance of his presence. Now while
she felt no pain, but rather seemed to be enfolded in heavenly
delight, she heard during that night so entrancing a
melody, harmonies so varied and full of joy, that no choir
of voices, no orchestra of Strings could be compared to it in

53

The Dialogue on Miracles

sweetness. “ What is it? ” she asked, and the angel replied
“ These are the angelic songs amid which the soul of thy sifter
Agnes is being borne to heaven, and in two years from now
thou thyself shalt blissfully follow her.”

Thus the blessed maiden hung for two days, until some
shepherds who were feeding their flocks in the neighbour¬
hood were moved to pity, and agreed to take the body down
and give it burial. But when the cord was cut, she
did not fall down heavily as corpses do, but, the angel
supporting her, came down slowly to the ground and flood
there upon her feet, so that the shepherds fled in terror at
such a sight. Then said the angel of the Lord: “ Behold,
thou art free ; go withersoever thou wilt.” To whom she
replied: “ My lord, it was my intention to go to Verona.”
Forthwith she was translated in a moment to the neighbour¬
hood of that city, and the angel said, “ Verona is three
miles diftant from this spot.” Now between Augsburg
and Verona is a diftance of seven days journey.

Novice .—There seem to have been repeated on behalf of
this maiden the ancient miracles of the saints like that of the
abbot S. Benedict and the prophet Habakkuk, the former of
whom, when far away, saw the soul of his sifter Scholaftica
entering the higheft heaven in the form of a dove; while the
latter, the prophet I mean, was translated in a moment of time
from Jud.Ta to Babylon (Dan. xiv. 35. Vulgate).

Mon /{.—That is true, nor is it less wonderful that she at
so great a diftance should have found grace to hear the
angelic song with which her sifter was borne to heaven, than
that the blessed Severin, when in Cologne, should have seen
the soul of S. Martin ascending to the Lord with similar song.
And to her, further, two glorious mercies were shown; one,
that the angel upheld her so that she felt no pains from the
noose, and the other, that he fortold to her the day of her
death so long before.

But to continue; when she had finished successfully
her undertaking at Verona, on her return she entered
the diocese of Worms, and, full of gratitude for the Divine
mercy, she succeeded, through the prayers and help of
a certain venerable recluse, in being received as a novice by

54

Of Conversion

Dom Theobald the abbot of Schoenau, that delightful place
which derives its name from the pleasantness of its surround¬
ings. The abbot, thinking her a man, bade her sit behind
him on his horse; and when he heard the gentle feminine
voice in which she spoke, said to her, “ Brother Joseph, has
your voice not yet broken?” and she answered, “Sir, 1 do
not think it will ever break.” Feigning to be a man, she had
taken S. Joseph’s name, so that as she had to fight againSt
a two-fold enemy, the flesh and the devil, she might keep
the more fully in mind him who she knew to have conquered
these powerful foes, and gain his help the more completely.

When she entered upon her probation, she put her hand to
the hardest tasks. She slept among men, with men she ate
and drank, with men she bared her back to the scourge. And
though she was a maiden of serious habit, yet that her sex
might not be discovered, she sometimes made displays of
levity among her companions on probation; as for instance,
a monk named Herman, then a boy of 14, told me that once,
when the mailer of novices was absent, she drew him to her
cup and said, “ Let us look into this mirror and see which of
us is the more comely;” and while they were looking at the
reflection of their faces in the wine, she said again, “ Well,
Herman, what do you think of my face?” He answered,
“ I think your chin is rather like the chin of a woman.”
Whereupon she went away as if in anger. Afterwards both
were beaten for breaking the rule of silence.

Novice .—I wonder if she had any temptations while in the
Order.

Monl (.—Of her temptations I have heard nothing, but that
she was the cause of temptation to others is quite clear.
When the time named by the angel for her death drew near,
her health began to fail, and when, owing to her extreme
weakness they carried her to bed, one of the monks, looking
at her, said aloud to the others Standing by, “ This brother
of ours is either a woman or a devil, because I have never
been able to look at her without temptation.” The Strength
of nature is shown clearly enough by these words spoken in
jeSt. The prior was summoned to her bedside, and when she
had confessed to him a few trivial sins, he asked her if she

55

The Dialogue on Miracles

had ever sinned with any woman, and she replied, “ Never,
sir, have I been guilty with any woman, or any man;” adding
the laSt words because of her sex. Then she told him in
order, as I have been telling you, all that had befallen her in
her life, but saying nothing about her sex. The prior was
astounded and said, “ My brother, what proof can you give
me of all this, for it seems to me beyond belief,” and she
answered, It is two years to-day since the angel of the Lord
foretold to me the day of my death as I hung upon the gallows;
/ ^now in whom I have believed. I have \ept the faith, l
have finished my course ; henceforth there is laid up for me a
crown of righteousness (2 Tim. iv. 7, 8). If on that day which
I have foretold, I do not lay aside the use of my tongue for
about the space of the saying of one mass before my death,
do not believe me.” And she added, “ When I am dead,
there will come to light a thing at which you will marvel
greatly, and for which you will duly give thanks to the mighty
power of God.”

This she said, and at set of sun on the Wednesday in
EaSter week, the 20th of April in the year of the Lord,
1188, that saintly soul departed from her virgin body to be
with the Lord. The gong was sounded, and the abbot
and all the brethren hurried to be present at the prayers
and rites for the dead, and when the body was carried out and
stripped for the washing, her sex was made manifest. Then all
were Stupefied at the Strangeness of the miracle, and it was
told to the prieSt who was reading the commendatory prayers,
who, when he heard of her sex, changed the words of the
text, and substituted the words “ nun ” and “ siSter ” for
those of “ monk ” and “ brother.” Later, when her record
was to be written for the books of the monastery, since her
name was unknown, the entry was made in this fashion, “ On
the 20th of April died the handmaid of ChriSt in Schoenau.”

Some days after, since the brethren desired to find out the
name of that blessed one, they sent into the neighbourhood of
Cologne, which she had given as the place of her birth, and
after persistent enquiry for her family, by God’s will an old
woman was discovered who said that she had been a relation
of hers, and that her name was Hildegund.

56

Of Conversion

A few years ago, a new chapel was consecrated in
Schoenau and the people came from various provinces to the
ceremony, and when the virtues of the blessed Hildegund
were related to them, they crowded to her tomb, especially
the matrons, to commend themselves to her prayers, and to
glorify God for such marvellous things. And let us, brethren,
give thanks with them to our Saviour, who hath willed these
things to take place in our time and in our Order to His
glory and our edification, Who liveth and reigneth with the
Father and the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen.

Let all men marvel at the life of him,

Of her, who lies within this tomb.

Living, she seemed a man, but death revealed
Her sex, for death makes plain what life can hide.

The Book of Life containeth “ Hildegund.”

She died on the 20th of April.

Novice. —About this maiden may indeed be understood
that word of Solomon, “ Who shall find a virtuous woman?”

Mon\. —So great is the virtue of soul in some women, that
they are indeed worthy of all praise.

CHAPTER XLI.

Of a widow of Cologne who went out from the city
in the cloak, of a lay-brother.

There was an honourable matron of Cologne, both rich and
young, who after the death of her husband, desired to become
the spouse of Chrift, but was afraid of her friends, who sought
to prevent her from carrying out her purpose. She consulted
therefore Dom Charles, the abbot of Villers, and by his
advice put on the cloak of a lay-brother, and in this dress was
escorted out of the city by him and became a nun of the Hill
of S. Walburgis.

57

The Dialogue on Miracles

Not/ice .—I am not so much surprised at the conversion of
widows or married women who have tabled the dregs of the
world, but I do greatly wonder at the constancy of virgins who
take the veil in opposition to the will of their parents.

Mon \.—I will give you some examples of these.

CHAPTER XLII.

Of the conversion of Matilda, abbess of Fusinnich.

The lady Matilda, who is to-day the abbess of Fusinnich,
was the daughter of very rich parents and was brought up to
make a worldly marriage. But while she was Still of very
tender years, she protected daily that she wished to be espoused
to ChriSt alone, and to become a nun. Finding that she could
not be turned aside from her purpose by either blandishments
or threats, her parents dressed her up one day in purple
garments againSt her will, and she said to her mother, “ Even
if you were to dress me all in gold, you would not make me
change my mind.” And when at laSt her parents gave up
the Struggle in weariness, they wished to place her in the
aforesaid convent of S. Walburgis, but found it impossible,
because the Statutory number of siSters was already complete
there. Wherefore she took the veil in Fusinnich, where she
made such progress that she was soon chosen as abbess, though
Still a young woman. A few years later, her siSter Aleidis,
becoming a widow in early life, followed her and became
prioress in the same convent. By their example, one of their
relations, going out of the diocese of Utrecht in man’s clothes
through fear of her parents, took the veil in the convent of S.
Thomas, which is a house of our Order in the diocese of
Treves. But when her siSter tried to do the like, she was
seized by her parents and given to a husband ; nevertheless,
I hope that God will not leave unrewarded so fervent a desire
for conversion.

58

Of Conversion
CHAPTER XLIII.

Of the conversion of Helswindis, abbess of
Burscheid.

I will tell you the ftory of the conversion of the lady
Helswindis, the abbess of Burscheid, a conversion that was
worthy of all praise and indeed of wonder. She was and
Shill is the daughter of Arnold, bailiff of Aix, a rich and
powerful man, and from an early age so glowed with zeal
for conversion, that she used frequently to say to her mother,
“ Mother, let me be a nun.” She was in the habit of going
with her mother to the Hill of S. Saviour, where at that time
there was a convent of the sifters of Burscheid.

One day she entered the house secretly by the kitchen
window, went up to the dormitory, and putting on a sifter’s
cowl, went in to the choir with the others. When her
mother, now wishing to return, learnt of this from the abbess,
she, thinking it a practical joke, said, “ Please send for my
servant, for we muft be going home.” Whereupon the
daughter speaking at the window from within, said, “ I am
a nun, I cannot come with you.” But the mother, in fear
of her husband, answered, “ Come with me now, and I will
ask your father to make you a nun ” ; and so she went
with her mother. But she, when she got home, failed to
keep her promise and said nothing to her husband.

Later it happened one morning that the mother again
went up the Hill, leaving her daughter ftill asleep. When
she woke and sought for her mother, and could not
find her, she guessed that she had gone to the Hill and
followed alone; arriving, she entered the convent by the same
window, and again put on the habit, and when her mother
called her to come away, she replied, “ You shall not deceive
me again,” and reminded her of the promises made before.

And the mother went home much frightened, and her father
in great anger came up with her brothers, broke down the
doors, took away his daughter in spite of her cries and tears,
and handed her over to some of his relations to turn her mind
away from all ideas of conversion. But though she was I

59

The Dialogue on Miracles

think no more than nine years old, she answered all their
arguments with such wisdom as to aftomsh and confound
them. What need of more? The bishop of Liege excom¬
municated the father and those who had helped to carry her
away; she was restored to the convent, and after a few years
was chosen abbess.

Let this be enough about conversion. Many wonders of
this kind has Chri£t wrought in His elect to the glory of His
Name, to Whom with the Father and the Holy Spirit be
honour and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

BOOK II

OF CONTRITION

CHAPTER I.

Of contrition, what it is, and why it is so called,
what are its different finds, and what is its fruit.

In the fir£t book it was Stated that conversion sometimes
goes before contrition and sometimes follows it, and this was
proved by examples. Now indeed I propose to speak about
this contrition, according as the Lord shall deign to give me
grace, and I shall confirm with illustrations all that I shall
say of it.

And this you ought to know, that contriuon is a great and
perfect good, since it is the gift of God, “ coming down from
above from the Father of light, with whom there is no variable¬
ness neither shadow of turning ” (Jam. i. 17). And some¬
times there are even additions to its perfectness, for while
the leaSt contrition wipes out the greatest sin, a perfect con¬
trition takes away both sin and penalty.

Novice. —That I may be able the better to understand the
power of contrition, will you explain to me firSt what it really
is, why it is so called, whether it is beStowed as a free gift,
or by a man’s merit, how many kinds there are of it, and
what it works in the sinner ?

Monf. —Contrition is heartfelt repentance, i.e., grief for
sin, arising sometimes from the fear of hell, sometimes from
the desire of heaven.

Novice.—Is there any difference between repentance and
penance ?

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The Dialogue on Miracles

Mon\. —Yes; repentance is the inward pain that takes away
guilt; penance is tne outward satisfaction that wipes out the
penalty due to the sin.

Novice .—What is the difference between guilt and penalty?

Mon \.—Guilt is the sin itself, the penalty is the reward of
guilt. If the sin be mortal, the reward due is eternal punish¬
ment, which upon heartfelt repentance, God commutes into
a temporal punishment, and this, if the contrition has been
imperfeCl, is cancelled by external satisfaction, which is called
penance, so called because the word contains the meaning of
punishment.

Novice .—Whence comes its name ?

Mon \.—Contrition is so called because it is complete
trituration or bruising; it is made up of con, which means
complete, and tritio, because the heart ought to be bruised
with grief for all sin. If a man grieve for one sin and not for
another, it muft by no means be allowed that such a man has
contrition of the heart. The sinner cannot divide his guilt
any more than God divides His pardon; for He forgives the
whole debt at once.

Novice .—If we muft be contrite for all sins at once, what
does the Psalmin mean when he says, “ Every night wash
I my bed and water my couch with my tears ” (Ps. vi. 6).
The “ bed,” as you have often explained, is the conscience,
and “ every night ” is every sin. If he bemoans them one by
one that so they may be washed away one by one, how can he
show contrition for all at once ?

Mon \.—There ought to be one general contrition for all
sins, to wipe out the guilt; and then, if it be possible, we
should weep each day with Thais, to wash away the penalty.

Novice .—From whence does contrition arise? Is it a free
gift, or is it the result of man’s desert ?

MonJ {.—I will tell you what is the opinion of our fore¬
fathers about this. They say that there are four concurrent
agents in the junification of a sinner : the infusion of grace,
the emotion that rises from grace and freewill, contrition, and
the remission of sins. These four they call the four junifica¬
tions. The firn we can never deserve, because it is benowed
on us as a free gift, nor do we deserve the second, because

62

Of Contrition

it is an emotion immediately aroused by grace and freewill.
Although we have no desert in that emotion, nevertheless by
it we do deserve the third justification, that is, contrition.
This justification does come by our effort, and by it we can
win the fourth, namely, remission of sins. That is the limit
of desert in contrition. And you muSl bear in mind that
one justification is said to precede another, not in time, but in
its nature.

Novice .—I should like you to explain this more fully under
some figure.

Mon \—Consider this then. Rain is beStowed upon the
earth, and from both elements the plants grow, and then
from the plant fruit is produced. The rain is grace, the earth
is freewill; from rain and earth comes the plant, and from
grace and freewill springs emotion, as we have said. The
plant bears fruit, when this emotion moves freewill to give
satisfadlion. The soil is barren without the rain, and free¬
will can bear no fruit without grace; neither can the rain work
without the soil.

Novice .—What are the different kinds of contrition?

Mon \.—There are two, namely, the inward and the out¬
ward ; the inward in betterness of heart, the outward in dis¬
cipline of body.

Novice .-—Now I am wondering, what is the mighty power
of contrition ?

Mon \.—So great is its power, that without it, baptism
bears no fruit, confession is barren, reparation is useless, in
adults who have added adlual to original sin. Here then you
underfland that contrition is the first baptism to the unbap¬
tised, and to the baptised who have fallen into sin, it is their
second baptism. By this baptism of contrition were baptised
the thief on the cross, and S. Mary Magdalene at the Saviour’s
feet.

That contrition blotteth out sin, however great that sin
may be, you shall learn by the following illustration.

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The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter II.

Of the apottate mon\, who being mortally
wounded in fighting, in the contrition of his con¬
fession, chose for himself 2,000 years in Purgatory.

A certain youth of noble birth took the vows in our Order.
One of his relations was a certain bishop who loved him
dearly, who, when he heard of his conversion, came to the
monastery and tried his utmoSt to persuade him to return to
the world, but failed. When his year of probation was
fulfilled he was made monk, and passing through the different
Steps, was not long afterwards ordained prieSt.

Under the temptation of the devil, who drove the firSt man
out of Paradise, he forgot his vows, forgot his priesthood, and
worSt of all, forgot his Maker, and deserted from the Order ;
and because he was ashamed to return to his parents, he joined
a band of robbers or freebooters. So utterly was he given over
to a reprobate mind, that he who before had surpassed the
good in goodness, now outdid the wicked in wickedness.

It happened that at the siege of a certain caStle he was
wounded with a javelin very grievously and drew near to
death. His comrades carried him away to a place of safety,
and sent for doctors to attend him. And since there was no
hope of escaping temporal death, they exhorted him to con¬
fession, that he might by that means escape the death eternal.
But he answered them, “ What profit can confession be to
me, who have wrought so many and great evils, who have
committed such enormous crimes? ” And they replied,
“ The mercy of God is greater than your iniquity can be.”

At laSt with difficulty overcome by their persistence, he
said, “ Call the prieSt.” When at their summons he came
and sat by the side of the sick man, the merciful God who
is able to take away the heart of Stone and give a heart of
flesh, gave him such heartfelt contrition, that often he began
his confession, and as often his voice failed him for his sobs
and tears. At length he gathered courage and broke out
into these words: “ Sir, my sins are more in number than the
sands of the sea; I was a CiStercian monk and was ordained
prieSt in the Order, which at the call of my sins, I deserted;

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Of Contrition

nor was it enough for me to apoitatise, but I joined a band of
freebooters, and surpassed them all in cruelty, for while they
took men’s goods, 1 robbed them of life itself. My eye had
pity on none. If sometimes they, touched with human pity,
were willing to spare, I, driven by the wickedness of my
heart, spared none who came into my power. The wives
and daughters of many I violated, and vafl numbers of
homes I committed to the flames ” ; and went on to
enumerate many other enormities almoft beyond the limits of
human wickedness.

The priest, after hearing such a confession, was terrified
by the enormity of his sins, and being a dull and Stolid
man, stolidly said, “ Your iniquity is too great for you
ever to hope for pardon.” He replied, “ Sir, I am an
educated man ; often have 1 both heard and read that
no human sin can be compared with the infinity of
the Divine compassion. I beg you therefore by the promise
of Divine mercy that you will deign to assign me some
penance.” And the prieft, “ I know not what penance to
assign you, for you are a loft soul.” The monk replied, “ Sir,
since I am unworthy to receive a penance from you, I will
assign one to myself, and I choose 2,000 years in purgatory, in
the hope that after them I may find mercy in the sight of
God.” Since truly he had been caught between the upper and
the nether millstones, the fear of hell and the hope of glory.

Novice .—Why did he choose a term so long drawn out ?

Mon^.—Because he thought upon the greatness of his sins,
and reckoned any penalty measurable by time as a mere
nothing in comparison with an eternity of woe. He said
again to the prieft, “ Though you deny me the medicine of
penance, I entreat you not to refuse me the viaticum of Holy
Communion.” Stolidly the prieft replied, “ If I have not
dared to assign you a penance, how can I presume to give you
the Body and Blood of Chrift?” And when he would accede
to neither of these petitions, the dying man made at laff this
ftrange requeff: “ I wish you to write an account of my case,

and send it to a relation of mine, Bishop-,” mentioning

his name, “ and I truft that he will pray for me.” The prieft
promised, and the monk died, and his soul was carried to

65

The Dialogue on Miracles

purgatory. The prieSt then went to the bishop, taking with
him the papers concerning the deceased. And when he had
read them, he wept molt bitterly and said to the prieSt:
“ Never did I love a man so dearly; I grieved when he took
the vows, I grieved when he broke them, I grieve for his
death. I loved him alive, and I shall Still love him. Because he
can Still be helped, and because he died in contrition, he shall
not lack the prayers of the Church.” And calling together
the prelates of his diocese, to wit, the deans, the priors, the
incumbents of churches, and all to whom a care of souls had
been committed, and making the same request to all the nuns
in the convents, he besought them all with much humility
and urgency, speaking to those present and writing to the
absent, that they would for that year use the special prayers
which he provided for them for the soul of the dead man,
both at mass and at all other offices. He himself, besides
the alms and special prayers that he offered for him, daily
offered the saving vidtim for the absolution of his friend’s
soul. Moreover, if by chance it happened through any over¬
whelming necessity or through illness that he himself was
prevented from carrying out this duty, he found others to
take his place.

When the year was over, at the close of the la£t mass,
the dead man appeared to the bishop,_ pale, worn and
emaciated, and clad in sad-coloured garment, plainly de¬
claring his condition by appearance and dress. And when
the bishop asked him how he fared and whence he came, he
replied, “ I am in pains and from pains I come; but I give
thanks to your charity, because this year of your alms and
prayers and of the goodness shown to me by your flock has
delivered me from 1,000 years of the pains I had to endure in
purgatory. Moreover, if you will Still give me similar help
for another year, I shall be altogether set free.” On hearing
this, the bishop rejoiced and gave thanks to God, and sending
letters to the churches and monasteries telling them all the
vision, he obtained from them that they would continue the
appointed prayers for that year also. The bishop himself
repeated his urgency of the preceding year, with all the greater
fervency as now he was the surer of his kinsman’s deliverance.

66

Of Contrition

At the close of the second year, when the bishop was celebrat¬
ing the la£t mass in his behalf, he appeared again, but now
clad in a snow-white robe, and with a countenance of tranquil
serenity, and related how all his desires were fulfilled and said,
“ May the Almighty God reward you, moft holy father, for
that loving care by which I have been delivered from all the
pains of purgatory, and now enter into the joy of my Lord.
For behold, these two years have been allowed to {land for
me in place of the whole 2,000 years.” And he saw him no
more.

Novice. —This is indeed a joyful ending. But there are
two things that especially excite my awe and wonder : the
firfl is the power of contrition, by which he who deserved
damnation became worthy of eternal life, and the other the
power of prayer which so swiftly delivered him from purga¬
torial pain.

Mon\. —Although there is of a truth great might in each,
yet the greater is seen in contrition. For the prayers and alms
of the Church cannot gain the essential blessing. They were
able indeed to lessen the pains of the dead, but they had no
power to increase his ultimate happiness.

Novice. —I wonder too that an apoSlate, dead and buried
in secular dress, should have appeared in the garb of a monk.

Mon\. —Contrition turned the apoftate into the monk, and
the secular dress into the gown.

Novice. —I pray you show me this by a {till more evident
example.

Mon\. —Here is one ready to hand.

CHAPTER III.

Also of an apoBate monp. who was rendered con¬
trite by a miracle of S. Bernard, died outside the
Order, and was buried in the dress of a clerk, and
when his body was exhumed, it was found tonsured
and clad in the gown of a mon\.

The blessed Bernard, as was related to me by a certain
monk, who was also a prieft, had a monk in whom God has.

67

The Dialogue on Miracles

shown very plainly an answer to this question of yours about
the power of contrition. Many Stories have been told, though
none written down, about him by the older men amongSt us,
some of whom are Still alive. This monk, by the persuasion
of the evil one, laid aside his gown and undertook the govern¬
ment of a certain parish, for he was a prieSt, the same enemy
aiding him. And since sin is often punished by more sin,
the deserter from the Order fell into tne further vice of luSt.
He took a concubine to live with him, as is the cuStom of
many, by whom also he begat children. After many years
it happened, in the mercy of God, who willeth that none
should perish, that the holy abbot passed through the town
where this monk was living, and turned aside to his
house for hospitality. He, well knowing the abbot, received
him with as much reverence as if he had been his own
father, and miniStered to his wants with great devotion,
and provided abundantly not only for him but also for
his retinue and horses; and yet he was not recognised
by the abbot.

In the morning after matins had been said, the saint
was ready to continue his journey, but was unable to
speak with the prieSt, because he had risen earlier and
gone to the church; so he said to the prieSt’s son, “ Go
and take the message to your mailer.” Now the boy had
been dumb from his birth, and he obeyed the command be¬
cause he felt within him the authority of him who bade him
go, ran to his father, and in his own words expressed exatftly
the words of the holy father, saying, “ This and this is the
message the abbot sends you.” The father, hearing his son
speak for the firSt time, urged him to repeat the same words
over and over again, and then diligently enquired what the
abbot had done to him: “ He did nothing to me, but only
said, 4 Go and give this message to your maSter.’ ” The
prieSt was pricked to the heart by so evident a miracle, and,
hastening to the saint, threw himself before his feet weeping.
“ My lord and father,” he said, 44 1 was your monk so and so,
and I left your monastery at such a time. I therefore beseech
your fatherliness that I may be allowed to return with you to
the monastery, because God hath touched my heart by your

68

Of Contrition

coming.” To whom the saint replied, “ Wait here for me,
and when I have finished my business, I will quickly return
and will take you with me.” He, fearing death as he had
never feared it before, answered, “ Sir, I fear that I may die
while you are gone.” But the abbot said, “ Hold this for
certain, that if you were to die in this contrition and with this
purpose, you would be found a monk in the sight of God.”

He went and returned, and heard that the pneft had recently
died and had been buried. Whereupon he ordered that the
tomb should be opened; and when they asked him why, he
replied, “ I wish to see whether it is a monk or clerk that lies
there.” “ It was a clerk,” they said, “ whom we buried in
secular dress." The earth was thrown aside, and he appeared
to all, not in the secular dress in which he was buried, but in
the tonsure and habit of a monk; and all glorified God, who
takes the will for the deed. See how you have here a clear
proof that in the sight of God true contrition restores all that
has been lofl by the sin of apostasy. Yet know this also,
that all the years of apostasy were barren years.

Novice .—Well do I recognise, from all you have said, the
power of contrition, but flill more do I marvel at the ineffable
mercy of the Saviour. That man was an apostate, was a
fornicator, and, what I count far worse, did not scruple to
handle daily with his polluted hands the mo!t sacred myfteries
of Chrift.

Mon^.—You are rightly troubled by this. Where the
contempt is greater, the guilt is heavier. If he who has
approached unworthily, i.e., being in some mortal sin, is
worthy of a punishment like that due to those who crucified
the Christ (i Cor. xi. 27), what are we to think of him, who,
abiding in many and continual sins, not only eats without
eating, but even prepares and handles that great Sacrament
with guilty hands? Hear what father Ctesarius, one of our
monks and formerly abbot of Prum, told me.

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The Dialogue on Miracles
chapter IV.

Of a prieft who said, if sins are sins, never can my
soul be saved.

Once, he said, when I was talking with a prieft about sins,
he, not as confessing but as making light of them, replied, “ If
sins are, as men say, really sins and so grievous, never can
my soul be saved.” “ Why?” he asked. “ Because this last
night I have slept with the lawful wife of so and so, and today
I have celebrated three masses ; and further, in that very
night there was a double feftival, that of the Sunday and of
S. Laurence the martyr.

Novice.- —These are terrible things that I hear; and I marvel
that God can endure patiently such sins as againft Himself.

Mon\. —If God were to slay sinners in the aft: of sinning,
there would be very few monks alive today. Will you then
hear about a prieft, a very terrible case of this kind, in which
you may ftand awe ftruck before the unspeakable patience of
God?

Novice. —Very much do I desire it, for indeed the Divine
patience is very necessary for us all.

CHAPTER V.

Of a libidinous prieft, and how on Chriftmas Day a
dove three times too\ away, and, after his contri¬
tion, reftored the Sacrament of the altar.

Dom Conrad, formerly bishop of Halberftadt, told us iaft
year of a remarkable occurrence, which he said had taken
place a few years ago in France. There was a prieft who
on Chriftmas Eve had to make a short country walk in going
from one village to another to say matins, and celebrate
masses according to cuftom. As he drew near to the second
village, he being quite alone, met by the agency of the devil.

70

Of Contrition

a woman also quite alone; and thus alone, with no eye to see
them, they sinned. Though he had incurred such heinous
guilt, his accusing conscience did not save him from a yet
greater ad of contempt, but fearing rather the scorn of men
than the vengeance of God, he entered the church, and after
saying matins, he duly began, as usual, the mass which is
said at cockcrow. When the Transubffantiation took place,
when, that is, the bread became the Body and the wine the
Blood of Chriff, a snow-white dove descended upon the altar,
under the eyes of the prieft, and after drinking the whole
contents of the chalice, took the hoft in its beak and flew
away. Seeing this the pried was terrified, though not yet
enough for his soul’s health, and was no little perplexed as to
what he should do; yet on account of the congregation present,
he finished the canon as to words and actions, though the fruit
of the canon was not there. After mass came lauds, and after
lauds, the morning mass, which he took, because there was
no substitute available; and again, at the same moment as
before, came the dove which again took away the Sacrament
and withdrew.

Novice .—Why did he not drive it away, after the example
of the patriarch Abraham (Gen. xv. 11) ?

Mon \.—It was not such a dove as could be driven away
or interfered with. I think rather it was of the nature of that
dove which John saw on the Jordan, hovering over the head
of Jesus (Matt. iii. 16).

Novice .—What are we to think of that dove? Was it the
Holy Spirit ?

Moti \.—No indeed; but it was the sign of the presence
of the Holy Spirit. For when its work was accomplished,
for which it had been created by the Holy Spirit, it was
resolved into its former elements. The Divine Nature
cannot be seen with the eyes of the body, nor heard with the
ears, nor touched with the hands; yet it may be sometimes
made visible in some subject creature, such as the fire or the
dove.

Novice —What did the priefl do then ?

Mon \.—Even then he did not cease from his presumption
but came to the altar for the third time to celebrate the mid-day.

7 '

The Dialogue on Miracles

mass, and for the third time the Holy Child, who was born
as on that day, by the means of that same dove, took away the
Sacrament of His Body and Blood. And now at laft,
unworthy as he was, the grace of God restored the unhappy
man to his senses and pierced his heart with sorrow for his
sin. He came to an abbot of our Order and made a full
confession; with many tears he laid before him the whole
matter from beginning to end, telling him how, to his utter
shame, he had been three times repulsed from the divine
Sacrament.

Now the abbot was a wise and prudent man, and
believed him to be truly contrite; but wishing to make
trial of the depth of his contrition, he did not at once lay any
penance upon him, but ordered him to go immediately and
celebrate mass. He, obeying his confessor as if he were God,
went trembling and weeping to the altar to celebrate, and
the merciful Lord, who abhorreth nothing that He hath
made and win\eth at the sins of men for contritions sake
(Wisd. xi. 24, 25. Vulg.) made glad his heart in wonderful
guise. For before the time of reception, the dove returned,
bringing in its beak the three Hofts which it had taken one by
one, and laid them upon the corporal, and from its throat
poured into the chalice the liquor of the three masses, and so
departed. When he saw| this, the prieft was filled with
unspeakable joy and gave thanks to God, “ who only doeth
great wonders ” (Ps. cxxxvi. 4). Coming back to the abbot,
he recounted to him this Divine consolation, and humbly
implored that he would receive him into his monastery. The
abbot replied : “ I will not take you now, but I wish you to
cross the sea, and as penance for your sins minister to the
sick in the hospitals for three years. If then you come back,
you shall suffer no repulse from me.” For he wished that,
by the toil of so great a journey and by the perils of the sea,
he should pay the penalty of his sin, and by his works of
mercy win the sick and poor to pray for him. He carried
out the abbot’s injunction and after three years came back,
and took the gown of a monk in the monastery.

Not/ice .—It was a happy sin, to be the occasion of so great
a sinner gaining so great a blessing.

7 2

Of Contrition

Monl{. —A mortal sin may be altogether vile in itself, yet
sometimes it becomes good, i.e. profitable to some by the oppor¬
tunity it brings. Sometimes through fear of one sin a man
is delivered from many, yes indeed from all sins; for while
he fears the imminent penalty, he confesses and repents, and
by his repentance is delivered from all.

Novice. —I readily grant what you say ; because if I see
one foul spot on my gown, the occasion of this leads me to
wash the whole gown.

Mon\. —This however mult be remembered, that some¬
times God forgives mortal sins without forgiving some that
are venial ; but He does not forgive a venial sin without
also forgiving any that is mortal.

Novice. —I do not underhand how this can be.

Monl —There are some venial sins, such as the two great
affection of parents for their children, for which they cannot
grieve, nor can they put them away, and therefore they are
not forgiven in this present life. But whatever may be done
with regard to such venial sins, let a prudent man be on his
guard againSl mortal sins, because while he can fall without
the aid of any, he cannot rise again of his own Strength. Who
can tell if God will deign to Stretch out to the lapsed a help¬
ing hand, i.e.. His illuminating grace? Some fall, as Judas,
and never rise again; others, like Peter, and rise again Stronger
than before.

I will tell you moSt true examples of this, which ought to
be the more acceptable to you, as they are the more recent.

CHAPTER VI.

Of the impenitent murderer, Hildebrand, and of
his punishment after death.

Brother Bernard, our fellow monk, told me about a rich
man’s bailiff, who fell very grieviously, and after his fall
refused to rise again; and perhaps the reason that he refused
was that he was unable. In truth he was unable, because

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The Dialogue on Miracles

there was no gift of contrition in his heart. The man’s name
was Hildebrand, and he lived in a village called Holchoim
in the diocese of Utrecht. One day he went into a wood
with a fellow citizen, whom, at the instigation of the devil,
he killed when they were quite alone. There had been
quarrels between them formerly, but at that time they seemed
to be perfectly good friends. When Hildebrand came back
to the town, he was asked by the friends of the murdered man
where he was, and he answered that he did not know. They
waited for him that day and next, and when he did not come
(for indeed he could not), they suspe&ed Hildebrand because
of their former quarrels, and brought him before the judge
for trial on the charge of murder. He denied the charge
timidly, but his very look betrayed him, and when pressed he
could no longer deny, but confessed that he had killed the
man. Sentence was forthwith passed upon him, and he was
condemned to be broken on the wheel.

When he was being led out to death, a prieSt of the same
commune named Bertolf, with another prieSt called John, who
was the blood-brother of the aforesaid brother Bernard, bailiff
of the village, drew him aside, as having once been an honeSt
man, and diligently urged him to confession and contrition.
But because the unhappy man was unable to rise again of
himself, and felt no hand helping him, he replied miserably:
“ What use can such things be to me : I am a man already
doomed.” And the prieSt said to him, I adjure you by the
Father, Son and Holy GhoSt that within the next 30 days
you appear to me without endangering my life and tell me
of your State.” He answered, “ If I am allowed, I will
willingly do this.” And so he suffered the penalty of the
wheel, and passed from torment of the body to the torment
of eternal damnation.

One night within the appointed time, Bertolf was asleep in
bed, when there arose so great a crashing of the trees around
his house, with such violent guSts of wind, that the very
animals were terrified, and could scarcely be kept within
their Stalls by their halters. Bertolf waking from sleep turned
his eyes to the entrance of the house, and lo! the doors, as if
driven in by the force of the wind, were opened, and he saw

74

Of Contrition

Hildebrand enveloped in glowing fire and swiftly approach¬
ing him. Terrified beyond measure, he crossed himself and
bade him in the Name of God to come no further. “ See,
here I am, according to my promise,” he said ; and when the
other asked him how he fared, he answered, “ I am eternally
damned, being appointed to everlasting burnings chiefly
because of my despair. If I had followed your advice and
shown penitence, I should have escaped eternal punishment
at the price of temporal death; for God does not punish twice
for the same offence. But know this, that if when alive 1
had not been adjured not to injure you when dead, I should
have come here to your hurt. I counsel you to amend your
life, that after death you may not suffer a punishment like
mine.” For this Bertolf was a prieSl only in name, not in
fatff. For up till then he had been in the habit of celebrating
mass without having received the order of prieSlhood. And
when he wished to ask more of the unhappy soul, he replied :
“ I may not Slay here longer, for there are many demons out¬
side waiting for my return. And having said this, he was
Straightway driven forward and out with a mighty shrieking
and wailing, and so departed from him. Later, as he passed
the Slable door the horses, as before showed terror and affright.

Bertolf, then, terrified by so dreadful a vision, forsook the
world, and took the Religious dress in a house of our Order,
called Harthausen. The abbot of that monastery, having
discovered that he was a man of good education and con¬
siderable eloquence, sought long to persuade Pope Innocent to
allow him to be ordained, but without success. Two years
ago, as the prior of KloSler-Camp told me, he was afflidfed by
the disease, called anthrax, in the hand which he had without
warrant put out to touch the ark of God. The hand thus
affedled was amputated, as the only remedy to prevent the
disease from spreading, but this was of no avail, indeed it was
only an additional torment, and rather hastened his death. I
hope and think that it was God’s will to punish him in this
life, that He might spare him hereafter.

You see how that Steward fell, and never rose again. If
he had not fallen, assuredly he would have escaped eternal
loss.

75

The Dialogue on Miracles

Novice. —By this man’s punishment it is made clear how
perilous it is to remain in mortal sin.

Mon\. —You muil know that it is not only perilous but
ruinous. It is perilous, because as acute fever is near to death,
so is a mortal sin near to hell; it is ruinous, because whatever
good the sinner may do in that Slate is wholly loft and gains
nothing of eternal reward.

Novice. —I should like to ask further, whether his fall
ensued from the guilt of the sinner, or on the opportunity
offered by the withdrawal of grace?

MonJ{. —Never is grace withdrawn from any man, except
as a consequence of guilt; otherwise the sin would juftly be
flung back upon God, the author of grace.

Novice. —Thank you.

Mon\. —Would you like to hear now about another
unhappy wretch, who with his own eyes saw the penalty due
to his guilt made ready for him in hell, and yet when he came
back from the Inferno, thought scorn of the need of penitence.

Novice .—Yes, indeed.

CHAPTER VII.

Of Gottschal\ the usurer, who saw a seat of fire pre¬
pared for him in hell.

Mon\. —When Mafter John, Scholafticus of Xanten, and
Mafter Oliver, Scholafticus of Cologne were preaching the
Crusade againft the Saracens in the diocese of Utrecht, as I
was told by the aforesaid brother Bernard, who at that time
was Oliver’s colleague and assistant preacher, there was a
certain peasant named, if I remember rightly, Gottschalk, who
made a business of usury. This man took the cross with
the reft, not from devotion, as was afterwards clear, but
because he was driven to it by the urgent pressure of those
around him. When the Pope’s dispensators, by Innocent’s
order, were collecting the money for the redemption of their
vow from those who were too old or too infirm or too poor
to go, this same usurer, falsely protefting that he was a poor

76

Of Contrition

man, gave to one of the dispensators a sum of about five
marks, and by such a pretence cheated the pnefl. His
neighbours certified afterwards that he could have given forty
marks, without disinheriting his children, as he pretended.
But God, who is not mocked, brought his deceit to a terrible
ending. The wretch used to sit in the taverns, provoking
God, and taunting His pilgrims in this fashion You fools,"
he would say, “ are going to cross the sea, and wafte your
subfiance, and expose your lives to all kinds of dangers, while
I, for the five marks with which I redeemed my vow, shall
flay at home with my wife and children, and get as good a
reward as you.” But the God of juflice, that He might
show openly how favourably He looked upon the toil and
expenditure of the pilgrims, and how evil in His sight were
the craft and blasphemy of their reviler, delivered the wretched
man to Satan that he might learn not to blaspheme.

One night when he was sleeping by his wife, he heard in his
own mill, which adjoined his house, a noise like that of the
wheel turning. He called to his servant and asked him, “Who
has set the mill going? Go and see who is there.” The lad
went out and returned for he was too much overwhelmed
with terror to go in. “ Who is there ? ” cried his mafler.
“ Such awful horror came over me at the door,” he replied,
“ that I was compelled to turn back.” And he: “ Even
if the devil himself be there, I will go and see.” And throw¬
ing his cloak over his shoulders, for he was undressed, he
went to the mill, opened the door and looked in, and saw a
dreadful sight. Standing there were two coal-black horses,
and by them a mis-shapen attendant of the same coal-black
hue, who cried to the peasant: “ Quick! mount this horse;
it has been brought for you. ” Pale and trembling he
shuddered to hear this word of command. And seeing him
unwilling to obey, the devil cried again: “ Why do you
hesitate? throw oft that cloak and come.” For on the cloak
was sewn the crusader’s cross, which he had taken. What
need of more ? Feeling in his despairing heart the power of
the devil’s summons, and no longer able to resift, he threw
off the cloak, entered the mill and mounted the horse, which
was itself a devil. The attendant demon mounted the other,

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and with incredible swiftness both were borne from one abode
of pain to another. There the wretched man saw his father
and mother in moft miserable plight, and many others, of
whose death he was quite unaware. There too he saw an
honoured knight, Elias of Rheineck, burgrave of the city of
Horft, who had died recently; he was mounted upon a heifer,
mad with rage, with his face toward her tail; and while she
rushed hither and thither, she gored his back with continual
blows of her horns. When the usurer approached him and
asked: “Sir, why do you endure so great pains?’’ he
answered : “ This heifer I took without pity from a widow
woman, and so without pity I muft endure these pains from
her horns.” There too was shown him a burning fiery chair,
no place for peaceful reft, but a home of pain, unending pain;
and he heard a voice saying: “You will be taken back now
to your house, but after three days you will put off your body,
and your soul will return to your own place, and seated in
that chair, you will receive your reward.”

Then he was taken back by the demon, and put down in
the mill, and left there half dead. He was found by his wife
and servants and carried to his bed; and when they asked
him where he had been, he replied: “ I was carried off to
the place of hell, and such and such things did I see, and my
guide showed me there a seat which he said was prepared for
me, and that after three days I should receive my due reward
therein.” The prieft was summoned in hafte, and the wife
begged him to calm his terrors, to deliver him from despair
and to exhort him to the way of salvation. But when the
prieft urged him to contrition for his sins, and to make an
honeft confession, assuring him that none need despair of the
mercy of God, he replied, “ What use to say that? I cannot
repent, I believe it useless to confess. What is appointed for
me muft be fulfilled. My place is prepared for me ; in three
days I muft go thither, and there receive the due reward of
my deeds.”

And so without contrition, without confession, without
viaticum or undtion, on the third day he died, and in hell
was buried. At firft the prieft refused to give the Church’s
burial, but the wife bribed him, and he was laid in the

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cemetery. For this the prieSt was afterwards accused before
the Synod of Utrecht, and was duly punished. It is scarce
three years since all this happened.

See how this man, like the other fell and never rose again.

Novice .—There seems to me some significance in the fact
that the knight received his punishment upon the maddened
heifer, and the usurer in a chair which is significant of reft
and Stability.

Mon \.—God punishes the sinner according to the nature
and manner of his sin. The knight, who took the heifer by
violence, expiates his crime upon the heifer. This is in
accordance with the nature of the sin; the heifer runs through
meadow after meadow, in his search for pafture, and by her
continual grazing keeps short the growing grass. The heifer,
in her restlessness, and in the way she continually feeds down
the grass, is a type of the nobles and rulers of our time, who
feed down the houses and farms of their subjects by demand¬
ing hospitality; and, by their perpetual exactions, do not suffer
their substance to grow again. In their punishment they
shall be like two robbers, and, as they now harry others, so
shall they themselves be harried with the knight of whom
the Story tells. Let this be enough about the manner. But
the usurer, because he gives out his money to usury, while he
himself sits quietly at home, received his chair of fire in hell.
And rightly is that chair a chair of fire, because as the fire
consumes the Stubble, so does usury devour the substance of
the poor.

CHAPTER VIII.

How grievous is the sin of usury.

Novice .—Usury seems to me a very grievous sin, and one
moSt difficult to cure.

Mon \.—You are right. Every other sin has its periods
of intermission; usury never reSts from sin. Though its
maSter be asleep, it never sleeps, but always grows and climbs.

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It is difficult to heal, for God does not forgive the guilt of
theft unless the thing Stolen be restored. The fornicator, the
adulterer, the murderer, the perjurer, the blasphemer, all
receive forgiveness from God, as soon as they show contrition
for their sin; but the usurer, although he may be sorry for his
sin, does not obtain pardon, so long as he keeps the fruit of
the usury when he might reStore it.

Novice .—What if he have already spent the money thus
gained, or given it to his children, keeping nothing but his
own lawful possessions?

Mon ){.—These he is bound to sell that he may restore that
which was gained unlawfully.

Novice .—There are so many usurers to-day, because the
bishops, who are set over the church as watchmen, give
communion to them, and give them Christian burial.

Monf {.—If they only concealed the vices of their flocks and
did not imitate them, it would be bearable. Some bishops
to-day make as grievous exactions from those committed to
their charge, as if they were mere secular rulers. These are
“ evil, very evil, pigs ” (Jer. xxiv. 3). It is much to be feared
that such bishops are preparing for themselves thrones by the
side of the usurer’s chair in hell, for usury and violent
exa&ions are nothing else than robbery and plunder.

Novice .—How can the limbs be healthy when the head
is so diseased?

Mon \.—This seat reminds me of a parable once told by a
certain bishop.

CHAPTER IX.

Of Leopold, bishop of Worms.

In Worms a few years ago there was a bishop named
Leopold, a bishop only in name, in all his affions a tyrant.
This man had no goodness in him, no piety, no care or
reverence for God; and one day his brother, a great nobleman,

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said to him: “ Lord Bishop, you scandalise us of the laity
very much by the example you give us. Before you became
a bishop, you had some reverence for God; now you care
absolutely nothing for Him.” He answered, “ Brother,
there were once two neighbours, one of whom sinned by the
example of the other. Both died and went to hell. Being
in torments, one said to the other: “ Curses on you! it was
by your example that I was tempted to sin, and so came to
deserve this place.” And the other replied: “ My good
neighbour, if you covet my place, hand me over yours, and I
will give you mine.” And so I say to you, brother; if when
we get to hell, my place there shall seem to you more honour¬
able than your own, climb up into it, and I will take yours.”
He answered, “ This is but a poor consolation.”

This Leopold was of so diabolical a character, that at the
time of the quarrel between the two kings, Otto and Philip,
when he had seized upon the bishopric of Mainz by the
authority of Philip, and had taken part in many battles, he
spared neither churches nor cemeteries. Once when his
soldiers said to him, “ Sir, it is not lawful for us to rob ceme¬
teries,” he replied, “ It is impossible to rob a cemetery unless
you carry oft the bones of the dead.” Now when he had
been deprived of his office and benefice by Pope Innocent, on
account of his invasion of the said bishopric, he collected an
army, relying upon Philip’s help, and set out for Italy to make
war upon the Pope himself. In more than one town, horrible
to tell, he excommunicated the Pope with bell, book and
candle; but afterwards, through hatred of the emperor Otto,
he was restored both to his office and his benefice. This
man fell often and deeply, as has been told; whether he rose
again through contrition at the end, I do not know. This
I know, that the embassy, on which he was employed when he
died, was a hotbed of Strife.

Novice .—Often have I seen men fall, and rise again
through penitence but that some rise again Stronger than
before, I should like you to show me by examples.

The Dialogue on Miracles
chapter x.

Of a scholar of Paris, who could not ma\e his con¬
fession orally through sheer excess of penitence, and
whose sins, when written out, were deleted by the
Hand of God.

Mon\. —It is now twenty two years, more or less, since
I came to the Order in the year of our Lord 1199; and it was
in that same year that there happened in Paris the events that
I am about to relate, which were told me by men both
religious and learned, such as abbots and scholaftici 1 . There
was a certain ftudent there, who, at the suggestion of our
mortal enemy, had committed such sins, that from very shame
he could not confess to any mortal man. Yet while he
thought upon the torments of hell prepared for the wicked,
and the inconceivable joys of eternal life awaiting the
righteous, and while he trembled every day left the judgment
of God should fall upon him, he was so tormented by the
ftings of conscience, that he began visibly to wafte away in
body.

What need of more? At laft in God’s mercy, his shame
was overcome by that serviceable fear, which is able to
draw charity after it, as the cobbler’s briftle draws the thread.
He went to S. Viftor, asked for the Prior, and signified that
he had come to make his confession. He, always ready for
that duty, as are all the brethren of that monaftery, came at
once, took his seat in the cuftomary place, and, after a pre¬
liminary exhortation, waited in silence for the youth to begin.
Then a wonderful thing happened. The merciful Lord,
Whose nature is goodness, Whose will is power, and Whose
work is compassion, in that same hour poured into his heart
so deep a flood of contrition that, as often as he began his
confession, so often did his voice fail entirely, broken by sobs
and sighs; tears were in his eyes, sighs in his breaft, sobs in
his throat.

When the Prior saw this, he said to the ftudent:
“Go and write out your sins upon a sheet of paper, and bring
it to me.’* Gladly he took the advice, withdrew, wrote, and
1 See II, vii, n.

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the next day came back. When he tried again to make his
confession, he failed as before; and when he found it impos¬
sible to speak, he held out the paper to the Prior. The Prior
read it, and was aghafl at what he read, and he said to the
youth, “ I cannot of myself advise you; may I show this to
the abbot? ” and the other assented. The Prior went to the
abbot, and gave him the paper to read, laying the whole case
before him in due order. What happened then let sinners
hear and take comfort, let even the desperate take new life
and hope. As soon as the abbot unfolded the paper to read,
he found its whole contents expunged. And the abbot said
to the Prior, “What am I to read in this paper? there is
nothing written on it.” When the Prior heard this, he
looked at the paper with the abbot, and said, “ I can assure
your Fatherliness that this youth wrote out an account of his
sins upon this paper, and that I read it myself before I gave
it to you. But it is clear, surely, that the moil merciful God
has given heed to his intense contrition, and in His juStice
has blotted out his sin as already sufficiently punished; since
indeed the deleting of all the writing signifies the deleting
of all the sin.” Then they sent for the Student and showed
him the paper, telling him that God had blotted out all his
sin. When he had looked at it, and recognised by certain
marks that it was indeed the same, his heart was as much
dilated with excess of joy, as it had been contrasted by excess
of grief. They laid no penance upon him, but advised him
how he might show gratitude to God for His great goodness,
and live carefully for the reft of his life. Behold how that
youth, as is plain to see, though far from pcrfeft before his
great sin, fell indeed, but rose again perfected.

Novice .—In what way was he perfected ?

Mon \.—In charity.

Novice .—What then is the perfection of charity?

Mon \.—When the mind is unconscious of any sin either
mortal or venial, and is free not only from guilt but also from
punishment. And I think that, if this clerk had died in such
a State, he would have experienced no purgatorial pains,
because pcrfeCt charity consumes both lead and Stubble, both
guilt and punishment. This is the opinion of many; but

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The Dialogue on Miracles

others say that even the mo$t perfedt carry with them both
hay and Stubble.

Novice. —Why were his sins not blotted out before they
were shown to the Prior?

Mon\. —That confession might not appear superfluous,
for there is no forgiveness without the desire for confession.
Even the confession itself, by the shame it entails, forms an
important factor in satisfaction. For the guilt was put away
at the firSt Stab of contrition, and then as contrition grows
deeper, and confession is added, the punishment also is blotted
out.

Novice. —I marvel at the contrition of this man no less
than at that of Mary, to whom the Voice of the Saviour said,
while she wept so bitterly in silence, Her sins which were
many are forgiven her because she loved much (Luke vii. 47).

Mon\. —As you have spoken of Mary Magdalene, I will
tell you of the wonderful contrition of a libidinous woman,
in whom in our times ChriSl showed the miracles of His
grace, no less than of old in Mary.

CHAPTER XI.

Of a woman who had a child by her own son, and
how Pope Innocent judged her to be absolved from
her sin because of her perfedl contrition.

In different places and from various persons have I heard
what I am now to tell you. Four years ago, in the year, 1 if
I remember rightly, that Pope Innocent died, a certain woman,
inflamed with the fire of luSt, approached her own son, and
by him conceived and brought forth another son. Terror
Stricken at so unspeakable an adt of incelt, and fearing every
moment to be handed over to Satan, or to perish by sudden
death, she began, in God’s mercy, to be sore troubled about
making amends. Having firSt taken counsel with her prieSt,
she went to Rome taking the babe with her, so I think it was
1 Innocent III died Julj i6, 1216.

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Of Contrition

told me, and with much persistence gained an interview with
the lord Pope Innocent; and before him, in the hearing of all
who were gathered there, she made her confession with such
tears and laments as to Strike terror to the hearts of all. She
carried her infant in her arms as the proof of her crime.

The lord Pope, seeing in the woman so great contrition
and perceiving that she was truly penitent, was moved with
compassion for her; but like a wise physician, who wished to
cure the patient both quickly and completely, he desired to
make further trial of the healing power of her contrition.
Wherefore he ordered her to show herself there in the presence
of all, in the same garb in which she had gone to her son when
she sinned. She, thinking temporal shame as nothing in com¬
parison with shame eternal, immediately went out, laid aside
her clothes, and returned clad only in a single linen garment,
and showed by such obedience how ready and eager she was
to make amends. And that moft wise and learned man,
realising that such obedience such shamefacedness, such
penitence, could outweigh even the fouleft sin, said to
her in the presence of all: “ Thy sin is forgiven thee; go in
peace,” and laid no further penalty upon her.

One of the Cardinals, who was present, murmured with
the Pharisee, againff the Pope and disapproved his judgment,
saying that so brief a penitence was not enough for so heinous
a fault and the Pope answered him, “ If I have dealt wrongly
with this woman, and if her penitence is insufficient in God’s
sight, then let the devil have power to enter my body and tor¬
ment me here in the presence of you all ; but if on the other
hand, you are wrong in blaming me, let the same thing happen
to you.” Forthwith the devil began to torment the Cardinal,
and by his torment God showed openly that the penance of
the woman was sufficient and acceptable. The Cardinal,
healed at length by the prayers of all, learnt never again to
carp at the bounty of the Divine mercy. See then how that
woman, like the clerk of the former chapter, fell sick to
death, and rose again, made every whit whole.

Novice .—Marvellous is the loving-kindness of God, that
so brief a contrition should blot out so terrible a sin, for which
a penitence of fifteen years would scarce seem enough.

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Mon\. —It can blot out sins much greater even than this.

Novice. —What can they be?

Mon\. —Idolatry, heresy, denial of the Creator; for these
come from diabolical possession, while carnal sins arise from
human weakness. Wherefore to soften the Divine wrath it
is said in the commendatory prayer for the departed,
“ Though he has sinned against Thee, yet he has not denied
Thee.”

Novice. —I beg that you will make this clear by an example,
if you know of any who has fallen by denying God, and has
been able to rise again by contrition.

CHAPTER XII.

Of the contrition of a young noble, who denied
ChriSl, and was restored to grace by the intercession
of the Blessed Virgin.

Mon\. —Within the laSt five years there lived near Floreffe,
a PremonStratensian monastery in the diocese of Liege, a
young noble, whose father died and left him much wealth,
for he was a great and powerful Baron. The youth was
knighted and, in his feverish search after popularity, very
soon was brought down from great wealth to excessive
poverty. For to win the applause of others, he gave himself
up altogether to tourneys and pageants, spending vaSt sums
of money upon a< 5 tors and buffoons. His annual revenues
were not enough for these extravagances, and he was com¬
pelled to sell his father’s estates.

Now there was living in the neighbourhood a knight, both
rich and honourable, although a courtier ; and it was to him
that the youth disposed of his lands, freeholds and fiefs, selling
some and mortgaging others. And when he had now
reached the point of having no more property either to sell
or to pledge, he determined to leave the country, for he felt
it would be more tolerable to beg among Strangers than to
endure the shame of poverty among his own kinsfolk and
acquaintances.

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Of Contrition

Now he had a Steward, an evil fellow, Christian by
name, but no Christian in life, for he was wholly given
over to the service of the devil. This man, seeing his
maSter depressed, and knowing full well the cause of his
trouble, said to him, “ Sir, would you like to be rich
again?” and he answered, “Of course I would like to
be rich, provided the riches came with God’s blessing.”
“ Have no fear for that,” said the Steward, “ only come with
me, and all will be well. ” Forthwith he went after that
scoundrel, as Eve after the voice of the serpent, or a bird
after the snare of the fowler, ready to fall quickly into the
clutches of the devil. So that night he led him through a
wood to a place of marsh and bog, where he began to hold
converse with some one unseen. And the youth asked with
whom he was speaking, and that vile Steward answered:
“ Hush, take no notice of any I may speak with.” Then
he began to speak again, and when the youth repeated his
question, he replied, “ With the devil.” At these words,
overwhelming horror swept over him, for who could be
unmoved at hearing such a reply in such a place and at such
an hour! The Steward went on, speaking thus to the devil:
“ My lord, I have brought here this noble, my maSter, to gain
your favour, entreating your majeSty that by your aid he may
be restored to his former wealth and honours.” The devil
replied: “ If he will be my faithful and devoted servant, I
will give him great riches, and to these I will add such glory
and honour as his forefathers never knew.” Answered the
Steward, “ Gladly will he be your faithful and dutiful slave
for such a reward.” And the devil went on : “ To obtain
these things from me, he muSt begin now by renouncing the
MoSt High.” And when the youth heard this and refused
to do it, that man of perdition said to him, “ Why should
you be afraid to utter this one little word ? Come, renounce.”
At laSt persuaded by the Steward, the wretched youth denied
his Creator with his lips, made the legal sign of repudiation
with his hand, and did homage to the devil.

When this crime was accomplished, the devil added : “The
business is Still incomplete ; he muSt also renounce the Mother
of the HigheSt, for it is she who does us the greatest harm.

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Men are often rejected by the justice of the Son, and yet
reftored to mercy by the absurd pitifulness of His Mother.”
Again the serpent hissed into the ear of the youth to obey his
mailer in this also, and to deny the Mother as he had denied
the Son. To this the other, though terribly frightened, and
troubled beyond measure, replied: “ That will I never do.”
“ Why,” said he, “ you have done the greater thing, now do
the less ; for the Creator is greater than the creature.” But
he, “ Never will I deny her, not even if I have to beg my
bread from door to door for the reSt of my life.” And so
with the transaction still incomplete, having gained no sort of
reward, they returned, both laden with an awful weight of
sin, the Steward by persuading, the youth by consenting.

On their way back, they came to a church, which the bell¬
ringer had left only half closed. At once the youth leapt
down from his horse, gave it to the Steward, and said, “ Wait
here till I come back.” And entering the dark church, for
the dawn was not yet, he threw himself down before the altar,
and began from the very bottom of his heart to call upon the
Mother of Mercy. Now there was upon the altar an image
of the Virgin Mother herself, holding the Infant Jesus in her
arms. And behold by the merits of that moSt glorious Star
of the Sea, the true Dayspring began to arise in the heart of
our youth. So deep contrition did the Lord deign to give
him, for the sake of His mother, whom he had refused to
deny, that he “ roared for the very disquietness of his heart,”
and in his grief filled the whole church with lamentable cries.

At the same hour, the aforesaid knight, who was in
possession of all his property, led, as he believed, by
the Divine will, passed by this church; and, seeing it
open, entered, being quite alone; for he thought that
the Divine Myfleries were being celebrated, because he
heard voices from within. When he saw the youth who was
well known to him, weeping before the altar, he supposed
that he was bemoaning his misfortunes, and withdrew quietly
behind a pillar, to see what might happen further. Now
while the penitent did not dare to call upon or even name that
Majefty which he had denied, but only in tearful accents to
repeat the name of His moit pitiful Mother, there came

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through the mouth of her image, in the hearing of both, the
voice of that blessed and only advocate of Chriflian folk
speaking thus to her Son: “ My sweeteff Son, have pity on
this man.” But the Child turned away His face, and made
no answer to His Mother. And when again she besought
Him, saying that the man had been led affray, He turned His
back on His Mother and said: “ This man has renounced
me; what can I do for him? ” Upon this, the image arose,
laid her Son upon the altar, and proflrated herself upon her
face before His feet, saying “ I beseech Thee, my Son, to
pardon him this sin for my sake.” Immediately the Child
raised up His Mother and replied : “ Never, my Mother, have
1 been able to refuse you anything; behold, for your sake, I
forgive him all.” Before this, He had forgiven the guilt for
the sake of his contrition, and now, on His Mother’s inter¬
cession, He forgave the penalty as well.

Novice .—Why did He seem so hard to His so beloved
Mother ?

Monl (.—That He might show the youth how deeply he
had sinned againSt Him; and by the heartfelt grief the sin
might be the more fully punished. Now he arose and left
the church, grieving Still for his sin, but joyful in his forgive¬
ness. The knight too came out after him unobserved, and
asked him, as though he knew nothing of the matter, why his
eyes were so wet and swollen; and he said it was due to the
wind. Then said the other: “ Sir, I know the reason of your
sadness; now I have an only daughter, if you are willing to
marry her, I will give you back all your lands as her dowry,
and will further make you the heir of all my wealth. “ To
this the youth made joyful response : “ I shall indeed be happy,
if you will deign to do this. ” The knight went home and
told everything to his wife; she gave her consent, and the
marriage took place; and all his property was restored to the
youth under the name of dowry. He is Still alive, I think,
and his parents-in-law too, but after their death, all their
wealth will pass to him.

Novice .—Truly this youth owes unending gratitude to the
Blessed Virgin, since by her he obtained forgiveness of his sin,
and in addition the comfort of temporal riches.

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Mon \.—You say well, because it was at her intercession
that the Lord poured contrition into his heart, by which he
gained forgiveness of his sin. And even the penalty of his
sin, was remitted at her intercession, as the youth himself
heard. See then how this man fell moil grievously, but rose
again even more quickly than those we were speaking of
before. In the sinister gloom of night he fell, and his rising
came before the dawn.

Novice .—What do you think about those who find con¬
trition only at the laft ?

Mon \.—About this you shall hear, not my opinion, but
that of the blessed AuguStine ; and this is what he says :

CHAPTER XIII.

What Augufline saith about late repentance.

If a man, when brought to the laSt extremity, desires to be
given penance, and is given it, and is forthwith reconciled to
God, and then departs from life ; I confess to you, that though
we do not refuse him what he asks, yet we do not presume
to assert that he has made a good ending. If he died saved,
I do not know. We can give penance, but assurance of
salvation we cannot give. Do I say then that he will be
damned? I do not, but neither do I say that he will be saved.
Do you wish then to be set free from all doubt? Then do
your penance while yet in good health. If you do this, I tell
you that you are safe, because you have done your penance
when you might have sinned. If you only desire to do
penance when you can no longer sin, it is not you that forsake
your sins, but your sins that have forsaken you. Further the
realities are two, and only two; either you are pardoned or
you are not pardoned. Which of these realities is yours, I
know not. Wherefore hold faft to that which is sure, and
have no dealings with that which is uncertain.

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CHAPTER XIV.

Of the lay-brother Henry who had put off the con¬
fession of a sin until he came to die.

I will tell you what happened in our own monastery a few
years ago. There was a lay-brother, named Henry, an old
man, and the senior lay-brother, who had committed a certain
sin, which he had never confessed to abbot, prior, or any one
else. Yet he had always been accustomed to make his con¬
fession frequently, and was held by us all to be a holy and
very religious man. When he was now at the point of death,
he confessed this sin to Dom Daniel, who was then our prior;
and as he afterwards told us, for our warning, it was of so
grievous a nature, that if he had remained silent, he muil
have been damned.

Novice .-—What do you think about this man’s salvation?

Monl {.—I think the same as I read in S. Auguftine: “ If
his contrition was in charity, he is saved; but if not, he is
damned.” He whose repentance is late, muff not only fear,
but also love, his Judge.

Novice .—Was there any value then in his watching, or
faffing, in his labours and obedience or in any other of his
works of righteousness, so long as he was ftill in mortal sin ?

Mon \.—None whatever; lot all works without charity are
dead, nor can they ever come to life. Unhappy then are they
who mortify themselves daily in God’s service, and gain no
reward in life eternal for all their toils. Many are ignorant
of these things, presuming too much upon a death-bed repent¬
ance, unaware that a penitence put off till then is, as we have
been saying, so terribly uncertain. But I will give you
examples of two men, one of whom made a genuine, and the
other an insincere repentance.

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chapter xv.

Of a canon of Paris, who having partaken of the
Sacraments at his death, appeared after death to a
friend, and told him that he was damned, because
his contrition had been insincere.

A little while ago there died in Paris a canon of the church
of Notre Dame, a man who had many emoluments and had
lived delicately all his life. And because from luxuries,
especially from such as pamper the appetite, luff is born and
fed, and is increased by daily Stimulants, this youth Stained
deeply his robe of flesh, and provoked the wrath of God
againSt him by that and other sins. At laSt, being Struck down
by sickness, in the fear of death, he made his confession,
bewailed his sins, promised amendment of life, received the
viaticum, was anointed, and died.

His body was buried with great pomp of wordly
splendour, as that of a man both rich and well-born ;
and on the day of his funeral the weather was so calm
and serene that it seemed to be paying homage to his
remain* Men said to one another : “ God has shown many
favours to this man; he has enjoyed everything that a Christian
man can desire. He was fortified with the divine Sacraments,
the sky was placid at his death, with great splendour he has
been buried.” But “ man looketh upon the outward appear¬
ance, but the Lord looketh upon the heart ” (i Sam. xvi. 7).
After a few days he appeared to an intimate friend and told
him that he was damned; and when the other ftupefied and
affrighted, calling to mind his penitence and confession, and
the Holy Communion and anointing that followed, the dead
man answered : “ One thing I lacked, for want of which none
of those which you have enumerated could profit me at all.”
“ What is that?” he asked. “ True contrition. For although
by the advice of my confessor I vowed to God that I would be
continent and do all else that belonged to salvation, yet my
conscience told me that if I grew well, I should not be able to
keep my promises; and because my heart inclined rather to the
breaking than the keeping of my vows, I deserved no forgive¬
ness. God requires a fixed purpose from the sinner.” See

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how the repentance of this man was both late and insincere;
and yet it would not have been too late, if only it had been
sincere.

Novice. —Never again shall I be surprised that a late penit¬
ence is so rarely sincere.

Mon\. —There are many in the world, whom I have known
well, who, at a time of sickness, when they were in fear of
death, have made their submission within the hands of the
abbot, and when they recovered, have broken their vow. LaSl
year at Bonn, a town in the diocese of Cologne, a certain vaga¬
bond clerk, Nicholas by name, whom men call the “ arch
poet,” fell grievously sick, and being in fear of death, by his
own entreaties and the recommendations of the canons of the
church of Bonn, obtained from our abbot admission to the
Order. We all thought that he had assumed the cowl with
great contrition, yet no sooner was the danger paff than he
quickly put it off, and cafling it from him with a mocking
jeft, fled away.

Novice. —There are many sinners, who are truly grieved,
because they cannot feel contrition. What are we to think
about such grief?

Mon\. —It cannot be meritorious, because it is without love;
but nevertheless it does sometimes prepare the way to love.
Love and the will to sin cannot dwell together. But you
shall learn both by word and example what S. Bernard thought
about such grief.

CHAPTER XVI.

Of a f night of Reims, who died contrite, after receiv¬
ing the Holy Sacrament in the presence of S.
Bernard.

Brother Godfrey, our fellow monk, formerly scholafticus of
S. Andrew in Cologne, whom also I mentioned in the third

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chapter of my firtt book, told me this which happened in the
city of Reims. At the time, he said, when I was a&ing as
matter and inttruttor of Dom Philip, afterwards archbishop
of Cologne, it happened that a certain knight fell ill of a mortal
sickness. By the inttigation of the devil, this knight, if I
remember rightly, was keeping his uncle’s daughter as a con¬
cubine; and he was so deeply attached to her that no exhorta¬
tion, nor threat of excommunication, nor any natural feeling
of shame could induce him to be parted from her.

Now when the fear of death came upon them, he sent for
the priett, and with many tears made an honett confession of
all his sins. When the priett warned him that he mutt put
away both this so unlawful connexion, and the person herself,
who was his cousin, he simply answered: “ Sir, I cannot do
it,” and the priett said, “ If you die in such a determination,
you will lose your eternal happiness, and be consigned to
eternal torment. When the knight persitted in his obttinacy,
the priett withdrew, taking with him the Body of the Lord,
which he had brought for his Communion.

In the providence of God, S. Bernard, the abbot of
Clairvaux, met the priett in the ttreet ; and when he
asked him why he had not communicated the sick man,
and underttood the reason, which was indeed a matter
of common knowledge, he said to the priett, “ Let us go back
together to the sick room.” They returned, and when the
saint had exhorted the knight, now at the point of death, of all
things concerning his soul’s health, and the latter had promised
obedience in all except that one thing only, latt of all he said :
“ Do you now grieve that you have not the will to part from
her?” He answered: ‘‘Sir, I grieve mott deeply that I
cannot grieve for this.” When he heard this, the abbot told
the priett to give him at once the Body of the Lord. Behold a
marvel. As soon as the Saviour entered, salvation came to that
house. From that moment his will was so completely changed
that now he hated her more than he had unlawfully loved, so
that he said to the saint with many tears : “ Thanks be to God,
who hath set me free, for now I would more willingly look
upon a toad than upon that woman.” And so in a good con¬
fession and in perrett contrition he departed to be with the

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Novice .—I should like to know i£ he won that contrition by
the grief you spoke of, or by the partaking of the Body of the
Lord?

Mon \.-—Chrift in His Sacrament comes in judgment, unless
His grace has gone before. For I think that by the prayer of
the saint, the grace of Chrift illuminated the abyss of his heart,
that the saint might not be convifted of presumption, and that
the punishment of the dying man might not increase to his
damnation. See how the contrition, or penitence, of this man
was late, yea, almoft at the verge of death, and yet it was
genuine by the testimony of the holy abbot, through whose
merits he is believed to have gained it.

Novice .—Surely the presence of the juft is of vital import¬
ance to the dying.

Mon \.—This is shown by S. Gregory in one of his
Homilies, where he tells of a certain perverse youth, who kept
crying out that he was given over to be devoured by a dragon,
and how the prayers of those around put the dragon to flight,
and gained contrition for the sick man. Hear also about a
man of the World, whose final contrition was so genuine, yea,
so perfeft, that by it he won not only forgiveness of his sins,
but also the glory of miracles.

CHAPTER XVII.

Of the contrition of Philip, Count of Namur.

Three years ago died Philip, Count of Namur, a man both
noble and powerful, being the son of Baldwin, Count of
Flanders. Before his death the Lord gave him in his sickness
such deep contrition, as has not been seen in any other of our
day. Often would he make his confession to four abbots of
our Order at the same time, accusing himself so heavily and
weeping so bitterly as to draw tears from all. Nor did this
satisfy him, but he would caft a halter about his neck and beg
his confessors to drag him into the Street, saying, “ Since I have
lived like a dog, it is right that I should die like a dog." He

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had handed over to the King of France the daughters of his
brother Count Baldwin, who had been made King of Greece;
some said that he had taken money for them; whether that be
true or not, this deed was an especial grief to him. He caused
himself to be carried into the pooreSt hovel in Namur, and
there in great poverty of spirit he departed to be with the Lord.
God’s mercy, willing to reward such great contridon, deigned
to glorify him with miracles, as if he had been a beloved con¬
fessor. He was buried in the church of S. Alban the Martyr,
where he had instituted a college of canons, appointing their
Stipends from his own lawful revenues, while he was Still in
good health ; and though dead, he shines brightly to this day
with so many signs and wonders, that even from far countries
sick folk come to get health at his tomb, and even dig out the
earth near his burial place and carry it away with them as a
thing both blessed and blessing.

Novice. —Was it by his former life or by his final contrition
that he won so much favour ?

Mon\. —I think indeed that he had charity before his ill¬
ness, because he was ever kindly and humble-minded; but
almoft all that knew both his former life and his final con¬
trition ascribe the glory of miracles to his lafl great contrition
rather than to his former conversation.

Novice. —I see clearly that the tears of contrition avail
much in the sight of God.

Mon\. —Of what value they are in His eyes, I will show
you by the next example.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Of the contrite prayer of the Convent of Hcmmcn-
rode, which, at the time of the Schism, changed the
heart of the Emperor Frederic\.

At the time of the Papal schism, which took place between
the popes Alexander and Calixtus under the Emperor

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Of Contrition

Frederick, who was himself the author and defender of it, all
monasteries throughout the whole of the Roman Empire were
compelled by Imperial ordinance to swear loyalty and obedi¬
ence to Calixtus, whom Frederick had made pope; and all who
refused were bidden to go into exile. When letters to this
effetff were read in the convent of Hemmenrode, and the
brethren replied unanimously that they would by no means
secede from the unity of the Church, they were ordered to
depart at once from the Roman Empire. When those holy
men, eSleeming the Emperor's threats as nothing by the side
of the fear of God, had packed up their veflments and other
property, and had arranged to be received into different
monasteries within the realm of France, one of them said to
the venerable prieSl David who was a monk among them,
“ Father, do you not know that we are all leaving this place?”
For he was so intent upon heavenly things as to be altogether
ignorant of what was going on around him. When he
showed himself full of aSlonishment and asked the reason of
this, the other explained to him the whole affair. But that
blessed man, full of faith in God, said to them : “ Take heart,
my brothers, for never will the Lord forsake them that hope
in Him. Only sing boldly and earnestly the Antiphon which
comes before the Magnificat to-night, and the Lord will com¬
fort you.” Now it was the Sunday before Advent, and the
Antiphon which comes before the Magnificat is: “ O Thou,
who guideSt the Stars in their courses, from whom no depths
of the abyss are hid, who holdeSt the earth in the hollow of
thine hand, hear us when we call upon Thee.” Moreover he,
that man of God, went Straightway into the church, and pour¬
ing out his soul in prayer, besought the divine mercy. The
brethren, agreeing moSt heartily with his advice, sang that
Antiphon all the more fervently, because of the urgency
with which their difficulties pressed upon them as they
sang, and incited them to greater zeal. The merciful
Lord, moved by the tears of His servants, changed the
heart of the Emperor, and letters were sent in haSIe bid¬
ding them to remain and pray for the Empire. From
this you may gather how mightily the heart of God is
touched by the tears of contrition.

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Novice. —Can anyone by merits or prayers obtain such
tears for another?

Mon\. —That some by their merits can obtain this
grace from God for others, you have an example above
in the third chapter, where the apoftate monk was justified
through the tears of contrition by the merits of his Father and
gueft, S. Bernard. You have also another example in the
sixteenth chapter, where the knight of Reims, making his
communion in the presence of the same saint, by his merits
gained enlightenment through the gift of contrition, even
when he was in very great sin. And yet for neither of these
is S. Bernard reported to have prayed. Also that some have
availed to win for others tears of contrition with which to
water their sins, I will show you by more than one example.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of a nun who obtained for a mon\ the grace of
tears at matins three times in the wee\.

It was only this year and you yourself were present when
Dom Walter, the abbot of Villers, told us of a monk who had
been sent by his abbot to a certain convent of nuns of our
Order, how he noticed one of them, who seemed to him to
be living very near to God, and how he besought her to pray
for him. She replied : “ What is it that you wish me to seek
for you from God?” The monk said: “ I want you to pray
for me that at the solemn matins, three times a week, that
is, on the Monday, Thursday and Saturday, when the
services are longer, I may have a special grace of tears and
devotion.” And she promised faithfully that she would
obtain this for him. The monk returned to his abbey, and
taking his place in the choir at matins, awaited the promised
grace; and indeed he received it abundantly from the Lord
through the prayers of that holy nun on those three nights in
every week. She, undemanding by the Spirit that her

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prayer had been heard, sent a message to the monk by a
certain clerk who was her friend, and showed him that she
knew he had already received the promised grace. Now it
happened that the abbot of that house told the Story to this
clerk for his edification, and the latter smiled saying that he
knew it all, even better than the abbot, since he had heard it
from the lips of the nun herself. Abbot Walter told us
another similar Slory, and the clerk was there to hear it,
saying with his saintly pleasantness, “ You are not yet saints,
and I am going to tell you something about my own progress
in saintliness,” and thus began.

CHAPTER XX.

Also of a woman who obtained from the Lord the
grace of tears for Dom Walter the Abbot of Villers.

When I heard that the aforesaid monk had received the
grace of tears through the nun, I asked my abbot, for I had
then only recently become a monk, that I might be allowed
to visit these nuns, and forthwith he gave me permission.
And so I came for hospitality to the house of a certain honour¬
able matron of Brabant; and when she heard the objetft of
my visit, she said jeffingly: “ Why do you want to see those
fanatics ? If you like, I will introduce you to a good woman,
who obtains from God everything that she asks for.” I
replied: “ Very much do I desire to see such a woman.”
And immediately at her word, a woman came from her room,
and approached me, and began to talk with me. At her
coming, I felt the presence of grace, and begged her to pray
for me. When she said, “ What do you wish me to ask for
you?” I replied, “ That I may be able to weep for my sins.”
And she : “Are you not a monk ? He who cannot weep for
his sins is no true monk.” And when I urged her to obtain
this grace for me, she answered, “ Go in peace, you shall have
it abundantly.” The next night, when I was praying at my

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bedside and thinking upon my sins, and yet not expecting the
gift promised by that woman, I began to weep so abundantly
and beyond my wont, continuing nearly till midnight, that at
length, fearing to injure my brain, I succeeded with the utmoSt
difficulty in refraining from more tears. When she sent me
a message that she had on that particular night obtained for
me the grace of tears, I went back to see her, and asked, “ Tell
me in charity, how you obtained for me that grace.” And
she answered in these words : “ At firSt indeed I found the
Lord hard to move, but I said to Him, ‘ Lord, I will not let
Thee go, except Thou grant this monk the grace of tears;’
and forthwith He granted it to you.”

He added also an example of the same kind.

CHAPTER XXI.

Also of a mon\ who obtained this same grace for
the said Walter.

At another time, he said, I asked one of our monks, a man
of great reputation, to pray to God for me; and when he
offered me a choice of what I wished to get from God, I, wish¬
ing to make trial of the value of his words, answered, “ I want
you to obtain for me after mass the grace of tears that I may
bewail my sins.” And he promised me with great confidence
that I should have my request Next day, when, after mass
was over, I was remaining a while alone in prayer before one
of the altars, there came to me such an abundance of tears that
I was greatly astonished. When later the monk saw me (he
was Still a youth in years, but in character very mature) he
began to make signs to me, as if asking how I fared, noting
that the grace had been conferred upon me. I not under¬
standing his signs, led him into the presence of the prior, and
asked what he had meant. He said, “ Have you not had
to-day a copious gift of tears?” When I asked if he had seen
me weeping, he replied, “ How can you be so foolish as to

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think that I saw you ? I have been bled, and it was not lawful
for me to go into the church when mass was being said.”
Then I asked him, how he had obtained that grace for me,
and he answered in almost the same words as the woman we
were speaking of juft now: “ I found the Lord hard at firff;
but I said to Him, ‘ Lord, I will not let Thee go, until Thou
do as I ask.’ He was pleased with these words of mine, and
granted me my prayer.”

Novice. —Marvellous is the loving kindness that can and
will be thus constrained by His servants and handmaidens,
as the kindest father is wont to be constrained by the sons and
daughters that have been moSt tenderly brought up by him.

Mon\. —Those who truly love Him, never suffer repulse
from Him in their prayers, unless they ask for hurtful things.

Novice. —If God confer upon anyone the grace of tears in
prayer or other good marks of contrition, is it dangerous to
the recipient to wish that they should be seen by others ?

Mon\. —The answer to this question depends on the inten¬
tion. If he desires others to see his tears only for their edifica¬
tion, while he himself preserves true humility at heart, then
it is well with him; but if not, it is ill.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of the mon\ whose tears were an invitation to the
devil, because his heart was uplifted.

A monk of high repute told me when I was a novice, about
another monk, who was kneeling in prayer one day before the
altar, when God gave him so abundant a gift of tears, that
they even bedewed the pavement; whereupon, by the direct
agency of the devil, as was afterwards made plain, vain glory
sprang up in his heart, so that he said to himself, “ How I
wish there was someone here to see this grace of mine.”
Immediately the author of that ill desire was present under the
appearance of a Benedictine monk, who ftood by his side and

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showed the greatest interest in his tears. The monk, raising
his eyes, and realising, both by an inStincftive horror, and from
the blackness of his dress, that it was the devil, the author of
all pride, by the power and sign of the cross put to flight him
whom he had invited by the vice of vain glory.

Novice. —If you have any other examples of contrition, I
beseech you to tell me them.

Mon\. —In thinking upon contrition, many examples come
to my mind, in which ChriSt, the author of every virtue,
is glorified, and every kind of penitent consoled.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Of a cler\ who debauched a Jewish maiden, and
how the Jews were flruc\ dumb in the Cathedral,
when they tried to accuse the offender who was now
contrite.

In a city of England there lived the daughter of a Jew, who,
like many of her race, was a very beautiful girl. A young
clerk, a relative of the bishop of that city and a canon of the
cathedral saw her and fell in love with her, and after much
difficulty persuaded her at la£t to consent to his desires. When
in his impatience and consuming passion, he kept daily urging
her, she said to him at laSt, “ I am very dear to my father, who
watches over me so carefully that neither can I come to you
or you to me, unless it be on the night of the Friday before
your EaSter.” For then the Jews are said to labour under a
a sickness called the bloody flux, with which they are so much
occupied, that they can scarcely pay attention to anything else
at that time. The youth hearing this and being almost beside
himself with excess of desire, forgot his Christianity, forgot
the passion of his Lord, and on that very night came to the
maiden and spent the whole night with her till morning.
Now the Jew, her father, in the early hours before the dawn,
entered his daughter’s room, and wishing to see if she were

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sleeping quietly or if by chance she needed warmer covering,
came up to her bed. When he saw this youth lying by her
side, he was aghaSt and cried out with rage and grief, and
was on the point of killing him when he remembered that he
was a relative of the bishop, and fear restrained his hand; but
he cried out in bitter anger, “ What do you here, you vile
ChriSHan? Where is your honour or your religion? You
are delivered into my hands by the juSf judgment of God, and
I would kill you now like a dog, if I were not afraid of my
lord the bishop.” The youth, terrified by such an awakening
and begging for mercy was driven out of the house in the
utmoSt confusion. On that day the bishop was to celebrate
the solemn office at three o'clock, and this youth, as being on
duty for the week, was to read the epiStle. But while he was
afraid to approach the sacred mySteries with a conscience so
unclean, yet he feared to excite suspicion by getting another
to take his place on such a day, and was afraid to disclose in
confession so foul a sin so recently committed. So when,
overcome by shamefacedness, he had robed himself in the
sacred veStments, and was Standing in his place in the bishop’s
presence, the Jew, followed by a great number of his fellows,
burSt into the church with a great uproar, intending to com¬
plain to the bishop about his relative. When the youth saw
him and knew full well why he had come, his heart turned
to water, he grew pale, his limbs trembled, and he prayed in¬
wardly with all his heart, “ Lord God, deliver me now, and I
vow to Thee that I will offend no more, and will make all the
amends I can for this sin.” The moSt merciful Creator, who
hateth sin, but loveth the sinner, as soon as He saw his con¬
trition, turned the dreaded confusion on to the heads of the
unbelievers. The bishop, wondering what these Jews could
want in the church, especially on that day when they were
representing the passion of ChriSt their Lord, signed to them
to Stand Still. They pressed nearer to him, but as soon as they
opened their mouths to accuse the clerk, they found their
voices gone, and none could utter a single word. The bishop,
seeing the mouths of the Jews gaping wide at him and no
sound coming from them, thought they had come there simply
to mock at the holy mySteries, and indignantly ordered them

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all to be driven out of the church. As soon as the mass was
over, the clerk, after this experience of the Divine mercy
vouchsafed to him, went to the bishop, made a full confession,
and asked for penance. The bishop, admiring and glorifying
the loving kindness of the Lord, both in the greatness of the
miracle, and in the penitence of the youth, urged and
persuaded him to marry lawfully this girl whom he had
ruined, as soon as she should be born again in the grace of
baptism; for he was a man both merciful and juft, and pre¬
ferred that his young relative should lose all hope of ecclesia-
ftical preferment, than that the girl should be exposed to peril
by remaining in her father’s sins. The clerk, not unmindful
of the Divine bounty, and eager to atone to God for the sin
he had committed, took the vows later in our Order, as did his
wife at his inftigation, This ftory was told me by a certain
pious abbot of our Order, and it shows you how much good
was wrought by contrition in the case of this man; for by it
the lapsed was reftored, the Jews were put to silence, and an
infidel woman brought to the Faith.

Novice. —Well do I see, wonder and rejoice, when I reflect
how the goodness of God encompasses us in such manifold
ways.

Mon\. —As we have been speaking of Jews, would you like
to hear another somewhat similar ftory, to the honour of our
faith and of all Chriftian folk and to the confusion of the
Jews?

Novice. —Truly I am moft eager to hear it.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Also of a Jewess with child by a certain cler\, who,
while her parents were expetting the birth of the
Messiah, brought forth a daughter.

Mon\. —In the city, I think, of Worms, there lived a Jew,
who had a beautiful daughter; and close by lived a young

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clerk, who fell in love with her, seduced her and got her with
child; for their houses were so near together, that the clerk
could enter unnoticed whenever he wished, and talk with the
maiden at his pleasure. When she discovered that she had
conceived, she said to the youth, “ I am with child, what shall
I do? If my father should find out, he will kill me.” The
clerk answered, “ Have no fear; I will make you perfectly
safe. If your father or mother tell you that they suspecif any¬
thing, simply say that you know nothing about it, that all you
know is that you are a maiden and have never known a man;
I will so deal with them that they will surely believe you.”
For he had pondered diligently how beft he could save the
girl, and this was the device he had hit upon. He took a
hollow reed, and at dead of night approached the room in
which he knew her parents were sleeping, and putting the end
of the reed in at the window, he spoke through it words like
these : “ O upright souls, beloved of God,” and here he spoke
their names, “ rejoice, for behold, your virgin daughter hath
conceived a son, who shall be the deliverer of your people
Israel;” and then he carefully withdrew the reed. The Jew
who had awakened at the firft sound of this voice, shook his
wife and said : “ Did you not hear what the heavenly voice
said to us?” And when she answered, “No,” he said:
“ Let us pray that you too may be found worthy to hear it.”
While they were praying, the clerk, who was Standing by the
window, and listening attentively to all they were saying,
after a little delay repeated the same words as before and
added : “ You must show great honour to your daughter, and
tend her with the greatest care, and preserve diligently the boy
who shall be born from her virgin body, for he is the
Messiah, whose coming you have so long expefted.”
They, in their exultation since this repetition confirmed
the revelation, could scarcely wait for the dawn. Look¬
ing at their daughter, and seeing by her shape that she
had conceived, they said to her: “ Tell us, daughter,
by whom you are with child.” She replied juft as she had
been inftrucfted; and they, almoft beside themselves with joy,
could not refrain from telling their friends “what they had
heard from the angel.” These told the ftory to others, and it

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The Dialogue on Miracles

was bruited abroad through cities and towns that this maiden
would give birth to the Messiah. When the time of her
delivery drew near, many Jews flocked to the girl’s house,
eager to share in the rejoicings over this new nativity so long
hoped for. But the justice of God turned the vain hope of
the wicked into an idle tale, their joy into sorrow, their
expectation into confusion of face. And rightly; for it was
fitting that they whose forefathers had been troubled like
Herod by the birth of the Son of God, which brought salva¬
tion to mankind, should in these times be mocked by such
a delusion. What need of more? The hour came in which
the unhappy one should be delivered, and there ensued the
usual pain, groans and cries. At la£t she brought forth an
infant, not indeed the Messiah, but a daughter. When this
became known, there was much confusion and trouble among
the Jews, and one of them, wild with indignation, seized the
poor baby by the foot and dashed it againSt the wall.

Novice .—What happened to the girl after all this?

Mon \.—Her father, overcome with anger at his shame,
treated her cruelly, and extraded from her by torture a con¬
fession of the whole fraud.

Novice .—It was a miserable ending, that an infidel maiden,
who had been seduced and ruined by a Christian man should
not have been brought to baptism, like the girl you told me of
above.

Mon \.—Perhaps the clerk was really unable to bring this
about, or more likely perhaps took no pains to do it, but
rejoiced rather in the confounding of the Jews than in the
enlightenment of the maiden. If, as you say, it was a miser¬
able thing that the unbaptized was not brought to the truth
by baptism, it is a Still more dreadful thing that in our own
day one who had been baptized should have been urged by a
Christian bishop to return to Judaism.

Novice .—Will you tell me about that?

Of Contrition

CHAPTER XXV.

Also of a baptized Jewish maiden at Louvain.

Mon \.—A little while ago, the daughter of a Jew at
Louvain was converted to the faith in the following manner.
A clerk named Rener, chaplain to the Duke of Louvain, was
in the habit of going to the house of this Jew to argue with
him about the Christian faith. His daughter, then a little
girl, would often listen very eagerly to the discussion, and
would weigh, as well as her intelligence allowed, both the
arguments of the Jew her father, and those of his clerical
opponent; and so, little by little, she became by the providence
of God, imbued with the Christian faith. Being taught
secretly also by the clerk, she became so far contrite as to say
that she wished to be baptized. A woman was brought to
her, who withdrew her secretly from her father’s house; the
clerk baptized her and placed her in a convent of the Cister¬
cian Order, called Parc-aux-Dames. When her conversion
became known, the infidel father was much grieved, and
offered the Duke a great sum of money to reStore to him his
daughter, who, he complained, had been taken by Stealth
from his house. Now the Duke was quite willing to reStore
the girl, though a Christian, to her father, though a Jew; but
the clerk Rener resisted him, saying, “ Sir, if you commit
this crime againSt God and His church, never can your soul
be saved.” Dom Walter, the abbot of Villiers, also
opposed him. The Jew, seeing that he was disappointed of
the hope he had cherished from the Duke, is said to have
bribed Hugo, the bishop of Liege, who took the part of the
Jew to such an extent, that he sent letters to the convent of
nuns at Parc-aux-Dames, ordering them to reStore his
daughter to him. But when the Jew, accompanied by his
friends and relations reached the convent, the maiden, who
was established there, though she knew nothing of his coming,
began to perceive a very evil odour, so that she said openly,
“ I do not know whence it comes, but an odour as of Jews is
troubling me.” Meanwhile the Jews were knocking at the
window; and the abbess, as I believe, said to the girl,

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“ Daughter Catharine,” for so she had been named at her
baptism, “ your parents wish to see you.” She replied,
“ That explains the odour I perceived ; I will not see them ;”
and she refused to leave the house. At the end of the year
the bishop of Liege was accused of this adion of his before
Dom Engilbert Archbishop of Cologne in the Synod held by
him, and he was ordered never again to trouble the aforesaid
convent with regard to this girl who had been baptized. He
was silenced for a time, but not really obedient; for not long
afterwards he sent a letter summoning the young woman,
under pain of excommunication, to come to Liege to answer
the objections raised by her father. She came but under
good protection. It was alleged, on the part of the Jew, that
she was carried away and baptized by force when under age;
and it was said to the girl: “ Katharine, we have been told
that you would gladly go back to your father, if you were
allowed.” She replied, ‘‘Who told you this?” and they
answered, “ Your father himself.” Then in a clear voice
she uttered these words: “ My father truly has lied in his
beard.” Now when the Jew’s advocate continued to urge
her, Dom Walter, the abbot of Villers was much moved and
said to him : “ Sir, you are speaking againSt God and againSt
your own honour. Be sure of this, that if you say one single
word more againSt the girl, I will do all I can with the lord
Pope, that you may never be allowed to speak in any cause
again.” Then being frightened by this, he said privately to
the abbot, “ My lord abbot, what harm does it do to you if
I can manage to get money out of this Jew? I will say noth¬
ing that can possibly hurt the girl.” But presently When he
received his fees from the Jew, he said to him, “ I do not
dare to say another word in this case.” At the end of the
year, when Dom Wido, abbot of Clairvaux, was making his
visitation in the diocese of Liege, he met the bishop, warned
him, and begged him to have resped: for God and his own
honour, and to cease from harassing a maiden already dedi¬
cated to Chrift. To whom the bishop replied : “ My good
lord abbot, what has this case to do with you?” The abbot
answered, “ It has a great deal to do with me, and for two
reasons; firSt because I am a Christian, and next, because that

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convent in which she is living is of the lineage of Clairvaux ; ”
and he added, “ I shall place this girl and her case under the
protection of the lord Pope, and shall ground my appeal upon
the letters written by you against her.” At the time of the
General Chapter, he sent to the Prior of Parc, through our
abbot, letters which he had obtained from the lord Pope
againft the bishop, so that, if by any chance the bishop should
attempt to harass the convent further on this girls’ account,
he might defend himself by these letters.

Novice .—Juft as, a little while ago, I was edified by the
pity of the English bishop, so am I now scandalized by the
avarice of him of Liege.

Mon \.—His defenders say that his persiftence in this
affair was due, not to love of money, but to zeal for juftice.
But it is difficult to believe this, because if he had been
actuated by the motive of juftice, he would certainly not have
tried to force a baptised girl, a virgin consecrated to Chrift
and a nun in a Chriftian convent, to return to Jewish infidelity.

Novice. —Yes, I fully agree with that.

Mon \.—I have thought of another example, somewhat
similar to this, of a man in the world, a knight, whose action
seems of itself to reproach this bishop.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Of a girl who was baptized at Linz.

In a town not far from us called Linz, there was within
the laft three years a girl, the daughter of a Jew, who was
kindled from on high with a desire for baptism ; and she
went to a certain matron of that town and told her quite
simply that she wished to be baptized. The woman advised
her to go to the knight Conrad, and lay her wish before him.
This she did, and the knight, overjoyed to be able to help her,
gladly promised her his advice, and every kind of support

The Dialogue on Miracles

that was in his power to give. On the day she was to be
baptized, she said to him: “ Sir, I pray you to arrange that
my father may not see me within the next three days ; for
if he should discover me, he is so clever that I fear he would
compel me to return again to Judaism.” The knight there¬
upon ported armed men at all the approaches to the church
to keep the Jew away, so that the maiden might go in and
out without fear of being seen by her father ; and by God’s
will, the virgin was baptized under the name of Elizabeth.
A few days afterwards, her infidel mother met her and urged
her to come back to Judiasm. “ I cannot,” she replied,
“for I have already been made a Christian.” Then said
the mother, “ I can easily undo your baptism.” The girl,
wishing to find out what her mother meant by this, asked
how she would do it. “ I would draw you,” said the Jewess,
“ three times through the opening of the latrine, and thus
the virtue of your baptism would be left behind.” When
the daughter heard this, she cursed her mother, spat at her,
and fled away. The aforesaid knight, though young and not
very rich, brought up the maiden like a daughter, intending
either to find a nusband for her, or to place her in a convent.

Novice .—What will the bishop of Liege say in the Day of
Judgment when he shall see the knight delighting in the
conversion of the maiden P

Mon \.—It is not for us to judge our bishops, for they are
much criticised by many, and sometimes condemned without
cause.

CHAPTER XXVII.

0/ a cler\ who said that the German bishops could
not be saved.

A few years ago this terrible saying was uttered against
bishops by a clerk in Paris: “ I can believe a great deal,” he

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said, “but there is one thing I can never believe, namely, that
any bishop in Germany can ever be saved ! ”

Novice .—Why should he condemn the bishops in Germany
rather than those of France, England, Lombardy or Tuscany?

Mon \.—Because all the bishops in Germany have both
swords committed to them ; I mean the temporal power as
well as the spiritual ; and since they hold the power of life
and death, and make wars, they are compelled to be more
anxious about the pay of their soldiers than the welfare of the
souls committed to their charge. Nevertheless we find
among the bishops of Cologne, who were both Pontiffs and
temporal Princes, some who were also saints ; for instance,
the blessed Bruno, S. Heribert and S. Hanno. The words
of this clerk recall to my mind a Still more terrible saying
uttered againSt bishops by a man now dead.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Of a monk of Clairvaux, who refused to accept a
bishopric.

In our own day there was a monk of Clairvaux who was
elected to a bishopric ; but when the electors sent to invite him,
he refused to take up the burden of office ; the command of
his abbot was then laid upon him, but he Still refused. There¬
fore they left off pressing him, and not long after he died.
After his death he appeared very plainly to a friend of his,
who asked him how he fared, and if he had anything to fear
for his refusal. He answered “ No,” and added : “ If I had
obeyed and undertaken the bishopric, I should have been
eternally loSt ; ” and then he made use of a very terrible
expression: “ The condition of the church, ” he said, “ has
come to this, that it is no longer worthy of being ruled by any
but reprobate bishops.”

Novice .—It is surely proved, by the many miracles that
he wrought, that S. William, bishop of Bordeaux, was among
the number of the eledt.

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Monk{. —I think that in passing this terrible sentence, he
was thinking of the great number of bad bishops, and of the
comparative rarity of the good, and that the wickedness of
the people required this rarity.

Novice. —May we leave this subjed now, because there is
dill much that I want to hear about contrition ?

Mon\. —What I have been telling you about baptized girls
and bishops does belong to contrition, because in adults bap¬
tism without contrition can have no saving effed, and it is
the part of bishops to heal the contrite in heart by hearing
confessions and appointing penance. Wherefore since few
bishops in our time are zealous in such medicine, and pradise
it so little, they are sometimes judly condemned by their
perishing flock.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of a bishop of Lombardy, who showed to Christian,
bishop of Mainz, the names of all his floc\ written
out upon a scroll.

In the days of the Emperor Frederick, the grandfather of
the Frederick now reigning, Chridian the bishop of Mainz
found himself on a certain occasion sitting next to a bishop
of Lombardy, who asked him if he knew all the people in
the diocese. To this the bishop replied, smiling, “ I think
that my diocese is about the size of the whole of Lombardy ; ”
and the other in his kindly anxiety was terrified to think of
the peril his brother mud incur in giving his account, 1 and
said, “ I know the names of all the sheep entruded to me ;
they are all written down in this paper,” taking out a scroll
and showing it to him.

Novice. —I do not wonder: for can a man guide so many
souls without peril to himself?

Mon\. —That reminds me of a very terrible prophecy,

1 There seems to be a hiatus here. It is filled by the next two lines taken from
the same &ory, as told in the author’s “ Homilies.”

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Of Contrition

which agrees with what is said above, and which seems to be
fulfilled in our times. This was the tenor of it.

CHAPTER XXX.

The vision of a mon\ concerning the schism of the
Roman Empire, of the calamities of the diocese of
Cologne, of the Holy Land and of the coming of
AntichriSl.

Once when brother Simon was Standing in prayer before
the altar of S. Mary, the Mother of God, he heard a voice
saying to him : “ Take this warning to your chief paftor and
say ‘ Thy sheep will bleed profusely.’ And bid him not to
kill himself and them with poison ; for he too hath set his
affections on the bellies of wide-gaping wolves. My people
will begin to be troubled by the cruel beaft who is become
incarnate. Go forth, and proclaim on all sides the great
wrath of Almighty God, and say: ‘ Except you be converted
and amend your ways, you shall be slain and caft into the
eternal fires. My enemies will avenge my wrongs.’ ” After
this there appeared to him five very fat sheep, and then three
lean oxen. And when he asked what these meant, it was
answered, “ The five sheep are five years of great abundance,
and the three oxen are three years of extreme famine.” And
again, “ Traitorous Romans will ftir up cruel rumours, and
by their evil counsel will divide the Roman power.” And
again, “ Jerusalem shall be taken and destroyed, and my
enemies will fulfil my anger, because they have polluted the
Streets, which once my own feet trod. They shall be afflifted
with the extremity of hunger. Heaven and earth tremble,
but man refuseth to tremble before that which cometh from
the cruel beaft. After this shall the sun be turned into dark¬
ness. Then shall come the day that shall have the length
of two days. But after the darkening of the sun, it shall be
known that the cruel bead will be revealed to the ten loft
tribes. And the blood of all the saints, that is of all my

”3

The Dialogue on Miracles

people, shall be poured forth, because at that time the former
persecutions shall revive. Therefore let every one of my
chosen prepare himself, that he may walk uprightly in this
short life.” After this, brother Simon saw a demon, clad in
breaSfplate and helmet, having scales like the scales of a carp.
His eyes blazed fitfully, like a torch that the wind blows upon.
Out of his mouth and noStrils proceeded flames of sulphur ;
his teeth were part white, part yellow. And after this there
came a voice: “ After the darkening of the sun, the cruel
beaSt by black magic shall raise up certain Jews as if from
the dead, but they will not be Jews, but false prophets, saying
that they have risen from the dead, and Stirring vain hopes
in the real Jews, encouraging them in their unbelief and
deceiving many.” Then was added, “ O Cologne, bewail
thy miseries that shall come upon thee, for all these woes
shall come, not alone for the guilt of thy bishop, but also for
that of the whole people. None the less that bishop muSt
suffer moSt, for he is the head of all the reSt.” When our
convent went forth (I, i) to the mountain of Stromberg,
it found there that all this vision was fulfilled. In that same
year Jerusalem was taken, and the Holy Land ; as had been
foretold in the vision.

Novice .—I much desire to know the interpretation of this
vision.

Mon \.—It seems to me to treat partly of those things which
happened in our times in the diocese of Cologne, and partly
of tne coming of Antichrist. Moreover this revelation was
made in the diocese of Cologne, and to the bishop of that
diocese, as I gather from the conclusion of it ; but who this
Simon was I do not know at all. The “ chief paStor ” I under¬
stand to be the bishop Adolphus, who after the death of the
Emperor Henry, looking upon the Empire as a thing for
sale, was infedted with the poison of avarice, and was the
cause of the death of very many. Nor is this wonderful.
For he “ set his affedtions upon the bellies of wolves gaping
widely ” for the treasures of Richard, King of England, and
by their advice chose Otto 1 the Saxon, his nephew, to be

1 Son of Henry the Lion ; a favourite nephew of Richard I, who made him
Duke of Yorkshire and Count of Poitou, and supported his claim to the Empire.

Of Contrition

King of the Romans. From that time “ the cruel beaft,” that
is, avarice, was incarnate ; that is, became so companionable
and dear to men, that under its influence Chriftian potentates
forsook both faith and righteous dealing, neglefted their oaths
and made light of perjury. At that time a Cardinal was
sent to Cologne to confirm the election of Otto, and to absolve
the princes mom the oath they had sworn to Frederick, 1 who
is now reigning ; which caused, as the event showed, rather
the division of the Empire than its consolidation. From that
time the provinces were wafted with fire and the churches
spoiled, much blood was shed, Adolphus was deposed,
Cologne besieged. Then was fulfilled the laft part of the
vision, “ O Cologne, bewail thy miseries, etc.” In the
beginning of the episcopate of this Adolphus, although it had
been preceded by years of great abundance, there followed
three years of such fterility, that in the early spring a bushel
of winter wheat was sold for a mark of silver. The reft of
the vision is very obscure and beyond my comprehension.

Novice .—At the time of the division of the Roman Empire,
the lord Pope Innocent was condemned by many who said
that he was the author of the schism, firft by taking hotly the
part of Otto, and afterwards by opposing him.

Mon /(.—That is why when the same Innocent of blessed
memory was one day preaching at Rome to edify the people,
John Capot, who was an adherent of Otto, interrupted him,
crying out: “ Thy words are the words of God, but thy deeds
are the deeds of the devil.”

Novice .—I beg you to come back to the subject of con¬
trition, from which we have wandered far, by the occasion
of a few chance words.

Mon \.—So great is the power of contrition, that no sin
can withstand it, neither perjury, nor murder, nor theft, nor
even usury.

1 Henry in H97 had induced them to swear fealty to Frederick, then a child
of two years old. Philip II, his uncle, was elected by the Diet of Muhlhausen
1198; and accepted, finding his nephew’s claims impossible. Three months later,
the other party of German magnates met at Cologne, and elected Otto. Civil
war between the two for ten years ensued. Both appealed to Innocent III, who
in 1201 decided in favour of Otto : but in 1207 Philip had become so strong that the
Pope changed his mind and advised Otto to resign.

”5

The Dialogue on Miracles

CHAPTER XXXI.

Of the contention of holy angels with demons for the
soul of a contrite usurer.

An aged prieSt, who was a Benedidtine monk, told me a
Story, well worth remembering, about a usurer ; I do not
know if it has ever been written down. He said that there
was a very rich usurer, who held in pledge the treasuries of
various churches ; and this man, while his heart was Still full
of insatiable avarice, was Stricken down with mortal sickness.
Then for the firSt time he came to his right mind, late though
it was, and began to think upon the burden of usury, the
torments of hell, and the difficulty of repentance. And
sending for a Benedidine abbot, who was known to him, he
said : “ Sir, I am grievously ill, I cannot undertake the order¬
ing of any of my affairs, nor reStore the money I have exaded ;
if you will undertake to give account to God for my soul,
and promise me absolution of my sins, I will put into your
hands all my property, real and personal, so that you may do
with it what may seem to you good.” The abbot, perceiving
the man to be truly contrite, truly penitent, replied: “ I will
think this over.” Hastening to the bishop, he told him all
that the usurer had said, and asked for his advice. The
bishop replied : “ I think it is right that you should accept
the property and answer for his soul, provided that you reStore
to me the treasure of my church.” Immediately the abbot
returned to the sick man and said: “ I have thought it over,
and have determined to take charge of your property, and
to answer to God for your sins.” The sick man answered :
“ Then my advice is that you bring carts at once, and carry
out all my property firSt, and take me laSt of all ; then you
will find no difficulty in the removal.” For he had two
cheSts full of silver and gold, and also very many pledges in
vases, books, and various ornaments ; much corn and wine
and furniture, as well as a vaft number of cattle. Then the
abbot after sending everything on before, laft of all put the
sick man himself into a carriage, and hastened to the
monastery ; but no sooner did the carriage enter the gates

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Of Contrition

than the invalid breathed his laft. Then the abbot, not
unmindful of his promise, took pains to restore the products
of usury as far as he possibly could and beftowed bountiful
alms for the soul of the usurer ; the reft he used for the good
of the convent. The body was laid in the church, and relays
of monks were appointed to sing the psalms round the bier.
During the night, while the brethren were chanting earneftly,
four foul spirits appeared and took up their position on the
left hand side of the coffin. At this sight, all the brethren
were terrified and fled in panic, except one aged monk. And
behold, an equal number of holy angels placed themselves on
the right hand over againft the four demons. Straightway
he, who seemed to be the leader of the demons, broke out
into that psalm of David (Ps. xxxvi) " My heart showeth
me the wickedness of the ungodly: that there is no fear of
God before his eyes ; this is fulfilled in this man.” Another
said " For he flattereth himself in his own sight: until his
abominable sin be found out." And the third added, "The
words of his mouth are unrighteous and full of deceit: he
hath left off to behave himself wisely and to do good." The
fourth said, He imagineth mischief upon his bed and hath set
himself in no good way: neither doth he abhor anything that
is evil." Then they said all together, “ If God be juft, and
His words true, this man is ours, because he is guilty of all
these things.” Answered the holy angels, “If you bring
forward againft him this psalm of David, go on with it.”
The demon said, “ That is enough for us, for his damnation.”
To this the angels answered, “ Since you are silent, we will
bring forward the reft of the Psalm, which you have only
begun.” The firft said: "Thy mercy, O Lord reacheth
unto the heavens: and Thy faithfulness unto the clouds."
To which the second angel added, " Thy righteousness
Slandeth like the Strong mountains: Thy judgments are like
the great deep." Then the third: " Thou, Lord, shalt save
both man and beaSl; how excellent is Thy mercy, 0 God:’’
And when the fourth added, “ The children of men shall put
their truSl under the shadow of Thy wings ; " they all broke
out together : “ Because God is juft, and the Scripture cannot
be broken, this child of man is ours ; he fled to the Lord, and

The Dialogue on Miracles

to the Lord he shall go, because he put his truSt under the
shadow of His wings : he shall be satisfied with the pleasures
of His house, for he hath bewailed himself with the tears of
contrition ; and he shall drin\ of His pleasures as out of the
river ; for with Him is the well of life: and in His light shall
he see light ." At this word the devils were confounded and
Stricken dumb ; the heavenly messengers took up the soul of
the contrite sinner, and rejoiced over him.

Novice. —Which was the more helpful to this usurer, his
alms or his contrition?

MonJ(. —This I can tell you of a certainty, that if contrition
had been lacking, his alms would have profited him but little.
Do you wish to hear what reception God gives to the alms
of a usurer?

Novice. —Very much do I wish and desire it.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Of the contrition of a usurer, who was devoured by
reptiles generated by the alms he had offered.

Mon\. —Through the mouths of many this Story has be¬
come well known in Cologne about a usurer who was buried
in the church of S. Gereon the martyr. He was a rich and
avaricious man, but, being at laSt touched by Divine mercy,
he went to a prieSt, made his confession, and that he might
appease God for his many sins, promised that he would give
all his goods to the poor for His Name’s sake. The prieSt
replied, “ Take alms of your Store of loaves, and fill this cheSt
with them, and close it.” When the cheSt was opened the
next day, they found that all the loaves he had put into it as
alms were turned into reptiles. Whereupon the prieSt said
to him, “ Do you see now how pleasing to God are the alms
of usury?” The other was terrified, and said, “Sir, what
muSt I do?” The prieSt replied, “ If you wish to be saved,
you muSt lie this night naked among those creatures.” Mar¬
vellous proof of contrition ! He, although he shrank with

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loathing from such a bed, yet despising worms that die in
his desire to escape from those that are everlafting, in fear of
hell, and in longing for the heavenly home, he threw himself
naked upon the reptiles. Then the priefl went to the cheft,
closed it, and departed. When he opened it next day, he
found nothing within except the man’s skeleton. This was
buried in the porch of the aforesaid martyr, and it is said that
the bones are of so great san&ity that up to this day no living
reptile has been able to pass them.

Novice.— If the very alms of usurers are turned into
reptiles, what sort of worms will be born from the reft of
their property?

Mon {.—Worms infernal, worms undying ; of whom it
is said by Isaiah in the case of such persons, Their worm
shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched, and they
shall be an abhorring unto all flesh (Isaiah lxvi. 24). Beneath
them the worm is spread (Isaiah xiv. 11) ; their bodies will
be consumed by the undying worms of hell, and their souls
gnawed with the worm of conscience.

Novice. —Could then that abbot, of whom you spoke
before, make the alms from the money of the usurer fruitful
for his soul?

Mon^. —Firff, as I said, he restored all the usury to the
very beff of his ability, and only when that was done, did he
give alms of what was left. This had not been done in the
present case. That this is lawful will be shown from the
following example.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Of the contrition of Theobald, a usurer of Paris.

When Philip was King of France, the predecessor of the
present 1 King, there lived in the city of Paris a very rich
usurer called Theobald. At the time when he was at the

1 Louis VIII, 1223-6.

The Dialogue on Miracles

height of his prosperity, and the possessor of untold wealth
made by usury, he, by the Divine mercy, was touched with
compundion, and went to Maurice the bishop, and humbly
asked counsel of him. He at that time was very eagerly
engaged in building the Church of Notre Dame and advised
him to give all his money for the furtherance of the work.
The usurer, dissatisfied with this advice, went to MaSter
Peter the Precentor, and told him what the bishop had said.
He replied: “ I do not think that he has given good advice
this time ; go rather and tell the crier to proclaim through¬
out the city that you are prepared to make restitution to all
from whom you have taken any more than was due.” And
so it was done. Then he went back to the precentor and
said : “ To all who came to me I have restored everything
that I had taken from them, my conscience bearing witness,
and Still there is an abundance left.” Then said the other:
“ Now you may give alms without fear.” Dom Daniel, the
abbot of Schonau, told me that, by the advice of the same
Precentor, he walked through the Streets of the city, naked
except for a loin cloth, while a servant drove him forward
with a rod, crying aloud, “ Lo, this is he whom the State
honoured for his wealth, who held the sons of nobles as
hoStages.”

Novice .—From these two usurers I see plainly the virtue
of contrition, because, as I judge, when its Stream flows from
the heart, there is no toil, no shrinking, no shame that can
obstruct its channels.

Mon \.—You say truth, because contrition is dried up by
the fear of a small penance, has no source from whence it
flows.

Novice .—Usury seems to me to be of a very defective nature,
because we rarely see it laSt to the third or fourth generation.

Mon \.—Not only is it of a defedive, but even of a destruc¬
tive nature, for, as you say, it quickly fails in itself, and
sometimes destroys that which is mixed or associated with it.

Novice .—Give me an example.

Mon \.—What I am going to tell you I heard from certain
abbots of our Order, but I have forgotten the name of the
place where it happened.

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Of Contrition
CHAPTER XXXIV.

Of the money of a usurer which devoured the money
of a mo nailery when it was placed near it.

A usurer once entrusted a certain sum of money to a cellarer
of our Order to keep for him. He sealed up this money
and put it in the safe by the side of the monastery money.
Later when the other reclaimed his deposit, the cellarer,
unlocking the safe, found that both it and the monastery
money had disappeared. Now when he found that the locks
of the safe were untouched, and the seals of the bags
unbroken, so that there could be no suspicion of theft, he
understood that the money of the usurer had destroyed both
the monastery money and itself. From this it can be
gathered that the property of a monastery is not only
not increased, but actually diminished by the alms of usury.

Novice. —These are wonderful things which you have told
me of contrition, but I want to ask you if one who has no
eyes can have contrition, since without eyes he cannot weep.

Monf^. —Contrition does not consist in tears but in the
emotion of the heart, whose outward signs are indeed tears
of the eyes, but the heart has tears of its own.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Of the contrition of a certain noble, who had been
blinded by Henry, Du\e of Saxony.

Henry, duke of Saxony, the father of the Emperor Otto,
once put out the eyes of a certain nobleman in punishment
for some crime. But God in His mercy, converted the
penalty of blindness into a healing medicine, and poured so
great contrition into his heart, that he bemoaned his sins
without ceasing and was for ever sighing in longing for his

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heavenly home. He haunted the church of the Blessed
Mother of God in Hildesheim, spending all his time in prayer
and facing. It happened by chance that a certain fool
uttered his folly in his hearing, saying, “ He, who has no eyes
here, will have none in the future life, with which to see
God.” He was much disturbed by these words, and while
he was daily lamenting and could find no comfort in anything
that was said to him, some blamed him, and he answered :
“ Unless it can be proved to me on the authority of the Scrip¬
tures, I shall never be comforted.” This was easily done by
learned men of whom there was a great abundance in that
city.

Novice .—Will you tell me how it was proved?

Mon \.—The Saviour said to the chosen : Not a hair of
your head shall perish (Luke xxi. 18). Upon this passage S.
Augustine comments : “ Can the head perish, on which no
hair perishes ? Can the eye perish, where the eyelid does not
perish?” meaning that this is impossible. All the dead will
rise again without any defetft ; the wicked, that they may be
punished in all their members, the good, that they may be
rewarded in all. This I say and confidently believe, that
every man, whether he has been righteous or a sinner, if he
die in the very leaft contrition, will see God. To which
vision may our Lord Jesus Chrift, who is the splendour of
glory, vouchsafe to bring us, who, with the Father and the
Holy Spirit, liveth and reigneth, world without end. Amen.

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[ face 0. 122

BOOK III

OF CONFESSION

CHAPTER I.

What confession is, of what sort it ought to be, what
is its power, and what its fruit.

Since all contrition is fruitless unless it is accompanied by
the desire of confession, we ought to see what confession is, of
what sort it ought to be, what is its virtue, and what its
fruits.

Novice.— If contrition is unsubstantial unless it contain the
intention of confession, it is surely necessary to know this,
especially for novices, who soon after making their vows are
obliged to confess to their abbot all the sins they have com¬
mitted, as you have taught me, and as I have experienced in
my own case.

Mon\. —Confession is so great a benefit that, by the desire
of it alone, even if necessity forbid it being carried out, sins
are forgiven.

Novice. —What is confession?

Mon\. —You ought to know there are three kinds of con¬
fession, of praise, of faith, of sin. Confession of sin is that
by which the hidden disease of the soul is laid bare in the
hope of pardon. It ought to be voluntary, done withoui
delay and dutifully, modeft, general, special, individual,
unvarnished, complete, discreet, self-accusing, bitter, anxious,
meticulous, true, proportionate, glad, personal and frequent.
I run over these qualifications briefly, and do not explain

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them fully for the sake of brevity, because I want to get on
to the examples.

Novice. —Has confession any authority from the Old
Testament ?

Mon\. —Confession is said to be a sacrament of the Old
Testament, declared in it by manifest figures, enjoined in
words and confirmed by examples. The leper is judged clean
or unclean by the verdidt of the prieSt (Levit. xiii. and xiv.).
Wherefore the Saviour said to the leper whom He had
cleansed, Go and show thyself to the prieSl (Matt. viii. 4). In
the words of this short text, there are four things which I
think ought to be considered, for they are four things that
ought to be especially observed in confession: namely, that
it should be without delay, unvarnished, complete, dutiful,
that is, that it should be made to a man’s own paSfor. As if
the Lord had said, Go, i.e. let your confession be swift and
without delay, show, i.e. let it be unvarnished, thyself, i.e. that
it should be complete, to the priell, i.e. that it should be duti¬
ful. When the grace of Jesus cleanses a man inwardly by
contrition, he ought to show himself to the prieft by confes¬
sion, so that he may be seen by others to be clean. That it is
also confirmed by example, we have the example of David
himself, who, after his sin with Bathsheba, when Nathan
came to him, answered in the words, I have sinned againfl
the Lord (2 Sam. xii. 13).

Novice. —Will you tell me which has the greater power,
contrition or confession ?

Mon\. —His sin is not forgiven to the sinner without
contrition, and this only on the condition that confession shall
follow. Yet, if necessity should prevent confession, our
great High Prieft will supply that defedt. Nevertheless con¬
fession is the proof of contrition, and its power and fruit I
propose to set before you rather by examples than by proofs
from Holy Scripture.

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CHAPTER II.

Of a clerk, who had violated the wife of a knight,

and after his confession the devil admitted that he
had been forgiven.

In a certain village there was a prieSt who had committed
adultery with the wife of a knight who lived in the same
village. This was reported to the husband, but he, though
not untroubled by suspicion, yet being a prudent man and
unwilling to believe evil on mere report, said nothing either
to his wife or the prieSt, being anxious firSt to discover the
real truth. Now it happened that, in another village not
far away, there lived one who was possessed by a devil so
malicious that, when people came into his presence, he would
taunt them openly with any sins which had not been blotted
out by true confession. AH this was well known to the
knight, for it was a frequent subjeft of conversation ; and he
asked the suspected prieSt to be good enough to go with him
to a certain conference ; and the prieSt agreed. When they
arrived at the village where the demoniac lived, the prieSt,
conscious of his guilt, began to be suspicious, because he knew
that the man possessed by that malicious spirit lived there.
Fearing for his life, if the demon should betray him, he
feigned a necessity of nature, and entering a Stable, prostrated
himself before the feet of the knight’s serving man, saying:
“ I beseech you for God’s sake to hear my confession.” The
servant, when he heard the confession was terrified, and tried
to raise him up ; when it was over, the prieSt asked for a
penance: but the man very prudently replied, “ What you
would assign to another prieSt for such a crime, let that be
your penance.” And so going out in peace of mind, he went
with the knight to the church. Here they met the demoniac,
and the knight said to him, “ Do you know anything about
me?” He said this with the intention of preventing sus¬
picion in the prieSt, and when the demon had made some
reply, he added, “ Do you know anything about this prieSt?
“ He answered, “ I know nothing about him.” This he

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said in German, and immediately added in Latin, “ He justi¬
fied himself in the Stable.” There was no one else present
at the time who understood Latin.

Novice. —I am sure that it was not of his own will that
the devil spoke Latin then.

Mon\. —He was not allowed to speak in German, leSt the
knight should understand and infer tne hidden meaning ; yet
he was not permitted to keep silence that the prieSt might
realise the value of confession.

Novice. —Great is the power of confession, since it could
wipe out from the devil’s memory even the crime of adultery,
and could deliver the sinner from imminent danger.

Mon —Hear further the fruit of this confession. The
prieSt, not unmindful of the mercy shown to him, left the
world, and became a monk in a monastery of our Order. He
is thought to be alive Still, as I learnt from a CiStercian abbot.

Novice. —The word of this wanton demon became for him
a cause of great salvation.

Mon\. —Another similar Story was also told me.

CHAPTER III.

Also of the servant of another hnight, who, having
sinned with the wife of his matter, after confessing
the sin to a ruttic in a wood, could not be betrayed
by the devil.

The wife of another knight, inflamed with dishonourable
passion, had sinned with her own servant ; for some time
this had been done in secret, but it could not be hid for ever,
and came at laSt to the ears of her husband. But he, though
deeply grieved at the report, was not a man to give full
credence to gossip, and therefore kept silence, knowing that
if he watched, so unspeakable a crime could not long remain
hidden. Because he was a man both wealthy and of good

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Of Confession

repute, and the reputation of his wife was so poor and dis¬
honourable, he preferred to cover the matter with silence for
a time, rather than dishonour with suspicion both himself and
his wife, as well as her family and his own. Now it was
a subjedl of common talk that there was in such a village a
demoniac (I do not know if it was the same as in the lafl ftory)
who spared no one, but when any came into his presence, he
threw in their teeth their hidden sins and upbraided them.
The knight heard this, and hoped to get at the truth through
this man; so he took his servant with him and set out, the
servant having no inkling of the reason of the journey.
When they came to a certain wood, the knight turned off to
the track which led to the village of the demoniac; then fear
seized upon the serving man, for he knew that his life was
forfeit, if the demon should divulge his crime. While he
was thus terror Stricken, and completely at a loss what to do,
he heard a man cutting logs in the foreSt; and the Lord put
it into his mind (for he had been diligently praying in that
hour of trial) that confession was the best possible remedy
againSt the imminent danger ; and leaving his maSter
as if for a necessity of nature, he went to the ruSlic, confessed
his sin, and undertook penance. Coming back forthwith to
his master, who suspeiled nothing of all this, they went
together to the demon. When the demoniac had gazed very
earneSlly upon the adulterous serving man, now indeed
justified from his adultery, the knight said to him: “ Tell
me if you know anything about this man. The demon
replied: “ I did know many things about him, but now I
know nothing.” And so by the virtue of confession the
servant was delivered from death and his maSter from
suspicion. You see the value of a true confession.

Novice .—What do you mean by true confession ?

Monk .—One in which there is a firm intention to make
amends.

Novice .—Suppose the penance itself is never carried out ?

Mon \.—If that negligence does not arise from sickness or
impossibility, but the penance enjoined is treated lightly and
despised, as often happens, the sin, which was lately for¬
given, returns. Even if the sin were venial, and the penance

The Dialogue on Miracles

omitted through mere forgetfulness, I cannot admit that the
punishment of that sin is wiped out, when there has been such
forgetfulness.

CHAPTER IV.

Of a prieU, who negletted the penance assigned him
in confession for a notturnal illusion, and was
punished in the offending part of his body.

A priefl, who was a monk in our house, and told me the
Story, confessed one day to a nocturnal illusion, and a single
psalm was assigned him as a penance. He forgot to perform
this small duty, and on the same day began to feel so great
an irritation and burning, as if glowing nettles were being
applied to his skin, that he was somewhat alarmed. Unable
to discover any outward cause for this, he suddenly remem¬
bered the psalm he had forgotten to say; and inferring that this
had been sent as a punishment for his forgetfulness, he recited
the psalm, and found the pain gone. The penitent ought to
be very watchful againfl forgetfulness. Liflen to another
example.

CHAPTER V.

Of a Premonflratensian cler\, who went to confront
a demoniac without having confessed some venial
sin, and was at once branded with it by the demon.

A certain canon in Steinvelt, of the Premonflratensian
Order, as I was told by a canon of Munster, was a man of very
high character, and it happened that the prior once took him
with him to the entrance of the monastery that he might help

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Of Confession

to caft out a devil from a man possessed. But as soon as he
appeared, the devil cried out to him through the mouth of the
demoniac, “ I know something about that man, which takes
away any fear of him.” Yet he was not allowed to publish
what it was, though it was a small matter, left it should bring
shame upon a saintly man. He, understanding well what
was meant, went indoors again with uneasy conscience, con¬
fessed his fault and returned, and asked the demon if he ftill
knew anything againft him. The demon answered, “ There
are ftill some traces of your fault within you, because the
bodily pain has not yet followed,” meaning the discipline of
the rod. Again the youth went in, received the appointed
discipline, returned, and again asked if he knew anything.
When the devil replied, “ So far as I can tell, I have nothing
againft you now,” the brethren were much edified.

Novice .—It is somewhat disturbing that the enemy should
be able to discern the marks of sin in a holy man after con¬
fession.

Mon \.—God permitted this for his good. The more
perfect a man is, the more careful he muft be to have his sin
blotted out. The appointed discipline, which he might have
received without delay, ought not to have been deferred,
especially at a time when he was about to contend with the
devil. For in the two preceding examples, of the prieft and
of the knight’s serving man, whose confessions were not made
duly to their own prieft, nor had any outward penance yet
followed, the devil could not discern any traces of sin.

Novice .—I am glad to hear what you say, that necessity
was the reason. But I should like you to show me the differ¬
ence between true and false confession.

Mon \.—You will underftand from the next examples the
virtue of true confession and the uselessness of a confession
that is insincere.

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chapter VI.

Of a virgin who was moved by a demon, under the
guise of man ; also of a man in whose teeth the same
demon hurled his sins after a feigned confession ;
and of a girl of whom he disclosed that she was no
longer a virgin.

Bernard, our fellow monk, told me that when Oliver the
scholadicus of Cologne was preaching the cross in Brabant,
and he was acting as his assistant, there was there a certain
nun who came from Nivelle and was very proud of her vow
of virginity. The devil, hating to see such virtue, took upon
him the form of a man, very good looking and well dressed,
appeared to her, and began to woo her with the words of a
lover, offering her jewels, praising the fruitfulness of marriage
and scoffing at the barrenness of virginity. The maiden, not
knowing who he was, replied: “ I do not intend to marry;
for the love of Chrid I despise and refuse any carnal nuptials.”
And when that wanton spirit became too importunate, she,
knowing that there were many maidens more beautiful, better
born and richer than she, began to susped this false lover and
said to him: “ Good sir, who are you, and from whence do
you come, that you desire so much to marry me?” When
he showed himself unwilling to answer, she pressed, him the
more insistently, till at lad the demon, driven by necessity,
confessed openly, “ I am a devil.” At this she was terrified,
and replied, “ Why then do you demand carnal marriage,
which is well known to be contrary to your nature?” And
he: “ Only consent, all I want from you is your consent to
the marriage.” To which the maiden replied : “ Absolutely
do I refuse to give consent to you in anything;” and she drove
him away by the sign of the holy cross. She went to the
pried, and disclosed to him all these attacks of the devil; and
when he had urged her to give no sort of consent to the evil
one, she returned to her own house. But even after her con¬
fession the demon did not altogether leave her, though now he
addressed her from a didancc, and vexed her by putting filth

Of Confession

into her plate when she was eating, and because of this sifters
were assigned to her for her protection. Whatever house she
entered, the demon made his presence known by speech; his
voice indeed was heard by all, but he was visible only to the
girl. This spirit was so malicious that he would disclose the
sins of all that were present, and taunt them with their crimes;
nor was any sin hidden from him, unless it had been covered
by a true confession. He showed also other signs of his
malice by scattering filth and broken pots full of dirt over
those who were assembled there. Some of those present once
asked him if he knew the Paternofter, and when he answered
that he knew it very well, they asked him to repeat it. And
he said, “ Our Father, which art into heaven, thy name, will
be done also in earth, give us this day our dailies bread, but
deliver from evil.” And when he had thus mutilated the
prayer with omissions and barbarisms, he added, grinning :
“ That is how you lay folk generally say your prayers.” They
asked him also about the creed, and he said that he knew it
excellently well, beginning thus : “ I believe that God the
Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, exifts ” ; and
when someone said, “You ought to say, I believe in God,”
and he went on : “I believe God,” some learned men who
were present, noticing what the devil said, and underftanding
the force of the accusative, insifted that he should say, “ I
believe in God” but nothing would persuade him to this.

Novice .—I myself should like to know the real meaning of
“ I believe in God.”

Mon \.—To believe in God is to go to God in love. The
demons as the Apoftle James saith, believe and tremble (Jam.
ii. 19), but they do not love. They believe that God exifts,
they believe that His words are true, but they do not believe
in Him, because they do not love Him. But this same devil
could not even begin the angelic salutation, although he pro¬
fessed to know it.

Novice .—How comes it, seeing that the Lord’s prayer is of
greater dignity than the Ave Maria, that he should be per¬
mitted to say the firft and not the second ?

Mon \.—The Lord allowed this both for His mother’s
honour, and to signify the supremacy of the sacrament of His

The Dialogue on Miracles

incarnation. Of how great virtue the salutation is, as the
beginning of the redemption of the human race, you will learn
more fully from what will follow. When they asked this
demon why his voice was so hoarse, he answered : “ Because
I am always on fire.” The same virgin said that whenever
he appeared to her he took care that she should never see his
back.

Novice .—I wonder why he did this.

Mon\. —Demons, as I have understood from another
vision, have no hinder parts, and this is why a demon who
appeared very frequently to a certain woman, when she asked
him why he always walked backwards when he went away,
replied: “We are allowed to take the human form, but
nevertheless we have no backs.”

Novice .—I am waiting for an example which will show me
the difference between true and false confession.

Mon \.—Here it is at once. There was in the neighbour¬
hood a man who, while very anxious to hear the aforesaid
demon, did not dare to approach him, because of certain dis¬
graceful sins that he had committed, fearing that he would
reveal them in the presence of all. Wherefore he went to the
prieSt and confessed them, keeping in his heart all the time
the intention of sinning again. Feeling more secure after this
confession he went to the house, and a wonderful thing
happened. As soon as he reached the door and looked in, the
devil cried out: “ Ah! my friend, come in, come in; I am sure
you have whitewashed yourself excellently well and Straight¬
way before them all he told those disgraceful sins, although
they had been confessed, and put him to such confusion that
he profoundly wished he had never come. Made miserable
by this, and driven back upon himself by his accusing con¬
science, he returned to the prieSt and told him what had
happened and repeated his confession; and because now he
really wished to amend his life for the future, made his
promises to God and the prieSt from his heart. Then the
prieSt said : “ Now you may return with confidence; he will
not confound you again.” He did return; and when he
entered the house, some of the bystanders said to the demon,
“ Here is your friend come back again.” He answered,

Of Confession

“ Who is it?” “ Why,” they said, “ he whom juft now you
upbraided with such vile sins.” But the demon replied : “ I
never upbraided him, neither do I know any evil of him.”
They, who did not know that the man had confessed, were
aftonished at the demon’s lies; and so by the power of con¬
fession, he escaped the brand of the deepeft confusion. In the
same house there was a matron sitting with the others, holding
her daughter under her cloak, as is the way of mothers; some¬
how or other she had provoked the demon, and he cried out:
“ Do you think that that daughter of yours sitting under your
cloak is a virgin? Woe to you, for you have guarded her ill.”
When the woman said that he bed, he answered: “ Not at
all do I lie; if you do not believe me, ask Petronilla; she will
tell you the truth plainly enough.” For this Petronilla had
been the girl’s confidante in her fall. When she heard this,
the mother pushed her daughter away from her angrily,
saying, “ Go away from me, unclean that you are; never shall
you receive again any kindness from me.” She, conscious of
her guilt, pretended tears, and went out crying, and protcfting
that the devil had lied. Inspired by God, she ran to a neigh¬
bouring prieft, confessed her sin, and promised that never
again would she sin that way. Then at the advice of the
prieft, who taught her carefully what she should say, she went
back to her mother who was ftill there, and said: “ Truly,
my mother, you have done me a great wrong in accusing me
so vehemently without any cause, and in driving me away so
pitilessly because of the words of this demon who is altogether
a liar and the father of it (John viii. 44), and she began to weep.
The mother, moved by the words and tears of her daughter,
said to the demon : “ Tell me, thou wicked one, why thou
didft place so great a ftigma upon my daughter;” and he
replied: “ Why, what evil have I said about your daughter?
She is good and pure; I neither knew nor said any evil about
her.” And so the girl, like the man mentioned above, was
delivered from the suspicion of fornication and reftored to
her mother’s favour by the benefit of confession.

Novice .—How is it that the devil knew of the girl’s guilt
before her confession, and named Petronilla as her confidante,
but did not name the man who was the author of her sin ?

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Mon\. —I think with some confidence that he had already
shown penitence for his sin, and this had taken away from the
devil all knowledge of it.

Novice. —I am glad to hear that, but I remember about the
virgin of Nivelle, of whom you spoke juft now, and I cannot
help wondering that a demon who is a spirit, should desire
and seek for a carnal marriage which is againft his very
nature.

Mon\. —There is nothing wonderful that demons should
make love to women, but it is indeed marvellous that they
should actually violate them.

Novice. —Do you remember that this ever happened?

Mon\. —I both remember and have read such ftories, and
that I may caution any women who perchance may read or
hear what I am about to say, I will repeat several examples
which have happened in our own time. And that they may
be more impressive, I will firft give one short ftory which I
read in The Ads of S. Bernard.

CHAPTER VII.

Example from The Ads of the abbot S. Bernard ,
who drove away from a woman a demon incubus.

A certain woman, in the region of Nantes, had been for six
years tormented with incredible luft by a certain wanton
demon to whom she had given consent. That lascivious
spirit had appeared to her under the form of a very comely
knight, and often abused her invisibly when her husband was
lying in the same bed. In the seventh year she was seized
with terror, and when S. Bernard, the abbot of Clairvaux
came to Nantes, the wretched woman threw herself at his feet,
confessed her horrible passion and the mockery of the demon,
and besought him to come to her help. He consoled her and
told her what she muft do. After her confession the devil
was no longer able to approach her, but nevertheless he terrified

J 34

Of Confession

her with words, and threatened moSt bitterly that after the
departure of the abbot he would come back and torment her;
so that he, who had been her lover, became her moSt cruel
persecutor. When she told this to the saint, he came on the
next Sunday with two bishops and lighted candles, and with
the support of all the faithful who were in the church, anathe¬
matized the adulterous spirit, forbidding him henceforth
in the authority of ChriSt ever to approach either this woman
or any other in the world. When those sacramental lights
were extinguished, the whole power of the demon departed,
and the woman, after a general confession of her sins, made
her communion and was completely set free. This happened
in our own times.

Novice .—These are stupendous things.

Mon \.—Hear also other examples very much like this, but
Still more recent.

CHAPTER VIII.

Of the daughter of the priefl Arnold, who was
corrupted by a demon.

In the parish of S. Remigius at Bonn there lived a few years
ago a prieSt named Arnold, who had a comely daughter, of
whom he took moft diligent care, and because of her beauty
was so much on his guard againSt young men, and especially
the young canons of Bonn, that whenever he left the house,
he would shut her up in the upper room. One day the devil
came to her under the form of a man, and began to bend her
mind to his will, inwardly with secret suggestion, and out¬
wardly with flattering speech. What need of more? The
miserable creature was persuaded and corrupted, and often
afterwards consented to the devil to her own deStrudion.
One day when the prieSt went to the upper room, he found
his daughter weeping and lamenting, and at length with great

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The Dialogue on Miracles

difficulty extracted from her the cause of her grief. She con¬
fessed to her father that she had been deluded and violated by
a demon, and had good reason to grieve. How far she had
been driven from normal sanity, how far alienated from
ordinary decency was evident from a deplorable proof she gave
of the depravity of her appetite. The grief-stricken father
sent her across the Rhine, in the hope that she might benefit
by the change, and that the obstruction of the river might
deliver her from the demonic incubus. As soon as the girl
was gone, the demon appeared to the prieSt and shouted at
him: “You vile prieSt, why have you Stolen my wife from
me ? To your own hurt you have done it and dealt him so
violent a blow in the breaSt, that he vomited blood, and,
within three days, was dead. Our abbot is the authority for
these things, and also our fellow monk Gerard, formerly
scholaSticus of Bonn, to both of whom the faCts were well
known.

CHAPTER IX.

Also of a woman of Breisach, who confessed on her
deathbed that for six years she had sinned with
a demon.

In the town of Breisach, near the caStle of Rheineck, some
twelve years ago, as was told me by our brother Arnold, who
knew all the circumstances at the time, there was a woman
who had been corrupted by a demon in the way related above.
She was sitting one day in her shop, when she began to feel
a failure of the heart, and fearing that death was upon her,
she begged that a prieSt might quickly be sent for. Even
while she was telling him of the horrible mockery of the
demon under which she had suffered for seven years, in the
midSt of her confession speech failed her, and her soul passed.
Though she had been harassed with incredible luSt by the

x 3 6

Of Confession

author of luff, she had never been willing to tell anyone, or
perhaps had never dared, or, as is Still more likely, had found
pleasure in his wickedness.

Novice .—If demons are permitted to do such things, it is
vital that women should be moil careful not to afford them
any occasion or make it possible by any consent.

Mon \.—Not only muff women be on their guard againft
them, but also men, because as demons in the form of men
mock and corrupt women, as has been shown, so also in the
form of women, do they seduce and deceive men. If you
read Vitaspatrum, you will find there how certain saintly men
were deluded, dragged down and destroyed by the phantoms
of women. I will also give you other examples, by which
you will see how men have been mocked by demons under the
form of women.

CHAPTER X.

Of John, ScholaSlicus of Priim, who is said to have
lain with a demon.

There was a scholaflicus of Prtim, named John, who was
a very learned man. but of a light and wanton character.
Now according to common report, and as I have also heard
from the abbot of that monastery, a certain woman had
promised to come to him on a certain night. On the
appointed night, she indeed failed to come, but a devil, in her
likeness and with her voice, entered the clerk’s bed; and he
believing it to be the woman who was well known to him,
lay with the devil. Rising early, he urged the demon, whom
he thought a woman, to go, when he said, “ with whom do
you think you have been lying to-night?” When he replied,
“ with such and such a woman,” the demon answered, “ No
indeed, but with the devil.” To this John, who was a strange
man, replied with a ffrange word, which modefty forbids me
to repeat, scoffing at the devil, and no whit disturbed.

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CHAPTER XL

Of Henry, a citizen of Soefl, who being carried off
by a demon and deposited in a field, went out of
his mind.

In the city of SoeSt was a man named Henry, whose sur¬
name was Gemma; his business was that of a wine-seller, and
he had a shop some little distance from the house where he
lived. One night when he was returning from the shop
rather late according to his custom, and was hastening home
with the money received for the wine, he saw the form of a
woman in white robe Standing in the place where the citizens
were wont to meet for discussion. He thought no evil of
her; but when he came to the place, she caught him by the
cloak and said : “ My dear, I have been waiting here a long
time for you; you ought to love me.” He shook his cloak
free of her hand, and said: “ Leave me alone; I will have
nothing to do with you, I am going home to my wife ”; but
she only insisted the more, urging him to go with her. When
she found her words of no avail, she took him in her arms,
and holding him faSt, she lifted him into the air, carried him
beyond the monastery of St. Patroclus, which is high upon
the hill, and put him down in a meadow and there left him,
out of his mind with terror. After an hour, he began to
recover his Strength, and with much difficulty made his way
to his house, which lay near the monastery, crawling upon
hands and knees. When, at his knock, the family got up
and sought for a light, he cried out, “ Do not bring a light,
I cannot bear to see it.” They brought him in and laid him
upon his bed, for he was very feeble, both in body and mind.
For the next three nights, the demon knocked at the door in
the darkest hours, and Henry cried out: “ I know that he has
come for me, it is for me that he is knocking.” He lived
only a year longer, weak in body and wandering in mind.
This was told me by our brother, Theodoric of SoeSt, who said
that it was well known in his town, where his brother is Still
living and is a canon of the church of S. Patroclus.

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Of Confession

Novice.—li it is possible for demons to put on human
bodies and associate with men and women, as has now been
shown by various examples, I wonder if it is possible for them
to become parents?

Mon\. —I know nothing which can answer this question
of yours, but I will tell you what I have read in ancient
histories.

CHAPTER XII.

Of the Huns and of Merlin, and what is the truth
about the humanity of the children of incubi.

When the Goths migrated from Asia into Europe, as we
read in their history, they drove out from their company all
their ill-formed women, fearing that they might bear ill-
formed children, and so injure the manliness of the Gothic
race. When these women were thruSt out of the camp, and
were wandering in the woods, incubus demons came to them,
and from them begat sons and daughters, from whom was
derived the hardy race of the Huns. We read also that
Merlin, the prophet of the Britons, was born from an incubus
demon and a nun; and even the kings now ruling in Britain,
which we call England, are said to be descended from a
phantom mother. Yet Merlin was a reasonable man and a
Chriftian, who foretold many future events which are day by
day being fulfilled.

Novice.— If men can only be conceived and born from both
parents, how can they be called men, who draw their origin
partly from man and partly from demon? Will one who is
not truly of human nature rise again at the Judgment?

Mon\. —I will tell you what I have heard about this
question from a very learned man; he says that demons colled!
all waSted human seed, and from it fashion for themselves
human bodies, both of men and women, in which they become

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tangible and visible to men. And so the authorities say that
there is true human nature in those that are born from them,
and that they will rise again at the Judgment as being truly
men and women. But let that be enough on this subject; let
us now go back to confession, from which we have digressed a
little on the occasion of your question.

CHAPTER XIII.

Of Aleidis, a nun of Langwaden, who hy confession
was delivered from the visible attacks of a demon.

In the city of Bonn, in the diocese of Cologne, there was a
prieSf, named Peter, the vicar of the church; and he, by some
judgment of God, hanged himself on the door of his room.
His concubine, whose name was Aleidis, was so terrified by
his dreadful death, that she left the world and took the
religious dress in a convent called Langwaden. One day
when she was looking out of the dormitory window, she
watched a youth, or rather a demon in the form of a youth,
Standing near a well close to the dormitory wall; who, when
he caught sight of her, put one foot on the railing which sur¬
rounded the wall, and throwing out the other as if he were
flying, placed it on the ledge of the window itself. Then he
Stretched out his hand, and tried to seize her by the hair, but
she fell back terrified, cried out, and almoSt fainted. At her
cry the siSters ran up, soothed her and laid her upon the bed.
When they had gone away and she had a little regained her
breath, and was lying alone, the demon again appeared, and
began to woo her with loverlike words. But when she,
realising now that he was an evil spirit, refused to have any¬
thing to do with him, he said: “ Kind Aleidis, do not speak
like that; only consent to me and I will give you a husband
who shall be well born, honourable and upright. Why
should you torture yourself with hunger in this miserable place,

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and kill yourself before your time with watchings and many
other similar discomforts. Go back to the world and enjoy
the pleasures which God has created for man; you shall want
for nothing under my protection.” She answered : “ I repent
with all my heart that I have liftened to you so long, leave
me, for I will never consent.” The demon hurled at her a
loathsome insult and then disappeared. Now since this vile
spirit continued to show himself mofl hoftile to her by day and
by night, some of the sifters persuaded her to keep holy water
always at hand with which to sprinkle him when he came; and
others urged her to use incense if the water failed to terrify
him. Both these things she tried, but little did they profit
her. For as often as he saw her make the sign of the cross
againft him, or sprinkle holy water at him, or burn incense,
he vanished indeed for a little, but very soon returned. Then
one of the other sifters, who was older and wiser, advised her
to let the devil come near her, and then with a loud voice to
hurl the angelic salutation at him. And when she did this,
the devil fled, as if he had been pierced by an arrow or swept
away by a whirlwind, and from that time never presumed to
approach her again.

Novice .—Till now I wondered why the devil could not
say or even begin the angelic salutation, as I remember that
you told me above in the sixth chapter.

Mon \.—I was juft thinking of that very passage. Certainly
the nun, now that she was armed with so effective a weapon,
felt no longer any fear when she saw the form or heard the
voice of the demon. One day when talking over these
things with a certain religious, he advised her as follows:
“ Make your general confession to the prior, simply, fully
and faithfully, as far as your memory holds, and you will be
completely delivered from any further annoyance from
demons.” This advice pleased her much, and she went at
once to the prior, and begged him to appoint time and place
for hearing her confession. In the morning after Matins and
due preparation, she haftened to the appointed place, which
was the chapel adjoining the convent, where the prior awaited
her. And behold, the demon met her as she was hurrying
along the path, and said: “ Aleidis, where are you going ?

The Dialogue on Miracles

Whither are you hastening?” She replied : “ I am going to
put both you and myself to confusion.” Then the demon :
“ O Aleidis, don’t go, don’t go ; turn back, turn back.” She
said : “ Often have you put me to confusion; now I am going
to overwhelm you with the same. I will not go back.” When
he found he could not induce her to return, either by threats
or blandishments, he followed her to the chapel, hovering
over her like a kite. But as soon as she knelt down in the
presence of the prior and began her confession, the demon
vanished, crying and shrieking, and never from that moment
was seen or heard by her again. You have here a plain proof
of the great value of an honeft confession. All this was told
me by Dom Herman, the abbot of Marienftatt; who, having
heard by common report about this woman, who had been
well known to him when he was a canon of Bonn, went him¬
self to the convent, and heard it all from her own lips, juft
as I have told you.

Novice. —If confession had not such mighty force,
assuredly it would not cause the demons so great diftress.

Mon\. —Another example occurs to me, which will clearly
show how grievously they are diftressed when we confess our
sins. What I am going to tell you happened after my
conversion, and was told me by Dom Charles, at one time our
prior, and at that time abbot of Villers; but unfortunately I
have forgotten the names of the person and place. This is
what he said.

CHAPTER XIV.

Of a priefl deceived by the devil’s prophecy of his
death, and delivered by confession.

There is a certain prieft (he is ftill living) very religious
and very dear to many for the excellence of his life, who was
vicar of a parish in our neighbourhood. The crafty devil

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Of Confession

grudged him his favour with God and man, but would not
moleSt him with open temptations, because he hoped to bend
him to his will more completely under an appearance of good.
He, the very minister of darkness, transformed himself into
an angel of light, and came thus to the prieft, and said:
“ Friend of God, I am sent to tell you things that are yet to
come. Prepare yourself, for you will die within the year.”
Now the prieSt, having no suspicion that it was an evil angel,
but believing that it would happen as he had foretold, began
to prepare himself diligently as if for death, to cleanse his
conscience by confession, and to discipline his body with fac¬
ings, watchings and assiduous prayers, and to distribute to the
poor his income and all his small possessions. Since many
asked him why he was dispersing his goods so unwisely, he
told the reason to one of them only, as a confidential secret,
saying: “ The angel of the Lord has revealed to me that I
shall die within the year.” But this man, unable to keep
the secret, told it to another intimate friend, and so through
him it came to the knowledge of the whole parish. When
the year was over, and the prieSt Still alive, it was made plain
that the devil had been a false prophet. And because all
things tuor\ together for good (Rom. viii. 28), for God’s ele< 5 t,
the holy man found advantage in the very point in which he
had been deceived by the devil; for being made much ashamed
by this crafty deceit because it had come to the ears of so many
people, and having no longer anything to live upon, he left
the world and his parish and took the vows in a house of our
Order, whose name I have forgotten. During his noviciate,
the devil came to him again and tried to excuse his former
deceit by such words as these : “ Be not troubled, O man of
God, because you have not died, as I foretold, since God in
His providence has prolonged your life that many may be
edified; I am sent by Him to help, inStrudt and guard you.”
And he believed him. The devil was constantly coming to him,
and as he noticed afterwards, was always exhorting him to such
things as were for his ease. When sometimes fervent devotion
prompted him to make longer prayers, or to keep more vigils,
or to labour harder with his hands, he would argue with
him saying : “ Discretion is the mother of the virtues; you

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have a long life before you now, and therefore you ought
to spare yourself that you may the longer serve God.” Or
when he was trying to raise a somewhat heavy Stone, the devil
would say again : “ That Stone is too big, take this inStead.”
When he became a monk, the devil said to him: “ Ask the
prior to allow you to go to tasks where you will be alone, that
you may the more freely enjoy my conversation, and I yours;”
and the prior gave him leave when he was told the reason.
At laSt the devil, wishing to reap the fruits of his long-drawn-
out guile, came to the monk’s bed at the dead of night, woke
him up and said : ** Get up, the Lord wills to reward your long
toil. Go to the private chamber and hang yourself on the beam
there with your girdle, that so He may welcome you as a
martyr.” When he heard this, the monk was terror-Stricken,
and spat at the devil, and cried out: “ Leave me, Satan, leave
me; now I know who you are;” and making the sign of the
cross, he put him to flight. You see how great is the Divine
mercy that is always about us ; God allowed the devil, under
the guise of a good spirit to discipline His servant with
certain subtle suggestions, although they were meant treacher¬
ously ; but He did not allow him to succeed in this gross
proposal, leSt the simple man should be deceived, and run
to meet eternal ruin. He rose at once, went to the bed of
the sleeping Prior and roused him, making the sign that he
wished to make his confession. The Prior suggested that he
should wait till the morning, but as the other would not con¬
sent to this, he got up and went with him to the Chapter
house. Immediately the monk proStrated himself at his feet
and confessed how he had been deceived for a long time by
the devil under the form of an angel, and how he had dis¬
covered him by the advice that he gave that he should hang
himself ; he confessed also his other sins. When the Prior
had given him some penance and warned him to be more
cautious for the future, he went back to his bed. Now the
monk was obliged to go up to a private chamber, and while
there he saw the devil, exasperated by his confession, Standing
before him with a bow at full Stretch, and an arrow in posi¬
tion, and the evil one cried with a loud voice, “ To your
own hurt have you put me to confusion ; lo, now I will slay

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Of Confession

you.” He answered, “ Depart from me, thou accursed, for
now I fear thee no longer ; ” and at the sign of the cross the
devil vanished ; and so, by the virtue of confession, the monk
was delivered and saw the demon no more.

Novice. —Why is it that the demon was unable to injure
this pries!, whereas he had power so cruelly to slay Arnold,
the vicar of S. Remigius, about whom you told me ?

Mon\. —He was able to corrupt the daughter of that vicar,
but could not harm the virgin of Nivelle. It was clearly not
without cause that the devil received so much power againSl
both father and daughter.

Novice.— If demons are so much troubled when we confess
our sins, I think they mufl rejoice the more when we cover
them with silence.

Monl(. —That is molt certain. You will see it Still more
plainly shown in the tenth chapter of the seventh book,
where by the grace of the Blessed Mother of God, the tongues
of certain folk were unlocked for confession; for that book will
be wholly consecrated to the honour of the Blessed Virgin.

Novice. —From what you have said, I understand clearly
that confession is the medicine of the soul ; now I should like
to know if the body also gains health by its means in any way.

Mon\. —It is the medicine of the whole man ; for as it
delivers the soul of the sinner from the pains of hell, so some¬
times it delivers his body from temporal pains.

Novice. —I think it would be very useful for me to hear
examples of this ; because there are many who, if they knew
that confession brought bodily relief, would be more ready
to make use of it.

Monl j.—Do you not remember what great things Dom
Walter the Abbot of Villers told us about confession, when
he came from the Diet of Frankfort, 1 in which the son of
Frederick, king of the Romans, was elected to the throne?

Novice. —Well indeed do I remember, but since the
human memory is apt to be treacherous, I would gladly hear
again what 1 have already heard once, especially when they
are truths necessary to salvation.

Mon/{. —“ When I was at Frankfort,” he said, “ and was

1 In 1220.

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talking with Mailer Conrad, the Dean of Speyer, I said to
him in the course of our conversation: ‘ There are things 1
have learned about confession which you, as preachers, ought
to know ’ ” (for he was preaching the cross at that time) and
he begged me to repeat them to him. This was the tenor
of them.

CHAPTER XV.

Of a cler\ of Arras and his sifter, and how the latter
was delivered from the flames by confession, when
both of them had been concerned in the death of a
silversmith.

A few years ago there lived at Arras a certain clerk, a
native of the place, and brought up there in comfort from
his infancy, and mixing with honourable clerks. His
mother’s income began to fail, and as he had no clerical
Stipend he was ashamed to continue living with her. Im¬
pelled by an evil spirit, he went with treacherous intention
to the house of a wealthy silversmith and said to him: “ A
certain rich merchant has come to my house, and wishes to
buy cups and goblets of silver, and other small vessels or
ornaments made of silver or gold. If you care to sell any
thing of this sort, put them in a sack, and come to my house
at such an hour, alone, because he wishes the transaftion to
be kept secret.” The silversmith, having no suspicion of a
clerk who was well known to him, did as he was asked, but
nevertheless told his servants where he was going. When
the clerk saw him coming alone, he hid behind the door,
and as he entered, clove his skull with an axe, and killed
him. Then with the help of his sifter, a young girl who
lived with him, he cut up the corpse limb by limb, and threw
the pieces into the sewer. But when it grew late and the
jeweller did not return home, some of his household went

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to the clerk’s house and asked where their mailer was ; and
both of them answered that he had not been there. The
others were not satisfied with this reply, and looking round
suspiciously, they discovered traces of blood, and immed¬
iately charged them with murder. When the officers came
and found not only traces of bloodshed but also the sack of
treasure, the guilty pair could no longer make any pretence
of denial; ana sentence was quickly passed that they should
both be burnt to death. What need of more? On the way
to their punishment, the girl said to her brother : “ Brother,
1 am now being taken to death on your account, for I should
never have helped in this murder except to try and conceal
your crime. Now however as we cannot escape immediate
death, let us make confession of the crime, that we may at
leafl escape the death eternal." The clerk, angered by these
words, because he was utterly desperate, answered : “ I will
not do it; how could so late a confession be of any use to
me? ” And finding her brother hardened, the girl asked
for a priefl, and confessed her crime to him with much con¬
trition. Then both were bound to one flake, and great
quantities of fuel were piled around them. Wonderful
power of confession, wonderful mercy of the Saviour ! the
flames at once devoured the despairing clerk, but the fire
neither touched nor injured nor gave any pain to the girl.
Only her chains were burnt, as we read of the Three Children,
so that she could walk freely ; nor did she feel the heat of
the flames otherwise than as the breathing of a dewladen
wind. The judges, seeing so great a miracle, decreed the
girl to be innocent, and ordered her to be set free ; and so
by her confession she escaped the burning of that fire.

Novice .—What do you think about that clerk?

Monk ..—Exatftly as the despairing murderer Hildebrand
in the sixth chapter of the preceding book judged about him¬
self: “I am eternally damned,” he said, “and appointed
to everlafling flames chiefly because of my despair. If I had
shown penitence by confessing my sin, I should have escaped
eternal punishment through that which was temporal.” The
same abbot told us of another miracle in which the virtue of
confession was Shill more plainly shown ; as follows:

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The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter XVI.

Of heretics who were examined and convided by the
trial of white hot iron at Cambrai, one of whom was
saved by the help of confession.

In the cathedral city of Cambrai within the laft five years
several heretics were arrefted, who all denied their heresy
through fear of death. A clerk was sent by the bishop to
examine by the trial of white hot iron, those who denied
and to sentence as heretics all those who were burnt. They
were all examined and the iron burnt them all. When they
were being taken to their punishment, one of them, a man
of noble birth, was kept back by the clerk in the hope that
he might perhaps be brought to penitence. And he said to
him, “ You are not one of the common herd, and I am filled
with pity for you, and with compassion for your soul.
I beg and beseech you to return to your senses after
so much wandering, and come back from error to the truth,
that you may not pass through temporal death to find the
death everlasting.” He answered, “ I have learnt by exper¬
ience that I was wrong ; if so late a penitence could profit
me, I would willingly make my confession.” The other
replied that true penitence could never be too late and sent
for a prieSt. The man confessed his error, promising with
his whole heart that he would give satisfaction to God, if
his life were spared. That the merciful Lord might show
the power of confession, no sooner did the penitent begin to
confess his sins that the burn in his hand began gradually
to shrink, and decreased in proportion as the confession pro¬
ceeded, as the clerk saw with his own eyes. When half the
confession was completed, half the wound was healed, but
when the whole was finished, the virtue of confession
removed the whole burn both in pain and appearance, and
the hand recovered its former health. The officer came to
take the man to the fire, but the clerk asked him why he had
come. “ That he may burn,” he said, “ because his hand
was burnt in the examination.” Then the clerk, showing

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Of Confession

the man’s hand perfectly whole, set him free, while the others
were consumed in the flames. When Master Conrad heard
this, he said to the abbot, “ I too will tell you a similar Story,
which I remember happened a few years ago in Argentina.

CHAPTER XVII.

Also of ten heretics in Argentina, who were
examined and burnt, one of whom, after he had
been healed by confession and set free, was led
aSlray again by his wife, and condemned to the re¬
kindled fire.

Ten heretics were arrefted in Argentina, that is Strasburg.
They denied their heresy, but were convifted by the trial of
white hot iron, and were condemned to be burnt. On the
appointed day, when they were being taken to the Slake, an
officer said to one of them: “ Miserable man, you are con¬
demned to death, but show penitence even now by confessing
your sins, left, after the burning of your body, which is but
momentary, the fire of hell should burn your soul for ever.”
When the other said: “ I know well that I was wrong, but
I fear that penitence in such an extremity would not be accep¬
table to God ; ” he replied : “ Only confess from your heart,
God is merciful, and will receive the penitent.” Then a
wonderful thing happened ; as soon as the man confessed
his heresy, his hand became completely whole again. Since
his confession had occupied some little time, the officer came
to hurry him to the ftake, but the prieft said “ It is not right
that an innocent man should be unjuftly condemned." And
as no trace of the burn could be found in his hand, he was
set free. Now this man had a wife who lived a little way
out of the city, and was altogether ignorant of what had
happened ; and when he came to her rejoicing and said:
“ Blessed be God, for He has delivered me this day from the

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death both of body and soul ; ” and went on to tell her of
all that had taken place, she replied : “ O mo£t unhappy one,
what have you done, what have you done? Why have you
deserted our sound and holy faith for a momentary pain ? you
ought rather to have suffered your body to be burnt a hundred
times, if that were possible, than once to abjure so well proved
a faith. But alas ! who is safe from the wiles of the ser¬
pent? ” Then he, forgetful of the mercies that had been
shown him from heaven, forgetful of so evident a miracle,
fell in with the advice of his wife, and returned to the old
heresy. But God, not unmindful of punishment for such
base ingratitude, smote both in the hand ; the wound of the
burning was restored to the hand of the heretic, and his wife,
because she had been the means of renewing his heresy, was
made a sharer in the renewal of his pain. So violent was
the burning that it penetrated even to the very bones of their
hands. And since in that place they did not dare to utter the
cries which were drawn from them by the violence of their
pains, they fled into the neighbouring wood, howling there
like wolves. What need of more words? Information was
given, they were brought back to the city, and together were
placed in the fire, which had not wholly died down, and there
were reduced to ashes.

Novice. —Only justice was shown to these sinners.

Mon —Those who fight after an honeft confession earn
vidory and freedom from condemnation.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Of a \night who because of his confession won a
duel in the presence of the Emperor Henry.

When the Emperor Henry , 1 father of the present Fred¬
erick, la£t entered Lombardy, a certain castellan was accused

1 Henry VI, 1190-1197.

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Of Confession

before him by the Lombards of rapine and many other out¬
rages. The accusers brought with them a very Strong pugi-
liSf, of gigantic size, who challenged him to single combat.
The Emperor was unwilling to deny them justice, and ordered
the knight to appear. When that giant challenged him to
the combat according to civil law, the knight’s brother fell
down at the Emperor’s feet, and with many tears obtained
the boon of being allowed to fight on behalf of his dearly loved
brother. He prepared himself moft carefully by contrition,
confession and prayer, and placed all his hope upon ChriSf,
whose cross he wore on dress, shield and hand, as a defence
in the fight ; for he was a man more graceful than Strong.
The pugiliSl, terrible to see and looking like a second Goliath,
rushed upon him and Struck him so mighty a blow upon the
shield, that you would have thought that it thundered. But
the knight, returning blow for blow, Struck his hand, before
he could withdraw it, with so much force that he could not
raise again his drooping club ; and then Striking the pugilist
with redoubled blows, he conquered the unconquerable,
through the virtue of confession. Our Brother Henry, who
was present, told me that the pugiliSt broke out into these
words, shouting like a bellowing ox : “ Woe is me ! how can
1 be so vilely put to confusion by a pigmy like this ! ” And
thus by the humble confession of his brother a man worthy
of death escaped death and won the vidtory. That confession
also brings pardon to those who ought to be condemned the
following example will show.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of a thief at Cologne, who escaped death by the
benefit of confession.

About the time that I was a Student, there was a thief who
was kept in prison before the Gate of Mars in Cologne. A
prieSt named EuSface, a man of very exemplary life, who was

The Dialogue on Miracles

in charge of the chapel of that Gate, visited him, heard his
confession, and helped him with his alms ; and, as the same
priest told me himself, used often of set purpose to send him
his own cup from his own table. The gaolers saw all these
things and were astonished ; and when they informed the
judges of the honour shown by the prieSt to such a thief, they
thought the man muSt be innocent, and set him at liberty.

Novice. —Why do not benefits of this kind come to all
through confession?

Mon\. —It would not be expedient, because it would be an
occasion of sin to many. God wills that miracles should
sometimes take place through confession, that He may show
by outward signs of how great value it is, as a medicine to
the soul. His will is that in moft cases the guilty man should
be punished after confession that he may escape punishment
in the future, because He does not punish twice for the same
fault (Nahum i. 12). Of this I will tell you a manifest
example, which I heard from an abbot of our Order.

CHAPTER XX.

Also of a thief who received the sentence of death
from the bishop of Liege, because of a verse in the
106th Psalm.

In the city of Liege there was a bishop, a holy and God¬
fearing man. One day in Lent when he was sitting alone
in his chapel, and reading the Psalter, he came to this
place in the 106th psalm, Who can express the noble ads of
the Lord, or show forth all His praise? An officer of his
court came in and interrupted his devotions, saying: “ Sir,
what are your orders with regard to that criminal? ” The
bishop, moved with pity, answered: “ Spare the poor fellow
out of resped for the sacred season of Lent.” As the officer
was going away to set the guilty man free, the bishop turned

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back his eyes to the interrupted psalm, and forthwith they
fell upon the next verse: Blessed are they that always \eep
judgment: and do righteousness. The bishop, terrified by
this message as if he had been reproved and inftrufted by an
answer from heaven, as indeed was the case, called back the
officer and said: “ Examine the case of this man carefully,
and judge him according to justice. ” Thus the guilty man
loft his life owing to that inspired verse. It may be that he
died contrite, and if he had lived longer, would only have
become worse and would have incurred eternal death ; as
we said above about the Strasburg heretic, who through con¬
fession had been healed and afterwards fell back into error.

Novice. —It is a great comfort to me to hear this.

Mon\. —Confession is the beft remedy in danger even
upon the broad sea.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of pilgrims who were in great danger on the sea
because of the sins of one man, but were delivered
by his confession.

Mafter John of Xanten, when he was preaching the cross
in the churches, told the people that some pilgrims who were
once crossing the sea to the help of the Holy Land, were con¬
fronted in mid-ocean by a ftorm so violent that the ship itself
was covered with the waves. The wind roared, rough waves
beset them, the braveft men were ftaggered, and all hope for¬
sook the sailors. Seeing death before their eyes, they began
one by one, each to his neighbour, to make confession of their
sins ; and rightly, for the Lord had raised up this tempeft
because of the sins of one man. For there was in that ship
a man moft wretched and moft foul, whose sins were so
grievous, so shameful, so revolting, both in number and in
kind, that not even the sea itself could endure their weight.

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As it is the habit of nature to cad forth any poison from the
body, how can it quietly endure the presence of such spiritual
poison as sins againd its Creator? That sinner, fearing both
for his life and soul, and realising that all the reft were in
danger because of him, Stood up and said : “ Listen, brothers,
listen. If this Storm has arisen on account of sin, I am the cause
of all the danger, and I beg you to hear my confession.”
Whereupon in a general silence he began to pour forth in a
loud voice so terrible a flood of poison as to disguSt the moSt
hardened human ear. But see the wonders of God’s mercy ;
as soon as he had caSt forth by confession that load of iniquity,
the raging sea grew quiet and there was a great calm, so that
all men marvelled. Wonder followed wonder ; dire< 5 tly the
ship came to land, God wiped out from the memory of each
all the sins they had heard. So long indeed as they were
confined to the ship, He allowed the sinner to be abashed in
their presence, but as soon as they disembarked, He shed
oblivion over them, that they should not make known his
sins or upbraid him. They remembered well enough that
they had been in great danger on the sea and that the man
had confessed something, but they were altogether ignorant
of what he had said ; a fad: which he found out for himself
by experience.

Novice .—That is a beautiful Story : yet it seems a marvel¬
lous thing that God should afflid so great a number of men
for the sins of one.

Mon \.—We read in the Scriptures that the sea was
troubled and his shipmates brought into great peril because
of the disobedience of Jonah, and that when he was thrown
overboard the sea became calm. For, as sometimes God
afflids for a reason a number of people for the sin of one, so
also does He often spare many for the righteousness of one.
Of this there are many examples.

Novice .—I know that notning happens without the juft
judgment of God ; but surely it is the height of madness for
a man, who knows himself to be in mortal sin, to dare to run
into danger.

Mon \.—Those who know the healing virtue of confession
ought not for a single day to remain in their sins, nor to delay

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Of Confession

their confession unless it is impossible to find a confessor.
Hear what a certain bishop said of this ; it is a saying both
useful and solemn, well worthy to be remembered.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of an English bishop, who at the approach of
death, refused to confess for the sa\e of example.

I learnt from an abbot this Story of an English bishop, who
died lately ; he was of the PremonSfratensian Order, a good
man and of deep piety. When he was now at the point of
death, and did not ask for a confessor, his chaplains said to
him : “ Sir, you are very ill ; will you not make your con¬
fession?’’ The bishop replied: "No, thank you.” When
they continued to urge it, he added: “ Do you suppose, you
foolish ones, that I should put off my confession to a time like
this? ” They said again: “But you used to share in the
king’s counsels and he answered: “ I was in the presence
of the king only as Chris! was in the presence of Pilate.”
This is what that saintly bishop said and did for an example
to others. Daily had he been accustomed to cleanse his con¬
science, and not to put off his confession from day to day as
many do. Even after his death he was iliuftrious for many
miracles.

Novice. —As I gather from the words of this bishop, it is
not right even for saintly men to postpone confession.

Mon\.— This postponement of confession recalls to my
mind a case which happened in our midst laft year.

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CHAPTER XXIII.

Of one of our monies, who when attually dying
made full confession for the firfl time.

One of our elders, whose name I will not give, had the
habit, as many others have, of frequently renewing his con¬
fession, so that the abbot thought it was general, because he
used to relate his sins from boyhood up to old age. He had
been ill for some time before his death, but suddenly he
collapsed and loft all power of speech. We all ran to his
aid, and anointed him with the holy oil. The lord abbot came
to him on, I think, the following day, and at his coming God’s
mercy unloosed the tongue of the dying man, and he began
the confession of certain mortal sins committed before his
conversion, sins which he had never confessed to him before.
Terrified, the abbot asked him if he had ever before confessed
these sins. “ Yes,” he said, “ I have told them to other
abbots.” He had had three abbots before this one, and as
our abbot told us, this was the reason why the Lord, who had
regard to his long life of toil, opened his mouth that his con¬
fession might be complete.

Novice. —If he had confessed these mortal sins to other
abbots, was it for shame that he did not confess them in the
same way to the laft abbot?

Monf{. —As I said in the firft chapter of this book; as a
confession ought to be unvarnished, and made as a matter of
duty, so it ought also to be complete, that is, not diftributed
among several confessors. What profit is it, as Bede says in
his commentary upon Luke, if the whole city be guarded and
one opening left through which the enemy can enter ?
Indeed I truft that he had made complete confession to one
of the abbots, because he was a wise man, and we saw in him
many virtues.

Novice. —If the penitent should sin with his confessor,
would it be possible to confess those sins to him to any pur¬
pose?

Mon\. —Such a confession would be nothing, because in
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Of Confession

it there would be no shame nor would there be any sins dis¬
closed. For an example and to answer your question, I will
tell you of a certain pitable case which took place a few years
ago, which the Lord Abbot of Citeaux related in place of a
sermon to all the abbots in General Chapter, and asked that
each would tell it to his monks as a warning.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Of a confessor who sinned in the company of a
young mon\, and after death exhorted him to
confession.

He said that in a certain monastery there had died lately
a prieSt, upon whom his abbot, because of his exemplary life,
had laid the burden of hearing the confessions of his
Brethren ; but he did not tell us the name of either the mon¬
astery or the individual. There was in the same house a
young monk who came to him frequently, with whom, at
the instigation of the devil, and with the consent of human
frailty, this confessor sinned once, but only once. As soon
as it was done, he began to lament and weep bitterly, and said
to the younger man : “ We have sinned grievously ; we can¬
not for very shame confess this sin to others ; but I think that
you had better make confession to me, and I to you, and each
receive penance from the other.” To this proposal the other
agreed, and they confessed their sin in turn, and each received
from the other a much severer penance than would have been
imposed by the abbot or any other confessor. Soon after the
prieff fell ill, even to death, and when he was very near his
end, in fear of hell he disclosed the sin of both, but did not
reveal the name of his partner. After his death, the abbot
was greatly digressed because he could not discover the other
sinner. Nevertheless he said to himself: “ He will come to
confess to me, whoever he is.” Meanwhile the dead man

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appeared in broad daylight to the young monk when he was
alone, ghastly in face, and clad in ragged gown. When he
saw him, he recognised him at once, and shrank away in
terror. But the apparition said : “ Stay, do not be afraid, for
I have come for your sake, that I may tell you how I fare.”
The youth, comforted and reassurred by his words, asked
him whence he came and what he sought, and he replied:
“ I am suffering the greatest pains because of that sin which
I committed with you ; for I am tormented by a fiery chain
which encircles my body, and holds me suspended in the air.
That confession that we made to each other profited me
nothing, because it was, as a confession, juft nothing ; and
I should have been eternally damned if I had not made my
fault known at the laft.” And when the youth said to him :
‘‘Is there anything which could possibly help you?” he
replied: “ If you will confess your sin simply and fully, you
will help me much ; but if not, eternal punishment is reserved
for you ; ” and so vanished. The youth, terrified by this
vision, would have made his confession at once, but could
not because of the absence of the abbot. But this inevitable
delay gave time for his fear to die down and his reludance to
increase, and when the abbot returned, shame had so far
regained the upper hand, that he made no confession to him.
But the abbot had not forgotten the fault confessed to him,
and when the daily expefted penitent did not come, he
pondered deeply how he might catch and save him who, to
nis own hurt, was lying hidden ; and he gave orders to the
whole convent, both priefts and those of inferior rank,
whether whole or sick, that on a certain feftival all should
communicate at the high altar ; for he thought that the man
who was guilty of that fault would surely not dare to
approach. So he sat by the altar and watched the faces of
each. Now the young monk, feeling sure that this was done
on his account, and fearing to be discovered if he held back,
came with the others ; but when he drew near to the altar,
so great a horror swept over him, so great a fear fell upon
him, that, presumptuous as he was, he could not go on, and
was soon compelled to withdraw. Then he came to the
abbot, and made him the sign that he wished to confess ;

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Of Confession

and he, rejoicing and exulting, said to himself: “ Ah, we
have surely caught the quarry, we have found the prey ; for
this is he ; ” and he rose up and went with him into the
Chapter house. There the youth threw himself at his feet,
confessed his sin, recounted the vision, and received his
penance, and so, laid bare by the prudence of the physician,
the wound of the foolish sick man was healed. These things
were related to us by Dom Gevard our abbot, when he came
back from the General Chapter.

Novice .—It is a great gift of God that dead men should
thus exhort the living to confession.

Mon \.—So great a benefit is confession that even the
spirits of the dead make use of it ; often have I heard that the
dead have appeared in dreams to the living, and have con¬
fessed the sins for which they were held in pains, and have
truly shown by what works of mercy they could be delivered ;
and this has been proved afterwards by unmistakable signs.
For like consorts with like, and the body of a sleeper is not
far from death, and when the outward man is at reft, his
soul is often more keenly awake. Not always are dreams
vain, but sometimes they are heavenly revelations, like those
of the patriarch Joseph, of Daniel, of Joseph espoused to Mary
and of the three Magi.

Novice .—Will you show me an example of how the spirits
of the dead confess to the spirits of the living?

CHAPTER XXV.

Of a novice who confessed to his abbot in his
dreams.

Mon \.—A young novice had been received into a house
of our Order, and after a short time had fallen grievously
sick, and died. Now he had not yet carried out the cuftom

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of the Order, and made his general confession to the abbot,
because that prelate was called away. While with great
eagerness he was looking for him to return, and Still he did
not come, he made his confession to the Prior, and so died
before the abbot’s return. That same night when the abbot
was asleep in one of his granges, and knew absolutely nothing
of the death of the novice, the spirit of the dead man bowed
his head at the bedside of the abbot and humbly implored
him to hear his confession. (That abbot is said to have been
S. Hugo of Bonnevaux, who is now beginning to be illustrious
for his miracles.) When he told the novice that he would
willingly hear him, he confessed all his sins to him in the
same order and fashion as he had confessed them to the Prior.
His contrition was so great, that as he bent over and made
his confession, his tears seemed to fall upon the abbot’s breaSt.
When the confession was finished, he uttered these words:
“ Now, my father, I depart with your blessing, because I
could not be saved, until I had made my confession to you.”
At this the abbot awoke, and wishing to know if the vision
were real, or merely a phantasm, as often happens, touched
his robe that was about his breaSt, and found it all wet and
besprinkled with the droppings of tears. Then greatly
wondering, he returned home and told the Prior his dream,
and he answered “ The vision was a true one, and the con¬
fession moSt real.”

Novice .—Why did the novice say that he could not be
saved without such a confession, when it was no contempt but
necessity only that had prevented him from making it to his
proper confessor? If he died contrite, he muSt have already
been amongst the saved ; and if not, no confession after
death could help him.

Mon \.—I think that God willed that his words and a< 5 ts
should show how greatly pleasing to Him is confession that
is done as a duty, that is, one which is made to the right
confessor. But that he said that he could not be saved, I
understand that he meant that he could not be so swiftly
delivered from purgatory. Of conferences of this kind made
by the dead with the living you will hear much in the twelfth
book. Do not be troubled that I said that the spirits of juSt

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Of Confession

men have confessed their sins after death since even evil
spirits are related to have used confession.

Novice .—I should like to hear about their confession.
Mon {.—What I shall tell you is not what I have read, but
what I have heard from other Religious.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Of the confession of a demon.

Once in Lent, when a prieSt was sitting in church, and
hearing the confessions of his flock, some going away and
others coming, there was Standing among those Still waiting,
one, who appeared to be a young and Stalwart man, also await¬
ing his turn. When all the reSt had been dealt with, he came
up laSt of all, knelt down before the prieSt, and began his con¬
fession. He enumerated so many enormous crimes, so many
murders, thefts, blasphemies, perjuries and sowings of dis¬
cord, of which he said that he had been the author, incentor
or suggeStor, that the prieSt, oppressed with horror and weari¬
ness, said to him : “ If you were a thousand years old, you
could hardly have committed so many grievous sins and he
answered : “ but I am more than a thousand years old then
the prieSt Still more terrified, said : “ Who then are you?” and
he replied: “ I am a demon ; one of those who fell with
Lucifer. I have confessed only a very small part of my sins ; if
you are willing to hear the reSI, which are innumerable, I am
ready to confess them to you.” The priest, knowing that the
wickedness of the devil was incurable, said : “ What have you
to do with confession, O devil?” The demon replied : “ I was
Standing opposite you, and I saw sinners come to you and go
away justified, and I listened very eagerly to what they said
and you replied, and I heard mercy and eternal life promised
to them even after grievous sins. Then I, in hopes of gaining
the same boon, came to you to confess my sins.” But the

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prieft, following the example of S. Martin, answered the
devil faithfully and said : “ If you are willing to take my
advice, and to do penance honestly for your sins, like those
whom you have juft seen go out from hence, then you too
may win the same mercy.” The demon replied: “ If you
will appoint me a penance that I can bear, I will obey you.”
“ I will lay upon you,” said the prieft,” a penance very light,
and much less than the penances of those who made their
confessions before you. Go, and three times a day throw
yourself upon the ground, and thus lying proftrate say : O
Lord God, my Creator, pardon me for I have sinned againft
Thee. Let this alone be your penance.” But the devil
replied: “ I cannot do that; it is too hard for me.” “ Why
do you find a mild penance too hard? ” “I cannot,” he
answered, “ humble myself so greatly before Him. What¬
ever else you lay upon me, I will undertake willingly.” Then
the prieft was filled with anger, and said : “ O devil, if the
pride of your heart is so great, that you are neither able nor
willing to humble yourself to this moderate extent before your
Creator, depart from me, for neither now nor ever will you
obtain mercy from Him ; ” and at these words the demon
immediately vanished.

Novice. —A wonderful thing that this proud spirit could
humble himself before a man, and not before his Creator.
When the sinner has both mouth and tongue wherewith to
speak, is it enough for him to make his confession in writing?

CHAPTER XXVII.

How it is not enough to make a confession in
writing except in case of necessity.

Monk •—h does not seem to be enough, because with the
mouth confession is made unto salvation (Rom. x. io). If a
man has already confessed his sins orally, he may afterwards

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Of Confession

intensify his confusion of face by the written word, as public
penitents do, or as we read that S. Auguftine did in his book
of Confessions. That scholar of Paris, about whom we spoke
above in the tenth chapter of the second book, because he
could not speak for sorrow, supplemented this defedt with
writing.

Novice.- —Then what is that which we read in the Life of
S. John Eleymon, that a certain woman wrote out her sins
on a paper which she sealed and gave to the saint, and gained
pardon without oral confession, though it was shame only
that prevented her from speaking?

Mon\. —Something similar may be read in the Life of
S. Aegidius, about the Emperor Charles, but miracles are
not to be taken as examples for ordinary life. Be sure of this
that there is no authorisation for written confessions.

Novice. —May I ask again if a penitent ought to divulge
to his confessor the name of a partner in his sin ?

Mon\. —Certainly not ; the Penitentiary 1 expressly forbids
this.

Novice.— Why is it forbidden?

Monk_.— On account of the various evils that might follow.
Supposing there was a confessor who should be led to look
with contempt upon the person thus mentioned, though that
person might already have been justified by penitence, or
should incur any other temptations through that indiscretion.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

That it is not lawful for a penitent to reveal the
partner of his sin, and an example of a cler\ and
a nun.

A certain youth fell sick, and confessed, under the com¬
pulsion of necessity, to a fellow canon, who was not yet a

1 Liber Poenitentialis.

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prieft, that he had been led aftray by a certain nun, and had
kissed her ; and he was asked if he had actually sinned with
her. He replied, “ No,” but went on to say that she would
have made no objection, since she had often invited him even
with words, and here he spoke her name. From that time
the confessor always held this nun in contempt in his heart,
nor could he love and respedt her as much as before. There
are also other dangers ; the penitent might reveal such a
name as to cause perpetual enmity between himself and the
confessor.

Novice. —For instance ?

Mon\. —If the penitent were to say : Sir, I have sinned
with your sifter, your daughter or your concubine, I think
that the confessor could scarcely help being troubled.

Novice. —Will you give me an example?

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of a cler\ of Soefl who confessed to a priefl that
he had sinned with his concubine.

Mon\. —A certain prieft of Soeft had a concubine with
whom a young man fell in love and sinned ; in Lent he came
to the prieft and confessed the sin, and disclosed the identity
of his partner. When the prieft heard this, he was greatly
troubled, and wishing to draw him away from this attraction,
upbraided him harshly, exaggerated the fault and imposed
upon him too severe a penance. This rancour was not with¬
out danger. Whence could arise so harsh a reproof and so
excessive a penance except from the divulging of the identity?
This was told me by our Brother, Theodoric of Soeft, who
knew both the prieft and the youth. The penitent therefore
ought not to reveal the name of the partner of his sin, while
at the same time he is bound to confess whatever is an aggrava¬
tion of his fault.

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Of Confession

Novice. —I should like to be inftrudted in the way he
ought to have spoken.

Mon{. —He should have used some form like this: Sir,
I have sinned with the wife, daughter, concubine or sifter of
an acquaintance, relation, friend or enemy of mine, my own
wickedness alone being the cause, or her allurements: and so
with other sins, whether carnal or spiritual. A woman also
should speak in the same way. Certain sins however are
committed in such a way that they can scarcely be explained
unless the confessor knows who the person is ; but too much
attention should not be paid to that.

Novice. —What if two should conspire againft their pre¬
late, and one of them, led by repentance, should confess his
sin to this prelate, ought he to divulge the name of the other,
or not?

Mon\. —I see danger on all hands. If he does not reveal
the identity, the prelate may be endangered ; if he does,
perhaps he may arouse in him undying hatred againft the
conspirator. Liften to an example very necessary for a
warning.

CHAPTER XXX.

Of an abbot who persecuted a mon\ because he
learnt from the confession of another that he knew
of his vices.

An abbot of a monaftery well known to me was ftained
with a certain vice; and he discovered from the confession of
one of his monks that another monk knew of this; and at the
inftigation of the devil he began secretly to persecute this
other, fearing that he might accuse him at the Visitation. 1
Now when he desired to send him to a diftant convent under
some pretext or other, the monk, understanding well the
reason of this persecution, replied to the abbot: “ Sir, I have
> Cf. Book i.;.

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done no wrong to my monastery; if you wish to send me to
our mother, 1 I will go ; but if not, I will wait here for the
Visitor.” He knew well that he would not send him to
Citeaux, left perchance he should disclose his secret. These
things were told me by an elder monk of the house where they
occurred. If that abbot persecuted an innocent man so harshly,
how do you think he would have persecuted a conspirator
againft him? You see how each was imperilled, the abbot by
persecuting, the monk by labouring under very grievous
temptation.

Not/ice. —Are there any cases in which it is lawful for a
penitent to reveal the name of another?

Mon\. —I asked this very queftion of Mafter Herman,
Dean of Bonn, a man of great learning; and he replied : “ If
it were such a person, of whom the penitent was sure that he
would never confess their common sin, he ought certainly to
disclose his name left he should perish by silence and he told
me a very useful example of this.

CHAPTER XXXI.

That it is lawful for the penitent in some cases to
reveal the name of the other person, and an example
in a case of adultery.

When I was vicar, he said, of Little S. Martin’s in Cologne,
one of my parishioners, a worthy man, went one day alone to
the house of a fellow citizen and friend of his, and found his
wife alone in the solar, 2 and being inflamed by her embraces
and kisses, sinned with her without any premeditation. He
ran at once to me as if he had taken poison, drank from the
fountain of confession, caft out the poison, received penance,
and then added: “ Sir, I will tell you her name, for she is a
vile woman and corrupts many, and I am sure that she will

1 Citeaux.

2 Solarium—upstair*sitting-room.

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Of Confession

never confess her sin willingly.” In Lent however she did
come, more from habit than contrition, and confessed to me
some trivial daily sins, but was altogether silent about the
adultery. I did not forget the sin confessed to me by the
other, but because I did not wish to overwhelm her with con¬
fusion, nor to betray the penitent, I only said: “ Lady, go
away now and come back to-morrow; meanwhile say the
Lord's prayer three times, that God may deign to illumine your
heart, that you may make your confession fully and worthily.”
She went away, and came back next day, but only repeated the
sins she had confessed before. When I told her to go away
the second time, and repeat the same prayers as before, she
obeyed not without suspicion, and returning on the following
day, brought with her a clerk who was her relation, and in his
hearing broke out into these words: “ Here is that prieft,”
pointing at me with her finger, “ who charges me with
adultery; I will complain of him to my lord the bishop.” She
continued to upbraid me, but I was altogether undisturbed,
and when we were alone together, I said very gently : “ Good
lady, why do you hide your sin, and why do you deny what
you have juft said? Is it not true that you committed
adultery in such a place with such a man?” She, understand¬
ing that I was not ignorant of her crime, came back at length
to her senses, and replied with much humility : “ Sir, it is true;
I did commit adultery with the man you mention, and I am
ready to do penance, and to live chaftely for the future.” Thus
it came about that she, who came as a sinner, went down to
her house justified through the perseverance of her vicar. If
the penitent had not betrayed her, perhaps she would never
have been justified.

Novice .—-If it is not lawful for the penitent to reveal the
name of his partner except in a case such as this, what do
you think about the confessor? May he in any case disclose
the sins of his penitents, or their names?

Mon \.—In many cases he may disclose the sins of his
penitents, if they themselves remain silent; but he may not
disclose their names, except in the one case which was, some
five years ago, decided by Pope Innocent in the following
way.

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CHAPTER XXXII.

Of a mon\ who celebrated without having been
ordained, and how, by the decree of Pope
Innocent, it is lawful to reveal the name of such a
person, if he be unwilling to confess of his own
accord.

In a certain house of the Ciflercian Order a monk once
celebrated without having been ordained. One day he told
this to his abbot in confession, and yet refused to cease from
such presumption. The abbot, in great sorrow and with
many tears, besought, warned and ordered the wretched
man to desiSl from so great a blasphemy, but without any
success; for he feared to be discovered if he suddenly ceased,
and so went on as before. In the following General
Chapter, the abbot brought forward this case, asking what
a confessor should do, if perchance any such thing should
take place in a monastery. And since neither the abbot of
Citeaux, nor the other abbots, dared to give any decision on
this, they sent an account of the case to Pope Innocent. He
called together his cardinals and learned men, laid the case
before them and asked what decision each one would make.
Nearly all of them agreed that the confession ought not to
be revealed, but he replied: “ I decide that the confession

ought to be revealed in such a case, because such a confession
is no confession at all, but sheer blasphemy; and the con¬
fessor has no right to conceal so infamous a madness, which
might bring disaffer upon the whole church.” All agreed
to his decision; and he wrote to the Chapter what he had
determined, and how it was approved by the Cardinals. Nor
ought you to doubt that confessors are sorely tormented
when they have been told any such thing, whose responsi¬
bility they feel unable to bear by themselves.

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CHAPTER XXXIII.

A long and useful Slory about the lay-brother
Simon of Aulne and his prophecies.

Not long ago, a monk confessed to his prior a very
grievous sin; of what nature it was I do not know, but when
the prior wished to refer it to the abbot according to cuflom,
the monk refused his consent. This refusal so weighed
upon his mind, since he felt himself unable to bear alone the
responsibility of the sin confessed to him, that the prior
began to waSte away in body through sheer sadness of heart.
Brother Simon of Aulne, a lay-brother well known to me,
having learnt of this by the Holy Spirit, said to the prior :
“Sir, what ails you? Why are you thus pining away?”
When he replied : “ I am full of sadness,” Simon said : “ Do
not be so digressed; I know well the cause of your sadness,
but the Lord will soon give you comfort.” Then he went
to the monk and said: “ Why do you not confess your sin
to your abbot? God has revealed it to me, and if you do
not confess it to him as your appointed confessor, I myself
will disclose it.” The other, knowing the sanftity of the
laybrother, then confessed his sin to the abbot, though
moved rather by fear than devotion; and so the prior was
delivered from his trouble.

Novice. —I think that man muff have the spirit of prop¬
hecy.

Mon\. —In truth he has the spirit of prophecy, if he is
Slill alive, as you will learn from what follows. A certain
secretary of the Roman Curia, who had heard from many
that this brother Simon possessed the spirit of prophecy, in
his desire to see him came from Rome to the monaSIery of
Aulne, wishing to make his confession in his presence,
hoping to be corrected by him if he omitted anything, and
helped if he did not speak fully enough. As he did not find
him at the abbey, he was conducted to Colomies, one of the
monaSIery granges, of which he was maSter. As soon as
Brother Simon saw him, he understood the reason of his

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coming, and said: “ Sir, I have to go to such a place on the
business of our house, and if you will wait here for me, I
shall be ready to satisfy you every wish on my return.” He
went and returned, and when he had heard from the clerk
what he already knew, he sent to the monaftery and asked
that a discreet confessor might be sent to him; and while this
clerk in the presence of the lay-brother, was making his con¬
fession to him with much devotion, and happened to pass over
several things in forgetfulness, or to explain all the circum¬
stances somewhat less fully from shame, the aforesaid Simon
would interrupt his confession and say: “ Why have you left
out such and such sins? These things you did at such an age,
and those in such a place from mere thoughtlessness, and some
you did under compulsion; correcting him everywhere in such
marvellous fashion that with the queen of the south he con¬
fessed that the half was not told him (i Kings x. 7) of all his
wisdom. Then going back to Rome, he extolled his pro¬
phet through all the Curia to such an extent that the Lord
Pope Innocent sent for him to his General Council, and
asked him several questions, so that both he and his cardinals
learnt by experience his prophetical powers. This was told
me by Walter of Birbech, a monk in Hemmenrode, who was
his intimate friend and used to tell many Tories about him.
Another time he saw a woman who was a sinner and exhorted
her to confession, telling her to make it in his presence. She
did this, and he did not suffer her to suppress anything in for¬
getfulness or shame, everywhere correcting her confession as
was said above about the Roman clerk, juft as if he had
actually seen her sin.

Novice .—If you know anything more of this lay-brother, I
should very much like to hear it, for it seems to me a more
miraculous thing to know the hidden things of the heart, and
to reveal man’s secret thoughts than to raise the dead.

Mon \.—What you say is indeed true, for to know a man’s
inward thoughts belong to God alone. When Dom
Conrad, now the cardinal bishop of Porto, was a novice in
Villers, it happened that Brother Simon and the monk Walter,
now abbot of Villers, with several other monks and lay-
brethren of our Order, were hearing mass in a certain secular

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church. During the canon of this mass, Simon saw the
spirit of Conrad, though his body was then far away, Stand¬
ing near him and wearing a golden crown upon his head;
he could read also the thoughts of his heart, and the prayers
in which he was then engaged at Villers. After the mass,
he drew Walter aside and said: “ When you see Brother
Conrad, the novice at Villers, tell him to be on his guard, for
he will suffer certain temptations in the coming year; such and
such were his meditations, and such and such his prayers
during to-day’s mass; and you may be sure that one day he
will be a great personage in our Order.” When later Walter
saw the novice, he tried to find out in a indiredt way the sort
of meditations and prayers he was accustomed to use at mass;
and when he replied: “ Such and such are my usual prayers
at mass ”; the other went on : “ Will you tell me what you
were specially thinking of during mass laSt Sunday?” And
when the novice asked why he enquired so earnestly about his
thoughts, he answered : “ Only answer my question and I
will explain the reason afterwards”; and when the novice
told him the order of his thoughts and prayers during that
mass, Walter was overwhelmed with astonishment, for it
all agreed even verbally with what brother Simon had told
him. Then he made known to him what Simon had said
about him, warning him at the same time about the nature of
the predicted temptation, and urging him to be careful not
to be deceived by the devil under the guise of an angel of
light. Then a wonderful thing happened, for though the
novice was well warned and well fortified beforehand, yet
even so he could not escape the temptation that had been fore¬
told, but was sorely harrassed by it within the year. How
great he became afterwards is well known to us all, not only
in the Order, but also in the whole church. FirSt he was
made prior in Villers and then abbot; next he was eledted
to the Abbacy of Clairvaux, and then promoted to that of
Citeaux. Nor could this position hold him long, but he was
summoned by the lord pope Honorius 1 to be cardinal and
bishop of Porto. What he may Still be in the future, we do
not know. Once when Simon was Standing in the choir of

1 Honorius III, 1216-1227.

The Dialogue on Miracles

Villers among his brethren, a lay-brother named Evirgeld, the
blood brother of Ulrich of blessed memory, who was a monk
in the same house, as he Stood opposite him, began to be
offended in him, and to say in his heart: “ I do not believe
that this lay-brother is all that people say of him; nor that his
sayings come from the spirit of prophecy, but from mere
conjecture and he began to despise him in his heart. When
the service was over, Brother Simon took the monk Ulrich
aside, and related to him in order all that his brother had been
thinking in his heart, saying also: “ Give your brother a
warning that for the future he may not make such unwise
judgments upon the grace of God in other men, left perchance
he should one day rue them.” When Evirgeld heard this
he was greatly terrified, for he now learnt by his own experi¬
ence what he had refused to believe on the testimony of
others. Dom Walter, the abbot of Villers, whom I men¬
tioned above, is my authority for all these things, for it was
from his own lips that I heard them.

Novice .—These are marvellous things you tell me.

Mon \.—It is scarce four years ago that Dom Simon, then
prior and now abbot of Foigny, when visiting our house,
brought with him this venerable lay-brother, though againSt
his own wish, I believe; so long as he was with us, he refused
to say who he was; but certain secret faults among us, that
assuredly needed correction, were revealed to him by inspira¬
tion, and on his departure he pointed them out to one of our
elders, who repeated to us what he had said, which we after¬
wards found to be perfectly true. From us he went on to
Cologne, and as he was Standing in prayer in the convent of
the Holy Mother of God, and listening to the siSters chanting
the psalms, he groaned within himself and said: “ Alas, that
in all this college of nuns there is not, apart from the children,
one who has charity,” i.e. who is free from mortal sin. That
he could know of this by the spirit of prophecy you will under¬
stand not only from what I have already said, but also from
what follows. With the aforesaid Simon the prior, he went
down to the Netherlands and together they came to the Lady
Matilda of Schmithausen, a very upright and devoted matron,
who had for a long time desired to see him, because she had

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heard many things about him. Sitting down by her side, he
revealed to her through the Spirit all her inmoft thoughts,
so that she marvelled much that so great grace should be
found in any man. This I heard from the lips of the matron
herself. Laft year when Dom Englebert, archbishop of
Cologne, had sent Dean Herman and his fellow-canon Gotts-
chalk to the Roman Curia to seek dispensation from the vow
of the cross, they found Brother Simon in a certain grange
and enquired of him how their mission would result; and
the event was a complete justification of his prophetic words:
“ Bishops’ envoys,” he said, “ will gain but little in Curia, but
a simple monk will carry through his business successfully.”
Both these sayings proved true, for they returned without
success, but our monk whom we sent at the same time,
obtained all he desired. There are many other great pro¬
phecies of this lay-brother which have not come to my full
knowledge; some of them I have heard, but I have been
unwilling to write them down, because I do not remember
them very clearly; and I would far rather be silent even about
what is true than write down what may be false.

Novice .—I wonder if a man so gifted and great had to
endure any temptations.

Mon \.—I have been told by an intimate friend of his, that
a spirit of uncleanness use to vex him, and perhaps does Still,
and yet it is said that he is flill virgin in body. From his
boyhood he was brought up in Aulne, and kept the flocks of
the monaftery; then becoming a lay-brother he showed so
much aptitude that he was made mafler of one of the granges;
by the good and faithful administration of outward things,
as a good and faithful Steward, he won spiritual gifts.

Novice .—Would that all confessors had the spirit of this
lay-brother, for then penitents could not hide their sins, either
in shame or in forgetfulness.

Mon \.—Although many confessors may lack the spirit of
prophecy, yet there is in many a spirit of wisdom and prudence
by which the defeat is supplied.

Novice .—Tell me, I pray you, if it is of any use to confess
sin, if the will to sin be not put away?

m

The Dialogue on Miracles

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Showing that confession, if made with the intention
of sinning again, is valueless.

Mon\. —It is of little use, because God does not put away
sin, unless a man firft puts away his evil desire.

Novice. —Is it better to confess in such a way or remain
altogether silent?

Mon\. —It is better, i.e. more useful, to confess even with
the intention of sinning again than to be silent.

Novice. —Why ?

Mon\. —Because the sinner in confession may be terrified
and turned away by the penalty incurred by the sin, and he
will be advised and inftrudted by his confessor; and it happens
sometimes that he is taught both by word and example so
that he comes back to his senses, and forsakes his evil intention;
moreover, if the confessor be a righteous man and pray for his
penitent, by virtue of his prayers God will sometimes give light
to the sinner. Do you see how great advantage there is in
confession ?

Novice. —I both see it and rejoice over it, but I beg you to
give me examples.

Mon\. —That some have been terrified by their confessor
and have given up the intention of sinning again, will be
shown you by this example.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Of a confessor who threw his money after one who
had made his confession but refused to repent.

A man once came to an honeft and outspoken prieft, and
confessed certain grievous sins; when he had been admonished

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to give up these sins, and not only to give them up, but to be
truly sorry for ever having indulged them, and to lead a better
life in the future, he answered: “ 1 can confess my sins, but
I cannot pretend to give them up.” Whereupon the prieSt
refused to assign him any penance; and the man offered the
usual fee and turned to go away. The prieSt took the money
and presently hurled it after the retreating figure, crying:
“ Thy money perish with thee ” (Acts viii. 20). The other
was so Startled both by the words and the a eft of his confessor,
that he came back next day, repeated his confession, and
accepted and carried out a severe penance. You see then of
how great value is the wisdom of a confessor; if the heedless
penitent had not been thus terrified, perchance he might never
have been justified. Hear another example of the great help
that wise advice may bring to penitents.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Of an abbot of S. Panteleon in Cologne, who
impoverished his brother by giving him money from
the monaHery funds.

In the monastery of S. Panteleon in Cologne there was an
abbot whose blood-brother was a citizen of that town. He
was very fond of this brother and used often to give him secret
presents from money belonging to the monaflery. When he
put this money with his own and traded with it, no matter
what the venture was, it always resulted in a loss, and Still
he did not discover that the monastery money was eating up
his own as fire consumes Straw. Now he was a very expert
trader, and more gifted with foresight and caution than his
fellows, so that their prosperity and his losses were beyond all
understanding. The abbot was full of compassion for his
misfortunes, and kept giving him more money, which Still

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proved useless, for his means grew less and less, until at laSt
he was reduced to great traits. Then the abbot said to him :
“ What is the matter with you, brother? How is it that you
digress us both by throwing away your substance for noth¬
ing?” and he replied: “ I live very sparingly, I look after my
business very diligently, and I cannot underhand what it is
that is working againSt me.” At length he came to his right
mind, went to his prieSt and told him the whole Story in con¬
fession; and the prieSt said to him: “ If you will follow my
advice, you will soon be rich ; this money of your brother’s is
a theft, and is the devourer of all your substance. In future
take nothing from him, but trade with the little of your own
that is Still left, and you will see the good hand of your God
upon you (Ezra vii. 9). And of all the gain that you shall
make, return the half to your brother, and use the reSt for your
own needs, and continue this until you have restored all the
monastery money that you have had.” Wonderful illustration
of the mercy of God! The man followed his confessor’s
advice, and soon grew so rich, that he restored all the money
to his brother and himself flourished abundantly; and when
the abbot asked : “ How have you gained all this wealth, my
brother?” he replied : “ So long as I was taking what belonged
to your brethren, I was poor and miserable, and you were in
grievous sin; you in giving me what was not yours to give, and
I for taking what belonged to others. Ever since I repented
of this, and avoided the Stolen money, I have abounded under
the blessing of the Lord.” See the value of wise advice in
confession. I will tell you a further example, given to me by
Herman, the dean of Bonn, who said that he had heard it
from the prieSt to whom it had happened.

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Of Confession

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Of two merchants of Cologne, who in confession

were advised to keep their word scrupulously, and so
increased their riches.

Two citizens of Cologne confessed among other things two
kinds of sins, which are indeed very grievous in themselves,
though they seem light and almoff negligible on account of
their general use, especially among merchants, I mean false¬
hood and perjury. “ Sir,” they said, “ we can scarcely buy
or sell anything without being compelled to lie and swear, and
often even to swear falsely.” When the vicar said to them :
“ These are very grievous sins, they were prohibited by the
Saviour Himself when He said : Let your communication be
yea, yea, and nay, nay (Matt. v. 7) they replied: “ It is
impossible for us to keep this injunftion in business.” Then
said the prieft: “ Follow my advice, and it will be easily
possible for you. Do not lie, do not swear; recommend your
bargains only at the loweSl price you are willing to take
and they promised that they would make trial of this for a
year; for this is what he begged of them. By the intervention
of Satan, who always opposes himself to the way of salvation,
they scarcely sold anything during all that year. When it
was over they came back to the vicar and said : “ Our obedi¬
ence of this year has been very ruinous to us, our customers
have fallen off, and without our oaths we cannot sell any¬
thing." Then the prieft answered : “ Have no fear, this year
has been a trial of your faith; keep it Steadfastly purposed in
your heart, that no adversity, no poverty shall draw you
aside from your resolution, and God will assuredly bless you.
Then, moved by God’s spirit, they promised that they would
take his advice and obey the Divine command all the days of
their life, even if they had to come to beggary. Wonderful
result I Forthwith the Lord put an end to the trial that had
been laid upon them; men began to throng their places of
business more than any of the others, and in a short time they
became so rich as to astonish themselves. They came back

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to their confessor, and thanked him that through his good
advice they had not only been delivered from grievous sins,
but further had even been increased in wealth.

Novice. —Examples like this ought to be set before merch¬
ants in the churches; perhaps they would learn to shrink from
trafficking for ill-gotten gains, and from swearing and lying.

MonJ{. —That is well said.

Novice. —May I now hear how sinners have been j unified
through the merits of their confessors ?

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Of an ill-tempered woman, who by her confession to
S. Malachi, gained a spirit of gentleness.

Mon\. —In his life of S. Malachi, a bishop in Ireland in our
own times, the blessed Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux, writes of
a woman who was so shrewish that neither neighbours nor
relations nor even her own sons could endure her violent out¬
bursts of temper. They took her to S. Malachi, and com¬
plained of her, beseeching him to have pity upon her. The
saint exhorted the unhappy creature to make her confession,
and she obeyed; he assigned her a penance and prayed to God
to give patience to the impatient. And lo! a change came
over her from the hand of the MoSt High. From that hour,
by the merits of her confessor, the Lord gave her so great
patience and serenity, that she who before had been wont to
exasperate everyone, could not thenceforth be moved either
by loss or by insult. Also that some have been brought to
contrition in confession by the mercy of God alone has already
been made clear in the second chapter of the second book,
which tells of the apoftate monk wno chose for himself two
thousand years in purgatory.

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Of Confession

Novice .—Even because the fruits of confession are so mani
fold, it seems to me right, that those whose duty it is to cleanse
others should themselves be holy and clean.

Monk..— Liften.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

What a confessor ought to be.

That a confessor may be perfedf, he should be full of the
fear of God, wise and learned, outspoken, yet pitiful, kindly,
and always ready to hear penitents gladly. How much good
may result if he have these qualities, and how much evil if
he lack them, let the following examples teach.

CHAPTER XL.

Of an avaricious confessor who assigned the same
penance to two men who came to confess to him,
one for incontinence and the other for continence.

Near See si, a city in the diocese of Cologne, a prieft, by
name Eginhardt, was in charge of a parish; a learned man,
but with no fear of God before his eyes. At the close of Lent
one of his parishioners came to him and confessed that he
had not kept apart from his wife during the sacred season.
The prieft upbraided him severely, telling him that this holy
time was set apart for the very purpose of exercising prayer,
fafting, continence and other good works, and added : “ For
the satisfaction of this sin, I bid you bring me eighteen denarii

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that I may say eighteen masses for the expiation of your
guilt and this the penitent promised to do. As he went
away, another parishioner came to confess, and when ques¬
tioned, Stated that he had been continent all through Lent;
whereupon the prieSt said : “ You have done very wrong in
keeping away from your wife for so long; she might have con¬
ceived a child, and your continence has made that impossible.”
The man was terrified, as is the way with simple folk, and
asked what he muSt do to atone for his fault, and the con¬
fessor replied: ‘‘You muSt bring me eighteen denarii, and I
will appease God on your behalf with as many masses and
the other promised that on a certain day he would bring the
money. A few days later it happened in the providence of
God that these two men were going at the same time to the
market, each with a sack of produce, and one of their sacks
fell from the horse into the mud at a bend of the road. When
the other ran up to help his comrade, the latter cried out
angrily: “ May the devil pay out our prieft, for it is he that
is the cause of all my trouble.” His companion asked what
he meant, and he answered : “ I confessed to him that I had
been incontinent, and he laid on me a penance, which compels
me to sell my crop before it is ready, and to take him the
money he demanded.” To which the other replied : “ What
is this I hear? I confessed the exa<ft opposite, and yet am
punished with exa< 5 tly the same penalty; it is on this very errand
that I am now on my way to the market; assuredly our prieft
muff be a rascal.” When they reached the city they made a
complain about him to the dean and canon of S. Patroclus,
and brought great shame upon him. You see how, if there had
been any fear of God in this prieft, he could not have been
guilty of such awful presumption in turning confessions to
the profit of his avarice. He was very different to the prieSt
spoken of in the thirty-fifth chapter, who threw his money
after the unrepentant sinner.

Novice .—I think that avarice in a prieSt mu£t be a very
hateful thing in the sight of God.

Of Confession

CHAPTER XLI.

Of the avarice and wantonness of priefls.

About this you shall hear not my judgment, but that of
God Himself, as He spake by the mouth of the prophet
Jeremiah : I will flretch out my hand upon the inhabitants of
the land. For from the leafl of them even unto the greatefl
of them, everyone is given to covetousness; and from the
prophet even unto the priefl, every one dealeth falsely. Also
by Ezekiel: Ye pollute me among my people for handfuls of
barley and for pieces of bread, to slay the souls that should
not die, and to keep alive the souls that should not live.

Novice. —I have heard of confessors who for a fowl and
a pint of wine will either relax or cancel altogether the penance
due for a whole tale of sins.

Monk-— That is why it is said of them by Hosea: They
eat up the sins of my people. And be sure of this, that the
Lord reproves not only the sin of avarice in His priefts,
but also the sin of wantonness, when He says by the prophet:
The inhabitants of Samaria have worshipped the calves of
Bethaven. Samaria signifies guard-house, the inhabitants
of Samaria are the prieffs, whose duty it is always to remain
on guard over themselves and over those committed to their
keeping. They worship the calves of Bethaven when they
live wanton lives—their house is a house of iniquity, for this
is the meaning of Bethaven. The calves, which are wanton
creatures signify the wantonness of the priefts, or perhaps
their concubines, which alas! in these days many of them keep
and fear not. How great evils can be wrought in confession
by evil prieffs, who have no fear of God, I could show you by
many examples, but I muff spare the Order, spare the sex and
spare religion. One however I will tell you; it happened long
ago and was related to me by a priefl.

The Dialogue on Miracles

CHAPTER XLII.

Of a matron who had brought up a ward and carried
him forward to the prieflhood, and when she made
her confession to him, he betrayed her.

There was a rich and honourable matron, who once had
committed certain sins so dishonourable that for modefty she
could not confess them to any priest. One day she found a
destitute infant, took him up, carried him home and brought
him up as her own son, caused him to be well educated, and
finally ordained as a prieSt. Then at length, trusting to the
love she had always shown him, she confessed to him the sins
that had so long lain hid. When that graceless fool heard
them, forgetful of God, forgetful of all the kindness that had
been lavished upon him, taking confidence from the fa< 5 t, that
if she should refuse what he asked, he could threaten to expose
her sins to the world, he began to make wicked proposals to
her. She, now at peace with God through her confession,
shrank with horror from his words; whereupon he began to
spread evil reports about her, but she, now that she had
cleansed herself by confessing her sins, had no fear that she
would be subjected to the brand of perpetual infamy among
men; and her confidence was justified; for the virtue of con¬
fession delivered her from evil report, while he was banished
from the province.

Not/ice. —These two examples of wicked confessors are
surely enough; will you tell me some of those who fear God?

CHAPTER XLIII.

Of a matron who tempted her confessor.

Mon\. —When a certain noble matron was talking to an
abbot of our Order about the secrets of her conscience, under

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Of Confession

the form of confession, she said that she was deeply in love
with him. He, as a juSf and God-fearing prieSt, made the
sign of the cross upon his breaSl, and with difficulty repelled
her approaches with such words as he could find, saying that
he was a monk, an old man, slovenly and uncouth. And as
he said to a monk who told me the Story, this woman was so
great and powerful a lady “ that if I had been in the world,”
he said, “ as once I was, never would I have dared to speak
to her of such a thing, not even in the fainteSt hint. Do
you see how the devil tries to deceive even us who are already
dead to the world?” For this abbot before his conversion
had been a knight, Strenuous in arms, comely and well-known.
If you wish to know, he was Dom Charles, the abbot of Villers.

Novice .—Would that all confessors feared God, as this man
did!

Mon \.—It is not only the fear of God that is needful for
them to restrain them from sin, but also wisdom, so that they
may discriminate between sin and sin; so that they may use
the key of knowledge as well as that of power, and may know
how to distinguish between eczema and leprosy, i.e. between
venial and mortal sin ; also between leprosy and leprosy ; i.e.
between mortal and criminal sin; because sins vary in heinous¬
ness, whether they be venial or mortal, and penance should
be adjusted according to their degree, and diStinSlion should
be made between eczema and leprosy.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Of an indiscreet prieSl, who used to assign to his
penitents the penances of the laH pear.

In our province there is a prieSt vicar who used to say to
those who came to make their confessions in Lent: I assign
you the same penance as was assigned to you by my predeces¬
sor ; and to others he would say: “ Carry out the same

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The Dialogue on Miracles

penance as I appointed for you laSt year ; ” without con
sidering how they might have sinned afterwards, nor what
satisfaction they had given for their paSt sins. This was told
me by one of his parishioners.

CHAPTER XLV.

Also of a vicar, who, when several wished to con¬
fess, would make them repeat a general confession
after him and then would assign the same penance
to all.

Another vicar, as I heard from his successor, used to have
this practice, that when in Lent his parishioners came to the
church to make their confession, he would take six or eight
at a time to the altar, and placing his Stole round their necks,
would dictate to them a general confession in German, mak¬
ing them say it after him, word by word ; then after assign¬
ing to all of them the same penance, would send them away
together. He did the same to all, without considering what
they had done, or who had sinned more, or who less. When
he died, one of his parishioners, an old man who had done
well in his business, sent for his successor, asking him to bring
the Holy Communion, because he was sick to death. When
the prieSt came and said: “ You muft firSt make your con¬
fession,” he replied : ‘‘You make it for me ”, for he only
knew the custom quoted above. And when the priest
insisted, he was much disturbed and said: “ Certainly, Sir,
your predecessor never spoke to me like that.” But the
prieSt Still refused to give him communion, and at laSt he
broke out: “ I confess that I have sinned in adulteries, thefts,
robberies by violence, murders, perjuries and many other
crimes.” Then said the prieSt: “ Have you really done
all these things?” and the sick man answered: “Truly,

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Of Confession

Sir, I have not done one of them.” But he had always
been accustomed to make his confession in this way, and
nothing would induce him to confess his ahlual and par¬
ticular sins. You see what strange kinds of confessors there
are, what teachers, what guides of men's souls 1 Whence
can come such negligence, such ftupid decisions except from
ignorance of the Divine law? But I should like to show
you how greatly a penitent may profit by the wisdom of a
well trained confessor.

CHAPTER XLVI.

Of a woman who was juilifying herself in confes¬
sion, and how a wise prieSl showed her that she
had many mortal sins.

When Herman, Dean of Bonn, was vicar of S. Martin
in Cologne, a woman came to him in Lent to confess her
sins. Kneeling before him, she began to pour forth all the
good deeds she could remember ever having done, and to
juSbify herself with the Pharisee in the gospel, saying: “ Sir,
every Friday all through the year I faff on bread and water,
give alms and go to church,” and many other things of the
same kind. When she had finished, the vicar said: “ Why
have you come to me, Madam? Do you wish me to give
you a penance for these good deeds ? Why do you not tell me
your sins?” And when she replied : “ I am not conscious of
any sins,” he asked what her trade was, and the woman
answered that she was a seller of old iron. So he asked : “ Do
you ever put smaller pieces of iron into your bundles of larger
fluff, so that you may sell them all together in that way? ”
When she admitted that she did, he replied: “ There is one
mortal sin, for that is deceit. Do you ever tell lies or swear

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or perjure yourself, or speak ill of your rivals, or envy those
who sell more than you?” When she replied; “Yes,
often,” the vicar said : “ These too are mortal sins, and unless
you accept and carry out a severe penance, you will quickly
go to hell.” At these words the woman was frightened,
realised that she had sinned and learnt how she ought to
confess for the future. Well did he, as a wise and learned
man, know how to dig through the wall (Ezek. viii. 8) and
drag to light the idols portrayed (Ezek. viii. io) upon the
woman’s heart.

Novice. —What do you mean by digging through the
wall?

Mon\. —Questioning the penitent about his sins and
their circumstances. The phrase is Ezekiel’s, and is fully
and excellently expounded by S. Gregory. The confessor
ought to be careful not to dig through the wall, that is, the
conscience of the penitent, by any injudicious questions that
might teach him to sin.

CHAPTER XLVII.

How a confessor ought not to ma\e enquiries
about unknown sins, and an example of a maiden
who was troubled by this.

In the diStridt of Brabant there was a religiously minded
girl who made her confession to a certain prieSt. He, being
not very wise, began to dig rashly into her conscience, i.e.
to ask her about certain sins unknown to her, which she had
never either committed or even heard of. But immed¬
iately she began to be tempted by these very sins, and was
troubled so much that she said to the prieSt: “You have done
me an ill turn this day by speaking of these things to me.”

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Of Confession

And as she afterwards confessed to another prieff, it was not
without the greatest difficulty that she restrained herself
from these particular sins. The wall is to be dug through
in such a way that the house may not be injured, the idols
are to be searched out from beneath their coverings with
skill and care that the tent may not be overturned. But yet
the confessor muSt be keenly anxious about the sins of his
flock, and muSt urge them to confession both by word and
example.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Of an abbot, who by his example brought another
abbot to confession.

An abbot of our Order who wished to search the con¬
science of another abbot, his pupil, as I have heard him say,
made to him a general confession of his sins. Then he
said : “ My Lord Abbot, if you in turn wish to say anything,
I will gladly liffen.” The other, being ashamed, then con¬
fessed to his own sins, though he had not meant to do so,
but was incited to it by his brother’s example rather than
by his words, for he was under no obligation to confess to
him.

Novice. —As far as I can see, wisdom is very necessary
for confessors.

Mon\. —You will understand this ftill better by the fol¬
lowing example. What 1 am about to say was told me by
a venerable prieff and Prior of the Premonftratensian Order.

The Dialogue on Miracles

CHAPTER XLIX.

Also of an abbot, who of set purpose ate flesh with
his mon\s in a hiding place, and incited them to
confession by his example.

A certain Benedidtine abbot, a good man of Stridt life, had
a house of monks who were remarkably lax. One day a
number of them had prepared for themselves a feaSt of
divers kinds of flesh and coStly wines ; and as they did not
dare to consume these in any part of the buildings, through
fear of their abbot, they used as their banqueting hall a huge
empty wine vat, called by the vulgar a tun, and thither they
carried all their good things. It was told the abbot that
certain monks were holding a revel in this tun ; and he
went immediately to the place in great grief of heart, and
looking in, changed all the mirth of the fearers into gloom.
When he saw them thus ca£t down, he pretended jocularity
and cried: “ Eh ! Brothers, can you have the heart thus
to eat and drink without me? That is not my idea of fair
play ; I am coming to take my share ” ; and he went in,
washed his hands, and ate and drank with them, taking
away their fears by his example. Next day, having spoken
with the Prior beforehand, and told him what to do, as
soon as the monks were all colledted in the Chapterhouse,
the abbot rose up, and Standing before the Prior, besought
forgiveness with much humility, and pretending to tremble
with fear, spoke as follows: “ I confess to you, my lord
Prior, and to all my Brethren, that I have been overcome
by the sin of gluttony, and that I sinned yeSterday in a hidden
place and ate flesh furtively in a wine-vat againSt the order
and Rule of our Father, S. Benedict.” He then sat down,
and began to bare his back for the discipline ; and when
the Prior tried to prevent him from doing this, he said : “ Do
not hinder my scourging ; it is far better for me to pay the
penalty now than hereafter.” When he had received the
rod, and also a penance, and had returned to his seat, the
monks concerned, fearing to be denounced by him if they

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Of Confession

remained silent, rose up of their own accord, and confessed
the same excess. The abbot ordered a good and Strong
discipline to be laid upon them by a monk appointed for the
purpose, upbraided them severely, and bid them never to
presume in such a way for the future under pain of very
severe punishment. Thus the wise physician corrected by
example those whom he could not reform by teaching.

Novice. —I like this Story.

Monl{. —Hear now an example showing how a confessor’s
wisdom ought to be tempered with discretion.

CHAPTER L.

Of a penitent who gradually climbed from a
moderate penance to a greater.

A certain grievous sinner was unwilling to undertake any
penance corresponding to his sins, and his confessor, who
was both wise and discreet, asked him: “ Can you say each
day at leaSt one Lord’s Prayer on behalf of these great sins? ”
When he replied that he could, he laid that penance upon
him. Wonderful is the mercy of God, for this prayer began
at once to soften the man’s heart, so that he came back to
ask for a further penance, and continued to do this until he
had reached a worthy penance. It belongs to the discretion
of a confessor to assign proportionate penances for great sins
and for small ; and because every penance is to be chosen
according to the condition of the penitent, he has the power
of moderating both the quality and quantity of it. But
always let him remember that mercy rejoiceth againfl judge¬
ment (James ii. 13), whether the confession be private or
public, so that he himself may obtain the same mercy from
God.

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CHAPTER LI.

Of the Abbot Gisilbert, who spared those who lot
their temper in the Chapter, and so incited them
to give ample satisfaction.

Dom Gisilbert, the abbot of Hemmenrode was so pitiful
that if ever one of his monks or lay-brothers had forgotten
the virtue of patience and loft his temper after being rated
by the Chapter in the presence of all, he would have com¬
passion on nis infirmity and say : “ Good Brother, go and
sit down now ; tomorrow you will admit this fault.” The
monk, being thus given time for reflection, regained his
tranquillity of mind, and came back the next day ashamed
of his violence, admitted his fault, and very patiently under¬
took a severe penance. How much help may be given to
penitents by the kindliness of a confessor will be shown in
the following example.

CHAPTER LII.

Of a vicar who by his kindly words in confession
brought both a usurer and a murderer to give satis¬
faction.

The aforesaid Dean of Bonn was sitting in Lent in the
Church of S. Martin, where he was vicar, hearing the con¬
fession of a woman, when he saw two of his parishioners
talking as they sat together in a window some distance away.
One of them was a usurer and the other a man well known
to be a homicide. When the woman went away and this
usurer took her place to make his confession, the vicar said
to him: “ My friend, you and I together to-day will defeat
the devil finely. Only do you confess your sins without
reserve, put away all intention of sinning again and follow
my advice, and I promise you eternal life ; and I will so

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Of Confession

moderate your penance that it shall not be too difficult for
you ” ; for he knew well the sin by which he was beset.
He replied: “ If I could really be sure of what you promise,
gladly would I follow your advice ” ; and the confessor
renewed his promise. Now when he had made his confes¬
sion, forsworn his usury, and undertaken his penance, he
went to his companion, the homicide already spoken of, and
said: “ Truly we have the kindest of prieSts, for he has
brought me to repentance by the gentleness of his words."
The other, urged by his example, came to confession, and
perceiving the same atmosphere of compassion around him,
accepted his penance and carried it through.

Novice .—From the many things you have already said,
I gather that confession requires a high degree of perfection
both in penitent and confessor.

Mon \.—One thing {till remains to be said, and it is the
crown of all a confessor’s virtues, namely that he should show
himself always ready and willing to listen gladly to any
that may wish to confess. Of this you have had an example in
the sixth chapter of the firfl book, where the Prior of Aulne
had signed to a monk, who wished to make his confession,
that he muft wait, and the angel of the Lord, in the guise
of that same monk, rebuked him. How much it is pleas¬
ing to God, and how much it helps sinners, when the con¬
fessor is always ready for this duty, will be shown in the
following story.

CHAPTER L 1 II.

Of a monk, of Clairvaux who, helped by the
prayers of his brethren, opened his heart to the
Prior.

Two years ago when Dom William, the Abbot of Clair¬
vaux, had gone to Rome with other abbots to oppose Cardinal

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Galo, one of his monks confessed to one of the prieSts a
certain criminal sin. The confessor said to him: “ I have
listened to you willingly, and gladly will I advise you, but
I cannot give you absolution, because this confession is not
made to the right person ; I advise and beg you to confess
to the Prior, who, in the absence of the abbot, is able to
absolve you.” When the other replied that he would never
do this, the confessor in his grief and perplexity revealed the
danger of the penitent to Dom Siger the Prior, without men¬
tioning the person or the sin. He, much disturbed, and
pondering deeply how he might deliver his brother from
his peril, invoked with tears the angel of good counsel. At
the same time a certain lay-brother deserted from the monas¬
tery, carrying off much Stolen property ; and the Prior, by
the inspiration of God, seized tne occasion, and after dwell¬
ing upon the heinousness of the sin of theft in the full chapter
of monks, added this : “ If perchance there be any among you
whose conscience is seared so that he cannot open it to his
superior, I bid you all pray for him for the next three days.”
They all consented ; and while a young prieSt was weeping
and praying on the vigil of All Saints, he heard a voice from
heaven, saying: 44 As to the monk for whom you are pray¬
ing, his confession has been useless, because it has not been
made to the right person; but tell the Prior that to-morrow
when Prime has been said, he is to Stand after mass at the
door of the Chapterhouse ; and the man himself will come
to him.” And thus it happened ; while the Prior was Stand¬
ing before the Chapterhouse, behold ! the monk came, made
to him the sign of wishing to confess, went in with him,
made his confession with much groaning and weeping, and
accepted the due penance.

192

BOOK IV

OF TEMPTATION

CHAPTER I.

Of what temptation consiils in the Religious life ;
and an example from King Charlemagne, and of a
thief delivered from the gallows by S. Bernard.

When the children of Israel came up out of Egypt, they
were Straightway tempted in the desert. Egypt signifies the
world or sin, and the desert the monastery ; for in respetfl
of numbers it is deserted by the many and inhabited only by
the few. Egypt is interpreted as darkness or tribulation or
perplexity or persecution ; and nowhere will you find greater
darkness or tribulation or perplexity or persecution than in
sin and in the world. The children of Israel are the eledl,
and as soon as they have come up out of the world by con¬
version, and up out of sin by contrition and confession, can
scarcely avoid, especially at firSf, all manner of temptation
in the desert, that is, the monastery. And it seems fitting
that temptation should be treated in the fourth book, be¬
cause four is the number of Stability: for a body which is
foursquare Stands naturally in whatsoever direction it is
turned. When the sinner has been converted to the Lord
in body by forsaking the world, and in heart by contrition
for his sins, and is justified and Strengthened by oral con¬
fession, then he will go forward with more security to the
battle of temptation, and will fight with the enemy more
effectively. Wherefore it was after baptism, not before it,
that the Saviour permitted Himself to be tempted by the

»93

13

The Dialogue on Miracles

devil. Oral confession in contrition of heart is a second bap¬
tism. Hence it is that the Apoftles were exposed to perse¬
cutions after the descent of the Holy Spirit, and that is why
soon after Pentecoft the books of the Kings are read, which
commemorate the wars of the faithful people againft the
heathen, that is, of the virtues againft the vices.

Novice .—The order of j unification seems the right one,
that as confession follows contrition, so ought satisfaction to
follow confession.

Mon \.—You are right indeed in this, but you do not
realise the full meaning of temptation. That, among the
Religious and especially in the monastic Orders, temptation
is penance or satisfaction for sin, I will easily show you from
the words of one full of experience, I mean the holy Job
(Job vii. i. R.V. margin). The life of man upon earth is
both a military service and a temptation ; military service
by reason of its discipline, temptation by reason of its toil
and peril. And note that he does not say: The life of an
animal is temptation, but of a man, that is of one who lives
rationally and worthily of a man, such as is the life of the
religious. But the worldly and the carnal, who walk
according to the flesh, are not properly said to be tempted,
because, as soon as they feel the temptation, they either
consent to it, or resift half-heartedly. If then the life
of the religious is temptation, since they are always fighting
againft vices and lufts, by watching, by fafting, by
prayer, by obedience in prosperity and adversity, by
having no possessions in this world for the sake of Chrift,
needs be that you allow that this temptation itself is a satis¬
faction for their sins. Upon those who join our Order, even
though they may have committed many and grievous sins,
no other satisfaction is laid beyond keeping the Rule. This
is why S. Bernard, when once he received a certain king of
France into the Order, laid upon him that he should only,
after making his confession, say the Lord’s Prayer. And
when he was troubled, thinking that he was being mocked
by the saint, the blessed abbot replied: “ Only do you say
this Prayer and protect the Order, and I will answer for your
sins in the Day of Judgment.” Again when the same

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Of Temptation

saint was passing by chance where a guilty man was to be
hanged, and asked that he might be handed over to him, and
the judge said: “ Sir, the man is a thief and worthy of the
gallows," the abbot answered: “ Give him to me and 1 will
hang him,” speaking of the severity of the Order as a gibbet.
The Apodolic See granted this privilege to the Order, that
the observance of its rule should be sufficient satisfaction
for any sinner.

Novice .-—If our religion is satisfaction for our sins, and
that satisfaction is temptauon from without, will you tell me
in what and by whom we are tempted?

Mon \.—The ways in which we are tempted are count¬
less, but the agents by whom we are tempted are four: God,
the flesh, the world and the devil (Gen. xxii. I; Deut. xiii. 3;
Jam. i. 13. Vulg.). The three other tempters (than God) are
enemies, and as enemies are to be guarded againd. By
yielding to them we are confounded, by residing them we
do well, by conquering them we are crowned. How great
toil there is in temptation, how great fear, how great cod,
how great deserving, the following examples will declare.

CHAPTER II.

Of the seven deadly sins.

There are seven principal sins, which spring from the
same poisonous root, namely pride ; from these seven nearly
every temptadon is derived. The fird vice that is born from
pride is vain glory, the second anger, the third envy, the
fourth accidie or depression, the fifth avarice, the sixth glut¬
tony or gormandise, the seventh luxury. Of these some are
of the soul, as vainglory, anger, envy: others of the body,
as gluttony and luxury ; and some belong to both, as accidie
and avarice. Accidie, so far as it consids of depression of
spirit, is of the soul, and of the body in the external torpor
that it produces. These seven plagues are the seven rivers,

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with which is watered the land of Egypt, i.e. the darkened
heart of the sinner. And as the Nile, from whose abundance
the seven rivers are fed, flows forth from Paradise and is dis¬
tributed through Egypt, so Lucifer was caff forth from
heaven for pride and diffuses himself through man’s heart
darkened by mortal sin. These seven vices are typified by
the seven unclean races, whom the Lord destroyed from the
promised land before the face of Israel ; they are also signi¬
fied by the seven devils, which the Saviour caff out from the
heart of Mary Magdaline. Taking four of these seven for
wheels, the prophet Joel conftrufted a chariot for Pharaoh,
saying: That which the palmerworm hath left the loculi
hath eaten ; and that which the loculi hath left hath the
can\erworm eaten ; and that which the can\erworm hath
left hath the caterpillar eaten (Joel i. 4). The palmerworm
the blessed Gregory interprets as luff, the locuSl as pride, the
cankerworm as gluttony and the caterpillar as anger. Many
overcome luff and are lifted up into pride ; from pride they
fall into gluttony ; from excess of eating and drinking they
are turned to wrath. Three horses draw this chariot, and
they are the three remaining vices, to wit, envy, accidie and
avarice. Here then are three vices in the horses and four in
the wheels, and by the seven the devil is carried, according
to the prophet Amos (Amos 1 and 2), againff Damas¬
cus, against Gaza, againff Tyre, againff Edom, againff
Ammon, againff Moab, and even againff Israel and Judah.

Novice. —When we are tempted by the vices, is it from
within or without?

A ion\. —After the entrance of the virtues, the vices are no
longer within us in any settled or aeffive condition, but rather
as inflammable and dangerous tinder. Juft as, after the
entrance of the children of Israel, those seven tribes were not
altogether deftroyed, but made tributary, so when the virtues
enter into the land of our heart, the vices are not entirely
rooted out, but are held in subjection ; and as afterwards the
children of Israel were often attacked by the remnants of
those races, so by the tinder of the vices our virtues are often
tempted and exercised.

Novice. —I beg you to explain to me the ffrength of these
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Of Temptation

seven vices, and to give me examples of the severity with
which they tempt us.

CHAPTER III.

Of pride and her daughters.

Mon\. —Pride, which holds the firSt place among the
vices, is a desire for exclusive pre-eminence among others.
Hence comes it’s name of Superbia, as that which raises itself
above the brim, i.e. beyond measure. Some include vain¬
glory in this vice, the two thus making one in the firSt vice
of the seven. For there are two kinds of pride, one inward
in the elation of the heart, and the other outward in the
orientation of a&ion ; the firSt properly called pride, and
the other boaStfulness or vainglory. The offshoots and
flowers of pride are disobedience, fickleness, hypocrisy, Strife,
obStinancy, discord, presumption in innovations. The fol¬
lowing examples will show with what power, through the
vice of pride, the world the flesh and the devil tempt not
only those who arc Still in the world but even the cloistered.

CHAPTER IV.

Of a lay-brother tempted by the spirit of pride, and
set free by an angel, who showed him the bodies of
the dead.

There was a lay-brother in Hemmenrode, a native of
Cologne, named Liffard, a very humble and gentle person,
whose office it was to keep the swine of the monastery. To¬
wards the close of his life, as was told me by Dom Herman,
who was then his abbot, he was tempted by the spirit of

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pride in the following manner. He was now an old man,
and had fed swine for many years, and he began in his
heart to dwell upon such thoughts as this: “ What is it that
I am doing ? I am a man of good birth, and yet I am looked
down upon by all my friends because of this menial office.
No longer will I bring confusion upon them by remaining
a swineherd in this place ; since no one shows me any con¬
sideration, here I will Slay no longer. Now he had already
made up his mind to leave the monastery the very next morn¬
ing, being unable any longer to resift the temptation, but
on that same night, while he was sitting up wakeful in his
bed, there appeared to him a certain reverend personage,
who beckoned to him with his hand that he should follow
him. Immediately he arose, put on his sandals, and, follow¬
ing the other, who led the way, came to the door of the
dormitory. This was opened by a hand from heaven, and
together they came to the door of the church, which, as he
looked was opened by the same agency and they entered
together. So authoritative were the signs of his guide, that
he could not but follow wherever he led. Then he was
taken through the midft of the choir of the lay-brothers, and
as he passed before the altar of S. John Baptift, he made a
deep obeisance as he was accuftomed ; the other also bowed
his head saying: “ You have done well in making so deep
an obeisance.”

When they came to the S. Door of the church, which leads
into the cloifter, they saw this door, which also leads to the
cemetery, opened in similar fashion, though all these doors
are closed and locked at night. When brother Liffard saw
this, he marvelled greatly, yet he dared not say to that other:
“ Who art thou? and whither doft thou lead me? ” When
they entered the cemetery, lo, all the graves ftood open ; and
he led the lay brother to the grave of one who had been
recently buried, and said to him : “ Look at this man ; very
soon you will be even as he ; whither then do you to propose
to flee ? ” Then he turned to lead him to other corpses now
already putrid and revolting, but the lay-brother began to
resift and to cry : “ Spare me, Sir, spare me, for indeed I can¬
not look upon them.” His guide answered : “ If you cannot

198

Of Temptation

bear to look upon that which soon you yourself will be, why,
for a little pride, do you wish to withdraw from your haven
of safety ? If then you desire me to spare you further sights,
you muft promise me that you will not leave this place
and he promised him.

Now as he took him back, immediately the graves were
closed, and closed also was each door after they had passed
through. When they came to the altar of the lay-brothers,
and he made his reverence there, the other Straightway com¬
mended him for this, showing plainly that the deep obeisance
was pleasing to God. And so they came to the dormitory,
and at once the door was shut behind them, and when the
lay-brother again sat down upon his bed, his guide vanished ;
and from that hour the temptation passed.

Novice. —Surely that personage who, by a vision so abhor¬
rent, opened the eyes of the lay-brother thus obsessed with
pride, and brought him back to a humble mind, muSI have
been the very angel of the Lord?

Mon\. —You have judged rightly, for so great is the lov¬
ing kindness of the Redeemer, that although He sometimes
permit His servants to be hard pressed by grievous tempta¬
tions, yet He will not suffer them, by yielding, to lose all
the fruit of their labours.

Novice. —Alas, I fear that vainglory often impedes the
merits of the Religious.

Mon\.- —Vainglory battens upon the virtues, and in
sandlity finds its most fertile soil.

CHAPTER V.

How a demon said that he had no fear of a virgin
mon\, because of his pride.

A demoniac was once brought by his friends to a monas¬
tery of our Order in the hope of his deliverance. The Prior

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came out, bringing with him a young monk of saintly reputa¬
tion, whom he knew to be virgin in body, and said to the
demon : “ If this monk should order you to go out, how
would you dare to remain? ” The demon replied: “ I have
no fear of him, because of his pride.”

Novice. —From this I clearly underhand that the vice of
vainglory was produced in the heart of this monk by the
virtue of bodily innocence.

Monl{. —God has no pleasure in, the devil has no fear of,
virginity without humility; but humility even without vir¬
ginity is both pleasing to God and a terror to Satan. Here is
an example.

CHAPTER VI.

Of the novice Theobald, who conquered his pride
by drinking dirty water.

We had once a monk named Theobald, who before his
conversion had been reckless and wild, given over to wine
and dice, and notorious throughout Cologne for his buffoon¬
eries ; often did I myself see him walking along the Streets
of that city Stark naked. At laSt he became ashamed and
remorseful for his scandalous way of life, and by the
intercession of the leading churchmen of Cologne he was
received by Dom Gevard our abbot, and became a novice
in our house. While on probation, thinking that nothing
could be more acceptable to God than works of humility, he
besought that he might be allowed to wash the linen of the
fouleSt kind, and obtained his request.

Now when he had done this for several days, the tempter
came to him, and piercing him with an arrow of pride, put
into his heart thoughts of this kind: “ Fool, what are you
doing? what business is it of yours to wash the dirty clothes
of those who are probably less well born than yourself? ”

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Of Temptation

After harbouring such thoughts for a while, he realised that
they came from the devil, who is king over all the sons of
pride ; so, on that day, he washed the linen with more care
than usual, and, that he might the more fully discomfit the
devil, and destroy the pride he had put into his heart, drank
the dirty water.

Then the devil, angry to find he could not overthrow him
by the spirit of pride, attacked him with terrors. (All this
was told me by Dom Henry our abbot, who said that he had
heard it from his own lips under the form of confession.)
For from that filthy and malodorous draught, he was tor¬
mented with such violent inward pains, that it seemed to
him as if his bowels were bursting. Further, that night
when he retired, he saw two men hanging from a beam in
the private room ; their bodies were black, their clothes
torn, their faces covered, so that they appeared like criminals
who had suffered on the gallows ; and when the novice came
upon them thus unexpectedly, he was terribly frightened,
and almoft driven out of his senses ; he ran back to the
dormitory and sat down panting by the bed of Brother
Henry, who was afterwards our chief cellarer. And as this
same Henry told me, he trembled so violently, his breaSt was
shaken with such frequent sobs, that he marvelled what could
be the matter with him, of what he could have seen. When
he told him to go to bed, for it was a bitterly cold night and
he was sitting only in his tunic, he refused. Thereupon
Henry threw over his shoulders a part of his own covering,
and so left him to sit until the signal for matins.

Novice .—I marvel that a new wall so violently shaken
should continue to stand.

Mon \.—He did not Stand for long, for, shaken by fre¬
quent batterings of temptation, he was at laSt deceived and
caSt down by an outward appearance of good. When he
became a monk, he gained permission from the abbot, after
much entreaty, to go to France to visit his relations, whom
he had not seen for twenty years before his conversion, nor
had cared to see them, and he was to Stay there for a year in
a certain house of our Order. He went and returned, and
then deserted, and died outside the Order. A vagrant clerk,

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who was present at his death, told us that he had made his
confession to a secular prieft, and had been anointed and
communicated by him ; and so died in a good contrition.

Novice. —I learn here from the importunate temptations
of the demons, that they were more afraid of the humility
of this novice than of the virginity of the monk in the former
ftory.

Mon\. —How hateful true humility is to their pride, you
will learn more fully from the next chapter. What I am
going to tell you I heard as one of the a<5!s of S. Bernard, and
I have thought it well to commit it to writing, because I have
never seen it written elsewhere.

CHAPTER VII.

Of the abbot S. Bernard, who was jeered at by the
spirit of pride, when greasing his shoes.

One day, as an exercise in humility, the abbot S. Bernard
ordered the smith to give him grease, and to light a fire in
the furnace. Then he shut himself in, that he might not
seem to be seeking praise for his menial work, and set him¬
self to grease his shoes. The spirit of pride, hating such
humility, came into the room, where it was being practised,
and, under the guise of an honourable gueft, asked in a loud
voice where the abbot was ; and when the saint looked up
at him the demon cried: “ Heavens ! what an abbot !
Assuredly it would much better become his honour to enter¬
tain his gueSts than to occupy himself in greasing shoes to
the confusion of his brethren.” At once the saint, taught
by the Holy Spirit that this was a spirit unclean, bent down
his eyes again to his humble task, and that boatful spirit
was resolved into air and disappeared.

Novice. —If holy men are afraid of being elated by occupy¬
ing themselves in despised tasks, or, what is a smaller thing,

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Of Temptation

by being observed in doing them, much more ought we to
guard againSl vainglory when we are practising duties that
are both holy and honourable.

Mon \.—What do you mean by “ duties both holy and
honourable?”

Novice. —Praying, singing, preaching and the like.

Mon \.—We who are not yet holy, must, as you say, watch
earnestly againSt vainglory, because when we pray the very
grace of tears and of heart devotion frequently uplifts us even
againSt our will ; and when we sing or chant, the sweetness
or sonorousness of the voice frequently ensnares us ; and in
our preaching we are often tempted and inflated by the learn¬
ing, eloquence or loftiness of our discourse. Others, and
this can only be reckoned to Stupidity, when they have no
grace for prayer, or voice for song, or learning or eloquence
for preaching, pride themesclves even on their monk's dress.
This too is a sign of Still greater madness, that some pray,
sing, or preach with the simple aim of winning from these
exercises human praise and temporal advantage. Of such
the Saviour saith : Verily I say unto you, they have their
reward, i.e. what they have sought, to wit, the praise of men
and worldly profit. In these sacred exercises there are some
whom pride only besets because they have something
to be proud of; others whom it distresses because they find
pleasure in their good performance of them; but the great
majority are hypocrites, who by their own consent and desire,
are wholly conquered and Strongly oppressed by the sin of
vainglory. Would you like now to hear some examples of
this?

Novice. —Yes, indeed.

Mon \.—You have an example of vainglory in prayer in
the twenty-second chapter of the second book, where the devil
marked the monk's tears, when his heart was uplifted by that
very grace. How much danger there is in pleasure of the
voice, the following example will show you.

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chapter VIII.

Of a mon\ of Monte Cassino, who on Eafler Eve,
vanished after blessing the candle.

As I have learnt, not from any book, but from the account
given me by a man illustrious both for his life and learning,
there was a monk in Monte Cassino, who had a moSt delight¬
ful voice. When on EaSter Eve, clad in prieStly dress, he was
blessing the candle, and in impressive tones was chanting the
solemn melody of that benediction, and his voice was sounding
in the ears of all like music at a feaSt, as soon as the blessing
of the candle was over, he vanished from sight. And it is not
known even to this day by whom he was carried off or whither
he went.

Novice. —Suppose he were carried off by an angel of the
Lord?

Mon\. —His brethren who knew his life did not think so;
they feared that the cause of his disappearance was rather the
sin of vainglory than any merit of devotion. Hear what
Auguftine says: “ As often as the singing gives me more
pleasure than the subjeCt of the song, so often do I confess
that I sin grievously.” And that mouthpiece of the Holy
Spirit, the blessed Pope Gregory also says: “ When a pleasant
voice is the objeCt of our ambition, true meekness of life is
forsaken.” Here is an example.

CHAPTER IX.

Of clerks, who were singing in a spirit of pride, and
whose voices the devil put into a sacl(.

Once when certain clerks were singing vociferously in a
church, that is, loudly and without devotion, and raising on
high tumultuous voices, a certain religious, who happened

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Of Temptation

to be present, saw a demon Sanding in a prominent place,
holding a capacious sack in his left hand, and with his right
hand widely extended, he caught the voices of the singers,
and put them into the sack. When the office was over, and
they were congratulating each other, as those who had praised
God well and heartily, he, who had seen the vision, said :
“ You have indeed sung well, but you have sung a sack full.”
When they wondered, and asked him why he said this, he
told them the vision. This I heard from a man of very great
authority, an abbot of the CiStercian Order. These examples
throw no reflection upon heartiness of devotion in praising
God in psalm and hymn, but only upon vainglory. How
pleasing to Him is the uplifting of the voice in devotion, you
will hear plainly in the fifth chapter of the next book; and
there too you will find how greatly the demons rejoice when
the voice is upraised in psalmody without humility. Hear
now a very terrible instance of preaching with a view to praise
and gain.

CHAPTER X.

Of a priefl who had tafen the cross, and whom the
devil attached after a sermon had been delivered
by a certain preacher of the cross.

When Oliver the scholaSticus of Cologne, mentioned in the
second book, was preaching the cross in Bruges and Ghent,
cities of Flanders, a prieSt named Siger, wearing a religious
dress and having a cross on the breaSt of his cassock like a
Templar, introduced himself to Brother Bernard, our fellow
monk, who was then the assistant preacher and colleague of
Oliver. This man was of handsome face and imposing
presence, and very eloquent in his own dialed. He offered
Bernard a gem of many colours and said that he had brought
it from Ceuta, and that it was of such virtue as to bring success

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to any who wore it. But Bernard said: “ Sir, I muft decline
your gifts, you will soon discover if I can help you with the
Master in any way within reason for it seemed to be his
desire to get authority from Oliver to preach; and the same
day permission was given him to address the people.

On the following day, after Bernard, at the Station next
appointed, had preached a moving sermon to the crowd, as
soon as the sermon was over, Siger, who was then present,
fell headlong to the ground, with contortions of the body as
of one possessed, as indeed he was. MaSter Oliver, coming up
immediately with his clerks, made the sign of the cross over
the man, and had him carried into the church and laid before
the altar, where the poor wretch poured forth a Stream of
blasphemies and horrible words againSt God and againSt
Oliver himself. Then he was fastened to a cart with Straps
and sent to his friends; and it is said that the devil carried him
off on the fifth day in accordance with a previous threat.

Now from this man’s obsession and death we can see that
his preaching was not for the sake of devotion, but rather of
ambition. He is said also to have been an apoState, and in
some way to have obtained letters from the lord pope, allow¬
ing him to enter the province. Others said that he had been
in that excommunicated ship, which carried arms to sell to
the Saracens in Ceuta.

Novice .—It aStonishes me that the Lord should punish
contempt so severely in this man, while there are so many
prieSts to-day who handle moft unworthily the sacred
mysteries of ChriSt, and only preach Him at their convenience.

Monk (.—I think he was made an example for other prieSts,
both that they should not trouble that pure preaching of the
cross, which was being done only for the honour of ChriSt,
and also, because of the merits of Oliver. How severely at
that time ChriSt punished deceits and insults caSt upon Him
in His preachers, you have an example in the seventh chapter
of the second book concerning Gottschalk the usurer, who
cunningly cheated the Pope’s dispensator; you will also have
another in the next chapter about an old, pride-ridden woman,
who jeered at MaSter Arnold, Oliver’s disciple, when he was
preaching.

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER XI.

Of an old woman, who hindered Mailer Arnold,
when preaching the cross, by dancing round and
jeering at him.

When this Arnold was a paStor at Burgende, which is a
town of Over-Yssel, and his parishioners on the day of S.
Peter and S. Paul, were celebrating some annual festivity
with dances and music, he, being now commissioned as a
preacher, came to the dance with the cross, and warned,
besought and ordered all the people to give up their devil’s
game. When he began to preach his sermon on this spot,
some of them came obediently to his preaching, others with¬
drew angrily, and re-eStablished the dance a little way off,
while some persisted in a Stubborn refusal. Among the laSt
was a foolish and proud old woman, who, as often as in circl¬
ing round in the dance she came near to God’s prieSt, Stared
back at him and jeered as she sang. Within three days she
died suddenly, and the good man mourned for her as if he
had killed her with his own hand. Since the devil tempts
so many through the vice of pride, let all men, particularly
the religious and cloistered, take especial care so to conduct
themselves in words, gestures and clothing, and everything
else external, that they may not be noticeable for the vice of
pride in the eyes of the world.

CHAPTER XII.

Of Philip, King of the French, who reproved a
Blac\ mon\ for the tightness of his leggings.

In France a certain noble made repeated attacks upon a
Benedidtine monastery; and the abbot and brethren determined
to send one of the monks to Philip who was king at the time.

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to tell him of the knight’s violence. A young man of noble
birth was chosen as one who would have more weight with
the king than any other, because he was so highly connected.
When he came before the king, he said : “ Sir, this noble with¬
out any provocation is harassing our monastery to our con¬
tinual hurt and injury, and is persecuting our brethren and
household with many threats and insults; and our convent
humbly prays your majefty that you will bear in mind your
heavenly reward, and retrain him from committing these
great wrongs and compel him to make due reparation for his
robberies.

The king, after considering the carriage and dress of the
monk, said: “Sir, who are you, and what is your origin?”
And when the youth told him his father’s name, the king
answered : “ You are indeed of noble birth and after the
king had talked a little more, the monk added: “ Truly, sir,
he carries off all our goods, and has left us scarcely anything.”

To which the king replied : “ Truly, sir, that is plain
enough in your leggings; for if he had left you any leather,
they need not have been so tight; the nobler you are the more
humble you ought to be.” Then after this rebuke, wishing
to be kindly, he added : “ You muft not be annoyed at my
reproof, because I made it for your good. Go back to your
monastery, and for the future, that noble shall trouble you
no more.”

CHAPTER XIII.

Of Philip, King of the Romans, who rebuked, an
abbot of the Ciflercian Order for the same reason.

Philip, King of the Romans, reproved a certain abbot of
our Order with a similar remark, which perhaps he took from
the aforesaid king of the French. When the abbot, riding
upon a horse, came to speak with him about the needs of his

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Of Temptation

house, the king looked at his leggings, which were indeed
very close fitting, and asked him from whence he came.
When the abbot answered: “ Sir, from a very poor house,”
the king said : “ That may easily be seen from your leggings,
for leather is evidently precious there.” The abbot was
confused by this remark.

Novice.— Pride is very deservedly put to confusion.

CHAPTER XIV.

Also of an abbot, whose horse’s caracolings would
not allow him to spea\ with FredericKing of the
Romans.

Mon\. —Laft year a certain abbot of our Order, well known
to me, rode to the Court, desiring to speak with Frederick,
King of the Romans, who had succeeded his uncle Philip as
emperor. When he came into the presence, his horse began
to whinny, curvet and prance in such a way that he could not,
with all his efforts, get near to the king who was sitting upon
a very quiet beaSt.

Novice. —What could so great a prince have thought?

Mon\. —I think he was a good deal scandalised. For a
similar thing had happened before on the same horse, when
the abbot once came to see me, and I was scandalised myself
not a little by the sight of him upon such a horse. Indeed,
when he had with much confusion withdrawn from the king’s
presence, he refused to ride that too spirited horse again. This
abbot was a simple-minded old man, very humble and Strict
in his life, although he showed so little circumspection in this
feat of horsemanship.

Novice. —What rightly displeases the world in religious
men cannot be pleasing in the sight of God.

Mon\. —You say truth, for, while we owe to God a good
conscience, we also owe to men a good reputation. To say

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nothing of the scandal caused in the world by the pride of the
religious, when Jews and pagans see pride or the signs of
pride in Christian men, they abhor the Christian religion,
and the name of Chrift is blasphemed through such Christians.
About this I will tell you the words of a certain Saracen, words
which are well worth remembering.

CHAPTER XV.

Of a pagan who said that the Chriflians were driven
out of Acre for their pride and gluttony.

Brother William, formerly our chamberlain, had been
canon of Utrecht before his conversion. When he was a
young man, he had taken the cross, and had gone over the
sea for the sake of the holy Sepulchre. Before his ship
entered the harbour of Acre, both he and the other pilgrims
saw the light of fires in different places round the city before
dawn. When they asked the sailors what these fires were, they
replied : “ In the summer weather, owing to the heat the
citizens set up tents outside the town for the sake of coolness."
Thinking this to be the explanation, they went on into the har¬
bour, and then for the firlt time learnt that the Saracens were
in possession of the city; for at this time, as the result of our
sins, the Holy Land had been given into the hands of Saladin,
King of Syria, during the reign of the Emperor Frederick.

Now Noradin, the son of Saladin, a man of a kindly and
humane nature, was at that time governing the city; and
when he saw a Chriifian ship in the harbour, and guessed
why it was there from the fadt of its being alone, he took
pity on the Chriftians, and sent in a boat to the ship a certain
pagan noble, well versed in the French tongue, to tell them to
have no fear. Up to that hour they had been in suspense,
not knowing whether they were to be killed or made prisoners.

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Of Temptation

Now there was in the ship a certain Christian noble from
Germany who was at the point of death, and he sent to
Noradin, through the same pagan, all his arms, which were
very beautiful, together with three war horses, begging him
to spare the lives of his brethren. “ I,” he said, “ had vowed
to serve ChriSt with these arms for three years, but, as I now
know, it is not His will.” Christian messengers were also
sent, one of whom was Brother William, because of his know¬
ledge of the French tongue, to present these gifts to the prince.

Now when these presents were brought to Noradin, he
took them into his hands, one by one with much reverence and
kissed them all, the coat of mail, the shield, the helmet, and
the sword; he also kissed the horses, and sent back a message
that he would come himself to visit the sick man. Mean¬
while the knight died, and a Slone being carefully fastened
to his body, he was buried in the sea; and another sick knight,
also a noble, was placed in his bed.

In the morning the prince, embarking with many galleys
of different colours, came to the ship, climbed upon it, and
after giving thanks for the presents, sat down by the sick
man’s bed, and consulted with his physician, whom he had
brought with him, about the knight’s recovery. He gave him
also some fruits of a very rare kind, which he said were grown
in his father’s garden at Damascus. Then he said to the
invalid: “ For your sake I will show kindness to all
Christians.” When they asked from him a safe conduit to
the Holy City of Jerusalem, which was Still held by the
Christians, he replied: “ It would not be safe for you, nor
creditable to me, if you should be injured and my safe conduit
violated by any of the robber bands which are now thronging
all the approaches to the city.” On leaving the ship he bade
farewell to the sick man and to the others, giving them leave
to return home, and proteiting them again?! Saracen attacks
by the seal of the royal spear.

Then the aforesaid noble pagan, taking back Brother
William with him into the city questioned him as follows:
“ Tell me, O youth, how the Christians keep the law of
ChriSt in your country.” He, unwilling to tell the adtual
truth, replied : “ Fairly well." Then said the admiral: “ I

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will tell you the practice of the Christians of this land. My
father was a great noble, and sent me to the king of Jerusalem
that I might learn French in his house, and he in turn sent
his son to my father to learn the Saracen language; and so it
came about that I know well and intimately the manner and
life of the Christians. There was not a single citizen of
Jerusalem too rich to take money for handing over his siSter
or daughter or even his own wife to the desires of the pilgrims,
who were thus despoiled of the reward of all their labours.
They were all so enslaved by the pleasures of gluttony and the
flesh that they differed in no way from brute beaSts. Indeed
pride was lord over them to such an extent that they never
wearied of pondering how they might cut and tuck and slash
their robes; and the same thing may be said about their
gaiters.” And he added: “ Look at my clothing and my
gaiters, how round, how ample, how simply and modeStly
made.” In truth he had, as the same William told us,
sleeves as loose and ample as those of a monk. In his robes
there was no extravagance or fancifulness of pleat and tuck,
although the material was coStly. “ See,” he said, “ it is
for these vices that God has caSt out from this land the haughty
and luxurious Christians, for He could no longer suffer their
many iniquities. Not by our own arm have we won the
country.” And laSt of all he added this: “ We fear none of
your kings, not even your Emperor Frederick; but, as we read
in our books, a Christian emperor will soon arise, Otto by
name, who will reStore this land and the city of Jerusalem to
the Christian religion.”

When we heard this, we hoped that the prophecy would be
fulfilled in the Emperor Otto the Saxon, 1 but alas! he died
two years ago. At that time Saladin showed great humanity
to the Christians. When the Christian army was defeated,
and partly slain, partly captured and the reSt dispersed, he
allowed the survivors of those cities, which surrendered volun¬
tarily, to remain in their own towns, though under good
guard. After a few days he enquired from his officers how
the Christians were behaving and received the reply: “ Sir,
they live juSt like animals, zealous only for amusements and the
1 Otto IV, d. 1118.

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Of Temptation

pleasures of gluttony.” Then in anger he ordered them to
be expelled from the cities.

Novice. —Alas! alas! that the Christian should hold almoSt
as the law of his life, that which the Jew abhors and the pagan
cries shame upon!

Mon\. —Let this be enough about the temptation of pride;
let us now consider that of anger.

CHAPTER XVI.

Of anger.

Anger is an unreasoning disturbance of the mind, or,
according to another definition, anger is a temporary madness
of an excited mind, burning with the desire of revenge. From
anger are born quarrels, excitements, insults, outbursts, pro¬
vocations, blasphemies. Anger may either lie hid in the
heart, or break out into words, or into violence (Prov. xxix. 22;
Ecclus. xxvii. 30; James iii. 16).

CHAPTER XVII.

Of one who slew his fellow servant because of an
angry word.

Two servants of our household quarrelled together in
words, and one of them was so inflamed with anger that he
was like a madman; and meeting the other outside the mona¬
stery, slew him all unsuspicious of any attack. Strong muSt
have been this man’s temptation (James iii. 5). I have known
some so tempted by one little word that they have become
apoState. These in truth were signified by the sixth plague

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of Egypt, to wit, the boils breaking out with blains (Ex. ix. 9);
that is, anger with madness, for apostasy is madness. Anger
is natural, but when that emotion becomes immoderate, it is
branded as a vice.

Novice. —I should like now to hear some examples about
religious men, so that our anger may be retrained and we may
be the more kindled to the virtue of patience. For in the
world, anger and impatience are scarce considered at all, and
men are universally despised, if they do not avenge themselves
when provoked.

Mon\. —Do you wish to have examples by which you may
learn how dangerous it is, and how displeasing to God, when
those who are in a subordinate position are impatient and
angry with their superiors, even when provoked ?

Novice. —Yes, indeed.

Mon\. —I will tell you the fadts juft as I heard them from
the mouth of him to whom they happened.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Of a prior, to whom was shown at night a vision of
Chritt, bound to the cross by thorns.

A certain prior of our Order, a man of good and ftrift life,
was sharply rebuked by his abbot more than he deserved; more
than was necessary, and very frequently. This became a great
temptation to him, and he was unable to endure these rebukes
with a tranquil mind, as he ought to have done. The Lord,
wishing by the example of His Passion to cool the heat of his
temptation, and to show that even unjuft superiors ought to
be cheerfully endured for His sake, taught him by the follow¬
ing example.

In the night when he was sleeping lightly, it seemed to him
that he and his abbot were carrying a crucifix, the abbot on the

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Of Temptation

right hand and himself on the left. While they were support¬
ing Him thus equally balanced, the arm of the cross which the
prior was holding slipped from his grasp, and the other rose
up, so that there was no longer any equal balance. Then the
prior awoke, and understood the vision, and said to himself:
“ What are you doing, unhappy one? you are not bearing
the body of the Lord equally with your abbot, because you
are nursing rancour againSt him in your heart.”

He interpreted truly that the monastery was the body of
ChriSt, and that the Stridt rule of the Order was the cross, to
which the brethren were nailed by obedience; that it is
especially the duty of the abbot and prior to carry, to hold and
to support the convent, which is Christ’s body; to carry it by
prayer, to hold it by discipline and to support it by consolation;
the abbot in the place of a father, the prior in that of a mother.
When the abbot and the prior are not in full concord, they
carry the body of ChriSt with unequal balance.

Now since this prior was Still uncorredted by this vision,
and his interpretation of it, which I have juSt shown, and was
not set free from the grudge he felt, the Lord showed him
another vision, the more efficacious as it was the more terrible.
One night when asleep, there came to him a very Striking and
convincing vision; he saw opposite him the Saviour, not in
any painting or sculpture, but in His adtual flesh, hanging
upon the cross. He was bound to it with bonds of thorns in
five parts of His body; one chain surrounded His head, pass¬
ing over His forehead and temples; another was about His
breaSt; a third bound His right hand, and a fourth His left;
while the fifth was over His feet, enclosing both his ankles and
the wood of the cross; as if the Lord were saying to him:
“ For thy sake I suffered these dire torments, and thou canSt
not with a quiet mind bear from thy abbot, I say not blows,
but even words for My sake. Obedience, which thou likeSt
not, is a trouble to thee, yet for thy sake I was obedient to the
Father even to death and the insults of the cross, which are
like chains of thorns.”

As he told me, the Lord immediately granted him to under¬
stand the vision as follows : “ In that ChriSt, who is the Head
of the church, was bound with thorns, He shows thee that

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thou oughteSt to obey thy head, that is the abbot, even in
difficulties. That He was bound over the breaSt teaches thee
that thy will ought to be in concord with that of the abbot,
for the heart lies in the breaSt, and the will is in the heart.”
Now his temptation had gone so far, that he had made up his
mind to change his monastery if he could. “ The chains,”
he said, “ bind His hands to show that thou oughteSt to do
nothing but what He commands; and that He shows Himself
bound by the feet to the cross with thorns, signifies that it is
not lawful for thee to change thy monastery without His
consent, but whether thou Stand or walk, it muSt be only in
accordance with His will.” By these two visions he was both
terrified and inStrudted and for the future, he Studied to
endure with a tranquil mind, for Christ’s sake, whatever his
abbot said or did.

Not/ice. —As I see it, it is dangerous for us to Strive with
our superiors.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of a cellarer, whom in a vision the crucified re jetted
because he had given too rough an answer to
his prior.

Monf{. —LaSt year a certain chief cellarer was arguing with
his prior about certain outside matters, and thought that he
had every reason to show his anger. That night the Saviour
appeared to him upon the cross and Stretched upon the ground,
and over His body was spread a thin and transparent covering.
Now when he desired to draw aside the veil, and to kiss His
wounds, the Figure with repelling hand indignantly put him
away, as if to say : “ Thou art not worthy to touch My body,
for thou haSt provoked me but now in the person of thy prior.”
At once he aroused himself from sleep, and recognising the

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cause of his repulse, as soon as matins was over, in my pres¬
ence, threw himself at the feet of the prior and begged forgive¬
ness for his outburst.

Novice.—If he who is angry with his brother is in danger
of the judgment, no longer can 1 doubt that he is in danger of
a greater penalty, who is angry with his father, i.e. his superior.

Mon\.— It is as you say; because we owe to our fathers,
whether carnal or spiritual, greater reverence than to our
brothers.

Novice. —What if from a raging heart an angry word be
hurled againSt the saints, or what is more, againft God Him¬
self.

Monk- —Such a word arising from anger is blasphemy, and
is often punished very severely by God.

CHAPTER XX.

Of a scholar who died within three days because he
had cursed the holy Abraham.

Mon\. —A certain scholar at Paris, when our abbot was a
Student there, uttered an insulting word againSt the holy
Abraham, and when he died three days afterwards, all, who
had heard what he said, knew that the Lord had avenged his
saint by this punishment of death.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of a knight, whose son was killed by a thunderbolt,
because the father had blasphemed againfl the bad
weather.

Five years ago, at the time of those violent thunderstorms
when the harvest was hindered by almoSt daily rains, a certain

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knight of our province, who lived in a township very near
to us, when he saw the sky in the weft growing dark with rain-
clouds, said angrily: (he was always a man of rather unbridled
speech) “ See, here comes the devil again 1 ” Scarcely had he
utered the words when, behold, a thunderbolt ftruck his little
son on his nurse’s lap without injuring the woman. And
further for that blasphemy he was afflifted in other of his
possessions, both in buildings and cattle, that he might learn
for the future not to blaspheme. This happened at the same
time that our farm near the town of Cassel was ftruck by
lightning. From this it is clear how foolish it is for a mortal
man, who is but duft and ashes, to Stretch forth his mouth unto
the heavens (Ps. lxxiii. 9). See how anger produces ill con¬
sequences, not only like this, but of countless other kinds.

Novice. —-If in this life God punishes so terribly the sin of
anger, surely in the life to come He will grievously affliift the
slaves of this vice.

Mon —You will learn this in the following chapter.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of a shrewish maiden, who when buried was
consumed by fire from the waifl upwards.

The bailiff of a neighbouring town called Konigswinter told
me a very terrible ftory. Not long ago, he said, a monk, a
ftranger in these parts, was in our church at mass, and near
him were some fashionable matrons, the wives of certain
knights, whose empty chatter interfered very much with his
prayers. When the mass was over he drew some of these
knights aside and said to them: “ Sirs, I came to this church to
pray, but the devil prompted these ladies to make so much
chattering and whispering round me that I could not pray at
all. I should like to tell you a terrible ftory of what happened

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Of Temptation

in my own time and in my own town. There was a certain
high-born maiden, the daughter of wealthy parents, who had
so violent a temper and was such a quarrelsome scold, that
wherever she was, whether at home or in church, there she
Stirred up quarrels and revived old enmities, so that he who
could escape the scourge of her tongue, thought himself a
happy man.

At laSt she died and was buried in the parvis of the church.
When we came to the church the next morning, we saw that
her tomb was emitting smoke like a furnace. Terrified at
this and eager to discover what it meant, we threw out the
earth; and behold, the upper part of her body was consumed
by fire, while the lower part from the waift downwards was
seen to be untouched.

Novice. —What did this signify ?

Mon\. —I agree with what was said by those who had
known her life: God willed to show in her body that
He was pleased with her virtue of chaftity, and that He
abhorred her vice of ill-temper. Because she was a virgin, the
lower part of her body was preserved uninjured for the sake
of her chaftity, but because she was so prone to anger, her
heart, her liver, her tongue, her hands, and all the adjacent
parts, were devoured by fire, for anger is a fire (Ecclus. viii. 4;
Ecclus. xxviii. 11, Vulg. ; James iii. 6).

Novice. —What you say so terrifies me, that I purpose never
again to lose my temper with my brethren.

Mon\. —Then you will be happy (James i. 26; James iii.
8, 9 ; Prov. xviii. 21, Vulg.).

Novice. —By what metaphor can the tongue be said to have
hands ?

Mon\. —Because if it be harsh, if often becomes a cause
of death to body and soul, but if it be soft and gracious, it is
a cause of life to both. Wherefore Solomon : A soft answer
turneth away wrath; but grievous words Hir up anger (Prov.
xv. 1). This was fulfilled in David, into whose hands Nabal,
by his grievous words, put a sword for his own death, but
Abigail withdrew it by her soft answer (1 Sam. xxv.). Because
death lies in the hands of the tongue, the wisdom of our
Creator has set before it a double wall, one of bone and one of

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flesh, i.e. the teeth and the lips; but He made them both to
open, that life might pass through; and to speak only what
is good is life-giving.

Novice. —I like what you say.

Mon\. —Let this be enough about anger.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Of envy and her daughters.

Envy follows anger, and is born of it. For envy is a chronic
anger, namely, the hatred of another’s happiness. Her
daughters are : hatred, backbiting, detraction, delight in the
adversity of a neighbour, affliction in his prosperity. It was
this vice that transformed an angel into a devil, this vice that
caft man out of Paradise (Wisd. ii. 24). To show how
grievous and dangerous this sin is, John in his epitle closes
with a brief exhortation, and says: Whoso hateth his brother
is a murderer (1 John iii. 15). The more this vice is con¬
cealed, the more dangerous it is.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Of a mon\, who, being accused by the envy of
another, was imprisoned and gloriously delivered.

Not long ago a certain monk, attacked and conquered by
the pangs of envy, accused one of the younger brethren before
the abbot, imputing to him very foul crimes. Now when the
abbot did not believe him, he reserved his accusation for a

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Of Temptation

greater punishment when the Visitor should come. What
need of more ? The guile of the envious monk had so great
weight with this Visitor, that in the presence of them all at
Chapter, he threw in the teeth of this youth all the vices that
had been reported to him, and when the young monk denied
them, and called God to witness his innocence, he refused to
believe him and ordered him to be thrown into prison in a
scanty robe. After the departure of the Visitor, the juflice of
God Struck down the envious accuser with a sudden sickness;
and fearing death was at hand, he confessed that he had
accused him falsely through envy; and when by his confessor’s
advice he had made this clear to the elders, the truth was
immediately conveyed to the Visitor, who returned at once in
consternation to the monastery, went to the prison and pros¬
trate at the feet of the monk, begged his forgiveness, because
he had sinned againSt him in ignorance; and afterwards
brought him out with great honour, giving no heed to his
modeSt reluctance. All this was told me by an abbot, who
was present at that visitation.

Novice .—Surely that monk earned great merit under so
heavy a trial?

Mon \.—That trial was to him what the furnace is to the
gold, the file to the iron, the flail to the grain, the winepress
to the grape; for he kept his patience in tribulation. To the
envious monk, his envy was as poison to the Stomach, as the
moth to clothing, as blight to the flower, or as consumption
to the body.

Novice .—If you know of any further examples of tempta¬
tions by envy, I pray you tell me them.

Mon \.—Because envy is a hidden disease, no example
occurs to me at present, which is either worthy to be remem¬
bered or necessary for edification. Nevertheless I will tell
you of a certain meritorious envy, which you will be pleased
to hear.

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CHAPTER XXV.

Of a girl who envied the zeal of her sitter in her
ttudies.

LaSt year in a monastery of our Order, called Yesse, in
Frisia, two little girls were put to learn lessons together. Since
both were zealous scholars, a rivalry arose between them that
each might surpass the other in industry and knowledge.
Meanwhile it happened that one of them fell ill; and she,
envious of the advance of her companion, began to be sorely
tried by her fear that the other might make great Strides in
her absence; and so she asked for the prioress and made her
prayer to her, saying : “ Good miStress, when my mother
comes to see me, I will ask her for six denarii, which I will
give to you, if you will Stop my siSter from going on with her
Studies until I am well again, because I am afraid of her
getting beyond me.” At which the prioress laughed, in
great admiration of the child’s zeal.

Novice. —Tell me, I pray you, the right medicine againSt
envy.

Mon\. —Loving service.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Example againtt envy put forward by Matter
Rudolph.

MaSter Rudolph, the ScholaSticus of Cologne, whom I
knew well and frequently heard le< 5 ture, used to teach his
pupils againSt envy by insisting upon this example: a certain
Brother held one of his Brethren in such abhorrence, that he
could not look upon him without real torture. The other,
perceiving this, and eager to heal the wound in his Brother’s

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Of Temptation

heart, used all his zeal to draw out, by loving attentions, the
affeiftion of this Brother, who was so dangerously tempted,
nay rather, who was altogether overcome by this temptation.
He turned and smoothed his pillow, he brushed his clothes,
he arranged his shoes by his bed, and so far as he possibly
could, did everything he knew to please him. And he suc¬
ceeded, for that envy was finally conquered by his services,
and the sanity of the other restored, so that he was delivered
from that poison of hatred, and learned to love more than all
the rest that Brother, whom formerly he could not look upon
without intense dislike. Let this be enough for examples
of the vice of envy.

Because this vice seems to be more hateful than all others
to God who is love, therefore it is more to be shunned by
every man than any other vice.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Of accidie and her daughters.

Accidie holds the fourth place, and is a vice very apt to
tempt the Religious.

Novice .—The name of this vice has a somewhat barbarous
sound ; I should like to know what accidie is, and from
what its name is derived.

Mon \.—Accidie is a depression born from a troubled
mind ; or a sense of weariness and excessive bitterness of
heart, by which spiritual happiness is caft out, and the judg¬
ment is overthrown by a headlong fall into dispair. It is
called accidie, as if it were an acid, which makes all spiritual
exercises bitter and insipid to us. Seneca says of it: “ Great
are the losses that arise from negligence.” The progeny cf
accidie or depression are : malice, rancour, cowardice, despair,

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The Dialogue on Miracles

relu&ance to obey, and the Straying of the thoughts into for¬
bidden places. Accidie is a common temptation and throws
many into despair.

Novice. —Please give examples of the temptations of this
vice.

Mon\. —Hear how dangerous it is to be attacked by accidie.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Of a mon\ whom accidie prevented from rising for
his morning vigil.

The devil had, as was shown by the event, filled a certain
monk so full of accidie, that whenever the time came to get
up for matins, he was immediately covered with sweat from
a kind of cowardice and fear of the service. Thinking this
to be caused by sickness, he lay Still, drawing the clothes over
him again, and as a door, according to the Proverb of Solomon
turneth upon its hinges, so did that sluggard turn upon his
bed (Prov. xxvi. 14). One night when all the reSt got up at
the sound of the bell, and hastened to the divine office, he
also tried to rise, but lay down again at the bidding of accidie ;
and then he heard from under his bed an unknown voice
saying to him quite clearly : “ Do not get up, do not interrupt
your sweating, because it is not good for you.” Then for
the firSt time he realised that he was being mocked by the
devil through the vice of accidie, and shook himself free from
that imaginary sweat, and never again consented readily to
such slothfulness. Be sure of this, that the devil is not per¬
mitted to tempt us either as much or as long as he would like,
leSt we should be deceived by him and perish. Often is he
compelled by the power of God to disclose his deceit to those
whom he is tempting.

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of a pried, upon whom the Crucified turned his
bac\ when he went to sleep over his prayers.

One of our monks, who was a prieSt, was accustomed, after
matins had been said, in that interval which the Brethren are
wont to spend in prayer or Psalms, to compose himself on
one of the benches and go to sleep over his prayer. The
Lord, wishing to show him, that this hour and place were
not for sleeping but for watch and prayer, appeared to him
upon the cross, with His back turned towards him, as if to
say: “ Because thou art lukewarm and full of accidie, thou
art not worthy to behold my face.” He himself testified
that this had happened to him more than once.

CHAPTER XXX.

Of the temptations and visions of Chriflian, a
mon\ of Heitterbach.

Another of our monks called Christian, was a youth indeed
in age, but of a life so holy that he was looked upon as one
of God’s saints upon the earth ; but he was so infirm of body,
that he grew very weary of life. One night in the interval
between matins and lauds, wishing to ease the pain in his
head, he proStrated himself upon the Steps of one of the altars,
and there went to sleep in the attitude of prayer. No sooner
were his eyes closed, than there appeared to him our glorious
Lady, the Virgin Mary, who Struck him with her robe and
awoke him saying : “ Christian, this is not the place for sleep,
but for prayer.” At once he awoke, and with open eyes saw
the back of a female figure disappearing, and heard a gentle
voice saying the laSt words of the above sentence.

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Novice. —I understand well from the case of this youth,
that all weariness of good works does not arise from vice,
but that sometimes it comes from body infirmity.

Mon\. —All temptation and infirmity are the result of
Adam’s sin ; from his fault we have incurred seven penalties ;
to wit, hunger, thirft, cold, heat, lassitude, sickness, death.
When the aftion of these penalties is controlled, we are liable
to punishment but not to guilt ; when it is unrestrained, wt
incur both punishment and guilt.

Novice. —To what do you give the name of lassitude?

Mon\. —Sleepiness, or fatigue from any kind of labour.
Let us be careful then, left that which is natural be turned
into vice ; because vices are generated not only from natural
qualities, by their abuse, but even from virtues. For example,
when juftice goes beyond due limit, it becomes cruelty ; too
much pity becomes weakness ; intemperate zeal becomes
anger ; excess of gentleness deserves the names of laziness
and accidie ; and so you may judge about the reft.

Novice. —I think that this youth muft have been of no
small merit, since the Blessed Virgin aroused him in so
familiar a fashion.

Mon\. —Of how great merit he was, and how dear to the
citizens of the heavenly country will be shown by what fol¬
lows. Though, on account of his severe pains in the head,
he had received in the Chapter a general licence to ftay away
from solemn vigils whenever he wished, he scarcely ever was
absent from the choir except when absolutely obliged. In¬
deed, after the matins for the sick, he would return to the
church and habitually ftay there longer than the Rule
demanded. One day our abbot, Dom Henry, then a simple
monk, said to him: “ Good brother Chriftian, you often tell
us about your severe headaches, and yet you will not use the
indulgence granted you,” and he answered: “ I simply can¬
not ftay away ; for when I ftand outside the choir and hear
the others chanting, my heart is tortured that I cannot go in,
because I remember the consolations with which God delights
my soul when I am among them.” When he heard this the
lord abbot, taking advantage of his special friendship, asked
him what these consolations were, and, after much insiftent

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Of Temptation

entreaty, succeeded in getting him to speak. He told him,
that often, when he was in the choir during the Psalms, he
saw blessed angels passing round, and, what was far more
glorious, the King of angels Himself the Man Christ Jesus.

Novice .—Truly great gifts were vouchsafed to this youth !

Mon\. —Yes, ana deservedly. For ever since he came to
the Order, he had never been without temptation both from
his severe pains in the head, and also in his longing for the
heavenly country. He bore this scourge from the Lord with
so much patience as to aflonish all his brethren. Once the
Lord, who is no tempter of the wicked, took away from him
the grace of tears, which he had bountifully beftowed upon
him, and this was a sore trial.

Novice .—Before you go further, I should like to know
why God takes away graces of this kind from holy men.

Mon \.—That withdrawal seems to me to have four causes:
firft, that the grace may not be cheapened by uninterrupted
continuity ; second, that the heart may not be lifted up with
pride by it’s enjoyment ; third, that it may be sought with
greater eagerness, and may be cherished more diligently when
regained ; and the fourth cause is venial sin.

Novice .—I like what you say.

Mon\.— Chriftian, indeed, grieved bitterly for the lost
grace, and, impudng the loss to his sins, prayed night and
day for its recovery, but without success ; and then he remem¬
bered the Lord’s cross, and said within himself: “ If I could
but kiss the precious wood on which the Saviour shed his
blood, I should recover my grace of tears.” Full of this long¬
ing, on a certain feSlival, he went to the altar after mass and
kissed the sacred wood, and lo 1 he recovered the loft grace
more abundantly than before.

Novice .—We have two crosses ; will you tell me which of
them it was?

Mon \.—That which came from Apulia, the wood of which
is black. At that time we had not the other, which is red :
this was given us by Henry of Ulmen, and had been taken
from the church of S. Sophia in Constantinople.

Novice .—I should like to know by what sort of death a
man of so much grace departed from the world.

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The Dialogue on Miracles

Mon\. —Often he noticed an aromatic odour rising from
his hands, so Strong that he marvelled at it, and could say
with the Bride, whose member he was, quite literally: My
hands dropped with myrrh and my fingers with sweet smell¬
ing myrrh (Cant. v. 5).

Novice. —Perchance he had hands that were undefiled P

Mon\. —Know that he was not virgin in body, that you
may understand that the odour arose more from virtue of the
soul than from virginity. Yet he too, like everyone else, did
lose spiritual grace by giving way to bodily appetite. Al¬
though he was weak and sickly, yet for many days before
his death he was Still more searchingly purged in the furnace
of pain, and purified like gold in the fire. One night in
sleep the holy martyr and virgin Agatha appeared to him and
among other comforting words, said : “ Christian, let not this
sickness seem burdensome to you, because these sixty days
will be counted to you for sixty years.” When he awoke, he
told this to certain others, because he did not understand the
meaning of the vision ; and some interpreted it as meaning
that the bitterness of that sickness would purge away his sins
as much as sixty years in purgatory. Others thought, with
surer insight, that the pain of those sixty days and the patience
with which it was borne would have for him the merit of
sixty years. It was on the Vigil of S. Agatha, which was the
sixtieth day from the night in which the message came to him,
that he surrendered his soul to God. That you may know
how true is the word of the prophet: The son shall not bear
the iniquity of the father (Ezek. xviii. 30), I mufl tell you that
this monk was the son of a clerk who was a canon of the
Cathedral of Bonn.

Novice. —I have heard that some have been greatly terrified
because they were not of legitimate birth. It would be good
for them to hear such a Story as this.

Mon\. —Whether they be legitimate, or the sons of forni¬
cation, or adultery or inceSt, all men before baptism are held
bound by the same chain. For all of us are born children of
wrath ; by baptism we are made children of grace ; but
those alone are blessed, who by a good life and final grace
will be counted amongSt the children of glory. What you

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Of Temptation

say recalls to my memory how a saintly lay-brother, the son
of a saintly prieJl, was so tempted by the fact of his birth, so
saddened and troubled, that he almost fell into despair.

Novice. —May I know the outcome of his temptation?

Mon\.—\ knew him myself, but what I am going to tell
you I heard from an abbot who was his familiar friend.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Of Henry, the lay-brother of Villers, who was griev¬
ously tempted because he was an illegitimate son.

The name of the lay-brother was Henry ; he took the vows
in Villers, and was the son of Dom Chriflian, a monk of
Hemmenrode. Of Chriflian 1 will tell you wonderful things
in the sixteenth chapter of the seventh book—how this Henry
served in a hospital for the poor, and was a man of much
humility, padence and compassion, and because he feared God
so much, feared all the more to be separated from Him.
For the devil had put into his heart a kind of despair, as if he
said: “ Because thou art not a son of legitimate birth, thou
shalt not be an heir of the kingdom of Heaven." This
thought became such an obsession to him, that he could take
none of the consolation set before him by his confessors,
whether from the Scriptures, or from examples. But God
had mercy upon him, and one night, when the temptation
was overwhelming, He carried him in his sleep to a huge
building, in which He showed him a vafl multitude both of
men and women ; and a voice said to him: “ Henry, seeft
thou this multitude? they are all indeed of legitimate birth,
but all are reprobate, except thyself.” Immediately awak¬
ing, he rejoiced with great joy, because he underflood that
the vision had come for his sake. From that moment the
temptation ceased, and as long as he lived he gave thanks to
God, who forsafeth not them that hope in Him (Judith xiii.
17. Vulg.).

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Novice. —Is it accidie to sleep in church ?

Mon \.— Habit has engendered out of it the vice of accidie,
because some palliate it, by calling it infirmity, while in truth
this vice arises much more from the work of the devil, than
from infirmity.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Of the serpent, which brother Conrad saw on the
bac\ of a lay-brother, who was asleep in the choir.

Once when I was talking with a very religious lay-brother
of ours of those who frequently fall asleep in our choir, he
said: “Be very sure that such somnolence is of the devil ;
for one day in the summer, when lauds were being sung, I
saw in broad daylight a serpent creeping over the back of
brother William, who often allows himself to go to sleep in
his &all, and forthwith I realised that it was the devil, who
was feeding upon his somnolence.” He said that he had
often seen a vision of this kind in connexion with this same
lay-brother, and brother Richard bore the same testimony.
The lay-brother who saw this was named Conrad, about
whom I shall tell you many more excellent things in the eighth
book. The devil tempts and harries many through somno¬
lence, and this in different ways.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Of a lay-brother, whose eyes were closed by a cat,
when he was giving way to sleep in the choir.

In Hemmenrode there was a certain lay-brother, who was
full of accidie in church, and almost always went to sleep.

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Of Temptation

On his head another lay-brother often saw a cat sitting, and
as soon as it placed its paws upon this brother’s eyes, immed¬
iately he began to yawn. Now when he learnt this from him
to whom the vision had been vouchsafed, he determined that
the devil should mock him no longer, and so prepared his
Stall in such a way that if its occupants went to sleep, it should
slip and throw him to the ground. Thus the demon of som¬
nolence was shaken off by this device, and the lazy brother
grew more fervent in the service of God. This was told me
by a lay-brother of the same convent.

How sorely the demons mock those who sleep in such a
place, you shall learn from the following example.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Of the mon\ Fredericwho went to sleep in the
choir, and was flruc^ in the face by the devil with
wisp of Slraw.

One of our monks called Frederick, though a good man
in all other respecfls, was notorious for his vice of somnolence.
One night, before our convent went out from Hemmenrode,
he went to sleep during the singing of the Psalms at matins,
and in his sleep saw a tall and misshapen man standing in
front of him, holding in his hand a filthy wisp of Straw, such
as grooms use for rubbing down horses. This man looked
at the monk with an impudent leer, and said : “ Why SlandeSI
thou here, sleeping all night long, thou son of the Great
Lady? ” and then Struck him over the face with the filthy
Straw. He woke at once in terror, and drawing back instinc¬
tively from the blow. Struck his head sharply againSt the wall.
You may imagine what merriment among the reSt of the
monks !

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CHAPTER XXXV.

Of a mon\, round whom a number of hogs were
seen to be crowding, while he was asleep in his Hall.

Not long ago I heard a Story which I ought not to leave
untold. In the same monastery there is a monk, who nearly
always goes to sleep during the office, so that it is rare that he
ever opens his mouth in the Psalms. Round him hogs are
often seen, and their gruntings heard ; I think because they
are feeding upon the husks that fall from his mouth.

Novice. —What are these husks, and what do they signify ?

Mon\. —Husks are empty pods, and they signify the words
of the Psalms robbed of all goodness, such as are uttered by
the somnolent without any real meaning ; and these words,
thus half-heartedly spoken, are only thrown out to be picked
up by swine, that is, by demons. But they who are fully
awake and sing with heart and soul, they who chant the
psalms with genuine intention, are fed with all their sweet¬
ness, because they reap the grace which lies beneath the pro¬
phetic words. These in the future life, together with the
singers of the heavenly Jerusalem, will be fed by the Lord
with the flour of wheat (Ps. cxlvii. 14), that is, the vision of
His Godhead.

Novice. —I gather clearly from what you have said that
weariness in spiritual exercises comes from the devil.

Mon\. —It is as you say ; because there are some, who, as
soon as they begin to chant, to pray, or to read, are immed¬
iately oppressed with sleep ; on their beds they lie awake,
in the church they are full of sleep. The same thing is true
about hearing the word of God ; when they listen to worldly
speech, they are wakeful enough ; but when the word of
God is expounded, they quickly fall asleep.

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CHAPTER XXXVI.

Of the lord abbot Gevard, who by the Slory of
Arthur, roused the monies who were asleep during
his sermon.

When the abbot Gevard, the predecessor of the present
abbot, was preaching to us in the Chapterhouse on a certain
feflival, several of the Brethren, chiefly lay-brothers, went to
sleep, and some even began to snore. He noticed this and
cried out: “ Liflen, brethren, liflen ; I have something new
and important to tell you: There was once a king named
Arthur ”—there he flopped, and then went on: “ You see,
my brothers, to how sad a pass we have come ; when I was
speaking to you about God, you fell asleep ; but as soon as
I began a secular flory, you all woke up, and began to liflen
with eager ears.” I myself was present at that sermon. But
the devil uses somnolence to tempt and hinder, not only
spiritual persons, but those also who are in the world.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Of the knight Henry, who made his Lent with us,
and of the Hone on which he slept during prayers.

A certain knight of Bonn named Henry once made his
Lent with us. After he had returned home, he met one day
the before-mentioned abbot Gevard, and said to him : “ My
lord abbot, I wish you would sell me that ftone which is close
to a certain column in your church ; I will give you anything
you like to ask for it.” When he answered : “ What good
would it be to you? ” the other said: “ I want to put it at
my bedside, because it is of such a nature, that, if anyone who
cannot sleep should refl his head upon it, he will go to sleep

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at once.” During the penitential season the devil had
wrought this snare for him, that as soon as he came to the
church and reeled his head upon this Stone to pray, sleep
immediately crept over him. Another noble, who had made
his penitence in Hemmenrode, is reported to have said : “ The
Stones of that abbey church are softer than any bed in my
caStle ” ; for he could not help going to sleep upon them
at the time of prayer.

Novice —If accidie in the service of God were not a
grievous fault, the devil would not so eagerly invite us to it.

Mon\. —How great is the guilt of this vice, let the
punishment of one who was full of it, make clear to you.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Of a mon\ who frequently slept in the choir, and
who was smitten on the chee\ by the Crucified, and
died.

It is only two months ago that the lord abbot of Kamper
KloSt told me a very terrible thing about a monk who was
always accustomed to sleep in church. One night when
he was sleeping as usual while the others were chanting, the
Crucified came down from the altar, aroused the sleeper, and
Struck him with so much force upon the cheek that he died
within three days.

Novice. —This that you tell me is Stupendous !

Mon\. —A lazy monk provokes the wrath of God and of
His holy angels.—Wherefore it is said by ChriSt, through
John, to all those affli&ed with accidie, in the person of one
(Apoc. iii. 15, 16).

Novice. —I remember that you said above that accidie and
melancholy were the same vice.

Mon\. —It is true, because accidie is melancholy that is
born from disturbance of mind ; and from this are born
malice and despair, as I will show you in the next example.

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CHAPTER XXXIX.

Of a young recluse, who doubted the exigence of
God and the angels, and was ta\en out of her body
and in the spirit saw angels and souls, and then
returned to the body.

Laft year the abbot of Brumback told our abbot about a
very terrible temptation which sprang from melancholy, and
this is what he said: “ There was in our province a maiden
of marriageable age, very beautiful, and the daughter of rich
parents. These parents wished her to marry, but she refused,
saying: “ I will not marry anyone except my Heavenly
Spouse, the Lord Jesus.” At laft the parents, worn out with
the obftinacy of the maiden, allowed her to do as she pleased.
She, giving thanks as if for viftory, caused to be made for
herself a cell, in which she was veiled and enclosed by the
bishop, and in her solitude served Christ alone with great
devotion for several days.

But the devil in hatred of so much virtue shook her with
various temptations, and, inflaming the innocent heart of the
virgin with the poison of melancholy, brought her in full
health to sickness. Soon she began to be tossed to and fro
with all kinds of thoughts, to waver in her faith, and to
despair of being able to persevere. She was attacked also
by weakness of heart, by wafting of the body, by sluggishness
in prayer and by grief for her seclusion.

Now while the maiden was thus perilously wavering, the
aforesaid abbot of the Ciftercian Order, to whose care she
had been entrufted by the bishop, came to make her a visita¬
tion, and asked how she was, and how she fared ; to whom
she replied: “ Ill am I, and ill do I fare, and I cannot under-
ftand why or for whom I am secluded here ” ; and when the
abbot said to her : “ For God and the kingdom of heaven ” ;
she answered : “ Who knows if there be a God, or any angels
with Him ? or any souls, or any kingdom of heaven ? Who
has ever seen such things, who has ever come back to tell us
what he has seen? ” When the abbot heard such words,

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he trembled from head to foot, and turning to the virgin,
said: “What is this you say, sifter? make the sign of the
cross over your breaft.’’ She replied : “ I say what I think ;
unless I can see these things, I will not believe. I beg you
to let me go out of this place, because I can no longer endure
this seclusion.”

Then the abbot, realising that such sudden melancholy and
despair could only arise from the inftigation of the devil,
said: “ Sifter, the enemy of souls is grievously tempting you,
because he envies your glory, but do thou ftand faft in the
faith, be Hrong and He shall comfort thine heart, and put
thou thy truH in the Lord (Ps. xxvii. 16). Againft the wishes
of your friends and relations, you yourself chose this holy
life, you yourself longed for this seclusion.” And when she
received with deaf ears his words of advice and exhortation,
the abbot asked her to ftay there for at leaft a week, until
he could go to the monaftery and return and visit her again.
When with difficulty he had obtained her promise, he went
to the monaftery and laid before the brethren the peril of
the virgin, and urged them ail to pour forth to God with
heartfelt devotion special prayers for her during the coming
week ; and he himself besought God on her behalf with
great earneftness.

When the week was over, he went back to her and said:
“ How fare you now, my daughter ? ” and she replied:
“ Very well indeed, my Father. Never was I better. My
joy and consolation during these seven days have been far
greater than all my sadness and despair before your coming.”
And when he asked her the cause of her happiness she said:
“ Father, I have seen with my own eyes those whose exiftence
I doubted ; after you left me, my soul was rapt from my body,
and I saw holy angels, I saw the souls of the blessed, I saw
the rewards of the juft. I saw also with the eyes of my soul
my own body lying on the floor of my cell, as bloodless and
pallid as withered herbage whose sap was all withdrawn.”

When asked by the abbot of the appearance of the soul,
she said that it was a spiritual subftance, that its form was
spherical, something like the globe of the moon, and that it
was full of eyes. She said further that when either an angel

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Of Temptation

or a soul appeared to any one who was ftill in the body, the
apparition always assumed a material form. But when a
soul is delivered from the burden of the flesh, then it appears
actually as it is to any other soul in the like condition.

Novice. —This vision agrees closely with that of the abbot
of Morimond, who, when he came back from the dead, said
that his soul was like glass, and had eyes on every side, as I
remember you said in the thirty second chapter of the firft
book.

Monk. ■—The same recluse brought back also certain in¬
formation about the coming of Antichrift, which I am unwill¬
ing to set down here, because many have been deceived by
such prophecies.

Novice. —It fills me with terror to think that the Lord
allowed so holy, so pure, so virginal a soul to be harassed
with these foul and awful temptations.

Mon\. —Unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways
paft finding out, as you will hear from the temptations of
another man, and whose temptation was all the more alarm¬
ing, as it is uncertain how it finally resulted.

CHAPTER XL.

Of a nun, who in her doubt and despair, threw her¬
self into the Moselle.

A few months ago, a certain nun, a woman of advanced
age and of great reputed saniftity, was so much troubled by
the vice of melancholy, and so much harassed by the spirit
of blasphemy, doubt and diftruft, that she fell into despair.
She began to disbelieve utterly all those articles of the faith
which she had accepted from infancy, and which it was her
bounden duty to accept; and she refused to take any further
share in the blessed Sacrament. When the sifters, and among
them her own niece, asked her why she was thus hardened,

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she replied : “ I am reprobate,” that is, “ I am one of those
appointed to eternal ruin.” One day the prior, greatly
moved, said to her: “ My sifter, unless you come back to
your senses from this unbelief, I cannot allow you, after death,
to be buried in consecrated ground. “ When she heard this,
she made no reply, but could not forget his words.

A little after this, some of the sifters had to make a journey ;
she ftole out after them to the bank of the Moselle, by which
the convent is situated, and as soon as the boat carrying the
sifters had left the shore, she threw herself into the river.
Those in the boat heard the splash, but when they looked
back, they thought that the objecft in the water was only a
dog ; there was, however, in the mercy of God, a man on
the bank, who ran quickly to the place to see with greater
certainty, and finding that it was indeed a human body, he
went into the water and drew her to the shore. By this time
others had come up, and when they saw that it was this poor
nun, nearly drowned, they were filled with alarm, and did
all they could to reftore her.

At laft they succeeded, and as soon as she had brought up
the water she had swallowed, and was able to speak, they
asked her : “ Why, sifter, did you do such a terrible thing? ”
And she answered : “ The prior there,” pointing with her
finger, “ threatened that, when I died, he would have to bury
me in unconsecrated ground ; and rather than be buried
in the open field like a beaft, I thought it would be better to
be carried down the river.” Then they took her back again
to the monaftery, and watched over her with greater care
than before.

You see what misery can be produced by melancholia ;
this woman had been brought up in the convent from child¬
hood ; she was a virgin, chafte, devout, scrupulous and
punftual in her religious duties ; and I have been told by
the prioress of the neighbouring convent that the girls edu¬
cated by her were better disciplined and more devout than
any of the others. But God is very pitiful, and makes trial
of His eleft: in many ways, and I cannot but believe, that He,
who so mercifully delivered her from drowning, will have
regard to her former good works, and will not suffer her to

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Of Temptation

perish at the laSt. I could give you many recent examples
of this kind of melancholia, but I fear that the hearing or
reading of such things would give no help to the weak.

Novice .—You have already shown me how nothing
happens without good reason, and I think that perhaps God
permits such things, that no one, however far perfected, may
presume upon his virtues or good works, but may refer every¬
thing to God, from whom alone are derived both the will
and the power for every good work.

Mon \.—What you say is true ; and that is why Lot’s dis¬
obedient wife was turned into a pillar of salt, to be a warning
to the wicked, and a Stimulus to the well-doer.

CHAPTER XL1.

Of a lay-brother, who, in despair, drowned himself
in a fishpond.

It is scarcely three years ago since excess of melancholy
brought final despair upon a certain lay-brother. In speaking
or writing of these terrible tragedies, I am unwilling to men¬
tion the names of places or persons, or to hint at the Order
involved, left I should seem to be calling reflection upon any
of my fellow Religious. This brother was well known to
me ; from his youth to old age he had lived both respeCted
and liked by all his brethren, so that none in all the Order
seemed Stricter than he in the observance of the Rule, or more
endowed with virtues ; seldom would he speak, and seldom
use the accustomed relaxations of the Rule. Yet by some
incomprehensible judgment of God, he grew so melancholy
and call down, that he became completely obsessed with fear
of his sins, and altogether despairing of eternal life. It was
not that he was troubled with any lack of faith, but rather
that he loSt all hope of salvation ; by no authority of scrip¬
ture could he be lifted up, by no examples be restored to the

The Dialogue on Miracles

hope of pardon ; though it is believed that he had never been
a great sinner. When his brethren asked him what it was
that he feared, and why he despaired, he would reply: “ I
cannot say my prayers as I used, and so I am afraid of hell.”
Because he was afflifted with this vice of melancholy, accidie
laid hold of him, and from the two despair was born in his
heart. Placed in the infirmary, one morning, having deter¬
mined upon death, he went to his superior and said: “ 1
cannot fight againft God any longer. The other took little
heed of his words, but he went away to the fish-pond near
the monastery, threw himself in and was drowned.

CHAPTER XLII.

Of a nun, who, driven mad by a wicked lay-brother,
threw herself into a well.

A somewhat similar thing took place laft year in a convent
of nuns, though the motive was different. I was told by a
nun of the same Order, that one of the sifters was so driven
mad by the magic arts of a miserable brother, who was clothed
in the habit, but not in the spirit of a Religious, that she
could not endure the temptations that he had put into her
heart. She would not tell her trouble to anyone, but only
said: “ I want to go out, I want to get away, because I am
sorry that I ever came here ” ; and when they would not
allow her to go, her melancholy increased ftill more, and
when once she found herself alone, she threw herself into the
well, and died. When they sought her everywhere and could
not find her, one of the sifters remembered that she had
threatened to drown herself in the well ; the well was
searched, and she was found there dead. It was almoft at
the same time, that this miserable lay-brother by similar
wickedness enticed a nun from another convent and corrupted
her, and she, poor soul, never came back from the world.

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER XLIII.

Of a young girl, who hanged herself from melan¬
cholia, at finding herself despised by her lover.

Thirteen years ago, when our monks were returning up
the Rhine in a barge from the harveft, they came to a hamlet
near Cologne, called Rodinkirch, and found a young girl
lying upon the ground, recently dead. It was said about her
that she had given birth to a child by a certain man, and
because he had repudiated her, she had taken her life in the
violence of her despair.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Of a youth who had gambled away his clothes, and
hanged himself in despair.

There was a certain youth at Cologne, some time before
this, who had gambled away his clothes, and was rendered
so miserable by this loss, that he went up to the solar of his
house and hanged himself. You see how dangerous melan¬
choly is, when it is not in accordance with the will of God.

Novice .—What are we to think of the souls of these ?

Monl (.—If the cause be only melancholy and despair, not
madness or wandering of the mind, there can be little doubt
that they are damned. In the case of those who are mad cr
weak minded, in whom the power of reason is loft, they are
assuredly saved, however they die, if they were in a ftate of
grace before the madness took them. Of the lay-brother
mentioned above a wise man, who knew him well, said this
in my hearing: “ I do not think that he ever made an honest
confession.” For God, in His righteous judgment, may
sometimes allow the juft, who fear Him, to wander in their
senses, yet He will not suffer them to end by so miserable a
death. Here is an example.

241

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CHAPTER XLV.

Of the mon\ Baldwin, formerly the advocate of
Brunswic\.

In Brunswick, a city of Saxony, there was a certain noble
knight named Baldwin, who was advocate of the town. He,
through the Holy Spirit left the world and took the habit in
a house of our Order, called Rittershausen. For the whole
year of his probation, he showed himself so scrupulous, that
the abbot and the master of the novices often remonstrated
with him. Further, when he became a monk, he was so full
of fervour that the ordinary observances were not enough for
him, and he added to them many special and private devo¬
tions. When the others ceased from labour, he Still toiled,
when the reSt were sleeping, he Still watched.

At length excessive vigils and labours affected his brain, and
he incurred such violent headaches, that one night, before the
convent arose for matins, he went into the church, climbed
into the novices’ bench, tied the bell rope round his neck and
leapt down, and by the weight of his body set the bell ringing.
The sacriStan, alarmed, hurried into the church, and was
terrified to see the monk hanging in such a fashion. None
the less he ran up, and cut the cord, and laid down the quiver¬
ing and almoSt Strangled body, and brought him back to
consciousness ; but though his life was restored, his reason
never returned. It is said that he Still lives, but takes no heed
of when or what he eats, or of how long he sleeps. Thus
sometimes the vice of accidie is born of indiscreet fervour.

Novice. —You said above that cowardice is also born of
accidie or melancholy, but this does not seem to me to be a
vice.

Mon\.—An evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit (Matt,
vii. 18). Although cowardice may seem to be less evil than
the other daughters of accidie, yet the temptation to it is very
dangerous ; for it often turns back those who desire to be
converted to a good life, and often hinders the converted in
their progress.

Novice. —Give me an example.

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER XLVI.

Of a Scholaflicus who carried out his year of proba¬
tion in the Benedidine Order, because he was afraid
of our Rule of silence.

Monk.—A BenediCtine abbot, who is now a monk in our
Order told me that a certain Parisian teacher, who wished to
join us, was, by cowardice of mind, so terrified of the Rule
of silence imposed upon our novices, that he entered the
Benedicfline Order, and there fulfilled his year of probation.
As soon as he became a monk, he said to the convent, “ I
thank you, my makers, for the kindness you have shown me,
and I have fulfilled the purpose for which I came among
you ; now with your permission I will go to the Cistercian
Order. For I did not come here to Stay permanently, but that
I might, amongSt you, conquer the temptations which terrified
me.” Then he came to a house of our Order, and entered
not as a novice, but as a full-fledged monk.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Of a prelate, who spo\e of the Order as a temptation.

I remember a very learned man, who was bishop of a well
known church. Not long ago, I asked him why he did not
come to us, and why he was delaying so long, and he replied :
“ I do not dare to enter into temptation,” calling the Strictness
of our Order a temptation. For, long before, he had intended
to join our Order, but had been prevented hitherto by
cowardice. Whoso is too much afraid of being tempted in
the Order, can scarcely be converted to the Order. I know
many in the world, both clerks and lay-folk, who have long
made their private vows, but nevertheless do not dare to be
converted, through fear of temptations. They have always

2 43

The Dialogue on Miracles

the temptations before their eyes, but do not realise the mani¬
fold defences that the Order provides. Here is an example.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Of a \night who avoided the Order through fear of
lice.

Daniel, the abbot of Schonau, told me that a certain knight,
honourable and renowned in military service, had become a
monk in Kamper KloSt. He had a friend, another knight,
equally renowned in arms, and one day when he was urging
him to conversion, the other replied with a word of great
cowardice: “ Indeed, my friend, I would perhaps join the
Order, if there were not one thing I am really afraid of.”
When the monk asked what that could be, the knight replied :
“ The lice that infeSt your robes ” ; for indeed the woollen
cloth does harbour a quantity of vermin. The other rejoined
with a smile: “ Alack ! what a valiant soldier ! You, whom
swords could not terrify when fighting for the devil, are you
to be frightened by lice now that you are going to be a soldier
of Christ? will you let vermin rob you of the Kingdom of
God? ” Although he made no reply to these words at the
time, yet a little later he gave his answer in what he did ;
for, instigated both by the words and example of his friend,
he entered the Order.

Soon afterwards it happened that these two friends met at
Cologne in the church of the Blessed Peter. The monk of
Kamper KloSt greeted his friend in the usual way, and then
added, smiling : “ How goes it, brother ? Are you Still afraid
of the vermin?” The other, who had not forgotten the cause
of this question, smiled too, and made a good answer, an
answer well worthy to be remembered : “ Of one thing,” he
said, “ you may be absolutely sure, my brother, that, if all the
lice of all the monks in all the world were to concentrate upon
my single body, they should not bite me out of the Order.”

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Of Temptation

And when his friend heard this, he rejoiced greatly, and
repeated the ffory to many, that others also might be edified.
You see how great bravery he gained, who before his conver¬
sion had been so pusillanimous. Whence could this come if
not from the divine consolations that are found in the Order ?
Let this be enough about those who are dissuaded from the
Order by the vice of cowardice ; now liffen to examples of
those, who after conversion have been tempted by this same
vice, and hindered from spiritual progress.

CHAPTER XLIX.

Of the temptations of Godfrey, the Scholaliicus of
Cologne.

Godfrey the scholafficus of S. Andrew’s in Cologne, came
to the Order with great ffeadfaffness and zeal, when he was
already a man both old and infirm. We were novices
together, and I both saw and heard how many and various
were the temptations with which he was harassed.

One day when he was in a hurry to go to church, and was
trying to put on his cassock, the devil interfered with him, and
roughly dragged the cassock back, again and again. At laSt,
after a good deal of useless effort, he recognised that it was
the devil who was hindering him; whereupon he ceased to pull
at his cassock, but put the enemy to flight with the sign of the
cross and had no further trouble.

When he was now drawing near the end of his year of
probation, the devil began to bring back to his mind all the
various advantages he had enjoyed in the world, and also to
put before him the many disadvantages that seemed to await
him in the Order, as for example, the heavy robes, the long
vigils and silence, the heat in summer and the cold in winter,
the repeated faffs and slender diet, and other such things.
Now when he thought of all these, he became so pusillanimous

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that he despaired altogether of his ability to persevere ; and he
said to me : “I did not know that the rule of the Order was so
severe ; till now I had always thought that those who had
been bled, ate flesh, and that the monks undressed to go to bed.
I am sorry that I ever came hither ; and I have made up my
mind to take into my own hands again the services of my
church at Herlisheim, of which I am paftor, and which is now
in unsatisfactory hands ; and I hope that, by the grace of God,
I may be able to guide, honourably and peacefully, the people
there committed to my charge.”

I answered: “ This is a temptation from the devil, who is
trying to deceive you under an appearance of good.” Then
he said: “ If this plan is not good, I will go back to my pre¬
bend, and choose for myself some room within the precincts
of the cloifters where I may live so scrupulously that others
may be edified by my example ; I will be at all the services,
and I will give to the poor all that I can take from my own
needs.”

To which I replied : “ This too is the advice of the devil.
If you should go back, you will be a derision to all; and he
who persuaded you, he it is who will drive you back into
your former sins.”

While he was thus wavering, one day I was sitting by his
side, and trying to think how I might comfort him, when he
snatched up the psalter, opened it and said : “ Let us see what
my brethren will say of me if I go back.” The fir£t verse
that his eyes fell upon was this: They who sat in the gate
spa\e again[l me, and the drunkards made songs upon me.
And at once he cried out: “ A true prophecy! See,” he said,
“ I will expound this prophecy to you; if I go back to S.
Andrew’s, my brother canons, as often as they sit in the church
porch will speak againfl; me, passing their judgments upon
me and disputing about my hopes of salvation; further at
night, when they are sitting round the fire, and idly drinking,
I shall be the subject of their song.” And so by the mercy of
God, he came back to his better mind, and was comforted,
became a monk, and dying not long afterwards in a good
contrition, departed to be with the Lord.

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER L.

Also of the temptations of Rener, his successor.

Rener succeeded Brother Godfrey as scholaflicus of this same
church of S. Andrew’s; and after the death of the latter, became
a novice among us, and began to be tormented by various
temptations to such an extent that he became sorely troubled,
and one day said to Dom Gevard the abbot: “ I cannot Slay
here any longer, because 1 can no longer endure the Order.”
When the abbot asked him where he intended to go, he
replied; “ I muft return to my prebend.” Then the abbot,
being a wise man, pretended great anger, and cried out as if
to a servant: “ Bring me an axe.” And when the novice
asked him what he wanted an axe for, he said : “ That your
feet may be cut off. For believe me, I would much rather
keep you without your feet, than let you go away and bring
shame upon our house.” Then the other smiled and said:
“ Then I think I had better flay.” And so this temptation,
flrong as it was, was driven away by a jefl.

Novice .—According to my idea, this novice was easily
tempted and easily cured.

Mon \.—You will see this more fully in the following
chapter.

CHAPTER LI.

Of a novice who when he had finished his year of
probation refused to allow himself to be tonsured.

A certain novice in Hemmenrode had passed his year of
probation quite tranquilly, and had expressed in the chapter-
house his determination to remain fleadfafl. The day came
when he was to be tonsured as a monk, and when he who was
to shave him was firopping the razor at that moment, the devil
so depressed the youth and filled him with cowardice, that he

247

The Dialogue on Miracles

changed his mind and would not suffer the razor to approach
him. Dom Herman, the abbot of MarienSlatt, who was then
our prior, seeing this, ran up with a sort of pretended jocu¬
larity, put both arms round the youth’s neck, and telling him
that this depression came from the instigation of the devil,
quickly brought back his wavering mind to tranquillity.
Moreover when the temptation was gone, the face of the youth
grew calm, to the wonder of all present, and he allowed him¬
self to be shorn. As the aforesaid monk told me, the face of
the novice had been so suddenly changed, that the dark flush
on his cheeks and the trembling of his lips showed very plainly
the thoughts of his heart.

Novice. —This is another example of what I said, that with
novices temptation comes lightly, and lightly goes.

Monl^. —But there are temptations of novices so severe and
Strong that neither words nor examples can restrain them,
but only the power and comfort of God.

CHAPTER LII.

Of a novice tempted by the spirit of blasphemy, who
was delivered in contemplating the crucifix.

A certain novice in the time of his probation was very
grievously tormented by a temptation of the devil such as he
had never experienced before his conversion. This temptation
was concerning the Incarnation of the Word, not that he had
heretical views upon the subje<ft, but the devil Strove by the
spirit of blasphemy to quench the fervour of his heart, so
that while he was in doubt, he might refuse to endure the
labours of the religious life for Christ’s sake.

One day when at Prime he was Standing opposite the altar
in the choir of the novices, he saw with nis bodily eyes the
image of the Crucified coming to him through the air, as if
to say: “ Why doSt thou doubt ? Look upon Me. I am He,

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Of Temptation

who was born and suffered for thy sake.” For some time the
image remained suspended before his eyes, and all he could
see of it was from the waiSt and upwards. When I asked
him if he knew what this signified, he replied: “ The Lord
granted me this grace, that I might never be able to think of
Him with any impure thought ; and so I understood that He
deigned to show me only the upper part of His body.”

From that hour there ceased altogether that temptation
which before no confession and no prayers could heal. But
although this particular temptation ceased, the efforts of the
tempter Still continued; for when he found that he could not
overthrow him by blasphemy, he tried to conquer him by
accidie. For many days, when the time came to go to the
church for the canonical hours, as soon as he reached the door
of his cell, the devil weighed down his shoulders so Strongly
and heavily, that he was compelled to sit down again and
reSt. When he became a monk, he grew so vigorous and
fervent in all the duties of the Order, that he knew no weari¬
ness, no matter with what kind of accidie he was assailed.

CHAPTER LIII.

Of the temptations of a novice, and how he was
brought bac\ to the right path by a notturnal vision
of two roads.

Philip, the abbot of Ottenburg, told our abbot of a very
grievous temptation which beset one of his novices, and which
was laid to reSf only by the revelation of God. When the
temptation was so sore that none could console him, and he had
made up his mind to leave the monaSfery, on the very night
before the day on which he had determined to return to the
world, there came to him the following dream.

He seemed to be Standing before a gate from which ran two
roads, one on this side and one on that; one of them bent to

The Dialogue on Miracles

the right, and the other to the left ; but each led into a wood
that lay opposite. While the novice was Standing at the fork,
and debating with himself which he should choose, he was
aware of the presence of an old man at his side; to whom he
said : “ Good sir, if you know, will you tell me which of these
two roads is the more dire<A, and gives the better travelling?”
The other replied: “ I will explain them to you fully and
clearly : this road on the right, as it passes through the wood,
is short indeed, but thorny, hilly, muddy and rough. After¬
wards there follows a moSt delightful field, broad, level and
gay, with every kind of flower. But the way on the left is,
in its passage through the wood, flat, dry, broad, well trodden,
and very pleasant, but it is not longer than the other. To it
succeeds a field which is long, rocky, muddy and very rough,
and even horrible to look upon. See, I have told you all;
choose which you please.” When he finished speaking, the
novice awoke, not doubting that a vision had been granted
him, since it exactly answered to his temptation.

Novice. —I should like to know the interpretation of this
vision.

Mon\. —The way on the right signifies the life monastic
and spiritual, the way on the left the life worldly and carnal.
The wood is this present life, in which, like trees, men grow
old and die, Either life is equally short, whether it be mon¬
adic or secular. The firSt road is for the present thorny by
the rigour of the Order, hilly by manifold temptations, miry
by the humiliation of obedience, narrow by the reStricAions of
voluntary poverty. Narrow is the way which leadeth unto
life (Matt. vii. 14), and that is represented by the right hand
path. Further, the broad and pleasant field is Paradise, which
it behoves us to enter through much tribulation (A(As xiv. 22).
On the other hand, the worldly and carnal life, which is repre¬
sented by the left hand path, because it leads those who walk
upon it to judgment with the goats on the left hand side of
Chrift, is easy for the present owing to the satisfa<Aion of the
demands of the flesh, level by reason of prosperity, dry because
of the unrestrained will, broad and well worn because many
traverse it, delightful in the qualification of the luSt of the
eyes. In this fashion the novice interpreted the vision, and

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Of Temptation

was delivered from the temptation of apoftasy owing to pusill¬
animity, and from the flormy wind and tempefl (Ps. lv. 8).

Novice. —It is very marvellous that God should so effeftively
inffruff the spirit of a sleeping man.

Mon\. —I remember now another novice, grievously
tempted in his waking hours, and delivered from that tempta¬
tion with no less power by a vision of the night.

CHAPTER L 1 V.

Also of Gerard a novice in Aulne, who by an
Alleluia heard in his sleep was delivered from
temptation.

Aulne is a house of our Order in Flanders, which I spoke of
in the sixth chapter of the firff book. Here not many years
ago, a certain noble knight, Gerard by name, of the town of
Thuin, took the vows. When as a novice he used to Stand
in the novices’ choir, and hear the voices of the monks singing
in the upper choir over his head, he began to find a great
temptation in this; and especially was his head troubled when¬
ever they sang Alleluia, for then their voices were moff loudly
raised on a triumphant note. This so unnerved him, that he
went to the prior and said : “ Lord prior, I have great pains in
my head, nor can I any longer endure so great a noise juff
over me.” The prior offered words of consolation, but they
profited him not at all.

One night when this temptation was specially troubling him,
he saw himself in sleep hemmed in on all sides by certain
knights who had formerly been his enemies, and there was no
place of refuge left to him. And while he thought that he
muff: quickly be captured or killed, he cried out to God, say¬
ing : “ Lord, deliver me in this hour! And looking round, he
saw immediately a white-robed army coming from far, and
haffening to his aid. And the ffandard bearer who went

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before, instead of sounding the usual military signal, cried over
and over again with all his might, “ Alleluia!” And at this
cry the enemy were terrified and betook them hastily to flight,
leaving the novice by himself alone.

Then he awoke, and rejoiced that he had been delivered, not
only from the enemies of his dream, but also from a far worse
danger, namely, the temptation wc have spoken of. In the
morning he went to the prior and said to him : “ I beseech you,
lord prior, that you sing Alleluia over my head more loudly
and exultantly than ever, for now that cry of Divine praise can
no longer disturb me,” and he told him the whole vision. This
was told us by Walter de Birbech, of sacred memory, who had
both seen and known the said Gerard.

Novice. —Are not some monks also tempted by apoStasy ?

Mon\. —Many are tempted, and manfully resist; others are
tempted, and are altogether overcome both in will and deed;
others again are tempted and though their will has consented,
are called back before their adtual fall by Divine revelations
or by Divine ordering of events; while others again are saved
by scourgings.

Novice .—Give me examples of these.

Mon{. —It is not necessary to give you illustrations of the
firSt or second, because these temptations are very common,
but of the laSt two I will tell you what I have heard.

CHAPTER LV.

Of a mon\ in Ottenburg, who was delivered from
the temptation to apoflasy by a text.

A certan monk of Ottenburg, by the account of Dom Philip,
his abbot, who told us the Story, underwent such severe tempta¬
tions that he made up his mind to return to the world. One
night he was Standing in the choir and pondering when and
how he might leave the monastery, for very weariness he

2 5 *

Of Temptation

could not join in the chanting. But at lauds, when they were
singing the canticle of holy Habakkuk (for it was a Friday) the
aforesaid abbot went round the brethren to ftir them to further
devotion. Now when he came to that wavering monk, who
was not singing, the abbot, thinking him asleep, bent down
towards him and shouted into his ear, though indeed he was
wide awake, the verse that was then being sung, crying : The
devil shall go forth from before his feet (Hab. iii. g, vulg.).
When he heard this, he was much terrified, thinking that the
abbot, by some revelation, muff know his perverse thoughts, to
which the words of the prophet seemed so plainly to respond.
And understanding the saying of the prophet only as meant
for himself, he feared his curse, if he should go away and take
the devil as guide for his journey. And so by the Divine
power he was saved from his evil intention, and became
established and settled in his vocation. Much did the abbot
marvel when he heard the whole Story.

CHAPTER LVI.

Of a nun who was delivered from temptation by
sinking her head againSI the door.

A certain nun told me herself that at the beginning of her
conversion she was so sorely tempted, that she grieved that
she had ever taken the vows. The devil brought back before
the eyes of her mind the delights of the world which she had
forsaken, and the poverty of the convent which she had to
endure; and she began to be tempted by this and grievously
depressed. Now when she could no longer endure these
temptations, one night, forgetful of her vow, she rose from her
bed, and attempted to leave the convent. She came to a
certain door which led to the cemetery, where she intended to
climb over the wall and so go back to the world. In God’s
providence it happened that she {truck her head so violently

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againft the upper lintel that she fell back with concussion of
the brain and lay for a long time as one dead. At tail, return¬
ing to her senses, she said to herself: “ Whither then doft thou
desire to go, O unhappy one ? What thou didft owe to the
devil, this thou haft paid. Go back now to thy cell, for it is
not the will of God that thou shouldfl ever depart."

You see how pitifully God protects His own, now by dreams,
now by prophecy, and now by pain. From all this you may
gather that novices as well as monks experience temptations
which arc not to be cured by human words or examples, but
only by the Divine power.

Let this be enough of the temptations of accidie or depres¬
sion. Would you Eke now to hear examples about avarice ?

Novice .—1 much desire it; for not only persons in the world,
but even those in the cloifler are ftrongly tempted by this vice.
Wherefore 1 beg you to define avarice for me, to enumerate her
progeny, and then to add examples.

CHAPTER LV1I.

0/ avarice and her daughters.

Mont j.-—Avarice is an insatiable and unworthy desire for
glory, or for anything else in the world. Love-of-raoney is
a name also given to this vice, but a diflindhon should be made
between the two names, because avarice is an immoderate
craving for the possession of all kinds of things, while love-of-
money is that which lets loose the particular appetite for amass¬
ing wealth.

Now the daughters of avarice are deceit, fraud, treachery,
perjury, disquietude, violence, and the hardening of the heart
againfl compassion. Avarice has two parts, namely, that of
acquiring and that of keeping. Of its evil influence Solomon
speaks (Prov. xv. if). The Lord, wishing to show Zechariah
the origin of the greateft evils of the world, showed him an

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Of Temptation

ephah (Zech. v. 6, vulg.), by whose wide mouth he might
underhand cupidity. This vice by the same prophet is called
an eye over all the earth. According to the apoftle : the love
of money is the root of all evil (i Tim. vi. to). Not only
secular persons are tempted by it, but even spiritual. Laban
followed after Jacob when returning to his native land, wish¬
ing to bring him back. When he could not persuade him, he
said : Though thou wouldeSl needs be gone, because thou
longeSl for thy father’s house, yet why haSl thou Stolen my gods
(Gen. xxxi. 30). Jacob, whose name when interpreted means
“ Slriver ” or “ supplanter,” signifies a monk, who ought to he
a supplanter of vices. But Laban, which means “ white,"
signifies the world.

It often happens that a man leaves the world through con¬
version, yet nevertheless, though converted, does not restrain
his heart from avarice. After such a man the world rightly
pursues, saying : Thou haSl a longing for thy father's house,
that is, the heavenly country, why halt thou Stolen my gods ?
as if it said : why doff thou follow after avarice ? They make
idols of gold and silver, which even the religious eagerly seek
after. Not then without cause does the apoftle speak of
covetousness as idolatry (Col. iii. 5). Rachel, which being
interpreted is “ one who sees God,” is the soul of a religious
which covets the riches of this world, and hides them in the
camel’s furniture (Gen. xxxi. 34), as she hid the idols. For all
things necessary to the body, which the rule allows to monks,
as they are common things, so they may be called furniture.

Novice. —Our own order has often been condemned by the
world for avarice.

Mon\. —What they call avarice, we call foresight. For we
are bound by the injun<ition of our rule to receive all gueSts
that come to us as though they were the Saviour Himself; and
if we denied them hospitality, those who now condemn the
Order for avarice, then would far more severely condemn us
for hardness and lack of mercy. There is scarcely any house
of the Order that is not burdened with debts because of gueffs
and the poor, and also because of those who come daily to us
for conversion, and cannot be rejefted without scandal. For,
to excuse our Stewards not for everything, but for this much,

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they are often compelled by this necessity, whether they will
or no. With how much pain the vice of avarice is bound up
both in this life and the next, and with how much glory and
profit the contempt of riches is rewarded even in this present
life I will show you by a few examples.

Great indeed will be its glory in the life to come.

CHAPTER LVIII.

Of a \night Ccesarius who refused to pay a debt to
the canons of Bonn.

A knight named Cssarius, who came from the neighbouring
town of Konigswinter, had a brother named Herminold, dean
of Bonn cathedral, who lent him twenty marks of the money
of Cologne from the funds of his church. On the death of the
dean the knight refused to pay back the loan, and moreover
went so far as to deny the debt altogether ; whereupon the
provoSt and brethren, finding that he would not acknowledge
it even in the presence of the original witnesses, summoned
him to swear to his Statement before the judge. Then the
knight, overmastered by avarice, took the oath and perjured
himself, mounted his horse and rode away, but not so could
he escape the hand of God. When he had completed the half
of his journey home, having dismounted for some purpose,
he found that he could not move. For because of his avarice,
which is the root of all evil, the Lord had rooted faSt his feet
to the ground, and because he had lied, deprived his tongue of
its office. He, recognising that it was by the juSt judgment of
God that he could neither speak nor go forward nor even return
to Bonn, with much earneStness lifted up his heart to the holy
patriarch Abraham, who at that moment came into his
thoughts, saying: “ Holy Abraham, if by thy merits, I may
recover my speech and power of movement, I will go back at
once to Bonn, and reStore their money to the brethren.” No

256

Of Temptation

sooner had he made this vow than both tongue and limbs
resumed their functions; he returned, paid back the money,
and did penance for his perjury. This Story was told to our
abbot by Catsarius himself, a man indeed, simple-minded and
obedient, who died as a novice in our house.

Novice. —If God so severely punish avarice in worldly
persons, much more sharply will He, I think, punish it in the
religious.

Mon\. —That is very true; especially when the daughters
of avarice are present, deceit, fraud and violence and the
hardening of the heart againSt pity.

CHAPTER LIX.

Of a monastery which the Lord plagued because of
the fraud of the cellarer.

A cellarer of our Order was tempted with avarice, and
defrauded a certain widow woman. But the Lord, not
unmindful of his wrongdoing, that same year so blaSted the
monastery’s wine-crop that the wine had neither flavour nor
colour. The abbot, sure that so great a plague muff have its
special cause, humbly besought a virgin of ChriSt named
Aczelina, who was at that time at Cologne, that she would
ask the Lord that the cause of that scourge might be revealed.
When she had done this, the answer came to him that it was
due to the fraud of his cellarer, which he had pradised againSt
such and such a widow ; and the Lord added: “ I will yet
further smite him with a greater plague ” ; and so it fell out,
for in that year a certain knight burnt nearly all the corn of
the monastery in the barns ; and then the plague ceased.

Novice. —Since God is very pitiful, how is it that He
punishes a whole community for the sin of one man ?

Mon\. —We read in Joshua (Josh, vii.), that the wrath of
the Lord was kindled againSl all the people because of the

257

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The Dialogue on Miracles

avarice of Achan, who took the accursed thing from Jericho.
For God is ftern as well as pitiful; if for the sake of one man’s
merit, He often spares a multitude, why should you wonder,
if in answer to the dictator of juftice he sometimes punishes
many for the fault of one ?

Novice. —If these things be so, it seems to me useful for
subordinates and necessary for superiors to warn frequently
their officials that they commit no fraud againft any one, left
perchance they place a scourge in the hands of the Judge
againft themselves.

Mon\. —You say well, because a little leaven leaveneth the
whole lump (i Cor. v. 6). Not only does God punish, if
through avarice we bring loss upon others, but also, if by
greedily withholding our own property we do not share it with
the poor, or if in hardness of heart we withdraw unnecessarily
soon kindnesses we have been accuftomed to show.

CHAPTER LX.

Of the plague of the monaflery of Villers.

In Brabant there is a house of our Order called Villers, in
which great kindnesses have often been shown, and are ftill
daily shown to guefts and to the poor. This year there was
some scarcity in that province, and the brethren of this convent
made an eftimate of their provision of corn; and being afraid
of a deficit, as is the way of human weakness, they resolved
(by the temptation of the devil, as afterwards became clear) to
withhold, until the harveft was gathered, the subsidy that
they had always been accuftomed to allot to the poor. A
monk who came from that house told us that on that same
night, the fishpond, which was beyond the monaftery, burft,
and pouring itself through the various outbuildings, caused
them great loss. Moreover, the brethren, as juft and God¬
fearing men, putting it down to their sins and especially to the

258

Of Temptation

avarice they had purposed to show to the poor, repealed their
resolution, and assigned them the usual sums as before.

Novice .—I should like now to hear some examples of the
punishment of avarice in the future life.

Mon \.—This muff be postponed till the twelfth book, in
which we shall treat of the punishments and rewards of the
dead. Meanwhile I will give you some examples again
avarice, that you may know how much good and how much
glory is theirs, who are tempted by avarice, and not overcome.

CHAPTER LXI.

Of an abbot who deposed his cellarer for fraud.

A certain Benedictine abbot, as was told me by an abbot of
our Order, came to the abbot of Clairvaux and said: “ Lord
abbot, give me a sickle, 1 and I will give you in return a curved
staff.” He, understanding at once what he meant, received
the man, clothed him in the CiSIercian dress, and because he
perceived him to be a man of prudence, not long afterwards
appointed him abbot of a certain house of our Order.

At this time the brethren of that house were contending
with some secular persons for certain possessions. The cause
was brought before the judges, and a decision was given for the
abbot and brethren. Later the cellarer said privately to the
abbot: “ My lord, we have done very well to-day, but I wish
you to know that our cause was not altogether juSt” When
he heard this the abbot was greatly troubled, but nevertheless
made no reply. The next day he entered the chapter-house,
bade the cellarer Stand forth, and deposed him from his office,
because in his avarice he had suppressed the truth.

Then he sent a messenger to his opponents and said : “ Good
sirs, let your property remain your own; from this day I will

1 A sickle ib used by Caesarius in his Homilies as a symbol of a good and effective
preacher, who gathers in souls and cuts away their vices.—J. Strange, n.

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make no demand upon it.” They went away rejoicing, but
afterwards they were so Struck with the abbot’s singleness of
mind and justice, that they came back quickly in compundtion
and in their gratitude freely conferred upon the monastery the
property for which they had been fighting. The abbot at firSt
refused to accept it, but they said: “ Sir, whatever right in
this property may be ours, we freely resign; and as far as it
belongs to us, we offer it in alms to God.” Then only did the
abbot consent to take back his possessions, edifying his mona¬
stery far more by his simple justice than the cellarer had done
by his aStute avarice. You will hear an almoSt similar Story
about Dom Peter, the abbot of Clairvaux in the eleventh
chapter of the sixth book.

Avarice is deeply abhorred by upright men, as you will hear
in the following chapter.

CHAPTER LXII.

Of Ulrich, the provofi of Steinveldt, and of an
avaricious lay-brother whom he deposed.

A certain scholaSticus lived at the monastery of S. Chry-
santhus, a man of prudence and learning, a Frenchman named
Ulrich. Since the income of his office was an insufficient one,
he was unavoidably weighed down with debt. One of the
brethren of the monastery of Steinveldt of the PremonStra-
tensian Order, knowing him to be a man of great learning,
frequently urged him to come to their convent and take the
vows; and at length by divine inspiration he answered as
follows : “ I owe a little money; pay it for me, and I will come
to you.” When the provoSt of the said monastery heard this,
he gladly paid the money, and the scholaSticus forthwith
assumed the monk’s dress and soon afterwards was made the
provoSt of that monastery, for at that time there were no abbots
in the PremonStratensian Order.

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Of Temptation

He, realising chat with this office he had undertaken to
govern souls, not cattle or property, gave all his attendon to
rooung out vices, not to amassing money, well knowing that
avarice is the root of all evils. Now he had a lay-brother so
skilful and circumspect in the administration of their property,
so energetic and accomplished as an organiser that everything
passed through his hands, and he alone made every necessary
provision for the monastery farms, whether in implements or
Stock or any other expenditure. It was he who managed
everything, and neglected nothing, but added field to field and
vineyard to vineyard. The provoSt considered all this, and
reading in the scriptures that nothing was more criminal than
avarice, sent one day for the lay-brother and said: “ Do you
know, my good fellow with a beard, 1 why I joined the Order ?”
He could not speak German well, and had no elegant phrases
in that language, and so it was the habit of the lay-brothers to
look upon all nis speech as clumsy and awkward. The lay-
brother replied : “ No, sir, I do not know.” Then he : “ Well,
1 will tell you. 1 came here to bewail my sins in this place.
Now, why did you come?” When the other replied : “ Sir,
for the same purpose the provoSf said : “ If you came here
to bewail your sins, you ought to behave like a penitent, that
is, you ought to be continually in church, to watch, to fail, and
to pray God unceasingly for your sins. For it is not the part
of a penitent to do as you are doing, to despoil your neighbours,
to lade yourself with thicl j clay (Hab. ii. 6).

To this the lay-brother replied : “ Sir, these properties that
I am buying are contiguous to the fields or vineyards of our
church and the provoft: “ Very good. Since these have
been bought, you muff needs also buy those which lie next
to them. You indeed put no bounds to your avarice. When
all this province has been bought up by you, you will cross the
Rhine at a ftride, then you will go to the mountains, nor will
you reft till you come to the sea. I think perhaps that you
will flop there, because the sea is broad and great, and your
ftride is limited. Stay now in your monaflery and frequent
your church, that you may bemoan your sins by day and by
night. Wait a little, and you will have enough earth beneath

1 Lay-brothers wore beards, while monb were clean shared. J. Strange.

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The Dialogue on Miracles

you, above you and within you, for dull thou art, and unto
dull thou shall return " (Gen. iii. 19). Some of the elder
brethren, when they heard of this, said: “ Sir, sir, if this lay-
brother be deposed, our house will come to ruin.” To which
he replied: “ It is better for this house to perish than for an
immortal soul,” and would not listen to their petition.

Novice.- —That was a true pallor who knew that the sheep
committed to him had not been redeemed with the corruptible
things of silver and gold, but with the precious blood of a
lamb without blemish and without spot (1 Pet. i. 18, 19).

Mon!{. —This was made clear both in his words and afts.
It was at that time that Rheinhold became bishop of Cologne,
and found that the revenues of the episcopate were much
mortgaged, and its farms untenanted. Wherefore he was
advised to seek out from the various houses of the Cistercian
Order, in his diocese, faithful and far-sighted lay-brothers to
look after the farms and restore the annual incomes by their
industry. And when he agreed with this advice, and had
collected several lay-brothers from the religious houses both of
Kamper KloSt and Berg, he was also advised to get the before
mentioned lay-brother.

He sent therefore an honourable messenger for him, who
when he had saluted the provoSt on behalf of the bishop, said:
“ My lord makes a small request to you, which I hope you will
not refuse him.” The provoSt answered : “ It is not for my
lord to make requests to me, but to give his commands and
the other went on: “ He begs moSt earnestly that you will
send him such and such a lay-brother for such and such pur¬
poses." To this the provoSt replied humbly, firmly and
courteously: “ I have two hundred sheep in such a grange,
and so many moreover in others, and likewise oxen and horses;
let my lord take from them as many as he wishes; but I cannot
for the purpose you speak of give him the lay-brother who has
been committed to my conscience. I shall have to give an
account to the chief Shepherd on the Day of Judgment not for
sheep and oxen, but for the souls entrusted to me ”; and he
did not yield to him.

Further, he left another proof of his largeheartedness, a
very useful example againSt the avarice of the religious. One

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Of Temptation

day before the aforesaid lay-brother had been removed from
his office in the way we have described, the provoSt came to
one of his granges and saw there a very beautiful young foal.
He questioned the lay-brother about this animal, whose it was,
and where it came from; and when the lay-brother replied:
“ A good and faithful friend of ours left him to us at his
death said the provost: “ Was it in devotion, or did the
legacy come from some privilege?” The lay-brother
answered: “ It fell to us by his death; for the widow, because
she is one of our tenants, offered him to us as a death duty.”
Then the provost:, shaking his head, made this good answer:
“ Because the man was our good and faithful friend, is that
the reason that you have robbed his widow? Give back her
horse at once to the poor woman, for it is robbery either to
take or to keep the property of another; it was not yours before
the man's death.”

Because this provost was a man of prudence, he was unwill¬
ing to take the younger men with him when he went abroad
on the business of the monastery; for he realised that it was
not right to expose them to the temptations of the devil. One
day he did take with him one of the juniors, and as they rode
along, talking of one thing and another, they met a comely
girl. The provoSt, of set purpose, drew in his horse and
saluted her kindly; and she Slopped and returned his salute
with a curtsey. When they have gone a little further the
provoSf, wishing to make trial of the youth, said to him:
“ That seemed to me a very comely maiden ”; and the other
replied: “ Indeed by lord, I thought so too.” The provoSt
went on : “ 'Tis pity she hath the defedt of having only one
eye.” The youth answered : “ Indeed, my lord, she hath two
eyes, for I particularly noticed them.” Very angry, the provoSt
said : “ And I will particularly notice your back! You ought
to have been of such simplicity that you could not have told
whether she was male or female.” When he got back to the
monastery, he said to the elder monks : “ You, sirs, sometimes
blame me because I do not take the juniors out with me,” and
he laid the whole case before them, and then severely
upbraided and chaStised the youth.

Also he was a man of such great learning, that once, when

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he went to Citeaux on the business of his Order, he preached
a sermon before the General Chapter, as I was told by one
of the seniors of that house.

Novice. —It frequently happens that powerful men obtain
from their subjedfs money or goods unjustly, and use this to
build religious houses. Ought the religious wittingly to
accept offerings of this kind?

Mon\. —Whatever injures the conscience pollutes it; but
nevertheless you shall learn by the following example that
sometimes this is done by the juSt decree of God.

CHAPTER LXIII.

Of the abbot to whom a voice came during prayer,
while he was hesitating to accept a house built by a
powerful noble.

A certain powerful noble determined to build a house for
our Order upon his estates, and when he had found a suitable
site, he ejedted the inhabitants, partly indeed by giving them
compensation, but partly also by threats. Now the abbot,
who was to send a convent to this place, was afraid that it
might be displeasing to God that the poor should be driven
out from their homes in such a way; wherefore he prayed
earnestly that God would deign to show him His will about
this. Nor was that juSt man allowed to distress himself for
long in this matter; for one day when he was engaged in
prayer he heard a voice saying: Thou hail given an heritage
to those that fear Thy name (Ps. lxi. 5). Rising from his
knees, he at once understood by the prophet’s words thus sent
from heaven, that it was the Divine will that worldly-minded
men should be ejedfed from their houses, and that the God¬
fearing should be settled there to praise His name in that place.
Even so we read that the Lord gave to the children of Israel
the lands of the Canaanites and of the other unclean races.

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A TYPICAL CISTERCIAN MONASTERY

Vol. I)

[ face p. 264

Of Temptation

Yet such things are not to be held up for a precedent, because
every kind of avarice and injustice ought to be abhorrent to the
religious.

Novice .—All the more is scandal to be avoided in such
cases, because worldly folk do not like to have the cloistered
in their midft.

CHAPTER LXIV.

What bishop Philip said when he was building our
house.

Mon\.— When our convent was invited to the mountain
of Stromberg by archbishop Philip, some of the provincials
remonstrated with him because they were alarmed for their
heirs. To these he made a good and worthy reply:
“ Would,” he said, “ that there were in every township of my
diocese a convent of the juSt, who might praise God contin¬
ually, and pray for me and for those committed to my charge 1
So, 1 think, the condition of my province would be much
better than it now is, for they would harm none, and would
profit many. Never do they lay hands upon the goods of
others, while they share their own with all.

CHAPTER LXV.

Of the generosity shown to the poor in the great
famine by the house of PeterHhal.

At the time when the great famine, which took place in
the year of our Lord’s Incarnation eleven hundred ana ninety

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seven, was brooding over the land and destroying great multi¬
tudes, our house came to the help of many, although at that
time it was both poor and newly founded. Those, who had
the opportunity of estimating the number of the poor who
beset the gate, said that sometimes relief was given to fifteen
hundred in one day. Dom Gevard, who was then abbot,
gave orders that daily, until harveSt a whole ox should be
cooked in three great cauldrons with vegetables collected
from all sides, and he himself distributed it, with a portion
of bread, to the poor one by one ; and the same thing was
done with sheep and other foodstuffs.

And so by the grace of God, all the poor survived and were
supported until the harveSt. And as I heard from the lips
of abbot Gevard himself, when he feared that perchance the
supply of grain might give out before the time, and upbraided
the baker for making the loaves too large, the latter replied:
“ Believe me, my lord, they are very small in the dough, but
they grow in the oven ; we put them in small, but they
came out large.” The same baker, to wit, the brother
Red Conrad, who is Still living, told me that not only did the
loaves grow in the oven, but also the flour increased in the
sacks and vessels, so that all the bakers marvelled as well as
the poor who came for their food. For they said: “ Lord
God, whence comes all this grain? ” That year the Lord
of all wealth rewarded the charity of His servants a hundred¬
fold even in this life. For MaSter Andrew of Speyer, with
the money he had collected at the court of the Emperor
Frederick and also in Greece, bought a great farm in Plitters-
dorf, and gave it to us. From whence could come such a
will, except from God?

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER LXVI.

Also of the humanity which the house of Hemmen-
rode showed at the same time to the poor, and how
it received much more bac\ from God.

At the same time our mother-house in Hemmenrode showed
no less charity to the poor ; indeed it was greater, as the
house is richer. So grievous was the famine that oppressed
the poor, that pregnant women fulfilled their time for giving
birth in the wood before the gate, while they waited for relief.
But the Lord is not unmindful of His promise : Give, and it
shall be given unto you (Luke vi. 38), and because they were
generous in giving, He sent them generous rewards. For
Gerard, the provoft of S. Simeon in Treves, left them at his
death about six hundred pounds of silver, out of which he
earmarked one hundred for the use of the poor at the gate.
When the porter received his hundred pounds, he bought
with it no vineyards or fields, but many bushels of fine wheat-
flour from Coblentz, which enabled him to support the poor
adequately until the harvest.

CHAPTER LXVII.

Also of a monailery in Weftphaha, to whom God
restored two fold the money given to the poor.

Brother Gotteschalk of Volmunftein, our fellow monk,
told me that after those times of scarcity, a certain cellarer of
our Order from Weftphaha met him. And when he asked
him whither he was hurrying, he replied: “ To the
Exchange. Before the harvest, owing to the necessities of
the poor, we killed our cattle and pledged our chalices and
books. But God sent us a friend, who gave us so much gold,
that the quantity was double all that we had given away.

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Wherefore I am going to change this into silver that with it
I may redeem our pledges and buy back our flocks.” Let
these three examples be our answer to those who accuse the
monasteries of avarice.

Novice. —Never before did I understand so well what that
meant: Give, and it shall be given unto you.

Mon\. —Nor will you understand perfectly until the future
life, when in return for any earthly goods you have renounced
for Christ’s sake, or have given to the poor in His Name,
you will receive the kingdom which has been prepared for the
ele< 5 t from the foundation of the world (Matt. xxv. 34). In
that day the Son of man will recount your gift to you with the
reSt of the eledt, and you will receive His promise (Matt,
xxv. 35). Nevertheless, juSt men, made perfect, will sit with
the Lord in judgment.

Novice. —If such mighty benefits wait upon alms-giving,
woe unto them who in this short life follow after avarice !

Mon\. —Those words of the Lord, Give, and it shall be
given unto you, recall to my memory a Story very necessary
as an example for those who exercise hospitality.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

Of a monastery which came to poverty through the
avarice of an abbot, and was rettored by the recep¬
tion of the brethren Date and Dabitur.

A certain abbot, a Benedkfiine I think, as I understood
from the account given by an abbot of our Order, was very
hospitable and exceedingly pitiful towards the poor. And
because he was eager in works of mercy, he desired to appoint
such Stewards of his house as would not hinder his zeal, but
rather inflame it. The more gueSts he received, the more
charity he showed to the poor, the more did the Lord bless
him and his house.

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Of Temptation

After his death, his successor, urged by avarice, removed
from office those who had distributed mercy, and appointed
others whom he knew to be more grasping, and said: “ My
predecessor was too lavish and indiscreet, and his Stewards too
wasteful. We ought so to order and reStriil the expenses of
our convent, that if perchance our crops should be ruined
with hail, and bad times should come, we shall Still have
enough to help the poor. Screening his avarice with words
like these, he altogether put an end to hospitality, and with¬
drew the accuStomed benefits from the poor. With .the
departure of charity, the resources of the convent could no
longer prosper, and indeed quickly came to such a degree of
poverty that the Brethren had scarce enough to eat.

One day there came to the gate a venerable white-haired
man, who asked for admission. The porter took him in
secretly and fearfully and showed him the kindness due to a
gueSl so far as he could, and added: “ You muSt not be
offended, good sir, that I provide for you so ill, because neces¬
sity is the cause of it. In former days I have seen this monas¬
tery in such prosperity that if a bishop should have come at
any time, he would have received a hearty and lavish wel¬
come.” The other replied : “ Two brethren have been driven
out from this convent ; and never can it flourish again, unless
these brethren return. Their names are brothers Date and
Dabitur ” ; and then he vanished. I think that he muff have
been some angelic personage, by whose agency the Lord
desired to recall the Brethren to their former charity. The
porter who was a lay-brother, remembered the names without
understanding them, and repeated to the abbot and brethren
all that he had heard. Hospitality was renewed, and at once
the Lord began to bless them as before.

Novice .—What are we to think of those who give alms
and receive gueffs only for the sake of vainglory ?

Mon \.—Such men give in a hopelessly wrong way, and
receive no reward except human praise which is indeed the
reward they seek. Some give their subffance to Chriff only
for the sake of eternal life, and these the Lord does not leave
unrewarded even here and now. Some indeed do it for both
motives, namely that they may grow rich in this present life,

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and in the future have life eternal ; and these the Lord often
rewards with the double gift, in this world temporal riches,
and in the world to come life everlasting. Some however in
their poverty, beStow all they have upon ChriSt, and when
they find themselves enriched by Him, then are they the more
tempted by the devil, and close their hands through fear of
returning to poverty.

Novice. —Give me an example of this.

CHAPTER LXIX.

Of a woman who became rich after showing hospi¬
tality to the abbots of the Ciflercian Order, and poor
again when she withdrew this.

Not long ago a woman, Still perhaps alive, who lived in a
certain city, where our abbots were wont to lodge on their
way to the General Chapter, received several of them for the
sake of gain. When she perceived that their coming brought
a blessing to her, she gave them firSt their lodging and then
their food, for nothing. The more she gave, the more she
found she had ; and when she had now become rich by the
merits and prayers of her gueSts and abounded in all her
possessions, she began to fear poverty again, and said to her¬
self: “ You cannot any longer sustain such heavy expenses ;
be more careful now, left you come to poverty.” Wonderful
result ! As soon as she refused to give the accustomed hospi¬
tality to her guefts, the Lord also withdrew His bounty from
her. For in that house Brother Dabitur could not dwell when
his Brother Date was driven out of it. At length coming
back to herself and seeing that she was coming to want, she
did penance for her fault, and resuming her former good
works, began once more to grow rich.

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Of Temptation

CHAPTER LXX.

How that saying ought to he under flood, To him
that hath shall he given ; and from him that hath
not shall be taken away even that he hath.

Novice. —I should like to know how we ought to under¬
hand those words of Chrift (Matt. xiii. 12) : Whosoever hath,
to him shall be given and he shall have more abundance ;
but whosover hath not, from him shall be taken away even
that he hath.

Mon\ ■—To him that has the grace of hospitality, and
receives his guests with kindness, goodwill and a cheerful coun¬
tenance, and who freely welcomes God’s poor ; to him it is
the Lord’s will that there shall be given as much, and some¬
times as is shown above, a hundredfold in this present life,
and he shall have abundance, and in the world to come life
everlafting. But he who has not the grace of almsgiving
and hospitality, he who has no true welcome for his gueSts,
and is reludtant to look upon the faces of the poor ; he who
gives them grudgingly juft as much as he cannot refuse, from
this man, by God’s juSt decree, that which he possesses in
temporal wealth, either fails of itself, or is taken away and
carried off by others, nor is it increased by the offerings of the
faithful.

Novice. —This explanation pleases me much, especially in
the light of the preceding examples.

Monk- —Though it is a common occurrence that generous
monasteries are enriched by Chrift, and on the other hand
those that are grasping, contrary to His will, are impoverished,
nevertheless I will add an example of each.

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CHAPTER LXXI.

Of the hospitality of the mon\s of Laach.

In Mayenfeld, in the province of the diocese of Treves, is
situated a Benedidine abbey called Laach, taking its name from
its position, remarkable for its notable men and great posses¬
sions. Thither one day came a certain Saxon to ask hospi¬
tality, and was received very charitably and went away much
edified. Not long afterwards, a rich friend of this man in
Saxony was at the point of death, and, while making his will
in the other’s presence, said : “I should like to leave some¬
thing for the benefit of my soul, if I knew where it could
bed be placed.” His friend replied: “ Near Cologne there
is a very holy monastery, wherein dwell real men of God, who
are remarkable for their hospitality, as I myself can tedify.
Nowhere could you place your alms better nor more profitably
to your soul than there.” According to his advice, the Saxon
bequeathed, I think, forty marks of silver to this convent, and
died. The money was sent by a servant to Cologne, and
because that diocese was much didurbed owing to the war
then raging between the kings Otto and Philip, he left the
money there, and going to Laach on foot, told the whole
matter to the abbot, who sent his cellarer and received the
money. This was told me by a certain lay-brother of our
Order.

CHAPTER LXXII.

Of an inhospitable Provott of the Benedidines.

There is a cell of the same Order situated in the Bishopric
of Cologne, but I do not wish to name it at present, and this
cell the provod ruled so grudgingly that, in spite of the Rule,
he would not willingly receive any gueds to hospitality,
although he had abundance of wealth. But the bishop, who

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Of Temptation

was also the patron o£ that cell, knowing both the inhospi¬
tality and the wealth of this man, came to visit him once or
twice a year with a large number of mounted attendants and
a great body of soldiers, so that the provoSt spent as much in
their entertainment as would have sufficed for the ordinary
hospitality of a whole year. For though the bishop spared
other much richer houses, yet he spent lavishly the goods of
this provoSt, that the before-quoted saying of the Saviour
might be fulfilled.

Novice .—I admit that enough has been said both in teach¬
ing and illustrations againSt avarice ; and I pray you now
that you will not find it irksome to do the same againSt glut¬
tony.

Monk ..—-FirSt I muSt explain to you about gluttony. What
it is, and who are its daughters, and how dangerous is the
temptation of it both to the body and soul of any who con¬
sent to it ; and then I will try and make these things plain
to you by examples.

CHAPTER LXXII 1 .

Of gluttony and her daughters.

Gluttony is the immoderate and enticing appetite of eating
and drinking for bodily pleasure alone. Its daughters are
uncleanness, scurrility, foolish jeSting, excessive talking, dull¬
ness of intelligence. In gluttony there are five Stages of sin.
The firSt is to demand rare and delicate food ; the second to
prepare food in a fanciful way ; the third to eat before the
time ; the fourth to eat greedily ; and the fifth in too great
quantity. The firSt man fell a vicffim to gluttony in Paradise ;
it was this that deprived Esau of his birthright; gluttony
incited the men of Sodom to the worSl kind of sin ; it laid
low the children of Israel in the desert (Ps. lxxviii. 31). The
sin of Sodom was satiety and fulness of bread (Ez. xvi. 49).

u

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Abdo, the man of God, when sent to Bethel, was slain by a
lion, owing to gluttony (i Kings xiii.) ; the rich man, who
fared sumptuously every day found burial in hell (Luke xvi.
22) Nebuzar-adan (2 Kings xxv. 8), the chief cook, that is,
gluttony, destroyed Jerusalem. You see how great dangers
lie in this vice. (Also, Eccles x. 16, vi. 7, Lk. xi. 34, Rom.
xiii. 13). The firSt temptation of ChriSt (Matt, iv.) by the
devil was through gluttony ; wherefore Jerome says: “ in the
fight Chrifl: firSt Strove by faSting againSt gluttony, by which
the firSt man had been conquered.” How Strong and impor¬
tunate againSt us this vice can be, I will explain by some recent
examples ; and I will try to keep the order, as far as I can,
and also the manner of these temptations of Adam, Esau
and the reSt, which have been enumerated above.

CHAPTER LXXIV.

Of the scholar Conrad, who, for the eating of one
apple, loft his uncle’s favour.

The dean of the Cathedral of Cologne was a Swabian by
birth, a rich, honourable and prudent man, and acceptable as
a counsellor to the Emperor Frederick. This man had
planted in his orchard a young apple tree of a new kind, and
already its bloom was developing into fruit ; he was very
anxious to teSf its firSt produce, and so had given orders to all
his household, that no one should touch any of the few apples
on the young tree before maturity, under penalty of his dis¬
pleasure and of punishment. Every one else obeyed this
order, but a certain scholar named Conrad, his nephew, who
by his influence had been promoted to be a canon in the church
of S. Andrew saw this fruit and luffed after it; and disre¬
garding his uncle’s order, plucked—one only I think—of the
apples and ate it. Now when the dean heard of this, he was
inflamed againSt him with so much anger and resentment,

m

Of Temptation

that he caSt out this once beloved nephew, and could not be
induced by any entreaties to pardon his fault ; further, from
that day he used all his influence againSt him, though formerly
he had been moil eager for his advancement. I knew that
Conrad well, and he reached no higher dignity than the office
of precentor of the church of S. Andrew. You see how
closely the punishment of this lad corresponded with that of
Adam. The one was caSt out of the delights of paradise, and
the other from his uncle’s house and wealth, and both for the
sake of an apple.

Novice .—Seeing that Adam had under his hand all the
fruits of Paradise, it seems wonderful to me that he could not
leave one tree alone.

Mon \.—There are many who rashly condemn Adam for
his disobedience, because they look only upon the worthless¬
ness of the apple, and forget the violence of the temptation,
as will be shown in the next example.

CHAPTER LXXV.

Of a servant who opened a box againft his lord’s
command.

A certain householder had a servant, who was a faithful
and wise Steward of all his property. It happened that one
day a discussion arose between them upon the disobedience
of Adam, in eating the apple againSf the Lord’s command ;
and the servant cried out upon his inconstancy, saying : “ To
say nothing of God, I am sure that if you had laid upon me as
Strict an injunction, I could not have disobeyed it.” His
maSler said nothing at the time, but later, when the than was
less upon his guard, and had forgotten his diatribe against.
Adam, he handed to him a box, closed yet not fastened, and
said : “I entruSt this box to your keeping ; if you should open
it, you will lose the reward of all your labour, and forfeit my

The Dialogue on Miracles

favour for ever.” He impressed this upon him several times,
and the man withdrew into his private room, taking the box
with him.

Here a Strange tide of contradictory thoughts began at once
to come over him, and he was beset with a longing to know
what the box contained. Often he turned the box this way
and that, and looked at it from every side ; then he said to
himself: “ Supposing I open it. I am alone ; there is no
one to see. If I am asked, I will deny it ; there is no witness
to conviCt me.” Overcome at lad by temptation, he opened
the box ; whereupon a little bird, that had been shut up in
it, flew away. Then indeed, overwhelmed with remorse, he
knew the mySlery, and knew too the trap into which he had
fallen ; and when his lord asked for the box, he threw him¬
self at his feet and sought pardon, but found it not. And
his mader said: “ Thou wicked and perverse servant, in
blaming our firSt parent for disobedience, and in commend¬
ing to me thine own Steadfastness, thou haSt condemned thy¬
self out of thine own mouth. Depart from me ; thou shalt
see my face no more.” This Story was told me by a canon
of S. Severin in Cologne, a man of advanced years, of Strict
veracity and of religious life. A somewhat similar occur¬
rence took place in Saxony.

CHAPTER LXXVI.

Of a ^night’s lady, who, overcome by temptation,
entered a slough which her husband had forbidden.

Henry of Wied was a rich powerful and well-known
knight, attendant on Henry, duke of Saxony. There are
many Still living who know him who perchance remember
the Story I am about to tell. His wife was a lady of noble
birth and very dear to him ; one day when they were talking
together about the sin of Eve, she began, as is the way with

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Of Temptation

women, to speak harshly of her, and to condemn her for her
inconstancy, because for the sake of an insignificant apple,
merely to satisfy her gluttony, she had subjected the whole
human race to so great penalties and miseries. But her hus¬
band said : “ Do not condemn her ; possibly under a similar
temptation you might have done the same. See now, I will
lay upon you a command Slill easier than hers, and for all
your love for me you will not be able to keep it.” When
she asked what this command might be, the knight went on :
“ It is this, that on the days that you go to your bath, you will
not go with bare feet into the slough in our courtyard ; on the
other days you may go in if you like.” She laughed and
shuddered at the thought of transgressing such a command,
for that pond was foul and evil-smelling, and collected the
filth of the whole yard ; and Henry went on : “1 am going
to add a penalty ; if you shall obey me, you shall have from
me forty marks of silver, but if not, you shall pay me the
same sum ” ; and she was well pleased with the bargain.
Then without her knowledge, he told some of his servants to
keep a watch upon the pond.

Strange to say, from that hour this honourable and modes’
matron could never cross the court without a furtive glance
at the pond ; and whenever she went to her bath, she was
always grievously tempted by the sight of this water. One
day, when she came out of the bath, she said to her maid :

“ Unless I go into that pond, I shall simply die.” Presently,
after the attendant had gone, she looked carefully round, and
seeing no one, girt up her robe, and went forthwith into that
filthy water up to her knees, walking to and fro in it, this
way and that, until she had satisfied her longing. This was
immediately reported to her husband, and he, much pleased,
said, as soon as he saw her : “ How now, lady ? have you had
a good bath to-day? ” and when she replied: “Yes, thank
you,” he added: “ Did you take it in the bath, or in the
pond? ”

At this she was filled with confusion and remained silent,

perceiving clearly that he was not ignorant of her folly. And
he: “ What, my lady, has become of your constancy, your
obedience, your boafting? You were tempted much less

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urgently than Eve, you have resifted less bravely, you have
fallen more disgracefully ; pay therefore what you owe.”
And since she had no money with which to pay, he took all
her coStly clothes and gave them to different people, per¬
mitting her to be thoroughly miserable for some time.

Not/ice. —It is a very deplorable thing that human nature
should thus always Strive after what is forbidden.

Mon\. —How violent sometimes may be conflict with
temptation after a command I will show you by the example
of a certain knight, who chose rather to die than be conquered
by his temptation.

CHAPTER LXXVII.

Of a penitent \night who was slain but not over¬
come by the temptation of a forbidden tree.

I have been told by a certain monk of a knight who had
committed many crimes, how his heart was at laSt turned to
penitence. He went to the prieSf, made confession of his
sins, and promised satisfaction, but was unable to keep his
promise. Now when he had aCted thus several times, one day
the prieSt said to him : “ We are making no progress. Tell
me now, is there any promise that you really can keep in
satisfaction for your sins ? ” The knight replied : “ There is
an apple tree on my property, whose fruit is so evil and bitter,
that I can never eat of it. If you think well, let it be my
penance never to taSte of those apples so long as I live.” The
priest, knowing how temptation arises from the incitements
of the flesh and the devil or both, especially after a prohibition,
replied: “ For all your sins, I lay this command upon you,
that you shall never willingly eat of the fruit of that tree.”

The knight went away, looking upon the penance enjoined
as a mere nothing. This tree grew in such a place, that as

Of Temptation

and whenever he saw it, he remembered the prohibition, and
in the remembrance was soon grievously tempted. One day
when he was passing before it, he looked upon its apples, and
he who tempted and laid low the firSt man through the lure
of forbidden fruit, tempted him with such insistence, that he
went up to the tree, and now Stretching out his hand to the
apples, and now drawing it back again, he passed nearly the
whole day in these contending Struggles. At laSt by the help
of grace, he triumphed and resisted the desire, but with so
great effort that his heart was broken, and he lay down be¬
neath the tree and gave up the ghoSt.

Novice .—No wonder that Adam fell if his temptation were
as great as that.

Mon\. —Adam’s fall in yielding to temptation was grievous
because, although he had an outside cause to drive him on,
yet he also had an inward grace to help him. But let this
be enough in the matter of the apple through which our firSl
parents were driven out of Paradise.

Novice .-—No less do I wonder that Esau in his hunger
threw away his birthright before God, for the sake of a mess
of pottage, than that those, who were disobedient concerning
the apple, were driven out of Paradise.

Mon \.—Not through hunger, not through luff of the
pottage, did he lose his birthright, but for the contempt with
which, at the call of gluttony, he sold so precious a possession
for so unworthy a price. Yet we, who frequently feed upon
such food and heartily enjoy it, need not find any cause of
alarm in this pleasure, for it is a great gift of God, when those
who before their conversion were fastidious in their food,
find that simple vegetables bring them as good an appetite
as a costly banquet.

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CHAPTER LXXVIII.

Of the three grains with which abbot Gisilbert said
that he spiced the pottage of the months.

At the time when those honourable knights of so much
renown in the world, to wit, Ulrich, surnamed Flasse, Gerard
called Wascart, and Charles Markman of Cologne with
other rich men both clergy and laity had been converted in
Hemmenrode, and had grown Strong in the Order, a man
Still in the world, a friend and acquaintance of these knights,
said to their abbot Gisilbert of blessed memory: “ It is a
source of continual wonder to me that men, so delicately
brought up in the world, can live upon simple vegetables,
pease and lentils.”

The abbot replied : “I give them three grains of spice,
with which they flavour their rough messes so effectively
that they scarce leave anything on their plates at meals.”
While the other was wondering what he meant, the abbot
continued : “ I will explain. The firSt grain of spice signifies
the long night watches, the second manual labour, and the
third the impossibility of getting any better food. Here you
have the three spices which, when applied to our pottage,
give it the fineSt flavour in the world and I firmly believe
that when a monk avoids his pease or lentils from melancholy
fancies or humours, he commits a greater sin than when he
eats too much. If he is not willing to take what is set before
him, obviously he needs or desires richer food ; and if such
were given him habitually, we should scandalise the weak,
while if it were withheld, he would grow old and feeble
before his time. A monk cannot faSt well, watch well or
pray well on an empty stomach. This is why S. Bernard ‘.n
one of his sermons reproves so sharply monks who are dainty.
Our food is not very Strengthening, and therefore we muSt
eat plenty of it.”

Novice. —What are we to think of those who have to go
frequently into the world on business and fare delicately
nearly every day ? Are they equal in merit to their brethren,
who have to be content with the regular food ?

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Mon \.—It is not for me to judge them. Each one will
receive according to his work ; but I will tell you a very
pleasant discourse about this, spoken by a lay-brother in jefl
againfl a certain Cardinal.

CHAPTER LXXIX.

Of the discourse of an illiterate mon\ to Henry,
Cardinal of Alba.

The Cardinal bishop of Alba, Henry of sacred memory,
in the year of our Lord 1188, in the time of the Emperor
Frederick, was sent to Germany by Pope Clement, to preach
the cross againfl the Saracens, and took with him as com¬
panions of his journey some monks of the CiStercian Order
from our part of the country.

One day as they rode together, he said to them : “ Which
of you will tell us something that may profit us ? ” And one
of them answered: “ That one,” pointing to a certain lay-
brother whose name I have forgotten. Whereupon the
Cardinal ordered him at once to preach them a word of exhor¬
tation. At firft he excused himself, saying that a lay-brother
ought to hold his peace in the presence of learned men ; but
at length he began as follows : “ When we shall be dead and
carried to paradise, our holy father Benedift will come to meet
us. When he sees that we are all monks wearing the cowl,
he will bring us in joyfully ; but when he sees Henry the
Cardinal bishop he will be astonished at his mitre, and will
say, “ But who are you ? ” and he will reply: “ Father, I
am a CiSlercian monk. ” The saint will answer: “ Certainly
not; no monk ever wore a mitre.” And when Henry shall
proteft loudly on his own behalf, the holy Benedift, having
at length passed his decision, will say to the doorkeepers:
“ Put him on his back and cut open his stomach. If you find
in it simply vegetables, beans, pease, lentils, pulse and the

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regular food of monks, let him come in with the others ; but
if not, if you find great fish, and worldly and delicate dainties,
why, then, let him Stop outside.” Then he turned to the
Cardinal and added : “ And what will you say then, my poor
Henry? ” The Cardinal smiled at this question, and com¬
mended his discourse.

When I was Still a boy, I heard this venerable bishop and
monk preaching the cross in the church of S. Peter at Cologne,
and I saw him there giving the cross to many ; he was a juSt
and holy man, one who shoo\ his hand from the holding of
bribes (Isa. xxxiii. 15), and who edified many both in word
and example.

Novice. —I remember that you told us above that the
iniquity of Sodom sprang from fulness of bread and
abundance.

Mon\. —They are the words of the prophet Ezekiel (Ez.
xvi. 49). Moses says: Before the Lord dekroyed Sodom, all
that region was well watered everywhere, even as the garden
of the Lord, and li/^e the land of Egypt (Gen. xiii. 10) ; for
it was of exceeding fertility. It was because the Sodomites
had given themselves over to feaftings that they broke out
into excess, for gluttony is ever an extreme provoker of luxury.

Novice. —What then? is it dangerous for a monk to satisfy
himself with bread?

Mon\. —What I said above of lentils, I say now of bread.
In the bread of the Sodomites we mu£t underhand the super¬
fluity of all kinds of foods in which they abounded. But
our bread, which is both black and coarse is a thing of neces¬
sity rather than superfluity, and I think if a monk shrinks
from it or requires it to be more tafty, he sins more deeply
than if he satisfies himself with it. Sometimes there may be
an extreme temptation even in such a matter as bread.

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CHAPTER LXXX.

Of a cler\ to whom Chrifl. offered a piece of barley
bread that had been dipped in His own side.

Some time ago there came to Clairvaux for conversion, a
clerk who had lived very delicately in the world. He shrank
with disguSf from the convent bread, which at that time was
very coarse, and from the pease, and was wafting away with
fear not merely of hunger, but of the food he would have to
eat in the future. One night the Saviour appeared to him in
a vision, holding in His hand a piece of the bread which was
the regular food of the Brethren, and held it out to him,
bidding him eat. The novice replied : “ Lord, I cannot eat
barley bread.” Whereupon ChriSf dipped the same piece of
bread in the wound in His side, and again offered it to him ;
and when he had tafted, it became sweeter than honey in his
mouth. From that time, he ate with great appetite both the
bread and the other regular food, which hitherto he had scarce
been able to touch. Underftand from this, how the devil
tries by capricious and undue abstinence to overcome those
whom he cannot ensnare with gluttony.

CHAPTER LXXXI.

Of a novice, whom the devil deceived by offering
him the appearance of half a loaf.

As our elder brethren are wont to tell, a demon appeared
in Hemmenrode under the form of an angel, and for several
days in succession showed to a certain not very wise monk the
appearance of half a loaf upon the table, and persuaded him
not to take more than that. The monk followed the sugges¬
tion of the demon, and after a short time he became so weak
of body that his senses failed him and he died.

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Novice. —You said above that gluttony laid low the children
of Israel in the desert. What kind of gluttony do you think
to have been the chief cause of that plague ?

Mon\. —The longing for flesh. For when the Lord had
given them manna, the bread of angels, able to content every
man's delight and agreeing to every taSle (Wisd. xvi. 20), they
were ungrateful for so great a mercy, and murmured against
Moses (Num. xi. 4-6, xxi. 5). You see how great was their
ingratitude, and with what rebellion it was accompanied?
The punishment which swiftly followed exposed their guilt
(Num. xi. 33). Often does the devil tempt the Religious with
flesh, sometimes asleep, sometimes awake, now visibly and
now invisibly. Some he conquers and by others he is over¬
come.

Novice. —May I hear examples of this ?

Mon\. —I will give you some that are not only apposite
but also true in fad.

CHAPTER LXXXII.

Of the monk. Arnold to whom when sleeping in the
choir the devil offered flesh.

Not long ago there died among us a monk named Arnold
who had been a canon in the church of the Holy Apoflles at
Cologne. Before his conversion he had been a rich man and
one was who was very dainty in his food. He used to tell
me that the devil had sorely tempted him through gluttony,
especially when he allowed himself to fall asleep in church.
Sometimes, when Sanding in the choir, if he closed his eyes
in fatigue, he perceived a dish full of meat before his mouth
from which, as it seemed to him, he ate like a dog. And it
sometimes happened that being filled with shame to realise
that he was eating in such beflial fashion, he drew back his
head and struck it sharply against the wall.

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CHAPTER LXXXIII.

Of a lay-brother who went to sleep at mass, and
gnawed wood thinking it to be flesh.

A certain lay-brother, as I heard from his own lips, was
attending one day a private mass, and went to sleep during
the canon. While he slept, he began to gnaw with his teeth
the wood on which he was lying prostrate, the devil making
him think that he was chewing flesh ; and the grinding of
his teeth was as the sound of a mouse breaking through the
shell of a nut. Brother Richwin, our cellarer, who was
present at that mass, heard it, and it interfered with his
prayers ; and when he was able to speak with the lay-brother,
he asked him what he had between his teeth at mass, saying :
“ I could not pray because of the noise you were making.”
The other replied: “ Believe me, I was eating good flesh.”
“ Where did you get it from ? ” he asked ; and the lay-brother
answered : “ The devil prepared it during the canon, and
thruft a dish piled up with meat under my nose. If you do
not believe me, look at the- wood where I was lying and you
will find in it the marks of my teeth ; ” and he went on to
tell him how the devil had mocked him while he slept.
Indeed the wood was found to have been gnawed by his teeth.
Thus the enemy tries to deceive in sleep those Religious whom
he cannot entrap with gluttony when awake.

Hear now about a virgin whom he tempted with meat not
when asleep, but when awake and open-eyed, but yet did not
prevail.

CHAPTER LXXXIV.

Of a fa/ling virgin, to whom the devil offered a
goose.

There was a virgin of Nivelle who, for the love of Chris!,
left her relations and her father’s house to live with some

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nuns of that province, with whom she supported herself with
the work of her own hands, and spent all her spare time in
prayer and failing. Filled with envy of her virtues, the devil
carried off a goose from her father’s house, and placed it on
the bench where she was sitting with the other women, say¬
ing : “ Why, unhappy one, do you torture yourself with
hunger? take this and eat.” When she answered: “ I may
not eat of it, because it is a theft,” the devil replied: “ Cer¬
tainly not, for I took it from your father’s house.” Then
the maiden : “ You cannot deny that it is a theft. Take
away the goose at once, and put it back where you took it
from.” He, seeing that he could gain no advantage over
her, picked up the goose in sight of all the nuns, and carried
it back to the shed from which he had Stolen it. Her father’s
household bore witness that they had heard a great noise and
clamour among the reft of the geese, both when he carried off
the bird, and when he restored it to its place.

I will give you two more examples, by which you may
understand how the devil terrifies and puts men to confusion
that he may overcome them by a longing for flesh.

CHAPTER LXXXV.

Of a lay-brother who ate flesh in the cellar.

I was told by a monk I knew about a lay-brother who was
tempted and overcome by a longing for flesh ; he was ashamed
to ask for it, and knew of course that it was unlawful ; and
so one day he prepared a mess of it for himself, and went into
the cellar and ate it ; for he was a cellarer of the PremonStra-
tensian Order. By the permission of God, the devil, since
he could do no more, carried off the glutton, and hung him,
like a garment, upon the roof of the belfry. While he clung
there, or rather was supported by the devil, to whom power
had been given rather to frighten than to kill him, he cried

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Of Temptation

out luftily, imploring his brethren’s help. They saw him
clinging to the roof, and not knowing why, were exceedingly
astonished, and with all hafle they climbed the tower and cut
through the tiles, and so rescued him through the hole thus
made.

CHAPTER LXXXVI.

Of a hen, whose entrails were changed into a toad.

Not long ago, some of the monks of Priim were dining
together on Shrove Tuesday in the house of a secular priefi,
and they feafled on various meats and coSUy wines almost
till midnight. Now when they had eaten their fill, near
cockcrow the prieft called to him a grown-up scholar named
John, who was well known to me, and said : “ Moil assuredly
we will Still have something more to eat; go and bring the hen
which you will find on the perch next the cock (she is usually
fatter than all the reSl) and prepare her for us.” When the
scholar had wrung her neck, cut her open and put in his hand
to take out the entrails, he drew out inSIead an enormous toad.
Now when he felt it move in his hand, and threw it away, and
saw what it was, he uttered a loud cry of fear, that brought
all the others out. When they saw that the hen’s entrails
had been changed into a toad, the gueSls hurried away in
alarm and confusion, for they recognised that it was the work
of the devil. This was told me by one of the brethren who
was present and saw the marvel.

Novice .—I find fish a greater temptation to me than flesh,
because I may eat the former, and not the latter.

Mon \.—I think you are like the children of Israel in
remembering the fish you ate in Egypt, that is, in the world.

Novice .—Sometimes I cannot help remembering it.

Mon \.—The word fish brings back to my memory a
malicious trick which was played by the devil upon a recluse.

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CHAPTER LXXXVII.

Of the recluse Herman, to whom the devil offered
horse-dung under the guise of fish.

Brother Gotteschalk of Volmuntflein told me that one day
the devil assumed the form of an acquaintance and brought
a plate of fish to Brother Herman, the recluse of Arnsberg.
It was Slill early in the morning, and he told him to put it
down and go away. When the time came to cook the fish,
he found in the plate nothing but horsedung.

Novice .-—Is it not possible that the recluse may have been
longing for fish, and that this illusion of the devil was a
punishment for that weakness ?

Mon {.—That is very likely. By the faft that the children
of Israel luSed after fish and flesh and onions and garlic, I am
reminded of a dangerous temptation to which a penitent
succumbed by the means of garlic.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

Of the traitor Steinhard who fell by means of garlic.

In the diocese of Cologne there are two bands of knights,
very Strong both in numbers and wealth, and equally
magnanimous in honour. One of them draws its origin
from the town of Bacheim, and the other from that of Gur-
zenich. At one time there was between them such a violent
and mortal hatred, that it could be allayed by none, not even
by the bishop, who was their liege lord; but every day it was
renewed by plunderings, burnings and murders. Those of
Gurzenich built for themselves, on their border, a fortress in
a wood, not indeed through fear of their enemies, but that they
might have a place of assembly whether for security or for
any expedition.

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Of Temptation

They had as a servant a native of the country named Stein-
hard, to whose care they entrusted the keys of the fortress.
He, at the instigation of the devil, secretly sent a message to
the enemy, offering to betray both his mailers and their for¬
tress pretending some cause of complaint againSt them. But
the knights of Bacheim distrusted this proposal, and gave
little attention to his words. When he had sent the same
messenger a second, and then a third time, they armed them¬
selves and came on the appointed day in a large band for fear
of treachery, to a place near the caStle, where they waited for
the serving man.

When the traitor went out to them and found them Still
hesitating, he at iaSt convinced them by bringing all the swords
of his mailers, who were taking their mid-day sieSta in the
fort. Then the armed band entered the building and slew
all the knights, and received the serving-man into their own
band as they had promised. Afterwards that miserable
wretch was Stricken with terror and compunction for his
execrable crime, and went to Rome, where he confessed his
guilt and undertook a severe penance; but, yielding to tempta¬
tion he quickly broke his vow. Returning to the Pope he
renewed his penitence but again failed in obedience.

When he had done this several times, the lord penitentiary
grew weary of him, and hoping to get rid of him, for he was
convinced that nothing would be of any use to him, said:
“ Can you tell me of anything that you could undertake as a
penance, and really carry out?” He replied: “ Never have
I been able to eat garlic; I am sure that if I were to undertake
abstinence from that food as a penalty for my sins, I should
never transgress.” Whereupon the confessor said: “ Go,
and in future as a punishment for your great sins, eat no
garlic.”

On his way out of the city the man noticed some garlic in
a garden, and, tempted by the devil, immediately began to
hanker after it. He Stood Still and looked at the garlic, and
the temptation grew urgent upon him. The longing increased
until the unhappy man found it impossible to go away, and
yet he dared not put out his hand to the forbidden herb.
Why make a long Story of it ? At length gluttony conquered

289

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obedience, he went into the garden and ate. Wonderful to
relate the garlic which he never could touch, even when cooked
and carefully prepared, so long as he might eat it without sin,
now he devoured raw and unripe, because a prohibition was
laid upon it. Thus vilely conquered by temptation, he
returned to the papal court in much confusion and told what
he had done. But the penitentiary drove him away in anger,
and ordered him never to trouble him again. What became
of the wretched man finally, I have never heard.

Novice .—Unhappy is the nature of man, which is thus
prone to transgression! But will you tell me in what kind
of gluttony sinned that man of God, who was slain by a lion
for eating in Bethel ?

Mon \.—Not for eating, but for eating againft the Divine
command, and because he was beguiled into eating in a for¬
bidden place, did he incur such a punishment. How great
is the guilt of eating or drinking in defiance of a command,
whether the food be lawful or unlawful, I will make clear
to you by a few examples.

CHAPTER LXXXIX.

Of the Provo.il Florinus, in whose throat a morsel
of flesh Sluc\.

MaSter Absalon, an honourable and learned man, canon
of the Church of S. Victor in Paris, was elected abbot of Sprin-
girsbach some years ago. Before he came to take up his
election, one of the brethren in a dream saw a lighted candle
enter the monastery, which with its own light rekindled the
extinguished candles carried in the hands of all the brethren.
The interpretation of this vision seemed to be that one was
coming who would reStore the relaxed discipline of the mona¬
stery. In truth, when he became abbot he introduced honour¬
able cuStoms which he had learnt in his own convent, teaching

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Of Temptation

among other things that both the brethren and sifters of the
community, as well as their provoft should without exception
abftain from the eating of flesh. Later it happened that a
certain secular matron took the habit in the Isle of S. Nicholas,
which convent belonged to Springirsbach.

On the day this woman took the veil her friends were
dining with the provoft of the nuns by name Florinus, a
very fat man, and well known to me. While all the reft were
feeding on flesh and he on fish, in accordance with the order
of his abbot Absalon, he saw on the plate of the clerk sitting
next to him a mess of flesh, and immediately conceived a
desire for it; and putting out his hand, he picked up a small
piece, and with a jeft put it into his mouth. At once, by the
juft judgment of God for his disobedience, this morsel
descended whole into his throat, so that it obftrufted the
passage, nor could he by any effort bring it back into his
mouth or swallow it down. They carried him from the
table, and it seemed by his upturned eyes that he muft be
suffocated, when the monk Henry, our chamberlain, and at
that time dean of Mayenfeld, ftruck him, as he told me him¬
self, so severe a blow with his fift on the back of the neck, that
the obftruftion was dislodged. And all realised that the pain
and confusion that had fallen on the provoft was a punishment
for his disobedience. But I wish you to understand that it
is not only with the desire of flesh that the devil tempts men,
but also with the longing for wine.

CHAPTER XC.

Of the cellarer, who suffering from thirSl after
compline, was delivered in making his reverence.

One evening after compline, a monk of our Order, who
held the office of cellarer, was attacked with intolerable thirft,
by the agency of the devil, as afterwards became clear. For a
while he wavered, and debated whether to break the rule and

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drink, or to abstain at the risk of his life; but at laft the tempta¬
tion gained the upper hand, and he made up his mind to go
into the cellar and drink. Meanwhile he had to go through
the church, and when passing before a certain altar, he made
his customary reverence very carelessly, because his mind was
wholly set upon allaying his thirft. After he had gone a little
way further, he turned and came back in shame to this same
altar, Stood Still before it and bowed his head with great rever¬
ence. When he Stood upright again he saw beside him a
demon in the form of a monk clad in black, who said : “ Let
me tell you that if you had not returned to make your rever¬
ence, I would have given you such a drink in the cellar that
you would never have been able to digeSt it as long as you
lived.” Then the devil disappeared and the whole tempta¬
tion of the thirSt he had implanted vanished with him. This
was told me by Dom EuStace the abbot of Hemmenrode, who
said that it happened seven years ago.

Novice .—In the future I shall be more zealous to make
deep reverences.

Monl {.—The devil hates every form of humility, especially
that by which man acknowledges God as his Creator and him¬
self as His creature. When he sees a man devoutly show to
God this homage, which he himself spurned to do, because
he desired to set himself on an equality with God, he cannot
endure the sight, and flees away in confusion. Wherefore
Philip the abbot of Ottenburg, a wise and learned man, of
whom I spoke above, used to teach the sifters of the Isle of
S. Nicholas, as I have heard from them, in these words:
“ When the devil tempts you, make a deep reverence in some
place where reverence is due, and forthwith he will flee from
you.” Places where reverence is due are altars, or before a
crucifix or the relics of saints; let us bow our heads also at the
Gloria Patri, and also to the abbot, and in all those other
places which the rule prescribes.

Will you hear now of one who was enticed away from the
Order by gluttony, and especially by a longing for wine?

Novice. —Yes, indeed; for many are troubled with a long¬
ing for wine, which sometimes causes even the wise to apofta-
tise.

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Of Temptation

Mon \.—I will tell you of a terrible vision which I heard
from him to whom the sight of it was granted.

CHAPTER XCI.

Of Henry nicknamed Fikere.

There died a few years ago one of our senior monks,
Herman by name, a man of good and ftridl life, who was pre¬
centor of our convent. This man had several visions, one of
which I propose to insert here as an example. Soon after
he became monk in Hemmenrode, he had a certain other
monk as his next door neighbour both in the choir and in the
refectory. Several times during the psalms in church he saw
cups of wine before the face of this man. He saw these cups
with his eyes wide open, and perceived the odour of the wine,
but could not see any hands that held them. And while he
was wondering over these things, others took the shape before
his eyes by the agency of the devil. For in sleep one night
he saw a bear {landing on its hind legs in front of that other
monk, putting its paws upon his breafl, and joining his mouth
to the ear of the sleeper.

Not long after he apoflatised, following the counsel of the
devil; for not without reason did the devil entice him away
under the appearance of a bear; for the name itself suggests
the fa<ff that it bears offspring by the breath of its mouth, and
the devil generated in him such a headlong flow of words, that
because of his eloquence he became popular with kings and
princes. The name of this monk was Henry, and he was
nicknamed Fikere. He had been received as a novice by
Dom Gisilbert the abbot, who, when he learnt through con¬
fession that he had been a Benedictine, took away his pre¬
centor’s cassock and gave him a cowl; for he is said to have
been of the Premonftratensian Order. I have heard that
before that he had pretended to be a woman, and had been

The Dialogue on Miracles

received as a woman into a certain convent of nuns, some of
whom he corrupted and ruined. At this time he is playing
the part of an a< 5 tor, and perhaps does worse things than that.
Let this be enough about gluttony, because I wish to pass on
to the vice of luxury.

CHAPTER XCII.

Of luxury and her daughters.

Luxury is the wanton and unbridled prostitution of mind
and body, arising from unclean desires. Her daughters arc
self-love, hatred of God, love of the present world, horror or
despair of the future, rashness, inconstancy, inconsiderateness,
a blinded mind. The degrees of luxury are fornication,
debauchery, adultery, inceSt, unnatural vice. Luxury, like
gluttony, has wrought the greatest evils in the world; it was
the chief cause of the flood; it destroyed the five cities with
fire and brimStone; it imprisoned the holy Joseph; it laid low
numbers of the children of Israel in the desert; this took place
when they sinned with the Midianites and joined themselves
to Baal-peor. It was luxury that bound, weakened and
blinded the mighty Samson; it deprived the sons of Eli of the
glory of the prieSthood and of life itself. It was luxury that
made an adulterer and murderer of David, the man after
God’s own heart. It infatuated the wise Solomon and led
him into idolatry; it condemned Susanna and beheaded John
the BaptiSl. Of luxury God speaks through Hosea (ix. 15).
Joel also (i. 17, Vulg). Behemoth, according to Job, lieth
under the shady trees, in the covert of the reed, and fens
(Job xl. 21), i.e. in places of luxury. When the two excuse
themselves in the gospel, he, who had married a wife,
answered haughtily, saying : / have married a wife, and there¬
fore l cannot come (Luke xiv. 20).

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Of' Temptation

Novice. —Why does the Lord in the gospel forbid gluttony
dire&ly, and luxury under a figure (Luke xxi. 34 ; xii. 35)?

Monl(. —The Creator knew that in all nature luxury arises
from gluttony and is nourished by its stimulants; the kinship of
the two vices is indicated by the proximity of their organs. It
is as if the Lord had said: " That you may escape luxury,
indulge the appetite sparingly Deprived of food and wine,
luxury is Starved (Ter. Eun. iv. 5, 6). There are three chief
incitements to luxury: high living, coStly dress, and idleness.
It was of these three which the prophet declared to be the
iniquity of Sodom; to wit, fulness of bread i.e. gluttony, pride
of life, i.e. coStly clothing, which provokes luSt, and abundance
of idleness in her sons and daughters (Ezek. xvi. 49). Idle¬
ness of itself teaches many evils, as Solomon says; it was
because of idleness that David sinned with Bathsheba; where¬
fore a poet says: “ If idleness be removed, the arts of Cupid
perish (Ov. Rem. Am. 139). Luxury is an evil beaSt that
nates chafhty, spares neither sex, and suffers scarcely any to be
at peace. It awakes the sleeper, it disturbs the wakeful, now
by natural emotions, now by thoughts, and now by objects
placed before his eyes. It tempts the beginner, it tempts the
full-grown saint, it tempts even the perfedt.

Novice. —Much have I heard of the dangers of luxury, and
of the remedies againSt it; I pray you now to give me examples.

Mon){. —I will not speak of those who have fallen by con¬
senting to luxury, but of those who have been tempted and
shaken, and yet have been preserved by the grace of God.

CHAPTER XC 1 II.

Of a converted \night whom his wife drove to win
bac\ during his time of probation.

A certain wealthy and honourable knight, who had been
separated ecclesiastically from his wife, came for conversion to

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a house of our Order. To this house he assigned all his
property, on condition that a certain life-pension should be
paid to his wife, who had undertaken to live the life of a
religious in a convent. I will not name either the knight or
the monastery, left perchance any of those I shall speak of
may be ftill alive, and suffer shame.

When he began his noviciate, the devil so inflamed the
wife that she refused to keep the pad: and demanded the return
of the husband who had now become a monk. This of course
produced no result, whereupon she came to the monaftery
with some friends of hers to lay an ambush for him, and
succeeded in a petition to be permitted to speak with him out¬
side the monaftery walls. Here he was seized upon by the
knights, her friends, who tried to put him on a horse to carry
him off; but no sooner did they lift him up on one side than
he slipped off on the other; and finding that they could in no
way succeed, they went home with the matron.

All that year she gave no further sign, but when his proba¬
tion was over, it became necessary for him to pay a visit to his
house, and there he found his wife. She, pretending that she
wished to speak with him in private, took him into a room,
and having quietly closed the door behind him, began to woo
him with kisses and embraces; for she hoped that if she could
induce him to sin, he would leave the Order and come back
to her. But Chrift, the Son of the pure Virgin, who delivered
the innocent boy Joseph from the hands of the adulterers,
delivered also this soldier of His from the unlawful embraces
of his lawful wife. For he shook himself free of her arms,
and came forth uninjured, unsinged by the flame.

Novice .—This was indeed a great temptation.

Mon \.—Greater ftill was that which follows.

Of Temptation

CHAPTER XCIV.

Of the grievous temptation of Richwin the cellarer
by the letter of a nun.

A certain youth of Cologne, Richwin by name, entered
upon his noviciate in our house. He passed some time
of his probation in much devotion and tranquillity, quietly
learning the life of the Order. The devil, envying his peace
and safety, furred up so violent a war in his heart by means
of a nun of the blessed Cecilia, whose convent was in that
town, and wounded his flesh so deeply with the flings of
desire that he could find no peace.

She composed and wrote out a letter of withdrawal from his
vows, in which she denounced his conversion, and exhorted
him to return to the world, saying that herself, her house and
prebend, and all that she had were in his hands for the refl of
his life, if he would come to her. She sent this letter by a
servant, and while he was enquiring for the novice, Henry,
Richwin’s brother, who is now our cellarer, met the man and
refused to allow him to speak with him, but ordered him to
leave the monaflery at once, for he feared the very thing which
afterwards happened. The servant, however, waited for the
novice in the church, gave him the letter and went away.
The reading of the letter inflamed him as if a burning javelin
had been driven into his heart; and from that hour he was so
flrongly tempted, that time and again he made up his mind to
return to the world, but yet was always held back by the pious
prayers and exhortations of the brethren.

One day when he was undergoing his trial by himself, he
threw himself face downward upon the ground, firetching
out his feet over the theshold of his cell, and crying with a
loud voice: “ Unless, devil, thou drag me away by the feet,
never will I follow thee.” At laft by the grace of God he
triumphed, and became a monk. When I asked him if he
ftill felt any traces of the old thoughts, he replied: “ Truly,
brother, those temptations which used to pierce my heart now
scarcely touch the hem of my garment.” Later he became

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our senior cellarer, and held that office until his death. Here
is an example of how the devil sometimes tempts the beginner,
the coming examples will show you how he tempts the full
grown saint.

CHAPTER XCV.

Of a young mon\ who was delivered from the
temptation of the flesh by the words: “ O devil, my
confessor commands thee to cease from tempt¬
ing me.”

The abbot Herman, who was at that time prior in Hem-
menrode told me of a young monk there who was grievously
tempted by the luSts of the flesh. With tears he confessed
how this temptation was afflicting him, and the prior consoled
him, and said : “ When next you are attacked with the flings
of the flesh, say thus to the devil in a loud voice : ‘ Devil, my
confessor orders thee to cease from tempting me.’ ” Later,
when the same temptation came upon him, and he was sore
beset, simply and confidently and in a loud voice, as he had
been instructed, he cried out againSt the demon: “ O devil,
my confessor commands thee to cease from tempting me.”
Wonderful is the virtue of confession! At this word, the
devil, the spirit of fornication, fled in confusion and the tempta¬
tion passed.

Novice. —How do you know that this temptation came
from the devil?

Mon\. —The apoStle calls the Sting of the flesh “ a messen¬
ger from Satan,” because it troubled and inflamed him.

Novice. —Am I right in thinking that confession is very
necessary againSt the temptations of the flesh?

Mon\. —About this we have already spoken much in the
book upon confession. Truly in confession the fuel of sin is
diminished, the temptation ceases or is restrained, grace is

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increased, the penitent is Strengthened by counsel, the devil is
confounded and weakened. At other times when this monk
was harassed by the same temptation, he repeated the above
words according to the advice of his prieSf, and added these :
“Why, O devil, doSt thou trouble me? Thou canSt not
tempt me more than is allowed by God, who is thy Lord as
well as mine.” And at once he felt himself helped, for that
proud spirit cannot endure a saying like this which lowers his
pride.

CHAPTER XCV1.

Of the temptations of a mon\ who won an imperial
crown by his resistance.

Another monk, an older man, and more fervent in his
religious life than he of whom I have juSl spoken, was attacked
by the spirit of luxury in many ways hard to be borne. Once
when he was in the infirmary, he was Standing after matins
in an angle of the cloiSler, and using the angelic salutation in
prayer, when the devil came behind him and hurled at him
a flaming dart, so that the monk saw it fly paSf his face, saw
how it glittered and how its reflection shone upon the wall.
Finding that he was not to be terrified by this, nor driven
from the place where he was praying, the fiend Stirred up
about him so great a noise, that the whole floor of the doiSfer
where he was Standing seemed to resound with the clatter of
the boots of the monks running hither and thither. Then as he
cared nothing for this phantasm, and was going away after
finishing his prayer, he saw as it were a multitude of Moors
pursuing him. Another time the spirit of fornication, whose
breath sets coals on fire, burnt his body with an intolerable
flame of luSt. Now that venerable man, thinking upon the
devil’s importunity broke out with a loud voice into these
words: “ Why doSI thou thus cruelly torture me, O devil, for

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thou canSt not accomplish againSt me more than God permits.
He, who is my Lord, is thy Lord also.” The truth thus
expressed is that of the confessor of the laSt Story. When he
said this, the tempter left him in the following manner.

Indeed, after this utterance, it seemed to him that something
moving began at once gradually and painfully to creep down
his head paSt either ear to his neck, then down his shoulders
and sides, and slowly descending through his thighs and legs,
went out at his heels. And as the monk himself told me,
that spirit’s progress was so gradual, as has been said, that
if could be felt in one place and not in another; and as soon
as it passed out through his feet and fled away, the fire, which
it had kindled, died down, and all temptation ceased.

Novice .—I wonder if he had offered any opportunity to the
spirit of fornication, which thus terribly tormented him ?

Mon \.—He told me himself that one day he, with the
abbot, was visiting a certain convent of nuns, and a matron of
that community, who had been well known to him before his
conversion, placed her arm upon his shoulder and looked into
his eyes. No doubt he thought about this more than was
fitting, though indeed at the time he felt no kind of temptation
from it, but afterwards, when the devil brought back to his
mind that gaze of hers, he was so tempted from that time
forward for several years, that life became a weariness to him.
For the greater perfe<5tion a man has reached, so much the
more is he bound to keep guard over his senses, especially
touch and sight; touch, because, as we read in Vitaspatrum, the
body of a woman is a fire, and sight, because death enters in
by the windows of the eyes. How great merit that monk won
in temptation the following Story will tell you. When the
aforesaid Herman, now abbot of MarienStatt, was prior in
Hemmenrode, this monk was tempted one night with a
temptation, not only violent but exceeding perilous; for as the
prior learnt from his confession, such were the conditions of
that temptation that he would have satisfied it in as brief a
time as it takes to turn the hand, if the will to sin had been
present. I think indeed that it was a trial of the flesh. He
was attacked Strongly; he resisted manfully; he overcame
gloriously.

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That same week there came to the prior a certain simple-
minded lay-brother from one of the granges, saying that he
wished to speak with him privately. And when the oppor¬
tunity was given him, he said: “ My lord prior, during this
pafl week 1 have had a vision in a dream; there flood before
me a mighty column, and an iron nail was driven into it, and
upon that iron nail there hung a moff beautiful crown, like
the crown of our emperor. And there was present there a
moff glorious Lord, who took the crown from the nail with
both his hands, and, placing it in my hands, said thus: ‘ Take
this crown, and carry it to the monk,’ and here he mentioned
him by name, ‘ because he has won it this night.’ ” Imme¬
diately the prior, who knew of the monk’s temptation, under¬
stood the vision, and interpreted the Strong column as the
monk, invincible under temptation, the nail which seemed
to be of Steel, as the hard temptation he had undergone and the
crown as the reward of his toil (Apoc. iii. 12). That the
crown was hung upon the column, i.e. that the due reward
was given to victory, the apoStle bears witness ( 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8).

Novice. —Of what fight is the apoStle here speaking ?

Mon\.—Oi that which ever goes on againSt the triple foe;
to wit, the flesh, the world and the devil. In times of peace
it is as pleasing to God that the faithful should always be
fighting with vices and evil desires to preserve his innocence,
as that he should expose his body to the sword and to torture
in times of persecution. Whence comes that hymn of the
Church: “ The confessor, who suftains such things in the
fight, runs his course as well as the martyr who suffers him¬
self to be pierced and pours forth his blood by the sword."

Novice. —Still, I cannot cease from wondering that God,
who is purity itself, should allow religious, holy and perfect
men to be oppressed with these unclean temptations, and some¬
times for a long time.

Mon\. —This is believed to arise according to the dispensa¬
tion of Divine mercy from two causes; to wit, for the pro¬
tection of humility, and for the provision of material on which
virtue may be exercised. Who in this world has been
greater than the apoftle ? and yet it is he who says: Lett I
should be exalted above measure by the abundance of the

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revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a
messenger from Satan to buflet me (2 Cor. xii. 7). As the
scripture tells us: remnants of the unclean races were left in
the promised land that Israel might be proved by them (Judg.
iii. 4). For when it so pleases God, in one hour He takes
away all our temptations.

CHAPTER XCVII.

Of the temptation of the mon\ Bernard, who in a
dream saw himself made an eunuch.

There is a certain prieSt and monk in Clairvaux, if indeed
he is Still alive, noble in birth but far more noble in virtue,
named Bernard; he at one time was so vexed and troubled by
Satan through the goad of the flesh, that he was already deter¬
mining to give way altogether to temptation, and to return,
after all his vain Striving, to the world. He had confessed
this afflidtion once, twice, and many times, but Still he could
gain no relief. At length as if conquered, he went to the
prior, and asked him to give him a cloak, saying that he meant
to return to the world, because he felt that he muSt marry.
After many prayers the prior persuaded him to wait at any
rate for that night. He waited, and the Lord, who saves
them that put their truSl in Him, comforted him that night in
a dream, like those blessed magi, whom he warned not to
return to Herod.

Scarcely had he fallen asleep, than behold, afar off, he saw a
horrible man, like an executioner, hastening towards him with
a long knife in his hand. At this sight he trembled, and no
wonder. For he thought that the man rushed upon him with
terrible swiftness and cruelly mutilated him. Then awake-
ing from the horror of this nightmare he thought that he had
been made an eunuch, which indeed was true, though not
as the vision showed, with a material knife, but by spiritual

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Of Temptation

grace. In the morning he went to the prior, and told him
how he had been delivered, and recounted to him all the
vision; and the prior glorified God who had delivered His
servant Bernard so marvellously and so swiftly. It is said that
to this day he is virgin of his body; and this Story is very
celebrated in our Order.

Novice .—If holy men are thus foully tempted, I shall not
now be so ashamed as hitherto to confess my own unclean
temptations; always have I been afraid that my confessors
would despise me, if I disclosed anything foul.

Mon \.—No wise confessor will despise anyone who accuses
himself; rather will he comfort him, fearing left he himself
should be led into similar temptation. I know that such a
thing has happened to an aged and saintly prieft.

CHAPTER XCVII 1 .

The life of Dom Everard, the vicar of S. fames.

There was a holy and spiritually-minded prieSt who had
charge of the parish of S. James the Apoftle at Cologne, and
was illuftrious for the splendour of his many virtues. For
indeed he was learned, humble, chaste and genial, the father
of the poor, the protector of the religious, a lover of the whole
Christian community, dear to God, and beloved by the whole
city. It was this Dom Everard, the vicar of S. James, who
foresaw the conversion of our abbot Gevard, as was told in
the seventh chapter of the firft book. All the virtues, that
the blessed Job claims for himself, had been beftowed in great
abundance on this righteous man by Divine grace. When in
Lent, the sons of the citizens, young men brought up in luxury,
came to him to confess their sins, which were chiefly the
fleshly sins so much foftered by cofily living, because he had
never experienced such temptations, he used to upbraid them
sometimes more harshly than was expedient, saying: “ It is

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disgraceful that Christian men should be agitated by such foul
emotions,” and thus he discouraged the weakly, and brought
upon them some measure of despair. But the juft and merci¬
ful God, who, for the benefit of the flock, suffered Peter to
fall, taught His beloved servant by the scourge of temptation,
and that he might learn to compassionate the fallen, permitted
him a similar afflidion (2 Cor. xii. 7). From this he learnt in
his own person how he ought to heal others.

At the time when abbot Herman, of whom I spoke above,
was newly made a monk, he was tempted and diftressed by
the dings of the flesh, and having heard the fame of this vicar’s
sandity, he went to him in the hope that his merits and
prayers might bring him some relief, and found him making
his preparation for the mass. He had intended to make his
confession, but as there was no time then to do this, he said
secretly in his ear : “ Father, I am grievously tormented by
the dings of the flesh; ask God to deliver me.” The other
looked at him and replied abruptly in a loud voice: “ Truly
I am tormented in the same way; how then shall I be able to
pray for you?” And as Herman told me himself, he went
away much helped by the knowledge that a man, so holy and
so aged, suffered the same temptations as himself. I was
told by another monk and pried, who knew much about his
life, that when at mass he offered the kiss of peace to any
of the clerks, he, to avoid temptation, touched with his mouth
any part of the other’s face, to avoid kissing him.

Since Strength is made perfect in weakness, the Lord once
tempted and afflided His beloved with violent pains in the
head, such as, in one commentary upon the Apoftle, are called
the thorn in the flesh, so severe that he grew weary of life.
He found himself unable to pray or to read, and went to a
celebrated physician, and asked him, for Chrid’s sake, to give
him some advice againd this continuous pain. The other,
more intent upon money than upon any heavenly reward,
answered: “If you will pay me three marks, I will cure you
easily.” To whom the holy man replied : “ I do not possess
three marks, but I will willingly pay you the half of that
sum but the dodor said: “ I cannot work for so little.”
Then he : “ If I had three marks, I would rather give them to

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Of Temptation

the poor than to you; I commit my sickness to God.” Juft
are the judgments of the Lord. When the blessed man had
said this and gone away, that very hour the pains in the head
completely passed from him and attacked the doftor. None
of the volume of the sickness was diminished, nothing of its
nature or of its symptoms was altered (Luke iv. 23). This
miracle was related at table in my hearing by a canon of S.
Severinus, by name Rudolf, by profession himself a doftor.

Novice .—Since the fame of this venerable prieft is so widely
spread in Cologne, I beg of you to be kind enough to tell me
anything edifying about him that you may have heard.

Mon \.—I have gathered only a few of his many afts, but
these I will tell you. One day he was carrying the body of
the Lord in a pyx to communicate a sick man and had come
into the High Street, which is very narrow, and along which
I have often walked myself, and 1 know it to be a ftreet very
muddy and filthy, and it was here that he met a firing of asses
laden with corn. On one side the sacks touched the wall,
and on the other hung over the kennel. The scholar, who
was going before him with a lantern, did indeed get through
with much difficulty, now driving the asses out of the way,
and now being driven by them. The prieft, seeing this, and
considering that he was a man both old and infirm, began to
tremble and grow pale, fearing that he might be pushed by
the asses and hurled with the Blessed Sacrament into the mud.
It was necessary that this trial should exercise the man of God
that his faith might shine the brighter. Perceiving that no
human help was available, and inspired by Him, whom he
was carrying, he broke into these words: “ What are you
doing, O asses, do you not consider whom I am carrying in
my hands? Stand Still, come down from the highway into
the kennel, give honour to your Creator, for in His name 1
give you this command.” Wonderful obedience of the dumb
animals. At the word of the prieft they all flood Still, they all
came down into the kennel. Miracle was added to miracle;
for though the descent was not easy, not a single sack slipped
from the back of any of the beafls. The saintly man mar¬
velled at their obedience and glorified God, and came to his
sick parishioner without mishap. This aft of his is well

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known to this day in the city of Cologne. How great
humility was his, the following incident will show.

It was his regular habit to invite the poor to his dinner
table; and it happened one day that two were brought in, one
of whom was so afflicted and so revolting to look upon that
the other refused to sit at the same table with him. A little
table had been prepared for them opposite the priett; and when
the man of God had considered the case, honouring Chritt in
His poor, he called the despised pauper to him, and bade them
place a seat for him at his own table, and did not hesitate to
eat from the same dish with him, and drink from the same cup.

It is said also to have been his custom to have delicate
meats often prepared both for his friends and guetts and
also for the sick poor whom he knew to be bedridden in
their homes. And when these dishes were laid before him,
he examined them carefully, inhaled their odour, turned
them about with his hand, that thus he might be tempted
the more by provoking his appetite, and might deserve the
more by not satisfying it for Chris’s sake. Then he would
say to his servant: “ Take this dish to such a widow, or to
such a poor or sick man, for truly they need it more than I.”

Though by works of this kind his light was shining
brightly in the House of God, yet it pleased his Matter that
the following occasion should make it yet more radiant.
Dom Philip, the archbishop of Cologne was heavily weighed
down by debt because of the cattle he had bought for the
Blessed Peter, and being told by some that the vicar of S.
James had great sums of money laid by, he sent messengers
to borrow the money. The priett told them that he had no
money, and gave them the keys of his ttrong box ; wherein
the only thing discovered was a pair of leather shoes, carefully
greased, which he had bought to give to the poor. The
messengers returned with shame, and told the bishop these
things ; and he, fearing for his own soul, as a certain clerk
told me, sent for the venerable priett, and threw himself at
his feet, entreating pardon for the wrong he had offered him.

Our Order was especially dear to him, and he wished to
take the vows in it, but was dissuaded by certain abbots of
the same Order, as I underttood, because they knew the

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Of Temptation

great holiness o£ his life, and felt that it was essential for
those who were Still in the. world. Full of years and virtues,
he departed to be with the Lord, and was buried in the church
of the Blessed George the Martyr.

Novice. —If luxury can tempt a man so aged and so holy,
1 shall never again be surprised that it attacks the young.

Mon\. —As I said, there is scarcely any age that luxury
spares (Gen. xlviv. 17). Here are examples.

CHAPTER XCIX.

Of a clerk in Sod! who was burnt to death on an
accusation of adultery.

Not long ago there was a clerk who had come to SoeSt
from another diflrift; his name was Herman, he was young,
and comely both in face and figure. On whom a woman
who lived in that town caft her eyes, and became so
enamoured of him that she said : “ All that I have shall be
yours, if you will love me.” But the youth remembered S.
Joseph, and despised all her protestations and promises ;
and when she found that she could gain nothing, she accused
him before the judges of assaulting her. He denied the
charge, but was not believed, and was thrufl into a close
prison, to wit, the cell for malefadtors awaiting death. She,
under the goad of luff, pretending that the clerk had made
her mad, climbed the wall with a ladder, threw herself down,
embraced the youth, and implored him to consent to her :
but not even so did she gain anything.

When the judges heard of it, they drew forth the innocent
youth and sent him to the flake as if he had been a vile
magician. And when he was half consumed in the flames,
so that his breafl was burft and his lungs exposed, then,.
in a loud voice so that all could hear, he chanted the angelic

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The Dialogue on Miracles

salutation of the Ave Maria. Immediately one of the by¬
standers, a relation of the woman, snatched up a burning
coal and thruSt it into his mouth, crying: “ I will put a Stop
to those prayers of yours,” and so choked him. What need
of more? He died, and his bones were buried in the open
field. At his tomb lights were often seen, and miracles were
wrought. Then the kinsfolk of the aforesaid adulteress were
terrified, proStrated themselves before the feet of the canons
of S. Patroclus, entreated for pardon and undertook penance
for the death of the righteous ; later a church was built
over his tomb. Luxury, in the form of a woman, li^e a
serpent in the way, i.e. openly, attacked this youth and burnt
his body, but did not overcome his soul. To another it
came as an adder in the path, as follows.

CHAPTER C.

Of a lay-brother, at whose feet a serving girl made
her bed.

A few years ago, a lay-brother, whom I knew well, a
devout and upright man, had conducted into Flanders a
barge containing wine of his monastery. One night, the
maid servant of his ho$t, after preparing as usual a bed for
him in the upper room of the house, laid another bed for
herself at the lay-brother’s feet. When he had said compline,
he went to bed ; and as the light was out, she undressed
silently, and lay down in the bed she had prepared, touching
the feet of the lay-brother with her bare feet, and coughing
to let him know that she was there. But the lay-brother
never perceived the wiles of this adder, thinking that the
bed had been prepared for some other man. She bit the
heels of the horse, i.e. of the lay-brother, but its rider, i.e.
the spirit of the man, did not fall backwards by any consent ;
for as soon as he heard a woman’s voice, he got up forthwith,

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Of Temptation

dressed himself, went to the window of the room, and there,
occupied in prayer, awaited the morning. For some time
she remained in suspense, and at laSt arose, and Stole down¬
stairs in confusion.

Novice. —What is this certifies, or horned adder that you
speak of?

Mon\. —It is a serpent that has horns, horns that are
sharper than any Steel, with a double edge like a sword.
The Greek word for horns is cerata. Luxury is a ceraStes,
because it not only slays the soul, but also irreparably corrupts
the body (i Cor. vi. 18).

CHAPTER Cl.

Of a provofl who on his death bed sinned with a
woman in hope of recovery.

I remember a prieSt who was provoSt in an Order of
Regulars, whom luxury, very insidiously and very perilously,
tossed on its horns by means of a woman. For when he
was in very sore sickness, he was told by the dodlor, or rather
by the devil through the mouth of the dodtor, that he could
not get well unless he consorted with a woman. He, think¬
ing only of this present life, and forgetful of the future,
did this. Nevertheless it profited him nothing, but rather
injured him, for within a few days he died. And thus by
the persuasion of the old serpent, the time of penance became
for him a time of sin. The judgment of his soul I leave
to God. These things were told me in the very house where
he had been provoSt by a priest of the same Order, known
to me both by sight and name.

Novice. —We spoke before of that maxim of the holy Job :
the life of man upon the earth is temptation ; is not this to
be underwood about both sexes?

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Mon\. —Certainly ; because the word man, as used here,
includes both sexes, and both sexes are subjed to the same
emotions. And as the devil overthrows and enervates men
by means of women, so by means of men does he win over
a multitude of women. Whence it is said of him by the
Lord to Job : Lo, now his flrength is in his loins, and his
force is in the naval of his belly. Upon which passage S.
Gregory says that luxury lies for men in the loins and for
women in the naval. And how greatly they are sometimes
tempted I will show you by examples.

CHAPTER CII.

Of a chdtelaine who checked the fling of the flesh
in water.

A noble matron, as was told me by a prieSl who was also
a monk, was one day left alone in her caftle ; and I know
not what she was doing or thinking, but the spirit of forni¬
cation did not suffer her to remain alone, for suddenly she
was so violently inflamed that she ran hither and thither,
and could neither Stand nor sit, as if she had received a
burning iron into her body. When she could no longer
endure the torment, she caSt aside all thought of honour,
went down to the porter of the caStle, and besought him
with much urgency to lie with her. But he, being a good
man, replied: “ What is this, lady ? are you mad ? Think
of God, think of your own honour.” She, caring nothing
for either, when she saw herself repulsed by the porter, went
out of the caSlle, ran to the river which flowed by the walls,
threw herself into its cold waters and remained there until
she had quenched all the smouldering fuel of her desire.
Then she went back to the porter, thanked him for his
refusal and said : “ If anyone were now to offer me a thousand
marks of gold, I would not suffer what I asked from you

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a little while ago ; ” and she returned to her own rooms.
The merciful Lord adts like a loving mother, who permits
her beloved child to crawl near the fire and enjoy the warmth,
but when it wishes to enter it, she draws it back with
exceeding hafte. Of this you will hear more fully in the
following chapter.

CHAPTER CIII.

Of a nun in England who found temptation in
the president of her convent .

In England there was a certain spiritually-minded man
who was set to preside over a convent of nuns. Now he
was of tall Mature, and comely to look upon, with ruddy
cheeks and bright eyes, so that scarcely any, who were
ignorant of his spiritual qualities, would have guessed at
the depth of his religion. One of the younger nuns of that
community, by often gazing upon him, began to be so
tempted and so grievously troubled by the Stings of the flesh,
that at laSt she put away all modeSty and opened to him
her passion. The holy man, having the fear of God before
his eyes, was horrified, and tried by all means in his power
to divert the maiden’s thoughts, saying: “ You are the
spouse of ChriSt; if I were to corrupt the spouse of my Lord,
He would not suffer it to pass with impunity ; neither could
such a crime long lie hidden from the eyes of men.” Then
she said that if he would not consent, she would die ; and
he replied: “ Since it cannot be otherwise, let it be as you
wish. Where then shall we meet? ” She answered : “ This
night I will come to you wherever you may appoint.” Then
he said : “ No, it muSt take place in daylight ” ; and he
showed the maiden a shed in the orchard, solemnly charging
her to come thither at a certain hour without anyone seeing
or knowing. She came, and the man of God said to her:

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“ Lady, it is right and expedient for you that you should
firSt see this body of mine, which you so eagerly desire, and
then if it Still pleases you, you can satisfy yourself with it.”
When he had thus spoken and she remained silent, he put
off his garments, took off the rough hair shirt which he wore
next his person, and showed her his naked body, eaten with
vermin, scarred with the hair shirt, covered with sores, and
black with grime, and said : “ See what it is that you love,
and take your pleasure if you Still desire it.”

When she saw this proof of his auSterity, her heart sank
within her, and turning now red and now pale, she cast
herself at his feet and besought pardon. Then he: “ Go
back secretly into your convent, and see that you do not
betray my secret till after my death.” From that hour the
temptation, which had been aroused in the virgin by the
wantonness of unbridled eyes, departed from her for ever.
Let these be enough examples of the temptation of luxury.

Novice .—With what weapons should we fight againSf
these seven vices of which you have discoursed so long?

Mon —With their opposite virtues.

Novice .—What are virtues, and why are they so called?

Mon \.—Virtues are spiritual qualities by which we walk
uprightly. They are called virtues, because they Stand
opposed to the vices. Humility should Stand againSt pride,
gentleness againSt anger, affection againSt envy, spiritual
cheerfulness againSt melancholy, open-handedness againSt
avarice, moderation in food and drink againSt gluttony,
chaStity againSt luxury. Moreover, if in the Struggle
againSt temptations the virtues conquer the vices, the vidtory
is deserved, and eternal reward follows after the deserving.
For this has been promised by our Lord Jesus ChriSt, who is
the Way, in example ; the Truth, in promise ; and the
Life, in reward. To Him, with the Father and the Holy
GhoSt, be honour and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

312

BOOK V

OF DEMONS

CHAPTER I.

Of demons, their numbers, their malice and their
hostility to man.

It seems fitting that after temptation we should treat of
the tempters. Demons are called tempters, because they
are either the authors or provokers of all the temptations
that draw men to sin. If the devil tempted the firff man
in Paradise, if he presumed to tempt Chrift in the Desert,
what man is there in the world that he will leave untempted ?
To every man there are assigned two angels, the good for
protection, the evil for trial.

Novice .—I have no doubt in my mind about the holy
angels, because they are often spoken of in the writings of
the prophets ; but I should like you to show me from the
scriptures of either Testament what demons are, how many
they are, how wicked, and how appointed to eternal flames.

Mon \.—There is abundance of proof of these things. Of
Lucifer, that is the devil, so called because of his beauty and
his fall, Isaiah says: How art thou fallen from heaven, O
Lucifer, son of the morning (Isa. xiv. 12). That he became
the devil, and that he fell from heaven, the Saviour bears
witness, when He says ? / beheld Satan as lightning fall from
heaven (Luke x. 18). Job says of him: There was a day
when the sons of God came to present themselves before the
Lord, and Satan came also among them (Job. i. 6) ; and in

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The Dialogue on Miracles

the Psalm David, speaking of the traitor Judas, says: Let
Satan Hand at his right hand (Ps. cviv. 5). Also Habakkuk
speaking of ChriSt: The devil went forth at his feet (Hab.
iii. 5. Vulg.), and in many other places the scripture speaks
of the devil. That he was not alone, and that he did not
fall alone, John witnesses in the Apocalypse (xii. 78). His
malice changed into a dragon the glorious Lucifer, of whose
beauty and comeliness is said by Ezekiel: Thou art the seal
of the image of God, full of wisdom and perfeft in beauty.
Thou haft been in Eden, the garden of God ; every precious
ftone was thy covering (Ez. xxviii. 12. Vulg.), etc. It is
believed that the tenth part of the angels fell, and on account
of their multitude the ApoStle calls them the powers of the
air (Eph. ii. 2), for in falling they filled the air. Of their
presumption the prophet speaks to ChriSt in the Psalm
(Ps. lxxiv. 24). And the Lord in the gospel says to the Jews:
Ye do the deeds of your father the devil; he was a liar from
the beginning and the father of it (John viii. 41, 44). That
he is hostile to men, Job is witness (Job xl. 23). Wherefore
the apoStle Peter warns us : (1 Pet. v. 8, 9). What is said about
one is to be understood of the reSt since the singular ntimber is
often used for the plural. That they are to be damned
eternally is deduced from the words of the Lord, in Matt,
xxv. 41. And I think that the fifth book is the right place
to treat of the demons, because the philosophers call five the
apoState number, since if joined to any other odd number as
a multipler, it always shows itself, perhaps at the beginning,
certainly at the end. Thus the devil, withdrawing from the
foursquare of eternal Stability, is the firSt to ally himself with
wicked men, who are as unequal numbers, and shows him¬
self in his iniquity, often at the beginning, and always at
the end of a<ft or speech.

Novice. —I confess that the point wherein I doubted has
been proved to me by the testimony of holy scripture ; but
I do not confess myself satisfied, unless you make these
things clear by living examples.

Mon\. —That there are demons, that they are many, and
that they are wicked, I shall be able to show you by many
examples.

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Of Demons

CHAPTER II.

Of the knight Henry who disbelieved in the
exigence of demons, and saw them with his own
eyes through a necromancer.

There was a knight, whose name was Henry, who came
from the caStle of FalkenStein and was butler of our fellow
monk, Csesarius, at that time abbot of Priim. Now, as I
have heard from Caesarius hmself, this knight did not believe
in the exigence of demons, but looked upon anything that
he heard or ever had heard about them as mere frivolous
nonsense ; and therefore he sent for a certain clerk named
Philip, who was moil famous for his skill in necromancy,
and besought him earnestly to show him some demons. His
reply was that demons were both horrible and dangerous
to look upon, and that it was not good for all men to see them.
But when the knight continued eagerly to urge his requeSt,
he went on: “ If you will guarantee that I shall receive no
harm from your friends or relations, if by chance you shall
be deceived or terrified or injured by the demons, I will
consent.” And he gave him the guarantee.

One day at noon, because demonic power is at its greatest
at that hour, Philip took the knight to a cross road, drew a
circle round him with a sword, placed him within it, and
explained to him the law of circle within circle, and then
said: “ If you put forth any of your limbs outside this circle
before I come back, you will die, because you will immediately
be dragged forth by the demons and torn in pieces.” He
warned him further, that whatever they might beg of him,
he muSt give them nothing, and promise them nothing, and
that he should not make the sign of the cross ; and added:
“ The demons will tempt you and terrify you in many ways,
but yet they will not be able to hurt you, if you follow care¬
fully my instructions ” ; and then he left him.

While he sat alone within the circle, lo 1 he saw coming
againSt him floods of waters, then he heard the grunting of

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swine, the howling of wind, and many other similar phan¬
tasms, with which the demons sought to terrify him. But
as an expected javelin does not wound, he found Strength
in himself to resift all these attacks. Laft of all, he saw in
a neighbouring wood a figure like a horrible human shadow
higher than the tops of the trees, hastening towards him ;
and he felt at once that this was the devil, as indeed it was.
When he reached the circle, he Stood Still, and asked the
knight what he wanted of him. He was in appearance like
a gigantic man, very huge and very black, clothed in a dark
robe, and so hideous that the knight could not look upon
him ; but he replied : “You have done well to come, because
I wanted to see you.’’ “ What for? ’’ he asked, “ Because I
have heard so much about you.” When the devil asked
what he had heard about him, the knight replied: “ Very
little good and much evil.” To which the devil said : “ Men
often judge and condemn me without good cause ; I have
harmed no one, I never attack anyone unless provoked. Your
MaSter Philip is a good friend of mine, and I of his ; ask
him if I have ever offended him. I do his pleasure, and he
obliges me in all things ; it was by his summons that I have
come to you now.

Then the knight: “ Where were you when he called you? ”
The demon answered : “ As far on the other side of the sea
as the sea is from here ; and so I think it is fair that you
should give me some reward for my trouble.” When the
knight asked him what he wished for, he replied: “ I beg
you to give me your cloak.” The knight said he would
not give it him ; and then he demanded his girdle, and then
a sheep from his flock. Finding all these requests refused,
laft of all he asked for the cock that was in his courtyard.
Then the knight said : “ Why, what use would it be to you ? ”
and the demon answered ; “ He will sing to me.” “ But
how would you take him? ” “ You need not trouble about

that ; all I ask is that you will consent to give him to me.”

Then the knight said: “ I will not give you anything at
all ; ” and went on : “ Tell me, where do you get all your
knowledge from?” The demon said: “There is no evil
done in all the world that is hidden from me. To show you

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Of Demons

that this is true, I tell you that it was in such and such a
town, and in such and such a house that you loft your inno¬
cence, and that in this place and that that you committed
such and such sins ; ” nor was the knight able to deny that
he had spoken truth.

Novice .— Surely the knight can never have confessed these
sins ; for how could the devil know them if they had been
confessed ?

Mony^.—If he had confessed with the intention of sinning
again, he would in no degree have taken away the devil’s
knowledge.

Novice .— 1 am glad to hear what you say, because
I remember you said the same thing in the sixth chapter of
the third book.

Monl — For some time the devil continued to make all
kinds of requefts, but only met with repeated refusals ; and
at laft he ftretched out his arm towards the knight, as if
intending to drag him out and carry him off, and so terrified
him, that he fell backwards and cried out. Hearing his
voice, Philip ran up, and at his coming the phantom
immediately disappeared. From that time forward the
knight was deathly pale, and never regained his former healthy
colour ; he lived very carefully, and had no doubts hence¬
forth concerning the exiftence of demons. He died a little
while ago.

CHAPTER III.

Of a priefl, who was drawn out of the circle by the
demons, and so injured that he died within three
days.

About the same time there was a foolish prieft, who sent
for Philip, and gave him money on condition that he would
show him the demons. Accordingly, he placed him in a

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circle in the fashion already described, and gave him the
usual instructions, but the prieSt was frightened and drawn
out by the devil, and so injured before Philip could return,
that he died on the third day. His house was confiscated
by Walter, Count of Luxemberg. I myself have seen this
Philip who was killed a few years ago by the agency, it is
believed, of his maSter and friend, the devil.

CHAPTER IV.

Also of a cler\ in Toledo, who was drawn out by
the wiles of the demons and carried to hell.

Our fellow monk, Gotteschalk, of VolmarStein, of blessed
memory told me a Story which I muSt not omit. One day
he asked the aforesaid Philip to tell him some of the more
remarkable things that he had seen in the practice of his art,
and the other replied as follows: “ I will tell you a very
wonderful thing which actually happened at Toledo during
my own lifetime.

There were in that city many scholars from different
countries Studying the art of necromancy, and among them
some young men from Swabia and Bavaria, who, hearing
from their maSter certain Stupendous and incredible State¬
ments, and determined to search out the truth, said to him:
“ MaSter, we beg you to give us ocular demonstration of
what you have been telling us, so that we may gain some
result of our Studies.”

He tried to put them off, but failed, owing to the per¬
sistence of their national character ; and so, at the proper
hour, he took them into a field, drew a circle round them,
and warned them, under the penalty of death, to remain
within the circle, and not to give anything to any who might
ask, or take anything from any who might offer. Then he
withdrew a little way from them, and called the demons by

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Of Demons

his incantations. Immediately they showed themselves under
the appearance of well-armed soldiers, pradfising their military
games around the youths. At one time they would pretend
to fall, at another they would ffretch out their lances and
swords againft them, trying in every way to induce them to
leave the circle. When they found that this was of no avail,
they changed themselves into very beautiful girls, and danced
about them, inviting the young men with every kind of
alluring movement. One of them, more beautiful than the
reft, chose out one of the scholars, and as often as she danced
up to him, held out a gold ring, inflaming him to love both by
inward suggeftion, and by the outward motion of the body.
When she had done this over and over again, the youth was
at laft overcome, and put his finger outside the circle to
receive the ring, and immediately she drew him out by that
finger, and disappeared with him.

As soon as the quarry was caught, the whole assembly
of friends became a whirling miff. The scholars raised an
outcry, the maffer ran up, and they all complained to him
of the loss of their companion. He answered: “ It is not
my fault, you urged me to this ; I told you what would
happen ; you will never see him again.” They at once
rejoined : “ Unless you get him back for us, we will kill you.”
Then afraid for his life, for he knew what madmen Bavarians
are, he answered: “I will try if there may be any hope for
him.” Then he summoned the chief of the band of demons,
reminded him of all his faithful service, and told him that
this would be a great blow to his teaching and that he himself
would be killed by his pupils, if the youth were not reflored.
The devil was moved with compassion, and replied: “ To¬
morrow I will hold a council in such a place for your sake ;
you muff be present, and if you can in any way get him back
by the vote of the meeting, I shall be pleased.”

Why should I say more ? The council of the fiends met at
the command of the chief, and the maffer made his complaint
of the violence done to his disciple. The adversary replied :
“ Sir, I have done him neither wrong nor violence, he was
disobedient to his maffer, he did not keep the law of the
circle.” While they thus disputed, the leader spoke to a

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The Dialogue on Miracles

certain demon, his coadjutor, as to the decision they were to
give: “ Oliver, you were always a good counsellor, you are
never a respefter of persons in defiance of justice ; solve the
question of this dispute.” The other replied: “ I decide
that the youth should .be restored to his maSter,” and turning
at once to the adversary he said : “ You muSt give him back,
because you were too importunate.”

The others gave assent to this decision, and at the command
of the judge, the scholar was at once brought back from hell
and restored to his maSter, the council was broken up, and
the maSter returned to his disciples, rejoicing in the booty
he had recovered ; but the face of him thus brought back
was so haggard, and so ghaStly pale with a fixed and death¬
like pallor, that he seemed only now to have returned from
the tomb. He told his companions what he had seen in hell,
and showed them by example rather than by word how
hateful to God and how accursed was all such teaching ; and
leaving Toledo, he became a monk in a monastery of our
Order.

Novice .—I call to mind now those other two, to wit, the
youth who took the vows at Toledo on the warning of his
dead comrade, and the clerk who was converted by seeing
the punishment of the Landgrave, as you told me in the
thirty-third and thirty-fourth chapters of the firSt book.

Mon\. —Conrad, one of our elder monks, told me that
before his conversion a certain necromancer made a display to
him one night, and he saw demons under different forms
in the light of the full moon. Wherefore there can be no
doubt of their existence, since they can be seen, heard and
touched by men.

Novice .—Athough it has been proved to me that there are
demons, nevertheless I should be better pleased to hear the
testimony of the religious about them rather than that only
of worldly men.

Mon \.—That demons exiSt, and that they are many, 1
will show you, not by doubtful examples of worldly persons,
but by moSt faithful evidence of the religious, about which
you can have no doubt.

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Of Demons

CHAPTER V.

Of Herman, the abbot of Marrienfiatt, who saw
demons under various forms.

Dom Herman, now abbot of Marienftatt, was a man
whose spirituality and authority are well known to you. He
was a man of ancient race and noble birth, and before his
conversion had been canon of Bonn Cathedral ; then he
became a monk in Hemmenrode, and when, not long after¬
wards, our convent was sent out from that monastery, he
was appointed the firft abbot of the new community. After
a few years we loft him, as he was reftored to Hemmenrode,
being elected as abbot there. At that time there was a lay-
brother, by name Henry, mafter of the grange, called Hart,
a man good and upright, of mature age and virgin in body.
Among other gifts that he had received from the Lord was
this, that he used often to see demons, under different forms,
passing to and fro in the choir at the night offices.

Once, in confession, he told this to Herman, who,
being kindled by his example into a desire to see demons
himself, prayed very earneftly to God that He would
deign to grant him this favour; and immediately his
prayer was heard. For when, on the next S. Martin's
Day, he was ftanding in the choir at matins, he saw
a demon in the form of a thick-set peasant, come in
near the lower part of the presbytery. This demon
had a broad breaft, pointed shoulders and a short neck ; his
hair was fashionably dressed in front, the reft hanging down
like drooping ears of corn ; and he went to a certain novice
and ftood in front of him. When Dom Herman, who was
not yet abbot, had gazed upon him for a time, and, after
turning his eyes away for a little, again wished to see him,
he had already disappeared. At another time the demon,
transforming himself into a calf’s tail, threw himself upon a
bench againft which the same novice was leaning, and then
very smoothy and gradually dragged himself towards him ;
and immediately this tail touched his shoulders, the novice

3 21

21

The Dialogue on Miracles

at once became faulty in his singing and when he touched the
ground with his fingers in acknowledgement of his fault in
accordance with the Rule, the demon as if suddenly driven
by a whirlwind, withdrew from him an arm’s length, and so
disappeared. For not even that spirit of pride, who with
his tail draws the third part of the Bars of heaven (Apoc. xii. 4),
can resift a single sign of humility. That novice was Father
Alexander, who is now prior in Hemmenrode. It is likely
that at that time, he was allowing some light thoughts, so
that the frivolous emotions they engendered were a temptation
and a hindrance to his devotions.

Novice. —It pleases me to hear this.

Mon\. —Further, on the vigil of S. Kunibert (he was then
a simple monk) he saw from his place in the abbot’s choir, two
demons enter near the presbytery, and go gradually towards
the abbot’s ftall between the choirs of the monks and novices.
When they came opposite to the angle where the walls meet,
there sprang forth a third demon, who joined the other two,
and went out with them. They passed so close to him that
he could have touched them with his hand. Looking at them
more closely, he noticed that they did not touch the ground
with their feet, being powers of the air. One of the firft two
had the face of a woman, and was wearing a black veil, and
was covered with a black cloak. And as he told me, that
monk, who had been harbouring the third demon, was a
notorious grumbler and thrall of accidie, one who slept will¬
ingly in church, and chanted reluctantly, being ever more ready
to drink than to sing ; one to whom the shorteft services
seemed always too long.

At another time, when he was now prior, on the vigil, I
think, of S. Columbanus, the abbot’s choir was beginning the
firft psalm for matins: Lord how are they increased that
trouble me (Ps. iii.), the demons so thronged the choir that by
their number and going to and fro, the brethren quickly broke
down in the psalm, and when the other side of the choir tried
to put them right, the demons flying across and mingling with
them so difturbed them that they no longer knew what they
were singing, and soon each side was shouting againft the
other. The lord abbot Euftace and prior Herman, seeing this,

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Of Demons

came down from their Stalls and tried to remedy the confusion,
but were unable to restore the singing or to change the discord
into harmony. At length, that short and well known psalm
was somehow finished, after a great deal of difficulty and con¬
fusion, and the devil, the origin of the trouble, departed with
his satellites, and peace once more descended upon the singers.
It was at this time that the prior saw the devil flying in the
form of a dragon of the length of a spear, and passing close to
a lighted lamp, so that his departure was plain to him as he
watched. The other demons had shadowy bodies somewhat
larger than those of infants and their faces were the colour of
iron that has firft been drawn from the furnace.

Novice .—Since there were so many demons collected
together in one place to interrupt one congregation, I cannot
doubt that in the whole world their numbers muff be count¬
less.

Moni j.—The gospel bears witness that a legion entered
into one man. Wherefore since they are so numerous and so
evil, and alas ! as has been said, so exceeding eager to put
{tumbling blocks in the way of our salvation, my advice is that
when we {land up to sing, we should be very careful and very
earnest, very fervent and very humble, left the vice of com¬
placent shouting should extinguish the virtue of holy fervour.
For juft as the evil spirits are difturbed by the devotion of our
hearts, so do they rejoice in the self-satisfied uplifting of our
voices.

One night when the precentor for the week began the anti¬
phon of the 94th psalm, and the monk next him took it up on
a rather low note, Herwic, who was then sub-prior, together
with the other elder men joined in on the same note. There
was {landing in the lower part of the choir a certain not very
wise young monk, who, being annoyed that the psalm was
begun on so low a note, raised it by nearly five tones. The sub¬
prior resifted, but the other refused to give way, and showing
much pertinacity, gained the upper hand. In the next verse
some on the other side aided him, but the others flopped sing¬
ing because of the scandal and the dreadful discord. At this
moment prior Herman saw a demon, like a white-hot iron,
leave the monk who had thus gained his end, and pass over to

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those on the opposite side who had taken his part. From
which we may gather that humble chanting with real devotion
is more pleasing to God than voices raised in arrogance to
heaven.

Another night when he had summoned the brethren to
vigil, and was Standing in his place looking at the eaSt window
and wondering at the brightness of the light, there passed
before his vision a demon like an Ethiopian, of huge size, and
as black as if he had that moment been drawn out of hell fire.
This demon came through the upper choir, passed by him
and went out.

Again at another time when he had gone a little way from
his Stall to encourage the brethren, he saw a demon of horrible
aspect pass with a rush between the Stalls of abbot and prior;
he gave a baleful glance at the prior’s choir and seeing that
no way lay open for him because the prior himself was block¬
ing it, betook himself hurriedly into the Stalls of the novices
and joined himself to a certain senior monk who was sitting
there. This monk was not unlike in chara< 5 ter to that other
who had harboured the demon, being too fond of drink, lazy,
and a great grumbler. See how such things ought to be a
warning to monks afflifted with accidie.

Novice .—Both these Stories, as well as those which I
remember you told about accidie in the former book ought
to be a terror to any who go to sleep in church or sing the
psalms carelessly.

Mon \.—Often did he see demons in very minute forms
flitting about the church, and often he saw them glittering in
various places with a sinister light. Conscious that the sight
of them was injurious to the eyes, and well aware of their
malice, one day, after saying the mass of the Holy Spirit, he
besought God that he might see them no more. Then
suddenly the universal enemy showed himself in the form of
a very bright eye, about the size of a man’s fiSt, in which some
living presence seemed to dwell, as though he said : “ Look
well at me now, for you will never see me again.” Yet he
did see him afterwards, but neither so clearly nor so frequently
as before.

He was appointed abbot in Marienftatt at the time when the
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Of Demons

noble lady, Alice, Countess of Froizbreth was being buried
there as foundress of the monastery, and while her body was
Still lying in the coffin, he saw a demon circling round the
bier, and searching every corner with his eyes as if he had loSt
something belonging to him.

Less than a year ago, when, as our prior, he was going
into the church at the canonical hour, after translating some
secular business outside, he saw a demon marching before
him as if he were his guide. The form of the body he had
assumed was miSty and unsubstantial, like a cloud. Then a
few days later, one night after matins, he saw him Stand before
the prior under a similar appearance.

Novice .—Why is it that you were so careful to conceal the
name of this venerable abbot when you were writing your
moral homilies on the Infancy of the Saviour, and described
there nearly all these visions?

Mon \.~—Of his great love he revealed to me the secret
things of his life, but urged upon me at the time that I should
not disclose his name; a restriction that he afterwards with¬
drew on my earnest persuasion, for well I knew that the value
of his authority would give great weight to all I wrote. I now
remind you of the virtues of that venerable man, whose
sanCtity was so well known, and whose authority so unques¬
tioned that no one can fairly caSt doubt on any of his State¬
ments; his visions will be a warning both for present and
future generations.

CHAPTER VI.

Of the monk. Chriflian and the visions he saw .

A certain venerable prieSt, Christian both in name and in
reality, came to take the vows at Hemmenrode. The demons
were exceedingly importunate with him, and showed them¬
selves to him often, both before and after his conversion.
Another secular prieSt named Charles also became a novice

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in the same monastery at this time, and our prior Ysenbrand
was a companion of his in his probation. This Charles,
following the counsel of the demon, to whom he willingly
listened, consented to the gratifications of gluttony and the
flesh, and was continually pretending sickness, feigning to
limp, and lying long in bed. When he was put in the
infirmary, so much did he pamper his body and negledt his
soul, limping always when compelled to move about, and
looking in at the kitchen, and trying to discover what food
was being prepared for the infirmary, that the aforesaid
Christian often saw a demon following him, mimicking his
limp and his way of looking in at the kitchen, and everything
he did. At laSt drawing back before his year of probation
was ended, he returned to the fleshpots of Egypt, and being of
a fleshly mind, made flesh his goal.

Once when the brethren were prepared for the day’s work
and were Standing round the hall after chapter, waiting for
the sound of the gong, some of them showed themselves half¬
hearted by the lazy way in which they obeyed the signal, and
the blessed Christian saw several cats, marked with disfiguring
patches of mange, or rather demons under the appearance of
cats, fawning upon these monks with the waving of their
tails, and caressing them in sign of familiarity by rubbing
themselves againSt them. But on those who kept their vigour
and goodwill they did not dare even to look.

One day when he had proStrated himself in prayer before
one of the altars, a demon, changing himself into an enormous
toad, the size of a hen, sat down before his face. He was so
terrified by this sight that he got up and fled from the place,
for at that time he did not so well understand the wiles of the
devil.

Novice .—These visions seem to me to be moSt useful warn¬
ings againSt three vices; the firSt againSt gluttony; the second
againSt vanity, and the third againSt weariness in prayer.

Mon \.—Although we may not see him, the devil often
takes from us all the sweetness of prayer by the horrors of such
phantasms. I heard all these visions from the abbot Herman
and the monk Walter of Birbech, who were his close friends.
You shall hear in the ninth book more of his a<As and visions.

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Of [Demons

CHAPTER VII.

Of demons who were seen in Mainz upon an over¬
dressed woman.

The following story was told me by a worthy citizen, who
assured me that it atfluaily happened in his own time at Mainz,
if my memory serves me. A priest was going round his
church and sprinkling the people with holy water, and when
he came to the door of the church, he met there, Striding
haughtily in, a matron dressed out with all kinds of adorn¬
ments, as gay as a peacock; and on her skirts, which she was
dragging far behind her, he saw a number of demons sitting.
They were as small as dormice, and as black as Ethiopians,
grinning and clapping their hands and leaping hither and
thither like fish inclosed in a net; for in truth feminine extrava¬
gance is a net of the devil. Now when he saw this chariot
of demons he bade the woman wait outside, called the con¬
gregation to come to the door and adjured the devils not to
move. She Stood there in terror, while he prayed that the
people might have grace to see the vision, and because he
was a good and upright man his prayer was granted. When
the woman realised that the extravagance of her dress had
thus made her an objetft of mockery to demons, she went home
and changed her dress; and thus that vision became an
occasion of humility both to her and all the other women.

Novice .—If the demons, who incite us miserable men to
sin, are so numerous, I think too that the number of those
who drag the compliant to punishment will also be great.

Mon \.—I will inftrudf you concerning this rather by
examples than by teaching.

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CHAPTER VIII.

Of a pncU of Dit\irch, who on his deathbed saw a
vafl number of demons.

At a convent of nuns of Ditkirch, which is situated in the
township of Bonn, there died lately a prieff named Adolphus,
a man both worldly and wanton, the vicar of this convent.
A prieft, who had been a canon of Bonn, told me that one
day this Adolphus was playing dice with a relation of his,
when one of his parishioners came to him in great distress,
and besought him, humbly and with tears, to be good enough
to come and hear the confession of his mother, and give her
the communion. When the prieft replied : “ I will not come
till I have finished my game,” and the other pressed him, say¬
ing that the sick woman could not wait, the prieft grew angry
and said to the partner of his game : “ Kinsman, I make my
complaint to you of this gentleman who will not leave me in
peace.” Seeing that he could gain nothing, the other went
away, deeply grieving, and the sick woman died, without
confession and without viaticum. Three days later, he, who
had been playing with the prieft, met the son of the dead
woman, and remembering the prieft’s complaint, killed him
without other cause.

After these and very many other sins, the prieft himself
fell into mortal sickness; and as he lay on his bed in despair,
a kinswoman of his who was sitting beside him, being unable
to see any sign of contrition in him, said sadly: “ Sir, you are
very weak, prepare yourself to meet God; call upon Him that
He may forgive you your sins, and grant you time for fruitful
repentance.” But he answered, despairing: “ Do you see
that great barn opposite to us? There are under its roof as
many blades of ftraw as there are demons now gathered
round me.” And when he had said this, he fell into his
agony and died, seeing at his death the presence of those by
whose advice he had lived when in health. I could tell you
much more about the number of demons, but I am reserving
it till the twelfth book.

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Of Demons

Novice .—Since the wicked have many demons to incite
them to their evil way of life, and many to accuse them in
death, I am wondering if each torturer will have as many to
assift him in their punishment.

Mon^.—In the thirty-second chapter of the firs! book, it
was said of the abbot of Morimund that demons carried his
soul to the place of punishment and there tortured him.
Again in the sixth chapter of the second book, the murderer
Hildebrand, when he appeared to Bertolphus, said that many
thousands of demons were waiting outside for his soul.

Novice .—If this be so, assuredly there muff be many more
demons than wicked men.

Mon \.—With regard to the present time, we have no
means of answering this que&ion, but we are sure that in the
end of the world, when the number of the reprobate shall
be complete, there will be far more wicked men than demons.

Novice .—How is this proved?

Mon^.—The tenth part of the angels fell and became
demons; now the blessed Gregory tells us that as many eledf
will rise to heaven as there are angels remaining there. In
accordance with this, the number of the eledf will be nine
times as great as the number of demons. But who can
doubt that there are incomparably more wicked men than
good? Nor may the wicked take any comfort from the
fadf that they will be far more numerous than the demons;
for so great is the natural power of the latter, so concentrated
their malice, so intense their love of inflidting pain, that one
will be enough to torture many thousands of men. Let this
be enough as to the vaff number of evil spirits. But how
surpassingly wicked they are, and how pitiless, I will show
you by several examples.

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chapter IX.

Of a demon who said that he would rather go down
to hell with one soul deceived by himself than be
reflored to heaven.

While a demon was cruelly torturing a man whom he had
obsessed, and by chattering through his mouth was giving
various answers to various enquiries, one of the bystanders
asked: “ Tell us, devil, what price in toil would you be
willing to pay that you might return to the glory in which
you once lived?” The demon answered: “If I had the
power of decision, I would rather go down to hell with one
soul whom I had myself deceived, than go back to heaven.”
All, who heard it, wondered at his answer, but he went on:
“ Why do you wonder at this? so great is my malice, and so
intent upon it am I, that I can never desire anything that is
good.” But this does not agree with what was said by
another demon.

CHAPTER X.

Of another demon who said the contrary.

In the church of the blessed Peter at Cologne, while a
woman was being miserably tormented by a demon that
possessed her, it happened that another woman, also possessed,
came into her presence. Immediately they began to attack
each other, vieing in outcries and insults, so as to astonish us
all. Demon said to demon: “ Miserable that we are, why
by consenting to Lucifer did we fall for ever from eternal
glory?” The other asked: “Why then did you do it?”
And when the firSt Still uttered words that almoSt sounded
like repentance, the other said: “Be silent, this repentance
comes far too late; never can you go back.” Do you see how

330

Of Demons

great is their obftinacy ? The same evil spirit, when asked,
like the one in the la$l ftory, about the return to glory,
answered very differently, as I heard myself: “ If,” he said,
“ there were a column of burning iron set up from earth to
heaven, and if it were furnished with the sharpest razors and
blades of Steel, and if I were given a body capable of suffering,
mo 9 gladly would I drag myself up it from now till the Day
of Judgment, now climbing up a little and now slipping down
again, if only I might at the laSt win home to the glory in
which once I dwelt.”

Novice .—How do you explain these different sentiments ?

Mon \.—The firSt demon knew well that the proposal
suggested to him was altogether impossible, and simply made
a show of his own malice; the other declared, in what words
he could, his knowledge of the greatness of his loss.

Novice .—Do demons fear the punishment prepared for
them ?

Monk -—They believe and tremble. Hence it is that all
forms of exorcism, which are carried out to weaken their
malice, conclude with the mention of fire and the LaSt
Judgment. How eager they are to injure men I will show
you by examples.

CHAPTER XI.

Of a demon who confessed that he had taken
possession of a woman because she had been handed
over to him by her husband.

Last year our abbot was celebrating mass at S. Saviour’s
Mount, near Aix, and at the end of the service a woman
possessed of a devil was brought to him. He read over her
the gospel for Ascension Day, and at the words: they shall
lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover (Mark xvi. 17),
he placed his hand upon her head; whereupon the demon

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uttered so lamentable a cry, that we were all terrified. When
adjured to go out of her, he answered : “ It is not yet the will
of the Mo£t High.” When asked how he had entered her,
he did not reply himself, nor suffer the woman to answer.
Later she confessed that her husband had said to her in anger :
“ Go to the devil,” and at that moment she had felt him enter
through one of her ears. This woman was a native of the
province of Aix, and well known in the diiLri< 5 E.

CHAPTER XII.

Also of a boy whom the devil seized upon when
his father said to him, “ Go to the devil.”

A certain abbot once told me of a man, who in a fit of
anger told his son to go to the devil; and immediately the
devil seized the lad and carried him off, so that he was no
more seen.

Novice. —Why is a son punished for the sins of the father,
when the Scripture says: The son shall not bear the iniquity
of the father (Ez. xviii. 20).

Mon\. —I say exadly what the woman in the preceding
ftory said. 1 It may have been that God permitted it to
happen for the sake of example, that when men hear of the
torture of the husband in his wife’s obsession, and the grief
of the father in the loss of his son, they may retrain their
anger and keep their tongues from foolish speech.

Novice. —What you say is a help to me.

Mon\. —Let those who doubt the existence of demons wait
till they see demoniacs, for in them the signs of his presence
are clearly shown, in the way that the devil speaks through
their mouths and rages mofl cruelly in their bodies.

Novice. —But this may not always be genuine, sometimes
it is mere pretence.

1 Apparently there is Borne lacuna in C. XI.

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Of Demons

Mon\. —Demoniacs are often spoken of in the gospels, and
in the Ails of the Apoffles, as well as in the Lives or Sufferings
of the Saints. I do not deny indeed that some have pretended
to be possessed for the sake of worldly gain, but in many cases
there is no pretence, as will be shown by the following
example.

CHAPTER XIII.

Of a possessed woman who said that the devil was
bound by three words of the canon.

Gerard, the provoff of Ober-Pleis told me that a possessed
woman, very well known to many, came to Siegburg to be
cured. She was taken into the church of S. Michael the
Archangel, and was questioned on various subjects, and when
the binding of Lucifer in hell was mentioned, the devil replied
by her mouth: “ O fools, do you imagine that my matter is
bound in hell with any chains of iron? Very different is the
reality. Three words of the mass have been laid in silence
upon him, and with these he is bound.” Some of the brethren
asked : “ What are these three words?” but she was unwilling,
or rather afraid, to speak them, only saying: “ Bring me the
book, and I will show them to you.” The missal was brought
and handed to her closed; she opened it and found the canon
without any difficulty and putting her finger upon the place :
Through Him, and with Him and in Him, in which a mem¬
orial is made of the Supreme Trinity, she said : “ Behold these
are the three words with which my maffer is bound.”
Several of the monks present heard this, and knowing that the
woman could not read, they were much edified, for they
understood the force of the words. For by the Father, and
with the Son and in the Holy Spirit, whose works are indi¬
visible, is that flrong man bound, and his goods are spoiled
(Mark iii. 7).

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CHAPTER XIV.

Of a possessed woman, who in the Isle of S.

Nicholas, acknowledged the relics.

This year on the feaft of All Saints, I was with my prior
in the Isle of S. Nicholas, commonly called Stupa, which is
a convent of nuns, and there we saw a girl, who, before our
coming, had been possessed, but at that time had been set free
by the virtue of their relics and by the prayers of the sifters.
About her we were told by the Superior of the convent, a
spiritually-minded woman, that one day, when she was being
cruelly torn by the unclean spirit, a certain worthy clerk,
wishing to make trial of her, took from its golden table, with¬
out her knowledge, the little bag containing some thorns
from the Lord’s crown, and holding it in his closed hand
over the head of the Demoniac, drew from her piercing out¬
cries. The byftanders, not knowing the cause of her fury
asked her why she was thus crying out, and what was the
matter with her ; and she answered: “That which once
refted upon the head of the Moft High, even that is now
weighing down my head and piercing it with ftabs ; and do
you ask me why I cry out? ” Those present were greatly
edified, especially the sifters, because they had an unmiftak-
able proof of two things, namely that the thorns were genuine,
and that the woman was undoubtedly possessed by the devil.

Moreover if these two examples are not enough for you,
call to mind those three demons in the firft, second and third
chapters of the third book.

CHAPTER XV.

How demons are in men.

Novice. —Although I am quite satisfied about these things,
there is ftill one point that troubles me. Some say that
demons are not within men, but outside them, as a caftle is

334

Or Demons

said to be besieged not from within, but from without.
Others think the contrary, relying on those words of the
Saviour: Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit
(Mark v. 8).

Mon!{. —A thing cannot properly be said to come out,
unless it was within ; yet both say truth in a way, namely
that it is possible to be within a man, and yet not within
him. It is not possible for the devil to be within the human
soul, according to what is laid down by Gennadius in his
book Dogmas of the Church, where he says: “ We do not
believe that by any energy or operation a demon can pass
in subfiance into the soul, bur that it can be united to it by
contafi and pressure. To pass into the soul is only possible
for the Creator, because His subfiance is incorporeal by
nature, and so is adapted to enter His own creation. Nothing
akin to subffance can fill the soul of man except the Trinity
who created him.”

Novice.— How then is the devil said to enter, to tempt or
to inspire the heart of man ?

Mon\. —He enters, fills or inspires only so far as he draws
the soul to a desire for evil by deceiving it. And here is
the difference between the approach of the Holy Spirit and
that of a wicked spirit, that the Holy Spirit is properly said
to pass into the soul, and the other to inspire it. The Holy
Spirit dwelling within the sinful soul in His essence, power
and wisdom, passes into it by grace as if from near at hand.
But the evil spirit, being outside it in subftance as we have
shown, shoots in its wickedness like an arrow, by suggefiing
evil and fashioning the mind to vice. Whence you have the
Sending evil angels among them (Ps. lxxviii. 49). And from
this it ensues, that after the coming of the Holy Spirit, a
man is able to love good more fervently than formerly he
loved evil, which was implanted as it were from a difiance.
When the devil is said to be within a man, this muft not be
underflood of the soul, but of the body, because he is able
to pass into its empty cavities such as the bowels.

Novice. —I am satisfied now on this point, but I should
like to ask if there be ftill any other ways in which demons
are wont to injure men.

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Mon\. —Demons have a thousand arts of injury, four of
which I will lay before you. Some they injure by false
promises, others by undermining their faith, some by affiifting
them in the body, and others, and this is worft of all, by
slaying them with sin. But none of these things can happen
except by the juft judgment of God, and I will subjoin
examples of each.

CHAPTER XVI.

Of a lay-brother of KloBer-Camp, who was deceived
by the promise of the bishopric of HalberSladt, and
was hanged.

This ftory I heard from a prieft of our Order, a reliable
witness, who knew the whole affair. In Klofter-Camp, a
house of the Ciftercian Order, which lies in the diocese of
Cologne, there was a certain lay-brother who had learnt from
the monks, with whom he associated, juft as much letters
as enabled him to read. This good fortune was a great
delight to him, but it became the means of his undoing ; for
he secretly caused books to be written for him, that he might
possess them, and began to take pleasure in the vice of private
ownership. Then when these ftudies were forbidden him,
because he was too much absorbed in them, his love of learn¬
ing brought him to apoftasy ; but he made little progress,
because he was already too old. He returned to the
monaftery in repentance, but repeated this aft of apoftasy a
second, and even a third time ; going to secular schools,
and then coming back again, he thus provided copious
material for the devil to work upon in deceiving him.

One day he appeared visibly to the lay-brother in the form
of an angel and said : “ Go on learning with all your might,
because God has decreed, and it shall surely come to pass, that
you shall be bishop of Halberftadt.” The poor fool did not

33 6

Of Demons

discern the wiles of the devil, but hoped that the ancient
miracles were to be revived in him. What followed? A
little later, the deceiver came to him, and with a smiling face
said very diffinftly: “ To-day the bishop of HalberSladt has
died ; haften at once to the city whose bishop God has
deSfined you to be, for His counsel may not be changed.”
Forthwith the wretched man left the monastery stealthily,
and was entertained that night in the house of a worthy
prieSt near the town of Xanten. But that he might come
to his see with becoming dignity, he rose up before dawn,
saddled a fine horse belonging to his host, borrowed his
cloak, mounted and rode off. In the morning the servants
of the house, discovering their loss, pursued after the apoftate
and arrefted him ; he was taken before the tribunal and
charged with the theft, and being found guilty, ascended,
not the throne as a bishop, but the gallows as a convicted
thief. You see to what kind of end the devil’s promises
lead ! Another lay-brother was deceived by him, not indeed
so grossly, but none the less dangerously.

CHAPTER XVII.

Also of a lay-brother who was deceived by the call
of a cuckoo, and died in apoHasy.

Theobald of blessed memory, the abbot of Eberbach, toid
us last year how a certain lay-brother, when on a journey,
heard the frequent call of the bird, which gets its name of
cuckoo from its note, and counted the number of times it
was repeated ; finding this to be twenty-two, he took it for
an omen, and reckoned that his life would be prolonged for
as many more years. “ Ho, ho ! ” he cried, “ now for certain
I have twenty-two years more to live ; why should I mortify
myself in the Order all that time ? I will go back to the world,
give myself up to it, and enjoy all its pleasures for twenty

The Dialogue on Miracles

years, and then the laSl two that remain I will spend in
penitence.” There is no doubt that the devil, who by open
speech had induced the lay-brother of the laft Story to believe
that he would become a bishop, now by secret suggestion
persuaded this brother to believe in such an augury. But
the Lord, to whom all auguries are hateful, disposed quite
differently to his calculations ; for He allowed him to live
in the world for those two poor years that he had appointed
for penitence, and by a juSt judgment took from him the
twenty that he had assigned to pleasure. See of what value
are the devil’s promises ! The following example will show
you how, through his servants, he overthrows the faith of
some, or rather of very many.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Of two heretics, who, after deceiving many people
by pretended miracles at Besan^on, were burnt at
the Ba\e.

Two men, simple in dress, but not in heart, ravening
wolves rather than sheep, came to Besan^on, pretending the
deepest piety. They were pale and waSted, they walked
barefoot, they faSted every day ; never were they absent from
solemn matins in the cathedral, nor would they accept from
anyone more than the moSt meagre food. When by such
hypocrisy they had gained the goodwill of all the people,
then and not till then, they began to pour forth their hidden
poison, and to preach new and unheard of heresies to the
unlettered folk.

That the people might put faith in their teaching, they
bade them sprinkle flour over the pavement, and walked
over it without leaving any trace of a footStep ; in like
manner they walked upon water without sinking, and laSlly,
caused wooden huts to be set on fire over their heads, and

338

Of Demons

when these had been reduced to ashes, they came forth
uninjured. Then they said to the crowds: “ If you do not
believe us for our words, at leaft believe us for our miracles.”

Both the bishop and the vicar heard of these things and
were sorely troubled ; but when they tried to resift the men,
and affirmed that they were heretics, deceivers, and servants
of the devil, the people were so angered againft them, that
it was with difficulty that they escaped from being ftoned
to death.

This bishop was a good and learned man, and a native
of our province ; he was well known to our elder monk
Conrad who told me this ftory, and who was himself in the
city at the time. When the bishop saw that he could effeft
nothing by words, and that the people committed to his charge
were having their faith destroyed by these ministers of the
devil, he sent for a clerk whom he knew to be an expert in
necromancy, and said to him: “ Thus and thus are these
men doing in my city ; I beg you to use your art to find out
from the devil, who they are, and from whence they come,
and by what power these great and Stupendous miracles
are being wrought ; for it is not possible it can be by the
power of God, since their doftrine is plainly opposed by
him." The clerk said : “ Sir, I have renounced all those
arts for a long time ” ; but the bishop replied : “ You see well
the Straits I am in. I muSt either agree with their teaching
or be Stoned by the people. I lay it upon you as a satis¬
faction for your sins, that you consent to do this for me.”
In obedience to his bishop, the clerk called up the devil, and
when asked the reason of this summons, said: “ I am very
sorry that I ever forsook you, and as I intend for the future
to be more your servant than ever, I beg you to tell me who
these men are, what is their teaching, and by what power
they work so great wonders? ” The devil replied: “ They
are my servants and are sent by me ; and they preach what
I have put in their mouths.” Then the clerk asked : “ How
is it that they cannot be injured? neither drowned in water,
nor burnt with fire?” The devil answered “The inden¬
tures under which they have become my vassals, have been
sewn under their armpits juft under the skin ; and it is by

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The Dialogue on Miracles

this charm that they perform their miracles, and are immune
from all bodily harm.” Then the clerk said : “ What would
happen if these were taken from them? ” and the devil
replied : “ In that case they would become weak like other
men.” When the clerk heard this, he thanked the devil
and asked him to leave him for that time, and to come back
when he next summoned him. Then he returned to the
bishop, and recounted all this to him in order ; and he,
greatly rejoicing, convened all the inhabitants of the town
into a place suitable for the purpose, and said : “ I am your
paStor, you are my sheep. If these men confirm their
doctrines by miracles, as you say they do, I am willing to
follow them with you ; but if not, it is right that they should
be punished, and that you should return in penitence with
me to the faith of your fathers.” Then all the people cried
out: “ We have seen many miracles wrought by them
already ” ; but the bishop answered: “ I have not seen any
yet.” Why make a long Story? The plan pleased the
people, the heretics were summoned into the bishop’s presence,
and a great fire was kindled in the midSt of the town.

Before they entered it, however, they were brought secretly
to the bishop, who said to them : “ I wish to assure myself
that you have no charms upon you.” When they heard this,
immediately they Stripped off their clothes, and said very
confidently : “ Search diligently both on our bodies and in
our clothes.” Whereupon the soldiers, as they had been
inStrucfted beforehand by the bishop, lifted up their arms,
and discovering certain scars hidden beneath them, cut them
open with their knives, and drew out from thence the inden¬
tures which had been sewn up in them. When these had
been handed to the bishop, he went out to the people, taking
the heretics with him, and when silence was secured, cried
out in a loud voice: “ Now let your prophets enter the fire,
and if it does not injure them, I will believe them.” The
wretched men were panic-Stricken, and protested that they
could not enter now ; then the bishop told the whole Story,
and disclosed their malice, and showed the indentures.

At this, fury came upon all, and they hurled the servants
of the devil into the fire prepared for them, that they might

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go to be tormented with the devil in fire eternal. Thus
by the grace of God, and by the energy of the bishop, the
heresy was extinguished in its infancy, and the people who
had been corrupted and led aftray were cleansed through
penitence.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of the heretics burnt at Cologne.

About the same time several heretics were arrefted at
Cologne under archbishop Rheinbold, and after being
examined and convifted by learned men, were condemned
by the secular tribunal. Sentence was passed, and they were
about to be led out to the ftake, when one of them, by name
Arnold, whom the reft acknowledged as their leader, begged,
as was said by those present, that he might be given some
bread and a bowl of water. Some thought that this requeft
should be granted, but others who were wiser dissuaded them,
saying that with these some diabolical charm might be
wrought which would be a ftumbling-block and perhaps
ruin for the weak.

Novice .—I cannot think what he can have wished to do
with bread and water.

Mon \.—From the words of another heretic, who was
arrefted and burnt three years ago by the king of Spain, I
think that he wished to use them for a sacriligious com¬
munion, which would be a viaticum for his disciples to eternal
damnation. For a Spanish abbot of our Order, who had
been one of the bishops and prelates of the church who had
condemned the errors of this heretic, told us, when passing
our way, that part of his teaching was, that any ruftic could
make the Body of Chrift at his own table out of the bread
that he was eating ; this accursed heretic was a blacksmith.

Novice .—How then did it fare with the heretics of Cologne ?

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Mon \.—They were taken outside the town, and were
together put into the fire near the Jewish cemetery. After
the flames had taken Strong hold of them, in the sight and
hearing of a great crowd, Arnold placed his hand on the
heads of his dying disciples, and exhorted them: “ Stand
faSt in your faith, for this day you shall be with Laurence,”
and yet they were very far from the faith of Laurence. There
was a maiden among them, beautiful though a heretic, and
she was drawn from the fire by the compassion of some who
promised that they would provide her with a husband, or
if it seemed better, would place her in a nunnery. She con¬
sented to this in words, but when the heretics were now dead,
she said to those who had charge of her: “ Tell me, where
does that seducer lie? ” and when they pointed out to her
where Master Arnold lay, she slipped from their hands, veiled
her face with her robe, and thew herself upon the body of
the dead man, and with him went down to burn for ever
in hell.

CHAPTER XX.

Of the Waldensian heresy in the city of Metz.

A few years ago, under the learned bishop Bertram, the
Waldensian heresy sprang up in the city of Metz in the
following way. On a certain feaSt the bishop was preaching
to the people in the cathedral, when he saw two of the devil’s
servants Standing in the crowd and cried : “ I see the devil’s
messengers among you. See, there are the men,” pointing
to them with his finger, “ who in my presence were con¬
demned at Montpellier and caSt out of the city for their
heresies.” They replied bodly to the bishop, and they had in
their company a scholar, who barked at him like a dog attack¬
ing him with every kind of insult. When they left the
church, they gathered a crowd round them, and preached

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their errors to them. Some of the clerks present said to
them : “ Sirs, does not the ApoStlc say, How shall they preach,
except they be sent (Rom. x. 15)? We should like to know
who sent you hither to preach,” and they replied: “ The
Holy Spirit.” Now the bishop was unable to use force
againSl them, owing to certain powerful citizens, who
befriended them in hatred of the bishop, because he had
expelled from the church a certain dead usurer, their relative.
In truth they had been sent out by the spirit of error, and
by their preaching the Waldensian heresy was planted in
that city, and to this day is not wholly extinguished.

Not/ice. —Alas I that there should be even to-day so many
heresies in the church.

Mon\. —They are the fruit of the fury and malice of the
devil.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of the heresy of the Albigenses.

In the time of pope Innocent, the predecessor of the present
pope, Honorius, during the Strife between Philip and Otto,
the rival kings of the Romans, the envy of the devil caused
the Albigensian heresy to sprout forth, or to speak more
Slridtiy, to ripen. So great was its Strength, that all the
wheat of the faith of that nation seemed changed into the
tares of error. Abbots of our Order with certain bishops
were despatched to root up the tares with the harrow of
Catholic teaching ; but by the resistance of the enemy who
had sown those tares, they had little success.

Novice. —What was their error?

Mon\. —Their leaders had collected some points from the
Manichaean dogma, and some of the errors which Origen
is said to have written againSt Periarchon, and very many
which they had fashioned out of their own heads. They

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follow Manichaeus in believing that there are two sources
of life, a good God and a wicked God, i.e. the devil ; and
they say that the wicked God created all bodies, and the
good God all souls.

Not/ice. —Moses makes it certain that God created both
soul and body, when he says: The Lord God formed man,
i.e. the body, of the dutt of the ground, and breathed into
his noflrils the breath of life (Gen. ii. 7) i.e. the soul.

Mon\. —If they received Moses and the prophets, there
would be no heretics. They deny the resurrection of the
body ; they mock at any benefit coming to the dead from
the living ; they say that there is no profit in going to church,
or in praying there ; and in these things they are worse than
jews or Pagans, who believe them all. They have repudiated
baptism, and blaspheme the sacrament of the Body and Blood
of Christ.

Novice. —Why do they endure such severe persecutions
from the faithful, if they expeCt no recompense for them
in the future?

Mon\. —They say that they look forward to the glory of
the spirit. One of the aforesaid abbots, who was a monk,
seeing a certain knight sitting on a horse and talking to his
ploughman, and thinking him to be a heretic, as indeed he
was, drew near to him and asked : “ Will you tell me, good
Sir, whose field this is? ” and when the other answered that
it was his, he continued: “ And what do you do with its
fruits? ” “ Both my family,” he said, “ and I live upon

them, and I beStow some part of them upon the poor.”
When the monk went on: “ What advantage do you hope
to gain from such alms? ” the knight made this reply : “ That
my spirit may walk in glory after death.” The monk asked,
“ Where will it go? ” and the knight said : “ In accordance
with its merit. If it has lived a good life, and won this
reward from God, it will, when it leaves my body, enter
into that of some future prince or king, or of some other
illustrious personage, in which it will find happiness ; or if
it has lived ill, it will enter the body of someone both poor
and wretched, in which it will find suffering.” The fool
believed, as the other Albigenses do, that, in accordance with

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its merit, the soul will pass through different bodies, even
those of animals and reptiles.

Novice .—What a foul heresy !

Mon \.—The errors of the Albigenses spread to such an
extent that in a short time it had infected more than a
thousand towns, and if it had not been cut back by the swords
of the faithful, I think it would have corrupted the whole
of Europe. In the year of our Lord 1210, a crusade was
preached againSt the Albigenses throughout Germany and
France, and in the following year there arose against them
from Germany, Leopold, Duke of Auftria, Engilbert, then
provost, and afterwards archbishop of Cologne, and his
brother Adolphus, Count of Altenberg, William, Count of
Julich, and many others of all ranks and dignities. The
same thing took place in France, Normandy and Poitou ;
and the preacher and leader of them all was Arnold, abbot
of Citeaux, afterwards bishop of Narbonne.

When they came to the great city of Beziers ; which is
said to have contained more than a hundred thousand men,
they laid siege to it ; and in the sight of them all the heretics
defiled in an unspeakable manner the book of the sacred
gospel, and then caff it from the wall towards the Chriftians,
and sending arrows after it, cried: “ There is your law,
miserable wretches ! ” But Chriff, the author of the gospel,
did not suffer such an insult to be hurled at Him unavenged.
For some of His followers, burning with zeal for the faith,
placed ladders againfl the wall, and like lions, after the
example of those of whom we read in the book of the Macca¬
bees (2 Macc. xi. 11), fearlessly climbed the walls, and while
the heretics were Stricken with panic from on high and fled,
they opened the gates to the others, and so gained possession
of the city.

When they discovered, from the admissions of some of
them, that there were Catholics mingled with the heretics,
they said to the abbot, “ Sir, what shall we do, for we cannot
distinguish between the faithful and the heretics.” The
abbot, like the others, was afraid that many, in fear of death,
would pretend to be Catholics, and after their departure,
would return to their heresy, and is said to have replied:

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“ Kill them all ; for the Lord knoweth them that are His
(2 Tim. ii. 19) ! ” and so countless numbers in that town
were slain.

By the Divine favour, they also gained possession of another
large town, near Toulouse, called The Beautiful Valley, from
its position. When the people there were examined, and all
the reft had professed themselves willing to return to the
faith, there remained four hundred and fifty, whom the
devil hardened in their obftinacy ; and of these four hundred
were burnt at the ftake, and the others hanged on the gallows.
The same thing took place in the other cities and forts, the
wretched folk often giving themselves up to death of their
own accord. When the people of Toulouse were brought
into the same ftraits, they promised all satisfaction, but not
honeftly as was afterwards clear. For the treacherous count
of S. Egidius, the prince and leader of all the heretics, after
surrendering all his property in the Lateran Council, to wit,
his lands and farms, his towns and caftles, and after moft of
them had been occupied by right of war by the good Catholic,
Simon de Montfort, betook himself to Toulouse, from which
city he ftill harasses and attacks the faithful even to this day.

It was only this year that Dom Conrad, cardinal bishop of
Porto, who was sent as legate againft the Albigenses, wrote
to the chapter of Citeaux that one of the Toulousan nobles
had perpetrated so horrible a crime in hatred of Chrift and
in an attempt to bring confusion upon our faith, that it ought
assuredly to anger even the very enemies of Chrift themselves.
He had committed an abominable and disgufting outrage by
the high altar of the cathedral, and others, heaping madness
upon madness, insulted the Crucifix upon the altar with
indescribable villainy ; and after this they dragged down the
sacred image itself, and cut off the arms, showing themselves
far worse than the soldiers of Herod, who spared the dead
Saviour, and would not break His legs.

Novice .—Who would not ftand stupified before the amaz¬
ing patience of God !

Mon\.—For the Lord is long suffering, but He will in no
wise let thee go (Ecclus v. 4). He, who punished so terribly
in the neck and throat the people of Damietta, because after

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their viStory they had tied a rope round the neck of a crucifix
and dragged it through the Streets, will by no means clear
such blasphemers as these. Before the hoSts of the Lord
came against the Albigenses, as we have related above, they
had invited Miralimomelinus, the king of Morocco, to come
to their help ; and he crossed over from Africa into Spain
with so incredible a hoSt that he looked to overrun the whole
of Europe. He even sent a message to pope Innocent that
he intended to Stable his horses in the portico of S. Peter’s,
and to plant his Standard on the church. This indeed was
partly carried out, though not at all in the way he had
intended. For because God abases the proud, at that very
time, in the year of grace 1212, on the 16th day of July,
40,000 fighting men of his army were slain ; while he him¬
self fled to Seville, and died there of grief. His principal
Standard was captured in the fight, and sent to Innocent,
who set it up in S. Peter’s to the glory of ChriSt.

Let this be enough about the Albigenses.

Novice .—If there had been learned men among these
heretics, perhaps they would not have Strayed so far.

Mon \.—When learned men begin to fall into error, they
are driven by the devil to display even greater and more
grievous folly than the illiterate.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of the heretics burned at Paris.

At the same time as this outbreak of the Albigensian
heresy, it happened in the city of Paris, which is the fountain
of all knowledge and the well of the Holy Scriptures, that the
persuasion of the devil instilled a Strange perversity of intel-
le< 5 f into several learned men. These were their names:
MaSler William of Poitou, a subdeacon who had read the
classics in Paris and had Studied theology there for three

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years, Bernard, a subdeacon, William, a goldsmith, who was
their prophet, Stephen, a priest of Corbeil, Stephen, a prieft
of Chelles, John, a prieft of Uncinis ; all of them theological
Students except Bernard ; Dudo, the private secretary of
MaSter Almenc, a prieSt, Elmand, an acolyte, Odo, a deacon,
MaSter Garinus, who had come to Paris for the classics, and
who, as a prieSt, had Studied theology under MaSter Stephen,
archbishop of Canterbury ; Ulrich, a prieSt of Lire, who was
more than sixty years old, and had been a Student of theology
for a long time, Peter of S. Clodowald, another sexagenarian
prieSt and theological Student, and Stephen, a deacon of Old
Corbeil. At the instigation of the devil these men had
elaborated many heresies, and had already preached them in
many places.

Novice .—What were the main points on which these men
of ripe age and learning fell into error?

Mon \.—They said that the Body of ChriSt was in the
Bread of the altar only in the same way as it was in all bread
and in eveything ; and that God had spoken through Ovid
juSt in the same way as through AuguStine. They denied
the resurreftion of the body, saying that there was no Paradise
nor hell, but that he had Paradise within himself who pos¬
sessed the knowledge of God, as they did, while he who was
in mortal sin had hell within himself juft as a man has a
rotten tooth in his mouth. They said it was idolatry to set
up altars to the saints, or to burn incense before the sacred
images, and that he who kissed the bones of the martyrs did
it with his tongue in his cheek. But the worft blasphemy
that they dared to utter was againft the Holy Spirit, from
Whom is derived all purity and holiness. They said that
if anyone were in the Spirit, even if he were to commit forni¬
cation or be polluted with any other defilement, yet there
would be no sin in him, because that Spirit, who is God,
being altogether separate from the flesh, cannot sin, and the
man, who is nothing, cannot sin, so long as that Spirit, who
is God, is in him ; for it is the same God that wor\eth all
in all (i Cor. xii. 6). From whence they admitted that each
one of them was both Chrift and the Holy Spirit ; and in
them was fulfilled that saying of the gospel: False Chritts

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Of Demons

and false prophets shall arise etc. (Matt. xxiv. 24). These
moft unhappy men had utterly worthless arguments of their
own with which they Strove to support their errors. Their
perfidy was discovered in the following way. The above
mentioned William the goldsmith went to Mailer Rudolph
of Nemours saying that he had been sent by the Lord, and
laying before him the ensuing articles of unbelief: “ The
Father has operated in the Old Testament under certain
forms, namely, those of the Law ; in a similar way, the Son
under certain forms, such as the Sacrament of the Altar,
baptism and so forth. As the forms of the Law fell at the
firil coming of Chrift, so now all the forms, under which
the Son has worked, will fall and the Sacraments come to an
end, because the Person of the Holy Spirit will clearly declare
Himself in those in whom He has been incarnated, and chiefly
will He speak by seven men, one of whom will be William
himself.” Also he prophesied that within five years these
four great plagues rauS come : the firft upon the people,
who will be consumed by famine ; the second will be the
sword, by which the kings will slay each other ; in the third
the earth will open and swallow up the townsfolk ; and in
the fourth fire will come down from heaven upon the prelates
of the church, who are the members of Antichrist. For he
said that the pope was Antichrist, and Rome was Babylon ;
for the pope sits upon Mount Olivet, i.e. in the plenitude of
power. Now already thirteen years have passed, and yet
none of these things have happened, which the false prophet
foretold muff come to pass within five years. Further, that
he might win the favour of Philip of France, he added this:
“ All the kingdoms of the earth will be subject to the king
of the Franks and to his son, who will live under the dis¬
pensation of the Holy Spirit and will never die ; and there
will be given to the king of France twelve loaves, i.e. the
knowledge and power of the Scriptures.”

When he heard this, Mailer Rudolph asked him if he had
any associates to whom these things had been revealed.
When he replied that he had many, and gave the names
we have mentioned above, this prudent man, considering
the danger that hung over the church, and that he alone could

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not investigate their wickedness or convift them, practised
a certain dissimulation, and said that he had received a
revelation from the Holy Spirit concerning a certain prieft
who was to aid him in preaching their dodlrine. Then that
he might keep his reputation unsullied, he told the whole
Story to the abbot of S. Vicftor, and to Mafter Robert and to
Brother Thomas, and went with them to the bishop of Paris,
and to three mafters learned in theology, namely the dean of
Salzburg, Mafter Robert of Kortui, and Mafter Stephen, and
told everything to them. They were greatly terrified, ordered
Rudolph and the priest, on pain of damnation, to pretend to
be in sympathy with these men, until they had heard all
their teaching, and had fully explored all the articles of their
unbelief. Whereupon, to carry out this design, Mafter
Rudolph and his ally joined the heretics in their missionary
journey of three months round the dioceses of Paris, Lyons
and Troyes, and the archepiscopate of Sens, and found out,
as far as possible, all those that adhered to their seft.

In order to gain more fully the confidence of the heretics,
Mafter Rudolph used to put on a rapt expression, and pretend
that he had been caught up to heaven in the spirit, and in
their conventicles afterwards would relate to them what he
said he had seen, and promise that he would publicly preach
their faith unceasingly. At laft he went back to the bishop,
and told him what they had seen and heard. Then the
bishop sent throughout the province to summon them all,
for none were in the city except Bernard ; and when they
were in safe cuftody, he convened the neighbouring bishops
and mafters of theology to examine them ; the aforesaid
articles were laid before them, which some of them upheld
in the presence of all, and others, while willing to withdraw
and recognising that they had been wrong, yet flood firm
with the reft: in the same obftinacy, and refused to recant.

After this display of hopeless perversity, they were taken,
by the advice of the bishop to the Campus, and there, in the
presence of all the clergy and people, degraded from their
sacred offices, and on the return of the king, for he happened
to be absent at that time, they were burnt at the flake. Of
so obftinate a mind did they show themselves, that they

35 »

Of Demons

would give no reply to any questions, nor would they vouch¬
safe any sign of penitence, even in the agony of death. When
they were taken out to punishment, there arose so mighty a
tempefl, that no one doubted that it had been raised by those
who had inftilled these mortal errors into dying men.

That night he who had been held their leader knocked at
the door of a certain recluse, and too late confessed his error,
telling her that he held an important place in hell, and was
doomed to eternal fires. Four of them had been examined
but were not burnt; to wit, Maffer Garinus, the prieft Ulrich,
and the deacon Stephen: these were all sent to prison for
life ; but Peter, before he was arrefled, took fright and
became a monk. The body of Almeric, who had been the
leader of this wickedness, was caff out of the cemetery, and
buried in the open field. At the same time it was enjoined
in Paris that no one should read any books on physical science
for the next three years ; and a perpetual ban was laid upon
the books of Maffer David and the Gallic books of theology,
and they were publicly burnt; and thus by the grace of God,
this heresy was rooted out in its beginning.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Of a heretic burnt at Troyes, who claimed to be the
Holy Spirit.

It is scarecely two years ago that a man at Troyes, being
full of the devil, gave out publicly that he was the Holy
Spirit ; but the people inflamed with rage by such madness,
put him into a wicker cage, piled fuel around it, and burnt
him to ashes.

Novice.- —Surely the life of such men muff be very
execrable, when their doftrines are so foul ?

Monk .—That you may the more detefl all heretical seels,
I will add an example of their way of life.

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CHAPTER XXIV.

Of the heretics of Verona.

During the days of the Emperor Frederick, when the pope
Lucius was making a Stay in Verona, a city of Lombardy,
and many prelates of the church and princes of the empire
were gathered there, our fellow monk, Gotteschalk, who was
then canon of Cologne Cathedral, was also Staying there with
his brother Everard, a canon of S. Gereon. This laSt noticed
that their hoSt left the house every night, taking with him
his wife and daughter, and when Everard asked one of them
whither they went and what they did, the answer was:
“ Come and see.” So he went with them to a large hall
underground, where many of both sexes were congregated,
and in general silence a heredc leader pronounced a sermon
full of blasphemies, in which he intruded them in life and
morals. Then the lights were put out, and there ensued
such scenes as were slanderously alleged by the heathen
againSt the Christians in the early days of the Church. After
he had been attending these meetings for some six months,
the leader one night in the presence of all suggested that so
regular an adherent as Everard had shown nimself should
now take the position of a teacher. This frightened him,
and he went no more, and afterwards told his brother that
he had frequented the conventicles of the heretics not for the
sake of the teaching but for the opportunity of sin. See then
under what laws they live, and what lives they lead. Nor
is this to be wondered at, since they believe neither in the
resurrection, nor in hell, nor in any punishment of the wicked ;
and therefore think that they can do what they please with
impunity.

Novice .—I have heard that there are many heretics in
Lombardy.

Mon \.—This is only to be expected, since they have their
teachers in every town, who openly read the sacred pages,
and perversely expound them.

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CHAPTER XXV.

Of a heretic who said that the devil was the ruler
of this world because he had created it.

When king Otto set out for Rome to be crowned as
Emperor, there went with him John, bishop of Cambrai,
Henry, the scholafficus of S. Gereon, and Master Herman,
canon of Bonn ; and the three went together to the school
of a certain heretic teacher. They heard him read this
passage: Now is the judgment of this world, now shall the
prince of this world be caH out (John xii. 31), and this was
the way he expounded it: “ ChriSt summoned the devil as
prince of this world, because he had created it.” Thereupon
Herman disputed with him somewhat severely and proved
to him, as he afterwards told me, not only from the Scriptures,
but also from reason, that God had created all things, visible
and invisible, material and spiritual, by the Word alone.
Let this be enough about heretics, who are in truth limbs
of the devil. But be sure of this, that the devil wreaks his
malice much more cruelly upon heretics than upon the
possessed.

Novice. — Can the possessed be in a Slate of grace ?

Mon\. —Yes ; for as has been said above, he does not
occupy their souls, but their bodies.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Of a girl into whom the devil entered when she was
five years old.

A woman in Brisach was very cruelly tried by this calamity ;
for the devil had entered into her when she was five years
old, and this was the cause: One day when she was drink¬
ing milk, her father, in a temper, said to her: “ I wish you

353

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might eat the devil in your greediness ! ” Immediately the
child felt his presence and was harassed by him until she was
grown up, and only this year was she set free from him by the
merits of the apoftles Peter and Paul, whose church she
visited. Who dare say that a baptized child of five years old
was not in a State of grace? The very demon himself said
about her : “ When I have gone out, she will be exempt
from all pains in purgatory after this life.” The possessed
are able to make their confessions, to pray, and to communi¬
cate ; but that God permits the demon to do bodily injury
to some of them, I will show you by several examples.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Of the lay-brother Theodoric, who was carried by
the devil from the city of Lubec\.

One of our lay-brothers, Theodoric of Soeft, told me that
when he was a young man, a friend of his promised to make
love to a certain girl in Lubeck on his behalf. He gained the
assent of the young woman, but when Theodoric hoped to
win her, his friend showed that he had been making a mock
of him, and had wooed her for himself. When Theodoric
learnt of this he was very angry and cried: “ The devil who
brought me here will be able to take me away again.”
Immediately upon this invitation the devil appeared, picked
up the man and lifted him into the air, and carrying him away
from the town, set him down in an out of the way place by the
shore of a certain lake, and then said to him : “ If you had not
in some fashion made the sign of the cross, I should have
killed you juft now ”; for when he was carried off he had
crossed himself, though very slightly and imperfeftly. When
let go by the demon, he fell so heavily that he lay senseless on
the ground vomiting blood. At laft, regaining a little of his
ftrength, he crawled on hands and knees to the water, washed

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Of Demons

his face, and drank a little, and then with great toil, reached
his lodging. When he entered the house, as soon as the light
met his eyes, he fell again into a fainting fit. They summoned
the prieft, who read over him the firft chapter of S. John’s
gospel, and fortified him againft the attacks of the devil with
prayer. For a whole year he suffered so much from trembling
in all his limbs that he could not hold a cup in his hand to
drink from it. He used to tell how when the devil carried him
away and held him tightly in his arms, he could see the church
of S. Nicholas and all the buildings of the city ftanding out
clearly in the bright light of the moon. You have an almoft
similar ftory in the eleventh chapter of the third book, which
tells of Henry, also a citizen of Soeft, whom the devil snatched
up from the market place at night, and after carrying him
beyond the monastery of S. Patroclus, set him down in a field.
So baleful and so poisonous is the nature of demons, that men
are often injured by the mere sight of them.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Of the lay-brother Albero, who fell sic\ at the sight
of a demon.

When our lay-brother Albero was a novice, and had been
sitting up in the hall one night with another lay-brother,
because both were assailed with night terrors, juft before the
bell rang for matins, he took a turn round the cloifter and
saw in the diftance near the lavatory something that looked
like a human shadow. Thinking that it was our fellow monk
Frederick, he wished to make signs to him to go back to bed;
but remembering that this brother was feeble minded, he
drew back again, in the fear that he might do him some injury.
While he was thus hesitating, the shadow grew larger before
his eyes until it reached the next ftorey of the building. Juft

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then the bell rang in the dormitory, and he went into the
bakehouse, where the furnace had been lighted for baking the
bread; and no sooner did his eyes fall upon the fire, which
seemed to glow, as if only behind a sheet of glass, than sick¬
ness began to come over him. He went out at once and lay
down under a tree, and for nearly eight days from that hour
was so ill both in mind and body, that he could not eat or
drink or sleep.

Novice .—I should like to know why it is, that when a man
has seen a demon, the sight of a fire immediately afterwards
should bring madness upon him.

Mon \.—Fire is the producer of light, whereas the devil is
the prince and creator of darkness. Light and darkness are
as contrary to one another as heat and cold. If you pass from
darkness into a blaze of sunlight, or vice versa, your sight is
immediately troubled and digressed by the sudden change.
So too, if you bring your hand when frozen too near to the
fire, or plunge it when burnt into cold water, the second
element will give you even more pain than that caused by the
firSt. What wonder then, if after the sight of the devil, who
is, as I said, the author of darkness and of eternal fire, human
nature is disturbed and terrified, is Straitened and made faint,
when it sees the light of this world, which is altogether the
opposite to the light of hell. The latter breeds darkness, the
former gives light. The two are utterly at variance, both in
appearance and in effedt. Yet perfe< 5 t men, as has been said
above, can often look upon demons without any terror and
without any failing of the senses.

Novice .—If the sight of the devil in a form that he has
assumed is so dangerous and harmful, who could bear to look
upon him as he is.

Mon \.—It is not possible for the eye of the body to see the
devil as he is.

Novice .—Why ?

Mon \.—Because the devil is a spirit, and a spirit can only
be seen by a spirit, as is the opinion of nearly all authorities.
The souls of the reprobate see him in hell; and as it is the
highest happiness of the eledt to look upon God, so it is said
to be the greatest punishment of the wicked to look upon the

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devil. Would you like to hear of the peril of some who
desired to see him in his own person ?

Novice .—Indeed I greatly desire it; because the more horror
and malice that I hear about him, so much the more shall I
fear to sin.

Moni —Listen then.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of the abbot of S. Agatha, and a mon\ and lay-
brother of his who fainted away at the sight of
the devil.

Twelve years ago, William, the abbot of S. Agatha, which
is a CiSlercian monastery in the diocese of Liege, was on his
way to Eberbach, to which S. Agatha belongs, and when they
reached Cologne, he said to his companions, one of his monks
and a lay-brother named Adolphus: “ It would be an a< 5 t of
mercy for us to go and see that possessed sifter of the lay-
brother of Eberbach, so that we may tell him how she fares.”

They both agreed; and they went to the house where they
found her sitting in the midst of many others. When the
abbot put questions to her, she refused to answer a word, even
when he asked if she would like to send any message to
her brother, and remained dumb until he said: “ I adjure
you, by Him, whom I have this day handled in the mass,
that you answer me.” Then indeed the demon showed him¬
self obedient and willing to reply through the woman’s mouth;
and seeing this his two companions begged the abbot to have
the woman taken to an upper room that they might have con¬
versation with her in private. This was done, and the abbot
asked the demon several questions, and when he found he
could get only lying answers, he again adjured him by the
Moff High to speak nothing but the truth. The demon
promised this, and the abbot bade the monk and lay-brother to

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withdraw to a little distance. Then he asked of the condition
of the souls of some of those who had lately died both at
Eberbach and at S. Agatha, and the devil gave such probable
accounts of each one, although the woman had never seen
them, that the abbot could have no further doubt of his truth¬
fulness. Such and such, he said, were in glory, and others were
ftill in purgatorial pains, and for these the abbot determined
upon special prayers. He gave him also information about
many other things so that the abbot marvelled greatly.

Later, the lay-brother begged that he might be allowed to
speak with him privately, and when the abbot granted this,
and withdrew a little way with the monk, the lay-brother said :
“As my abbot has ordered you to give none but true answers,
so do I urge you to tell me at once if you know anything
againft me, which would be hurtful to my soul.” The devil
replied : “ I do know things; yesterday without your abbot’s
knowledge, you borrowed twelve denarii from such a woman
at such a house in Utrecht, and you tied them up in a piece of
rag, and hid them carefully in your bosom.” Which indeed
had been the fad ; for this lay-brother, as he told me, had
thought to himself in this wise: “ If perchance your abbot
should send you on some mission, you can use this money for
your expenses.” Then the lay-brother asked if he knew any¬
thing more ; and when the demon replied : “ I know you to
be a thief,” the other said: “lam not conscious of any theft
since I came into the Order.” Whereupon the devil said:
“ In the time of scarcity you gave to the poor money and other
things which belonged to your monastery and not to you.”
When the lay-brother replied that he had never thought that
such works of mercy could be a theft, the devil said : “ Accord¬
ing to my idea of truth, they are ; because they were done
without permission, nor have you at any time since then
whispered them ” ; by whispering he meant confession.
Immediately the lay-brother turned to the abbot, drew him
aside into a private place, and humbly confessed all the things
that the devil had thrown in his teeth, and undertook suitable
penance. Then he returned to the obsessed woman and asked
the devil if he ftill knew any sin againSt him, and now had
won grace to hear : “ So far as I know, I have nothing againft

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Of Demons

you now, because you have juft now bent down your knees
to whisper, and have thus taken all my previous knowledge
from me.”

Novice. —In this fa ft are clearly seen both the presence of
the demon and the power of confession.”

Mon\. —We have said enough about these things in the
book on Confession. After this the demon was adjured by
the abbot to go out of the woman, and he replied : “ Whither
shall I go?” When the abbot said : “ See, I open my mouth;
enter it, if you can he answered : “ I cannot enter, because
this day the Moft High has entered there.” Then the abbot:
“ Climb up then upon these two fingers,” holding up for
him his thumb and forefinger. “ I cannot do that,” he
said : “ because they have this day handled the Moft High ” ;
for the abbot had said mass in the morning. When he ftill
insifted that he should go out of her, the demon replied:
“ The Moft High does not yet will it ; for two years longer
I shall dwell in her ; after that time she will be delivered
from me near the church of that James which indeed
actually came to pass. Then the monk and the lay-brother
besought the abbot that he would command the demon to
show himself in his natural form. The abbot replied that he
did not approve of this, and urged them to be satisfied with
the orders he had already laid upon him ; but when they per¬
sisted very obstinately, that this should be done, he was at laft
persuaded and said : “ I order you by the power of Chrift to
show yourself to us in your natural form.” When he replied,
“ Will you not go away till you have seen me ?” and the abbot
answered, “ No,” Straightway the woman began to swell
before their eyes and to rise up and up like a tower, and her
eyes to flash and send out smoke like a furnace. At this sight
the monk fell into a fainting fit, and the lay-brother became
senseless, and unless the abbot, who was of Stronger mould,
had quickly ordered the demon to resume his former aspeift,
he would have fallen unconscious himself.

If you find difficulty in believing my words, go and ask
them, for they are Still, I believe, alive, and are truly religious
men and will tell you nothing but the simple truth. But the

1 S. James of Compoftella.

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demon obeyed the order, and when he had reduced the coun¬
tenance of the woman to its former appearance, he said to the
abbot: “ Never in your life did you give so foolish a com¬
mand ; know for certain that if you had not to-day celebrated
the Divine mysteries, none of you would ever have told to any
man the things that I have now been showing you. Do you
imagine that any man may look on me and live?”

The men who were waiting below heard a noise on the
upper floor and came upstairs, and finding the monk and lay-
brother unconscious, revived them with water, and carried
them down. Then the demon said to the abbot: “ Where
are you going now?” and when the abbot had answered : “ To
Eberbach,” he went on : ‘‘I too have been in Sueverbach and
fared well enough there : ironically jelling on the name, for
that was soon after the time that the lay-brothers revolted
against the Order. So dreadful and so poisonous is the sight
of demons that it not only makes healthy men sick, but some¬
times even kills them.

CHAPTER XXX.

Of two young men who fell sic\ after seeing the
devil in the shape of a woman.

Two young squires, one of whom was the page of the abbot
of Priim, who told me what I am about to relate, were exercis¬
ing their horses after sunset on the eve of S. John Baptist,
near the Stream which flows paSt the monastery, when they
saw on the other side of the Stream what appeared to be a
woman in a linen robe. Thinking that she was practising
some magic, as some do on that particular night, they crossed
the Stream to arreSt her. She girt up her robe and seemed to
flee before them, while they pursued at full gallop ; and when
they found that their horses were exhausted without having
been able to overtake the fugitive, whom they saw flitting

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Of Demons

before them like a shadow, one of them said: “ What in the
world are we doing? it is a demon.” Then they both made
the sign of the cross and the portent vanished. From that
hour both men and horses fell into a Slate of languor which
lasted for so long, that it was only with difficulty that they
escaped from death.

Novice. —I do not wonder at this in the case of the devil,
when I read that a basilisk can kill men and birds and cattle
who look upon it.

Mon \.—This is why the devil is spoken of as a basilisk in
the Psalm (Ps. xci. 13, vulg.), and I will show you this power
of his in the following examples.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Of a woman who died when her hand had been
pressed by the devil under the form of a serving
man whom she /{new.

In Kunincskirgen, as a prieSl of that town told our
fellow monk Lambert, a certain honourable matron was one
evening passing alone along the Street on her way home in the
company of another woman, when the devil, taking the form
of a serving man, well known as a cheery fellow, grasped
her hand and pressed it closely, but when she ordered him
to leave her, at once he disappeared. Then she immediately
began to feel ill, and said to her companion: “ That serving
man pressed my hand, and from that moment a weakness of
the heart has come over me.” When the other said : “ But
there has been no one here,” the matron answered: “ MoSl
certainly there has! and I am not likely to forget the impudent
look he gave me.” Then she went into her house, lay down
on her bed, and was dead within a few days.

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CHAPTER XXXII.

Of a woman in Altenahr who died within a few
days, after being embraced by the devil.

A similar thing happened this year to a woman who lived
near Altenahr. She had a drunken husband, and she never
dared to go to bed until he had come back from the tavern.
One night she had been preparing the dough for making the
bread, and being tired out, was sitting outside her house,
waiting for the return of her husband, when she saw two men
dressed in white coming towards her. One of them ran up
to embrace her, and pressed her in his arms, but when she
cried out, they both vanished. She rushed into the house, and
as soon as she saw the light, went raving mad, and terrified
her daughter into loud outcries, and a few days afterwards she
died. By what judgment of God such things happen, I
cannot tell.

Novice. —These are awful Stories.

Mon\. —Listen to another, which may well Strike terror
into us, who call ourselves religious men.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Also of a lay-brother, who, when asleep in the
middle of the day, was embraced by a demon under
the appearance of a nun, and died within three days.

Once when the lay-brothers of our Order were taking mid¬
day reSt in the dormitory during the summer, the devil, in
the shape of a Benedi&ine nun, went round the beds of all,
Standing a while by some, and passing in haSte by others.
When she came to a certain lay-brother she bent over him,
and putting her arms round his neck, pressed kisses upon his

362

Of Demons

mouth. One of the brethren, a truly pious man, saw this,
and how the nun then vanished ; and. Stupefied, both at the
appearance of such a person and at such an aift in such a place,
he got up and went to the bed of the lay-brother, whom he
found faff asleep indeed, but lying in a fashion that was both
immodeSt and exposed. When the bell for nones rang and
the others rose, this lay-brother found himself too ill to get up,
and being taken to the infirmary in the evening, died within
three days. I think that it was the maSter of a grange of that
monastery who told us this Story, saying that it had been told
to him under seal of confession by the brother who had seen
the vision.

Novice .—Since God is exceeding merciful, and a sleeping
man differs but little from one who is dead, why should this
lay brother be punished thus heavily for so small a fault ?

Mon \.—He may have been negligent in his care for seem¬
liness. Seemliness or modeSty is the ornament of all virtues,
and ought to be observed in behaviour as well as in dress. It
often happens that as in the night a man gladly lets his
thoughts turn again to those subjects which have occupied his
mind during the day, so in his sleep he may make an outward
manifestation of the thoughts on which he has been dwelling
while awake.

Novice .—I understand this, because I have known of
robbers, who when sleeping at night, have got up, put on their
armour, drawn their swords, Struck at the walls, and then,
when tired out, have put everything back in its place,
and gone back to bed ; and in the morning have remembered
nothing about it.

Mon \.—Possibly this lay-brother had indulged too much in
wine, for exposure readily follows drunkenness. If Noah
had not been drunken, he would not have been exposed ;
and it was because he was exposed that he was mocked by his
son. Not holy angels alone, but evil spirits also, are about
us at night, and if by negligence or laxity it should happen
that we are lying on our beds in unseemly fashion, we put
the good to flight, and invite the evil to mock us. How much
grace sleepers have thus sometimes loft, you will hear it in the
thirteenth and fourteenth chapters of the seventh book, where

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the blessed mother of God visited the sleepers in her own
person.

Novice.— Was this lay-brother in a Slate of grace?

Mon\. —I cannot tell any more than I can tell about the
aforesaid women, who were slain by the sight of the devil.
But that the devil slays some sinners in their sins, the follow¬
ing examples will show.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Of the \night Thiemon, whose bowels were torn out
by the devil, after playing dice with him.

In SoeSt, which is a town in the diocese of Cologne, there
lived a knight called Thiemon, who was so wholly given up
to a game of dice, that he could not reft without it night or
day. He used always to carry about with him a bag of money,
so that he might be ready if by chance he met anyone willing
to play. So skilled and fortunate at the game was he, that very
few ever played with him without coming away losers. But
that posterity might know how contrary to God’s will are all
such games, in which anger, envy, quarrels and losses are
gendered, and words of sin bandied to and fro, the devil was
allowed to play with this man who had outplayed many, and
to disembowel him who had disembowelled many a purse.
One night a demon went into his house, in the form of a man
who wished to gamble, carrying under his arm a bag fluffed
full with money, sat down at the table. Slaked his money
boldly, threw the dice, and won. When he had gone on
winning until the knight had no money left to Slake, the latter
said angrily: “ Surely you muSt be the devil himself ! ” and
the other replied : “ We have had enough now ; the dawn is
near, and we muSl go.” Then he snatched him up, and
dragged him through the roof so roughly, that his bowels were
torn out by the broken tiles. What became of his body, or

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Of Demons

where it was thrown, is not known to this day, either by his
son or by any of his acquaintances. But in the morning the
remains of his entrails were found clinging to the tiles, and
were buried in the cemetery. The devil allows his servants
to prosper well enough in this world, but always betrays them
in the end.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Of a man who leapt from a tower in Soefl, trufling
in the devil's aid, and was filled.

To this same town, as was told me by Master Gozmar, a
pious man, and canon of S. Patroclus, came a certain Granger,
who said that he purposed to leap from the tower of S. Julian,
which is very high, if some honour might be gained by it.
The citizens, like sensible men, replied : “ We shall give you
nothing for this, because it simply means that you will kill
yourself.” Then he said : “ I shall do it for the honour of the
town.” A great number of people collected in the market¬
place where the tower Stands, and many others looked on from
the windows of the neighbouring houses, while he went up the
tower. Then somebody cried out from behind: “ Tell me,
my good sir, what demon are you employing to help you in
this?” and when he had given the name of some demon, the
other called : “You may be perfectly certain that he will
deceive you, for he is a thorough rascal. If you were to truSt
yourself to Oliver, he would not betray you, because he is a
responsible demon, and knows how to keep faith.” The
other answered : “lam quite sure my demon will not deceive
me, because I have often had experience of his faithfulness.”
I think that this Oliver was the same of whom we spoke above
in the fourth chapter. To make the Story short, the man
climbed the tower, leapt from it, came to the ground, and lay
Still where he fell. The crowd wondered why he did not get

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up, for they thought that the ample cloak he was wearing
to catch the wind would have saved him from injury ; then
some drew near and lifted him up, and found that all his
bowels had gushed out. See how the devil rewards his
servants, both by killing their bodies and by thrusting down
their souls to eternal pains. You will hear enough about
their torments in the twelfth book.

Novice .—If we may judge from what is said of this Oliver,
it would seem that all demons are not equally malicious.

Mon \.—In those, who in heaven cherished the moft intense
pride and envy againft the Creator, there flourishes even now
the bittereft eagerness to do harm. It is said that some simply
consented to join the others who with Lucifer rebelled against
God, and while these fell with the reft:, yet they are less evil,
and do men less harm, as the following example will make
clear.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Of a demon who in human form was a faithful
servant to a \night.

A demon once took the form of a respectable young man
and went to a knight and offered himself as a servant. The
latter being much taken both with his appearance and manner
of speech, gladly accepted the offer ; and forthwith the
demon began his service so diligently and respectfully, so
faithfully and willingly, that the knight was pleased beyond
all expectation. Never did he mount his horse, nor descend
from it, but he found him always ready to hold the ftirrup
on bended knee ; and always and in all things he showed
himself full of discretion, foresight and cheerfulness.

One day they were riding together, and had come to the
bank of a great river, when the knight, looking back, saw a
number of his mortal enemies in pursuit, and said to his

3 66

Of Demons

servant: “ We are dead men. See, my enemies are hastening
after me, the river bars the way before us, and there is no
way of escape. They will either kill me, or take me prisoner.”
The other answered: “ Sir, have no fear ; I know well a
ford of this river ; only follow me, and we shall easily
escape.” The knight objected that no man had ever forded
that river at that point, but nevertheless in the hope of escape
he followed his servant, and came safe to the other side. As
soon as they were safely across, the enemy reached the bank,
and said in wonder : “ Who ever heard of a ford on this
river? none but the devil could have carried him across ; ”
and they went home in fear. Later it happened that the
knight’s wife fell sick with a mortal illness ; and when all the
skill of the physicians proved useless, the demon said to his
master : “ If my lady would allow herself to be anointed with
the milk of a lioness, she would be cured at once. ” When
the knight said : “ Where can such milk be got? ” he replied:
“ I will get it.” He went away, and came back in an hour,
bringing with him a vessel full of milk. The lady was
anointed with this, and immediately grew better, and soon
recovered all her former Strength. Then the knight asked
him where he had got the milk so quickly, and he said: “ I
got it in the mountains of Arabia. When I left you, I went
to Arabia, entered a lion’s cave, drove away the cubs, milked
the lioness, and came back.” Stupified by such a reply,
the knight said: “ Who are you then ? ” but he answered:
“ Do not trouble yourself about that ; for I am juft your
serving man.” The knight persifted, and at laft the servant
confessed: “I am a demon, one of those who fell with
Lucifer.” Then his mafter, more aftounded than ever :
“ If you are a devil by nature, how do you come to serve a
man so faithfully?” The demon answered: “It is my
greatest consolation to be with the sons of men.” Then said
the knight: “ But I do not dare to use your service any
longer ” ; and he replied : “ Be quite sure of this ; that, if
you keep me, no harm shall ever come to you through me or
because of me.” “ No, I do not dare,” said the other,” but
anything that you like to ask as a reward, I will gladly give
you, even to the half of my property. Never did man serve

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The Dialogue on Miracles

man so well and faithfully ; it was by your providing that
I escaped death at the river ; and it was through you that my
wife recovered her health.” Then the demon said: “ Since
I may no longer be with you, I ask nothing for my service
except only five gold pieces.” When he had received these,
he gave them back to the knight with these words: “ I beg
that with this money you will buy a bell, and hang it over
the roof of that poor forsaken church, that at leaft by it the
faithful may be invited to the divine office each Sunday ; ”
and he saw him no more.

Novice .—Who could have expedled any such conduct: from
a demon?

Monk -—I will give you another example of devilish kind¬
ness, if I may call it so, which will surprise you no less than
this.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Of a demon who carried the knight Everard to
Jerusalem.

In the year in which king Philip rose up again?! Otto, who
was afterwards crowned Emperor, a certain honourable
knight, named Everard, a native of the town of Amel, fell
grievously sick. As the result of some disease of the brain,
he fell into such madness, that his own wife, whom he had
dearly loved before his sickness, he now held in the greatest
abhorrence, and could not bear to look upon her nor hear
the sound of her voice.

One day a demon in the shape of a man appeared to the
sick man, and said: “ Everard, do you wish to be separated
from your wife ? ” and when he answered that he desired it
more than anything, the demon continued : “ I will take you
to Rome on my horse, and we shall easily obtain a divorce
for you from the pope.” Put briefly, it seemed to the knight

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Of Demons

that he mounted the other's horse as invited, that he went to
Rome with him, sitting on the crupper, that he made his
petition, and that the pope in the presence of the cardinals,
separated him from his wife, and confirmed the divorce with
bulls and pontifical letters.

Strange to tell, from the hour that the spirit of the sick
man was thus miraculously carried away by the demon, his
body lay on the bed, pale and bloodless, but with juft enough
warmth perceptible in his breaft as to cause them to defer his
burial.

When the knight seemed to be rejoicing too much over
the divorce, the demon asked: “ Would you like me now
to take you to Jerusalem, where your Lord was crucified
and buried, and to the other sacred places, which Chriftians
long to see? ” It was from these words chiefly that the
knight afterwards guessed that he was a demon. He replied
that this was what he desired above all things, and Straight¬
way the spirit carried his spirit across the sea, and set him
down in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. Then he showed
him the other holy places, and when the knight had made
his due devotions in each, the demon asked : “ Would you
like now to see your enemy Sephadin and his army? ” he
answered “ Yes,” and was carried in a moment to the camp,
where the demon pointed out the king and his princes, his
knights, engines of war, Standards, tents and whole army.
After this the demon said: “ Would you like now to return
home? ” and he replied: “ Yes, it is full time that I went
back.” Forthwith the spirit lifted him up, and having trans¬
ported him to Lombardy, pointed out a wood, and said:
“ Look there is a man drawing near to that wood, with an
ass laden with merchandise that he is bringing to sell here ;
and there are robbers lying in wait to kill him ; he comes
from your neighbourhood, would you like to warn him? ”
“ Indeed I would,” said he, and ran quickly to the traveller
and told him how robbers were waiting for him in the wood.
The other joyfully greeted his neighbour, who was well
known to him, thanked him, and went round by another way.
When they came to Frankfort, the demon said again: “ Do
you know Waleram, the son of the duke of Limburg? ” “ I

369

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The Dialogue on Miracles

know him very well,” was the reply, “ and have often made
campaigns with him ” ; the demon asked : “ Would you
like to see him now P ” and the knight replied: “ But surely
he is overseas ” ; the other said : “ Not at all ; but he is now
in such a place, allied with king Philip, and is planning to
devastate your country with fire and sword.” We saw this
fulfilled, when, under that leader, Andernach, Remagen, Bonn
and many other towns were plundered and burnt. When
the knight had received this heavy news with pain, and had
been shown the king and the princes and Waleram, his spirit
was brought back uninjured to his body, which was Still lying
upon the bed.

His normal life was soon restored, and he quickly grew
Strong and vigorous, and his wife, whom he had hated before
he was carried away, he now loved again with all the old
affedion ; and all men wondered when he told the tales of
what he had seen and heard. For he retained a vivid recol-
ledion of all that he had seen in Rome and at Jerusalem, in
Lombardy and Germany, both places and persons ; he remem¬
bered them all as clearly as he had seen them, indeed more
clearly than if he had looked upon them only with the eyes
of the body. The Structure of the city of Rome, the Statue
of the lord pope Innocent, the appearance of the cardinals,
and of the churches ; and in the Holy Land, the person of
Sephadin, and his army ; and so too the mountains, rivers
and caStles, and the general view of all the countries over
which he had passed ; all these he described so accurately
in their appearance and by their names, that those who had
seen any of them with the bodily eye could find nothing to
contradid. Meanwhile his fellow countryman had returned
from Lombardy with the profits of his merchandise, and
testified in the presence of many, how he had seen him there,
and how his warning had saved him from the peril of robbers.

Novice .—I have heard that some demons are of such a
nature that they even turn towards good those who are
possessed by them, and will not suffer them to sin.

Mon \.—I remember to have heard an example that gives
a proof of this.

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CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Of a demon who would not allow a man possessed
by him to tafie of a theft in the fifth generation.

A certain rich man made a banquet for the poor as an
aft of almsgiving. Among the guests there was one who
was possessed ; and while the reft were eating flesh, this
man raised indeed the meat to his lips, but could not eat it.
Some of those present spoke then to the demon : “ Why,
villain, do you not suffer the man to eat? ” To whom he
replied: “ I do not want him to sin by eating what comes
from robbery.” When they cried out: ‘‘You lie, because
the giver of this feaft is a man of integrity,” he replied: “ I
do not lie ; that veal which is now being divided among the
poor is derived in the fifth generation from a cow that was
ftolen ; ” and all marvelled at these words.

Novice. —If demons look upon a theft as ftill a theft after
five generations, I think they will punish a direft theft with
very bitter pains.

Mon\. —That is undoubted. Remember that heifer, by
whom and on whom the knight Elias was punished, as was
told in the seventh chapter of the second book. This heifer
calls to my memory what was said by the obsessed woman
in Brisach, of whom I made mention above in the twenty-
sixth chapter. One day she saw John, the burgrave of
Rheineck, and, as I was told by one who was present, cried
out againft him in the public ftreet: “ That calf that you took
from such a widow, we shall diftil in the flames of hell, and
put it into your eyes drop by drop, and we shall pour all its
fat over your body. And the wine which is sold in this
town under your sign, we shall pour boiling into your mouth.”
The knight was terrified by these words, gave up his shop,
and reftored her calf to the widow.

Novice. —It is clear enough to me now that there are
demons, that they are many, and that they are malicious.
May I hear some examples that show they are hoftile to usr

Mon\. —They are so hoftile to man, that they sow discord

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between friends, and do not allow enemies to be reconciled.
They keep back those who wish to go on pilgrimage for
Chrift’s sake and for their sins. They turn aside those who
desire to be converted, and trouble and hinder in many ways
those who are converted.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Of a demon who tried to sow discord between two
friends who were on pilgrimage together.

Two rich and honourable citizens of Cologne, very close
friends, set out together on a pilgrimage to S. James of Com-
poStella ; their names were SiStappus and Godfrey. One
day when they were riding together behind all the others,
a demon, envying their friendship and affection, waited for
them at the entrance of a wood, and broke in half a heavy
Stick which Godfrey was carrying slung over his back. Tie
looked round, and seeing that they were alone, turned to his
companion, much disturbed: “Eh? brother, why have you
broken my Stick? ” The other denied with an oath that he
had done any such thing ; and Godfrey, as he told me him¬
self, was so angry that he could scarcely restrain his hands
from assaulting him. At length he was restored to his good
sense by the grace of God, and the merits of the blessed
apoStle ; and confessed his regret to his beloved friend, and
the demon, the source of all the trouble, Red away in confusion.

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CHAPTER XL.

Also of a demon who in the guise of a priefl con¬
duced a {night through a place full of thorns and
so made the two into enemies.

An honourable prieSt, now a monk in our Order, told me
how a vicar of a small town, wishing to make himself popular
with his parishioners, used to play games with them, frequent
taverns, and conform to their habits in every possible way.
Now there was in the same town a knight, a fellow country¬
man, who was his companion in all his follies, and they were
of one heart and one mind, not in Christ, but in the world.
They often invited each other to games and to feaSts, and
often dragged each other to the taverns.

When the devil, the contriver of all misunderstanding, saw
this, he resolved to change their worldly friendship into more
perilous enmity ; and one night when the soldier had gone
to bed, he came to him in the guise of the prieSt, and urged
him eagerly both by words and signs to go with him. The
knight, in great excitement, got up, and with bare feet and
very little clothing went after the seeming prieSt, and was
taken over a field full of thorns and brambles. His feet
were soon torn and bleeding, and he cried out angrily after
the demon : “ Rogue of a prieSt, to your own hurt you have
brought me here.” Meanwhile the demon kept calling to
him, “ Come on, come on,” and the angry knight, picking
up a hoe, which by accident lay in his path, clove the skull,
as he thought, of the prieSt, and left him lying there, with
his face covered with blood. Then with great toil and pain,
the knight got back to his house, and grumbled to his wife,
household and friends of the way in which the prieSt had
mocked him ; and when they refused to believe, he added :
“ Well, I gave him a bad wound on his tonsured skull.”

That same night the prieSt, knowing nothing of all this,
on his way to his bedroom, Struck his head againSt the lintel
of a door, and cut his crown so badly that his face was covered
with blood. He went to bed ; and in the morning, when

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the bell rang for mass, the people waited in vain in the church
for the pries'!, who could not come owing to the pain of his
wound. When the knight was told of this, he underflood
the cause at once, and said: “ That is juft what I told you.”
Why say more? The prieft continued to deny the ftory
emphatically, and his friends and relations only grew the
more angry and would not believe him, and for two years he
was driven out of his church, and only with great difficulty
was he reconciled to them again at laft. From these two
examples you may see how demons sow discord between
friends, whether the bond between them be spiritual or
worldly ; and it is juft as certain that they have great power
in preventing enemies from becoming friends.

CHAPTER XLI.

Of a demon who said that he had sowed discord
between a knight and a monastery .

Not long ago a certain knight was harassing moft unjuftlv
a house of our Order. When a demon was chattering through
the mouth of a certain obsessed woman, one of the byftanders
said to him: “ Tell me, O full of all iniquity, why you do
not persuade that knight to leave the servants of God in
peace? ” To whom the devil replied with a grin: “What
are you saying, O full of all foolishness ? The whole trouble
has been set on foot by my plans, and are you advising me
to persuade them to peace? ” Moreover, that they discourage
and prevent those who wish to go on pilgrimage for the sake
of Chrift, here is an example.

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CHAPTER XLII.

Of the \night Mengoz, who was dragged along the
pavement by a demon.

A knight named Mengoz went to France as a young man
to learn the language, and there fell grievously sick ; and
in hope of recovery, he made a vow of pilgrimage to S.
Remigius at Rheims, but when he got better, he returned
to his own country without carrying it out. After some
time, another noble knight named Guldolph, of the town
of Sevelen, proposed to take ship and go to Citeaux at the
time of the general Chapter, and Mengoz, hearing of this,
asked to be allowed to go with him as a fellow-pilgrim. He
accepted with pleasure, and they came to a town called
Tncaster, near Dijon, and had sat down on the ground for
their meal, after the manner of penitents, when there appeared
S. Remigius, bishop of Rheims, robed in pontificals, who
said: “ Mengoz, why have you not performed your vow? ”
At this the knight was greatly troubled, both by the vision
and by the remembrance of his unfulfilled vow, when a demon
flew up to him, and added to the warning of the saint such
words of dissuasion as these: “ There is no hurry, you will
of course pay your vow when you can.” Then without
further words, the demon seized the man by the foot, and
dragged him face downwards along the pavement so merci¬
lessly, that his face was cut in four places, and the ground
bespattered with his blood. Now when Guldolph saw his
friend dragged along in this fashion, and could see no cause
nor any that dragged, he got up from his place in much
anxiety to go to his help, and, as he told me himself, though
he seized the other with both arms, he could not hold him
only with greatest difficulty, Strong as he was, and Slill is.
When Mengoz told him both of his fault and its punishment,
he said: “ 1 advise you to fulfil your vow ” ; and when his
friend went on to say that he had not money enough for the
expenses, he handed over to him what was necessary, and
the negledted vow was fulfilled.

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Novice .—As I see it, there are demons not far from us,
and always ready to punish us.

Mon \.—That they are always near us and about us you
shall learn from the following Story.

CHAPTER XLIII.

Of a demon who guarded a vineyard for a reward.

LaSt year, at the time of the vintage, the cellarer of Laach
entrusted to two serving men the care of the vineyard of one
of the monastery farms. One night, one of them, wishing
to ease himself of his nightly watch, called upon the devil
in a jeSting sort of way, saying: “ Come, devil, if you will
watch over this vineyard for me, I will give you a reward.”
Scarcely had he uttered the words, when a demon appeared
and said: “ Here I am, what will you give me to look after
it? ” He replied : “ A box full of grapes, but on this con¬
dition, that if anyone comes in between nightfall and dawn,
you will break his neck, not excepting anyone, either myself
or anybody else.” The devil made the promise, and the
servant, as if free of the vineyard, went back to the house,
late in the evening ; but the cellarer saw him and asked:
“ Why are you not in the vineyard ? ” and when he answered :
“ I have left my companion there,” alluding to the demon,
the cellarer, thinking that he meant his fellow servant, retorted
angrily : “ Go back this minute, one is not enough.” The
man returned, and climbed up with his companion into the
watch tower, which was outside the vineyard. About mid¬
night they heard a movement as of a man walking between
the vines, and he, who knew nothing of the aforesaid compact,
said: “ There is somebody in the vineyard,” and the other
replied : “ Stay where you are ; I will go down and see.”
He went down and walked round the vineyard on the out¬
side, and when he could find no traces of anyone within

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the hedge, he understood that it was his caretaker that was
there. In the morning he told the whole Story to his comrade,
and wishing to give the demon his reward, he filled a box
with grapes, and put it down beside a vine ; then he went
away, and came back in a little while with his comrade, and
found not a grape Stone left.

Novice .—These things are wonderful enough, but I beg
you to show me how they obstruct those who are desirous of
being converted.

Mon !{.—-I will tell you what was told me by a nun, under
compulsion from her abbess.

CHAPTER XL1V.

Of the nun Euphemia, who was greatly persecuted
by a demon.

When this nun was a little girl in her father’s house, a
demon used often to appear to her under different forms and
terrified and saddened her childhood in many ways, to such
an extent, that she feared to be driven mad, and openly
expressed her wish to be received as a novice in our Order.
One night he appeared to her in human form, and tried to
dissuade her from taking the vows, saying: “ Euphemia, do
not be converted, but take inffead a young and comely
husband, so that with him you may enjoy the pleasures of
the world, for you shall have abundance of cosily clothes
and delicate food. But if you enter the Order, you will
always be ragged and wretched, you will be a prey to hunger
and thirff: and cold, and you will never have any happiness
in this life.” To this she replied: “ What will become of
me at the end, if I die in the midft of those pleasures that
you promise me? ” To this the devil made no reply, but
seized the girl, and dragging her to the window of the upper
room where she slept, tried to throw her down ; but when

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she repeated the angelic salutation, the enemy let her go,
and said: “ If you go to the convent, I will never cease from
persecuting you ; ” and when he had said this, he pinched
the maiden roughly, changed himself into the shape of an
enormous dog, leapt out of the window and disappeared ;
and thus by the invocation of the Virgin Mother of God,
the virgin was set free. How hostile the devil is to the
converted, and in how many ways he harasses and impedes
them will be shown by what follows. When this girl had
become a nun, and was one night lying awake in her bed,
she saw around her several demons in human shape. One
of them, of hideous aspect, ftood at her head, and two at her
feet, and a fourth at her side ; and this laft cried in a loud
voice to the others: “Why are you hesitating? Take her
up juft as she lies, and come.” They replied : “ We cannot
do it ; for she has invoked that woman.”

Novice .—How is it that demons can presume to speak
of the Mother of their Creator by a name expressive only of
condition and not of honour? “Woman” is a name of
natural corruption only ; “ Virgin ” or “ Mary ” or “ Mother
of God,” these are names of glory.

Mon\. —Because of their unworthiness they do not dare to
utter with polluted mouth a name of honour or glory. And
yet, even after the utterance of the angelic salutation, this
same demon ftill dragged at the girl’s right arm, and in
dragging pinched her so much that her arm was swollen
and bruised. Her left arm was free, but in her simplicity,
she did not dare to cross herself with it, thinking that to
make the holy sign with the left hand would be of no avail ;
nevertheless, driven by necessity, she did at laft cross herself
with that hand, and so put the demons to flight. As soon
as she was delivered from them, she ran half fainting to the
bed of another sifter, and breaking the rule of silence, told
her all that she had seen and suffered. Then the sifters, as
was told me by the lady Elizabeth of blessed memory, who
was the abbess of that convent, put her back to bed, and read
over her the opening of S. John’s gospel, and in the morning
found her completely recovered. One ftormy night in the
following year, when this nun was lying awake in her bed,

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Of Demons

she saw at some distance two demons in the form of the two
sifters she loved beft, and they said to her, “ Sifter Euphemia,
get up and come with us into the cellar that we may draw
the convent beer. She had felt suspicious of them, both
because of the unusual hour, and because they had broken
the rule of silence ; and now terror overcame her, and she
covered her head with the bed clothes and made no answer.
Forthwith one of the evil spirits came near, and laid his hand
upon her breaft, pressing it with so much violence, that
blood was driven out in great quantities through her mouth
and nose ; both demons then took the form of dogs and
leapt out of the window. When the sifters got up for matins,
and saw her weak and ill, pale and bloodless, they enquired
of her by signs the reason of it; and when she had told them
all the ftory, they were as much troubled by the cruelty of
the demons as by the suffering of the maiden. Two years
before this, when a new dormitory had been built at the
convent, and beds placed in it, the same nun saw a demon,
in the shape of an old and very much deformed dwarf, go
round all the dormitory, and touch each bed, as if to say : “I
will mark diligently the place of each, for they shall not he
left unvisited.”

Novice .—Can you tell me why the merciful Lord allows
maidens so gentle and pure to be thus cruelly persecuted by
foul and merciless spirits?

Mon \.—After tailing a bitter cup, the sweet, as you your¬
self know, is ftill more sweet, and when a black colour is
removed, the white shines more brightly. Read the visions
of Witin, Gotteschalk and others, who have been allowed
to see the pains of the wicked, and the glory of the eledl,
and you will see that, almoft in every case, the vision of hell
comes firft. The Lord, wishing to show to His spouse the
hidden glories of His happiness, suffers her firft to be tempted
with dreadful visions, that afterwards she may be the more
able to rejoice, and to know the gulf that lies between sweet
and bitter, between light and darkness.

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CHAPTER XLV.

How the nun Elisabeth was persecuted by a demon.

In the same convent, which is called Hoven, there is a nun
named Elisabeth, who is often persecuted by a demon. One
day seeing him in the dormitory, she gave him a box on the
ear being well aware that it was he. When he asked her
why she Struck him so cruelly, she replied: “ Because you
often trouble me.” Then he said: “ YeSterday I troubled
your siSter, the singer, a great deal more, but she did not
Strike me ; and indeed this siSter had been greatly harassed
on that day. From this we may gather that anger, rancour,
impatience and other similar faults, are put into the heart
by the devil. Another time matins were very late, owing
to the devil’s adtion, as was afterwards clear, and Elisabeth,
with a lighted candle in her hand, was hastening to ring the
bell, and as she was about to enter the oratory, she saw a
demon, in the guise of a man wearing a slashed doublet,
Standing in front of her. Thinking that some man muSt
have got in, she fell back in terror down the dormitory Steps,
so that she was ill for some days afterwards, from the sudden
shock as well as from the fall ; and the abbess herself was
so much distressed by this mishap, that she too fell sick.
When they asked Elisabeth the reason of her fall and outcry,
she told them of the vision, and added : “ If I had known
it was a demon and not a man, I would have given him a
good box on the ear ! ” so had she girded her loins with
flrength, and Erengthened her arms (Prov. xxxi. 17 .) againSt
the devil.

CHAPTER XLVI.

Of a recluse, who was delivered from a demon by
the Benedicite.

A woman, who had become a recluse for Christ’s sake,
was so relentlessly attacked by a demon, that she could not

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Of Demons

be safe from him even in bed. When she found that she
could not free herself from this importunity by any spiritual
means, neither by prayer, nor confession, nor the sign of the
cross, she told her trouble to a certain pious man, who gave
her the following advice : “ When the demon comes to you,”
he said, “ simply say to him Benedicite.” The next time
he came, she did this; and the evil spirit, as if driven by a
whirlwind, sprang away from her at once, nor ever again
dared to approach her.

Novice .—I rejoice to hear that there is so great power in
our cuflomary greeting.

Mon \.—So great is the malice of demons, that they will
seduce with fantastic visions those whom they cannot lead
affray or break with their terrors. For example:

CHAPTER XLVI1.

0/ the recluse Bertradis.

Near the caStle of VolmarStein, in Westphalia, lived a
recluse, named Bertradis, a pious and saintly woman, and of
great repute, owing to the revelations with which God had
enlightened her. For a long time, as a result, 1 was told, of
a lack of discretion, she had received an angel of darkness
thinking him to be an angel of light. Now the demon,
surrounded with a fantastic splendour, was wont to come to
her through a window of her cell, and give her information
about future events, and answer her questions. And if any
came to her, desiring to know the condition of a dead friend,
or to be assured about some incertitude, she asked them to
wait till next morning, and consulted her angel ; she was
often deceived by him, and gave false answers, thinking them
true. Now when this came to the knowledge of brother
Herman, the recluse of Arnsberg, of whom I made mention
in the 87 th chapter of the laSt book, since he was not ignorant

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of the wickedness of demons, he gave this advice to Bertradis:
“ Be careful, my sifter, because the messenger of Satan often
transforms himself into an angel of light, seduces many and
sometimes mocks even the holieft of men. Do then as I
tell you: make a cross of wax that has been blessed, and fix
it upon the ledge of the window by which he enters ; if on
his entrance he does not avoid it, he is an angel of the Lord ;
but if otherwise, he is a messenger of the devil.” Accordingly
she did this, and in the night the demon came to the window
with his usual glitter, and when he looked in but would not
enter and the woman asked him why he did not come in,
he replied: “ I cannot come in, unless you throw away this
wax from the window ” ; then she underftood how she had
been deceived for a long time, spat at him, and broke out
into abuse, and adjured him by the Holy Trinity that he
should never presume to come again. Do you see now how
Almighty God has devised different medicines againft the
different attacks of demons ? He keeps some from us by the
antidote of confession, others by the words of the Lord’s
annunciation, to wit, the Ave Maria, some by the word Bene-
dicite and many by the sign of the Cross ; and of all these you
have had illuftrations above.

Novice .—Did this recluse sin, in taking the angel of dark¬
ness for the angel of light?

Mon \.—I have read in the writings of our fathers, that
a man so deceived by the devil is deserving of reward for
believing him so long as he persuades him to what is good ;
for the discerning of spirits is not given to all. Wherefore
the Apoftle says: Prove the spirits whether they be of God
(i John iv. i). I ought also to add that the messenger of
Satan does not only transform himself into an angel of light
by assuming such splendours, but also often appears to some
under vile forms, for he is accuftomed to show himself to
men for their deception, sometimes in the form of a dog or
a pig, or again in the form of a bear or a cat or any other
animal.

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CHAPTER XLVIII.

Of a lay-brother who saw a demon bring phantasms
into the choir.

Once in Hemmenrode a devil was seen to bring a herd
of swine into the church, and afterwards to take them out
again in the same way in which he brought them in. At
another time a certain lay-brother, who does not wish his
name to be mentioned, saw a demon take the form of the
prior and he was wearing on his neck a sort of collar made
out of a bean Stalk. One of his fellows went before him
leading him by the collar as if he were a dog ; and while
they passed along the choir in this Strange procession, it
happened that the prior himself came into the church in order
to arouse the lay-brothers if he should find any sleeping ;
and as soon as he entered that fantastic vision vanished from
the eyes of the lay-brother.

CHAPTER XLIX.

Of the visions of the precentor Herman.

Once when Herman our precentor, of blessed memory,
was Standing in the choir when lauds were being sung one
bright day in summer he had closed his eyes for a moment
from weariness, and when he opened them again he saw what
seemed to him the hindquarters of a bear going out from the
choir. And while he was wondering greatly at this vision,
he saw the same bear return and Stop before the presbytery,
in the place where the monks are wont to proStrate them¬
selves on their way in and out of church. The animal turned
his head round and looked this way and that and then spoke
in a human voice: “ No matter. It happens that they are
devout for the moment, so I will go away and come back

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presently.” And as he watched, the creature went out.
Brother Richard is a witness of this vision for he told it him
at once. This is that same Herman who saw the jars of wine
before Henry Fikere and the bear, as was told in chapter
ninety-one of the fourth book.

Novice. —If the devil assumes animal forms of this kind
for our hurt, I imagine that he mud mock very grossly those
who give way to his suggestions.

Mon\. —That is mod certain.

CHAPTER L.

Of a recluse who saw demons upon the shoulders of
the mon\s of Burscheid.

A certain recluse is Still living at Aix ; she is well known
to me, but I will not mention her name, because if I did she
might suffer for it. Before her seclusion while she was Still
a girl, and was Still wearing secular dress although a Religious,
she used to see demons under the forms of apes and cats,
sitting upon the shoulders of monks of Burscheid, as they
walked to and fro from their church. And because some of
them were held captive by consent of their vices, in whatever
diredion and at whatever person these phantoms looked,
the eyes of the monks followed them, and their gestures
imitated the frivolities of the demons. She saw something
too, dill more horrible: there were some before whom great
and hideous dogs went in such a way, that the chains which
could be seen round their necks passed also round the necks
of the monks, and by them they were dragged to share in
the gambols of the demons.

Novice. —Alas ! that men created in the image and like¬
ness of God, and even raised above ordinary men by the
dignity of the Order, so that they ought to have dominion

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Of Demons

over unclean spirits, should, owing to their evil life, be thus
vilely mocked by them.

Monf{. —This is what the Psalmift sadly says: Man will
not abide in honour, seeing he may be compared to the beatts
that perish ; this is the way of them.

Novice. —From what you have said above it seems to me
that man often gives the devil opportunity for tempting
him.

Monl{. —This is indeed true. I will show you an example.

CHAPTER LI.

Of a mon\ who shirked the labour of planting
cabbages and was immediately tempted by the
devil under the form of a woman.

Once the whole community of Hemmenrode was collefted
in the garden planting cabbages. Among them there was
a certain monk named Thomas, in whose heart thoughts like
these began to rise : “ If you were only in your father’s house
your very maid-servant would not condescend to such work
as this.” And thereupon in anger he left his brethren, and
the spirit of pride led him to a place where he might attack
him the more fiercely. When he found himself alone in the
wood, the tempter appeared, and him whom he had attacked
before only in thought now he assaulted with undisguised
and visible onslaught. For he appeared to him under the
form of a woman and began to speak to him. But he, laying
his finger upon his lips signed to her that it was not permitted
to him to speak. Then the head and father of all lies replied
through that phantasmal woman, whom he had fashioned to
deceive him: “ I do not know how that may be,” she said,
“ but I have juft come from the convent and the prior gave me
leave to speak with you.” He believed her, and broke his
rule of silence. Then she told him that his parents had sent

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The Dialogue on Miracles

for him and that he was to go with her to Treves to buy a
horse, and so make the journey to his own home. Thereupon
the miserable creature going before him drew after her the
miserable man ; she indeed passing through all the close
thickets of undergrowth quite easily, while he followed with
very great difficulty. At length disturbed by the roughness
of the way and the severity of the toil, he said: “In the
name of the Father why are we journeying thus? ” No
sooner had he said this than that evil spirit vanished ; and
although the weather had been calm and pleasant till then,
there suddenly arose at that moment a great wind and Storm
of rain, and he returned to the convent outwardly wet through,
and inwardly filled with confusion. He confessed afterwards
that so long as that woman was walking before him he had
felt great temptations of the flesh.

Novice .—I think that it muSt have been an unclean spirit.

Monk -—You are right. For sin is often punished by
more sin, and in many mental pride is humbled by some
lapse in the flesh. You have many examples of this in
Vitaspatrum.

Novice .—Can the devil harm a man juSt as he wills?

Monk -—Certainly not ; never at all without God’s per¬
mission, and then only in the body as in the case of Job.
Never can he injure a man in the soul, i.e. never can he
induce him to sin unless the man consents in his heart.

CHAPTER LII.

How the devil is like a lion bound to a flake.

The devil is like a lion or a bear fastened to a Stake, which
can growl around within the range of his chain, but cannot
injure anyone unless he catch that person within the circle.
The power of the devil is so limited by the chain of Divine
constraint, that he cannot compel anyone to sin, unless a man

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Of Demons

comes to him, moved to the sin by his own consent. Accord¬
ing to the ApoSlle Peter, He goes about like a roaring lion
within the range of his chain, seeding whom he may devour
(i Pet. v. 8). Often enough he terrifies and troubles even
holy men, but he cannot do them harm.

CHAPTER UII.

Of a canon of Bonn who was tempted by him.

In the cathedral of Bonn, as I heard from his fellow canons
there was a certain canon, of a pure and deeply religious
life, to whom the devil was so hostile that often at night,
when he was about to read the lesson at matins, he would
cover over the letters or turn the page or sometimes would
blow out the light. He did this to bring confusion on the
holy man in the presence of his brethren, and by this con¬
fusion to provoke him to impatience ; and his malice is so
great, that when he finds he cannot irritate or disturb the
Religious, he at least mocks and provokes them.

CHAPTER LIV.

How he mocked the convent of Mt. St. Walburgis.

A certain nun of our Order named Petrissa told me that one
day at matins, on a certain festival, she was Standing a little
removed from the other sifters while they were singing the
Psalms with great heartiness, and she broke out herself into
an a<5t of thanksgiving, saying: “ Blessed be Thou O Lord
for that Thou rewarded this beloved convent which is prais¬
ing Thee so devotedly ” ; and immediately she heard a hateful
noise as of one hastening from behind her to the convent,
and saying with a loud voice : “ This shall be done for God,”

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making a mock of her thanksgiving. And forthwith all the
hairs of her head Stood on end.

Novice. —Often has sudden horror come upon me both
in the choir and in other places. What do you think is the
meaning of such terrors?

Mon\. —They come from the presence of demons. There
is a dog which is called a wolf-dog and his nature is of such
a kind, that he can tell when a wolf is near without seeing
him with his eyes ; and because there is a natural antipathy
between the animals, he immediately grows wild and breaks
out into barking. So it is with man and the devil. The
Lord has placed enmity between them ; and woe unto the
man who makes peace with the demon, for always it shall
bruise thy head and thou shalt bruise his heel (Gen. iii. 15).
And though the outer man may not see him, yet the inner
man, i.e. the spirit perceives plainly enough the presence of
that evil spirit. Why then should there be any wonder if
at such a time the man is troubled and feels horror? How
true this is I will show you by an example.

CHAPTER LV.

Of a priest whom the devil terrified as he went to
church carrying a sword.

Near Cologne there was a certain pried named Michael, a
very religious man for his class. He was the redor of the
churches of two small towns, one of which was named Burge,
and the other Rode. Once at Eader after he had said matins
rather late in one of the churches, and was hadening
alone, as he had no servant, before daylight to the

other, he carried with him a sword in fear of the

dangers of the road. And when he came to a certain
wood, so great fear and horror seized upon him that

all his hair dood on end, as men say, and a cold sweat

broke out on every limb. The cause of this horror did not

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Of Demons

long lie hid, because as soon as he turned his eyes to the wood
he saw a man of hideous aspect {landing near a tall tree. And
as he looked, this man grew suddenly so vail in size that his
height was equal to that of the tree, and round him all the
trees were crashing and there were fearful blails of wind.
Terrified beyond measure, the prieft fled and was pursued by
the devil with a whirlwind, even until he came to the town of
Rode. Afterwards when this prieil was telling the {lory of
his vision and his terror to the lay-brother of the mona&ery
of Altberg, Richard by name, he, as a truly pious man, gave
him a truly pious answer : “ Sir," he said, “ the Church would
tell you, that if in going to the Divine Office you had taken
a psalm into your mouth inflead of a sword into your hand,
these things would not have happened on the road. That
terror of yours was the penalty of sin ; for in truth the devil
fears a psalm, not a sword (fob xli. 22, 24, 27, 33).

Novice .—1 gather from these words of holy fob, that if the
{Irength of the devil were not bound and limited, no man
would be able to {land before him.

Mon{. —That, however, he cannot injure a man, except so
far as God permits him, I shall show you by a very dear
example in the la{l chapter of this book.

CHAPTER LVI.

Of a bell-ringer whom the devil carried to the
pinnacle of the CaSllc of Ysenberg.

In a town called Amel, in the diocese of Cologne, it
happened a few years ago that there was a bell-ringer living
under the vow of a certain pilgrimage and he had agreed one
day with a woman of the same town that they should make a
{lart together the next morning ; and she asked him to ring
for matins a little earlier than usual that they might set out
before the sun grew too hot, and he promised to do this. That

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night the devil came to his bedside, shook him and said:
“ King for matins,” and so went away. He immediately got
up and saw a light burning in the church, but when he learnt
that it was not yet cock-crow he thought that he had been
aroused by the aforesaid woman and left the church meaning
to tell her to go back to bed, because it was too early yet. He
looked for her everywhere but could not find her, but noticed
a black ox standing opposite him. This animal put out its
tongue and with it took hold of the man and mounted him
upon his back, flew through the air with him and set him
down on a pinnacle of the tower of the caftle of Ysenberg.
Then he said to the man: “ Are you afraid at all?” and the
other replied: “ It is by God’s permission that you have been
able to bring me here, and there is nothing that you can do
againfi me except what He permits.” The devil said : “ Do
me homage and I will set you down safely and also give you
great riches ; but if you refuse you shall either die here by
hunger or else be dashed to pieces by falling headlong.” To
whom the bell-ringer, putting his truSf in Christ, replied I
adjure you in the name of Jesus Christ to do me no injury, but
to put me down without any harm to my body." Immedi¬
ately the devil took him and set him down very roughly in a
field near the town of Gerresheim before the dawn of day,
which day happened to be the anniversary of the dedication
of the church of that town. At dawn, men hastening with
torches to the service of matins found this bell-ringer in a field
in a fainting condition ; and when they had revived him and
had heard his Slory they were greatly aSlonished. On the
fourth day indeed he returned to his house and related to all
so fully the position both of the towns and buildings, which
he had never seen before, that they could not doubt that he
had been really carried away.

Novice .-—I now admit that it has been clearly proved to
me both by teaching and examples that there are demons, that
they are many in number, and malicious and hoSlile to men.

Mon \.—My chief advice is that now that we know of them,
we give no sort of consent to them (Matt. xxv. 41), but rather
by resisting them and all the vices they urge upon us, we may
be blessed enough to hear with the elect (Matt. xxv. 34).

390

BOOK VI

OF SINGLENESS OF HEART

CHAPTER I.

Of the virtue of simplicity.

Among all the antidotes which the virtues offer againft the
Stresses of temptation and again SI the demons who tempt, the
pradice of simplicity seems to be the mod efficacious. This
virtue is free from all gall of bitterness, from anger, envy and
rancour ; it is also free from the poisoned eye of suspicion and
from the dog-like tooth of detradion. Especially to the newly
converted is simplicity necessary, because if a novice wish to
find fault with the simplicity of the Order and to pass judg¬
ment upon the ads of his seniors and the regulations of our
predecessors, and to be always disputing with his mafler as to
the why and wherefore of everything, never will he have any
peace. Wherefore the abbot Charles, when I was a novice,
used often to say to me : “ Brother, if you wish to find peace in
the Order, let the simplicity of the Order be enough for you.”
Isaiah, admiring the virtue in the eled says Who are these that
fly as a cloud and as the doves to their windows (Isaiah lx. 8).
The windows of the doves are the eyes of simple-minded
monks ; their flight is the uplifting of contemplation ; their
dove-like appearance is the simplicity of their intention. Both
eyes of the religious ought to be simple, both the outward and
the inward ; the eye of the body, so that suspicion may be far
from it ; the eye of the heart, so that its intention may be pure.
This of itself turns an evil work into a good one, and conversely
as I shall show you by a very clear example in the next chapter.

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Novice. —Readily do I agree with that, because I remember
that the Saviour said : if thine eye be single, thy whole body
shall be full of light (Matt. vi. 22).

Mon\. —In truth when the intention is single, it is necessary
that clear adion should follow ; and so, on the contrary, an
evil eye, i.e. an evil and perverse intention makes the whole
body, i.e. the work full of darkness. Wherefore it seems well
to treat of simplicity in the sixth book, because as six is by
nature the perfed number, so this virtue, according to the
Saviour’s words already quoted, makes the whole man full of
light and perfed. We see the single-minded Jacob blessed
by his father ; and his son the single-minded Joseph set over
all Egypt by Pharaoh ; and the single-minded Job blessed by
the Lord. Chrid preaches the virtue of simplicity to His
disciples (Matt. x. 16 ; and Matt, xviii. 3). Simplicity is the
road to God, pleasing to angels, and delightful to man.
Wherefore, leaving for the moment all other virtues, I will
show you by a few examples the marvellous efficacy of holy
simplicity.

CHAPTER II.

Of a simple mon\, who, by eating flesh in a caflle
rettored to his monattery its cattle.

Dom Wido, a Cidercian abbot and afterwards a cardinal,
was once sent to Cologne to confirm an eledion which had
been made on behalf of Otto againd Philip, and brought back
from thence a dory of holy simplicity both amusing and
amazing. He said that a house of our Order was situated on
the edates of a certain powerful noble, and this tyrant, who
feared not God, neither regarded man, often vexed the mona-
dery in various ways. He took of its corn, wine and cattle as
much and as often as he pleased, and he left to the brethren
jud as much as he chose. He aded in this way for so long

Of Singleness of Heart

that from habit his conduit became a sort of law, and the
convent, after making many complaints to no purpose, gave
up in despair and submitted ; but one day he carried off the
greater part of their cattle and ordered them to be taken to his
caStle.

When this became known, the abbot and brethren were
very much troubled and debated long what they ought to do.
Finally they determined that someone should go to the caftle,
at leaft to let the noble know what sort of a reward he was
heaping up for himself, and if possible it should be the abbot.
But he replied: “ I will not go, because we shall get no advan¬
tage from warning him, but shall only be beating the air.”
When the prior and the cellarer had excused themselves in
similar fashion, the abbot said : “ Is there anyone here who is
willing to make this journey?” All were silent except one
who was inspired from on high and promptly answered : “ Let
that monk go,” mentioning by name an old brother of
extremely simple charatffer. The monk was summoned ; was
asked if he would go to the caftle on this errand ; he agreed
and was despatched.

As he went out of the room he said to the abbot in the great
simplicity of his heart: “ Father, if he should offer to reffore
me any portion of the herd, shall I accept or not ?” The abbot
replied : “ If you can get anything back take it in the name of
the Lord ; half a loaf is better than no bread.”

He departed and came to the caftle, bringing to the tyrant
the message of the abbot and brethren, together with their
petition. The tyrant made a mock of his discourse and said
scoffingly: “ Sir, wait a little until you have dined and then
I will give you your answer.” At the dinner hour he was
given a place at the common table and the ordinary food, to
wit, flesh in abundance was set before him, as before the res'!.
The holy man, remembering the words of his abbot and not
doubting that the flesh so lavishly placed before him was a
part of the monastery cattle, ate as much of the flesh as he
could, that he might not break the law of obedience.

The lord of the castle, who was sitting opposite with his
wife, was much impressed that the monk should be eating
flesh so heartily, and when dinner was over he called him

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aside and said : “ Tell me, good sir, is your convent accustomed
to eat flesh?” When the other replied: “Certainly not";
the lord added: “ What do they do when they go outside?”
“ Neither inside the convent,” said he, “ nor outside do they
eat flesh.” Then the tyrant asked: “ Why then did you eat
all this flesh to-day?” The monk answered: “When my
abbot sent me here he ordered me to get back as much of our
cattle as I could ; therefore I could not refuse. And because
I felt sure that the meat set before me belonged to my mona¬
stery, and also because I feared that that would be all I could
recover, viz, as much as I could take away through my teeth,
I ate for the sake of obedience that I might not return wholly
empty.”

And because God does not reject the simple, neither will
He help the evil doers (Job viii. 20), this noble, when he
heard what the monk said, was moved by his simplicity, or
rather by the Holy Spirit who spoke by the mouth of the old
man, and recognised the warning and replied: “ Wait for
me here ; I will go and take counsel with my wife as to what
I shall do for you.” And when he came to her and told her
in order the words of the old monk, he added: “ I fear the
swift vengeance of God upon me, if I should now repel this
man so simple and so upright.” She replied in similar
fashion that she was also troubled by the same thought.

Then he went back to the old man and said: “ Good
father, for the sake of your holy simplicity which has moved
me to pity, I will reStore to your monastery all that is Still left
of your cattle, and so far as I can, I will give you satisfaction
for all the injuries I have done you, and from this day I will
never trouble you again.

At these words the old man thanked him and returned
joyfully to the monastery with the cattle, and to the great
aflonishment of the abbot and the brethren repeated the words
of the noble. From the peace that they enjoyed thencefor¬
ward they learnt by experience how great is the virtue of sim¬
plicity. See what an example you have of how an act, which
is sometimes wrong in itself, may became good and full of
light by reason of a single eye, i.e. a good intention. In truth
this monk by eating flesh in the caStle would have sinned if

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Of Singleness of Heart

he had not been justified by simplicity. And the result
showed not only that there was no sin in his adt, but even that
it was meritorious.

Novice. —Do they sin who, when monks are away from
their convents, set before them meat or fat, or meat soup, and
deceive them into eating by an artifice?

Mon^.—I do not think they sin if they are impelled by the
necessity of hospitality, or by the fervour of charity which is
Still more worthy. The monk who eats is excused from sin
by his ignorance or simplicity ; the hoSf, as I said, by his
charity. Here is an example.

CHAPTER III.

Of Christian, the dean of Bonn, who in simplicity
set before an abbot pulse cooked in lard.

ChriStian, the dean of Bonn, of blessed memory, a man of
upright life and great learning, died among us as a novice.
He was a man moSt fervent in hospitality, and once invited
Herman, the abbot of Hemmenrode, who had formerly been
dean of the Holy ApoStles in Cologne, a man both learned
and discreet, to dine with him. And since there was no food
in his house that did not contain meat, he secretly ordered his
servant to take out the pieces of bacon and to place the pulse
thus treated before the abbot. While he was eating in all
simplicity of the dish placed before him, a monk of his, who
was not so simple-minded, found a small piece of bacon in
his dish and showed it to the abbot. As soon as he saw it,
the abbot pushed away his plate for conscience sake. When
they were on their way home the abbot blamed the monk for
his inquisitiveness, saying : “ Ill may you fare, for to-day you
have robbed me of my food. If you had held your tongue, I,
by eating in ignorance, should not have sinned in my dinner.”
But I remember that Daniel, the abbot of Schonau, acted in
a way exaftly contrary to this.

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chapter IV.

Of the mon\ Gotteschalk^, who in the simplicity
of his heart ate a pie cooked with lard in Siegburg.

Once when this Daniel, who was then our prior, was dining
in Siegburg and with him there were Brother Gotteschalk ot
VolmarStein, a monk simple and upright, there were set before
them by the brothers of the same monastery a pie which had
been cooked in lard. Now the prior recognised this at once
by the smell and would not eat himself, but he did not prevent
the monk from eating. When the dinner was over and they
were talking together, Gotteschalk said to the prior: “ Lord
prior, why did you not eat of the pie, for it was very good?”
The prior replied: “ I am not surprised to hear that it was
very good, for it was very well Steeped in lard.” “ And
why,” said the other, “ did you not tell me this?” The prior
answered : “ I did not wish to spoil your meal ; you need not
be unhappy about it, because your ignorance is a full excuse.”
For this Daniel was a learned man and before his conversion
a scholaSticus.

Novice. —I am not surprised that monks should sometimes
be deceived in lard and in the fat of meat ; but I do wonder
that some should be so simple as to be deceived in the gross
substance, i.e. in the meat itself.

Mon\. —I think that this sometimes may happen through
the affedion of those who serve them. When the holy Theo-
philus, bishop of Alexandria, had one day invited some of the
holy brethren to dinner and had put before them flesh of
birds, they all thought that they were eating vegetables, until
he told them what was on their plates. For the appearance
was not taken away for them with the taSte, but was divinely
changed owing to the affetftion of the giver. Dom Ensfrid,
dean of S. Andrew a<fted very much in the same way in my
own time. You muSt remember this also that the power of
distinguishing between foods by taSte is much diminished by
long disuse. For it is no wonder that Dom Theobald, the

39 s

Of Singleness of Heart

abbot of Eberbach, who had never tailed flesh for all his sixty-
six years in the Order, should have eaten it under the appear¬
ance of fish and never noticed the difference ; for the afore¬
said Ensfrid put flesh before the monks inflead of a turbot,
and they all ate in ignorance.

Novice .—I should like to know more fully about such
cases.

Mon^.—The life of this venerable man was adorned with
such great works of mercy, that it is worthy to be set upon a
candleilick for all to see. The case about which you ask,
and his other deeds, which I partly saw for myself and partly
learned from others, I will relate to you faithfully. For 1
learnt letters in the very church in which he was dean, and
deeply do I now regret that at the time I took so little trouble
to search out his virtues.

CHAPTER V.

The life of Dom Ensfrid, dean of S. Andrew in
Cologne.

Ensfrid was born in the diocese of Cologne, a man simple-
minded and upright, and chiefly remarkable for his works
of mercy. What sort of a life was his before he entered the
prieflhood or how he spent his youth I do not know. But
that mercy grew up with him and flourished, this I gather from
those adls of his that I am about to relate. That he was of
teachable temper and eager to learn was plain from the result
itself. For he was so well grounded in his boyhood, that as
I heard from his own lips, he was as a young man head of the
schools, and both by word and example intruded very many
not only to be eager in learning, but what is of more import¬
ance to be zealous to lead a good life.

When he was ordained prieft he undertook the charge of a
church in Siegburg, one considered to be a good parish, i.e.,

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The Dialogue on Miracles

rich in offerings, and here he began to turn his theories of
life into pradtice. He did not live there as a Stranger to his
people, but his door lay always open to every comer. He was
the father of widows, the consoler of orphans, the scourge of
sinners.

Now he kept in his house several scholars and was of such
dove-like simplicity that at the time when cherries were ripe,
he said to his Steward : “ My good friend, give the boys leave
to climb the trees and eat as many of the cherries as they like
and as they can ; you need not trouble to give them any
other food because there is none they delight in so much.” He
said this not from any thought of grasping, but simply from
the great affedtion of his heart. Now this had gone on for
several days and though the licence conceded to the boys had
been delightful to them as boys, his Steward came to him and
said: “ Assuredly, sir, unless these lads eat some other food
they will soon be ill and he agreed at once.

Later he became canon in the Church of S. Andrew at
Cologne, and not long afterwards, owing to his holy life, he
was raised to be dean. Now although his whole life was
irreproachable and of shining purity, yet was he specially
fervent in works of mercy. In the parish of S. Paul which
belongs to the Church of S. Andrew, there was not a single
poor widow whose affairs he did not know, and whom he did
not help with his alms. So much bread was given from his
table to those who begged from door to door, so much money
from his hands was put into the treasury of ChriSt, i.e. into
the hands of the poor, that it was a marvel to those who knew
his annual income.

Now he had a nephew, Frederick by name, canon of the
same church, who adted as his Steward. He had often to up¬
braid his uncle for his reckless generosity, while the uncle
in his turn upbraided his nephew for too much Stinginess.
For they shared all their expenses and this was why Frederick
was much troubled because whatever the dean got hold of,
he gave away secretly to the poor.

Once when Frederick, owing to his office of cellarer had a
number of fine pigs which he killed and turned into hams,
and hung them up in the kitchen to keep until they should be

39 s

Of Singleness of Heart

needed ; the dean, who often looked into the kitchen, coveted
very much this fine row of hams and since he could not get
any of them from his nephew by begging, and did not like
to take them openly, he thought out a holy trick, a pious trick,
a trick well worthy of remembrance. As often as he found
nobody in the kitchen, he went in Stealthily ; or if there
were any servants there, he sent them out, and climbed up the
Steps to the row of hams and cut out slices from the part cf
each ham which was next the wall, until he had taken about
half of each. The front part however he left untouched so
that the cutting of the reSt might escape unnoticed. This he
did for many days and distributed the flesh thus abstracted to
widows, to any one in want, and to orphans. At length the
theft of the household goods was discovered ; the thief was
sought for and found without difficulty.

The clerk was furious ; the dean said nothing until the
former complained that he had loSt what belonged to the
brethren, and the supplies of the whole year ; and then the
holy man tried to appease him with such words as he could,
saying: *' My good kinsman, it is surely better that you should
suffer a little loss than that the poor should die of hunger.
The Lord will give you a full reward.” And with these
words Frederick was appeased and upbraided him no more.

At another time when he was on his way to S. Gereon, I
think, that he might be present at the feaSt of that martyr, a
beggar followed him with importunate cries, and since he had
nothing that he could possibly give him, he told the scholar
who was accompanying him to go on a little way in front.
Then he went aside into a corner by the church of the Blessed
Mary, the mother of God, in a place where it was usual for
the bishops to be flow indulgences on the people on Palm
Sunday, and because there was no other article of clothing he
could take off, he unfastened his breeches, and in the sight
of the beggar, let them fall. The man picked them up and
went off rejoicing.

Now the saint desired to hide his aeft of charity, but God
willed that it should not be hidden under a bushel, but placed
upon a candlestick to be an example for posterity. For when
he came back from S. Gereon and sat down by the fire, but

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did not as usual lift up his cloak to warm his legs, his nephew
Frederick said to him: “ Lift up your cloak and warm your
legs for it was very cold, and he was an old man. And
when he replied: “ No thank you, I think not Frederick
added : “ I am pretty sure that you have no breeches,” making
a guess at this from the good man’s blushes. He did at laft
confess that he had loft them, but said no word of his charity.
At this the clerk laughed, and it was he who told me the
ftory.

Novice. —Why, this surpasses anything that can be read
in the ads of S. Martin, for surely it is a much greater thing
to part with one’s breeches than to give half one’s cloak.

Mon\. —Because of this and other similar deeds of his,
some said that they had never heard or read of any man who
was filled with such marvellous compassion for the poor,
such wonderful affe&ion and mercy. He used to beftow his
garments upon the poor without any sort of reftraint, and
when he suffered from the cold and other garments were sent
to him, he would do the same thing with them. Always his
heart seemed full of that saying of the Saviour : Give and it
shall be given unto you. Dom Everard, of whom I remember
we spoke in the ninetieth chapter of the fourth book, who was
the venerable vicar of S. James’ Church, had a great love for
him, they were of one heart and mind in the Lord. Now
when he wished to give Ensfrid any article of clothing, he
used to say, in order that it might be of use to him for a little
longer than usual, “ I will lend you this garment.”

Novice. —I think that a man who was so lavish towards the
poor, muft have been very liberal towards guefts.

Mon\. —With how great love he received them the follow¬
ing ftory will show. One day he invited to dinner some
religious, I am not sure whether they were Ciftercians or
Premonftratensians; and he happened to have in the house
no regular convent food or any fish ; so he said to his cook:
“ We have no fish, and these men are simple-minded monks
and very hungry ; go and make a hash, take out all the bones
and spice it well and then set it before them and say: ‘ Will
you please to eat of this excellent turbot.’ ” And when he
had done this, they, good simple men noticed nothing of the

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Of Singleness of Heart

pious fraud of their good simple hoSf, and asked no questions,
both for their rule of silence and also for conscience sake, but
ate of what was placed before them as fish. The dish was
almoSt empty, when one of them discovered a little pig’s ear,
and pointed it out to his neighbour ; the dean saw him do
this and pretending indignation called out to him : “ Eat and
give God thanks ; monks ought not to be so curious ; do you
suppose that a turbot has no ears?”

The devil who is the enemy of the human race was envious
of such great virtues ; and so, in the hope of troubling him,
he took visible shape and thruSf himself into his presence and
disappeared again after addressing him in these verses.

“ Death holds his mirror up, that you may see
How little life or health is left for thee.”

Do you notice the folly of this versifying devil? The very
means he used to damp the ardour of the saint only Stimulated
him to further effort. Indeed his life laSfed for about thirty
years after this time, and he was all the more fervent in good
works as he had been told that he was the nearer to death.

On a certain festival, Dom Adolphus, the dean of the cathe¬
dral, afterwards archbishop of Cologne, invited him to dinner ;
but he declined saying that he was expecting some important
gueSts. After mass, when the saint was hastening home, his
fellow canon Godfrey, the secretary of the dean of the cathe¬
dral, was looking out of the window of the solar of the clergy
house, and as he told me himself saw him with a number of
beggars in this train, some of whom were lame and others
blind. And when they found a difficulty in crossing the big
Stones which divide the Street at this point, he saw that Ensfrid
although he was already somewhat decrepit with age, Stopped
to offer a hand to each. Immediately the clerk called his
maSter to the window and said: “ Look my lord, there are
the important gueSts whom our dean said that he muSt go to
meet and they were both not a little edified.

I myself saw him carry out a work of compassion of very
much the same kind : on the anniversary of Dom Bruno, the
Archbishop of Cologne, when all the conventional churches
were gathering to the Church of S. Panteleon, the martyr,

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26

The Dialogue on Miracles

which Bruno himself had built ; after mass had been said
for his soul, the various priors entered the refe&ory to dine
together according to custom, and a number of beggars
followed Dom Ensfrid as far as the door of the refe&ory.
The caterer was of course anxious to admit him and keep out
the beggars ; but Ensfrid grew very angry and cried out:
“ I will certainly not come in to-day without these friends of
mine,” for well the wise man knew that the poor are the
friends of God and the doorkeepers of heaven (Luke xvi. 9).

This too is the reason why when once he had been asked
to Stand by the relics and urge people as they came in to give
alms to the restoration of the church, which was at that time
in his charge, he addressed them as follows, “ My good
friends, you see plainly how splendid are these restorations
that we are making, and you will do well in giving your alms
towards them, but nevertheless let me tell you that you wili
do Still better and more wisely if you give them to the poor.”
This exhortation was heard at the time by one monk Frederick
of blessed memory, as he was entering the Church of S.
Andrew with certain knights and he often afterwards told
me the Story.

He used also to feed from his Stipend God-fearing persons
that he might have a share in their merits. And so it came
about that he supported from his prebend all her life that
venerable recluse of our Order, the lady Heilige, who was as
truly holy as her name and whose cell was attached to the
monastery of S. Andrew ; for that blessed one consistently
refused to take alms from anyone else. Further he was
accuStomed to call the poor his heavenly treasure houses,
whom no moth could corrupt, whom no thieves could brea\
through or Heal (Matt. vi. 19). Wherefore as we have
already shown, he cared far more to comfort the poor than to
increase buildings, or treasures or other perishable ornaments
of churches. When he dined alone, he used to bring to his
table poor lads whose hands were ulcerated and sadly
negle&ed, and used to make them with them feed from his
own plate.

Novice .—Very wonderful and admirable are the piety,
humility and simplicity of this dean.

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Of Singleness of Heart

Mont {.—I will tell you something you will wonder at Hill
more. He had a dear friend who lived near him, a citizen
of Cologne named Lambert. This man was supping one
day with Godfrey, the secretary we spoke of before, and they
were talking together of the charity of Dom Ensfrid, when
Lambert said in my hearing: “ Let me tell you how he treated
me. Once he had invited my wife and myself to supper
with him. While we were sitting at table, we had been for
some time expecting a dish to be brought in, for there was
nothing in front of us except dry bread. And because 1
knew well his little ways, I beckoned to one of the servants
and whispered : ‘ Tell me, my good fellow, are we not going
to have anything to eat ? ’ He replied: ‘ We haven’t a
thing in the house ; the h£t is that a good supper had been
prepared for you, but my mailer came into the kitchen juft
before we served it up and divided among the poor all that
we had prepared, in spite of anything that we could say.’
I was much amused at this and sent the same servant to my
house and he brought back enough food to satisfy all the
gueffs.”

Another day I went into his kitchen and saw a number of
geese turning on spits before the fire, and I said to myself:
“ Certainly this good dean makes very good provision for his
household.” But as soon as the geese were cooked, he himself
came in, cut them up, and arranging portions on the dishes,
sent the whole of them to poor widows. Often geese and
chickens were sent to him, sometimes officially, owing to his
position as dean, and sometimes as gifts, because many loved
him, for they knew well his benevolence.

And here is another mark of his charity : whenever he
wished to send any of these either to his brethren or to any
other of his neighbours, he would have them killed before he
sent them in order that they might be eaten at once.

He had so much compassion for the poor, as I said above,
that he sometimes did what human judgment might condemn.
One of the priefts of S. Andrew told me that there was a
certain citizen of Cologne who was less fond of his wife than
he ought to have been, and often treated her harshly ; on
this account she Hole from him a large sum of money. When

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The Dialogue on Miracles

her husband charged her with the theft she denied it boldly,
and then being afraid of being found out she threw it into the
cesspool. Afterwards she repented of what she had done,
and she went to the dean and confessed to him the theft and
the cause of it. I believe that the holy man tried to persuade
her to restore the money to her husband ; but because she
had sworn to him that she had not taken it, she did not dare
to do this, being afraid that he would ill-treat her Still more
if he knew. Whereupon the dean said: “ If I can get hold
of the money without implicating you, are you willing that
it should be given to the poor?” She replied that this was
what she desired above all things, and a few days later
the dean called upon the citizen and said: “ Will you give
me leave to have your cesspool cleaned out, and if by the
grace of God I should find anything there, will you allow me
to take it?” The other, knowing him to be a holy man, and
thinking that God had made some revelation to him, gave
him leave. The cesspool was cleaned out and the money was
found, and within a few days was distributed to the poor by
the hands of the man of God.

Novice .—I think that a detra&or might certainly find in
this an opportunity for carping.

Mon \.—There are three points which I think excuse him
from sin. The firSt that the money belonged to the wife as
well as to the husband ; secondly, that it was loSt and could
not have been found except by the woman’s confession ; and
thirdly, that he distributed it to the poor ; and laSt of all, the
charity which instigated him. PrieSts are often accustomed
to give permission to wives to take money from miserly and
uncharitable husbands and give it to the poor.

But there was something else which he did that laid him
much more open to censure. Once when he had nothing
to eat, he went into the bakehouse of the brethren, where the
loaves were set out upon a table ready for diSlribution, and
asked the baker to which of the brethren each batch of loaves
belonged, and when he had learned from the baker the
ownership of each, he ordered the loaves of those he knew to
be rich to be carried off to his own house, saying: “ They
have abundance and I have nothing at all to eat.”

Of Singleness of Heart

Novice .—How can such an aft as this be excused.

Mon \.—There are many things lawful to saints which
could not be permitted to other men (2 Cor. iii. 17). This
is why the authorities say: “ So long as you are in a Slate of
grace you may do what you will.” Therefore he is excused
by his sanftity, by his necessity, by the words of authority and
by brotherhood. Sanftity, because it was his love for the
poor that brought him to want ; necessity, which knows no
law, and concerning which Rudolph, the scholaSticus of
Cologne Cathedral used to say to his pupils: “ Before I
would die of hunger, I would snatch something to eat even
from the feet of the Crucifix.” He was excused to a certain
extent by his position, because he was a dean and a sort of
father to his brethren ; by brotherhood, because he considered
that they all had everything in common, juft as he had made
his own property common to all.

Now when from the failure of his bodily ftrength and from
his great age, he felt that the day of his death was pressing
upon him, in order that no earthly possession might encumber
his humble soul on its homeward way, he sold lus house, and
with his own hands divided the proceeds, not amongft his
relations or friends, but amongft Chrift’s poor. For well he
knew that his fellow canons, even the moil truftworthy, might
easily be less truftworthy after his death. His house was
bought by Conrad, a prieft and canon of the same church.
After the tranaftion Conrad came to him and said: “ Sir, I
should like to have my house,” to whom he replied with great
simplicity: “ My good Conrad, I am a decrepit old man and
shall not live long ; be patient for a little while and you shall
certainly have it. Where would you wish me to live for the
short time remaining to me?” The good Conrad, making
a virtue of necessity, waited for his death with great patience.

The blessed saint had a heart of such tenderness that often
when he was sitting in the portico of the church and saw poor
men pass by, burdened with the moss which they had collefted
from the woods, he would buy it himself, not that he in the
ieaft wanted it, but simply to deliver the poor from their toil.

Our fellow monk, Rener, who was once scholafticus of that
church, also told me that one day when a beggar laden with

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The Dialogue on Miracles

bellows for sale, and, unable to sell them, came to rest in the
same portico, Ensfrid said to him : “Rener, buy those bellows”;
and when he replied: “ But, sir, I do not want them,” he
answered : “ Then buy them and give them to your friends.”
Whereupon Rener bought them, knowing full well that it
was the dean’s compassion which urged him to this request.

His heart was so tender that he could not bear to see anyone
Struck or abused if he could prevent it. One day he was
passing the schools and heard the cries of a certain canon who
had grievously transgressed, and who was being held down
by four scholars for a flogging, immediately he rushed pant¬
ing into the schools like a lion, and going up to his fellow
canon, the scholaSticus, in the sight of us all he lifted up his
Stick and delivered the lad from his hands. “ What are you
doing,” he cried, “ you tyrant? You are appointed to teach
the boys, not to murder them and the other covered with
confusion made no reply.

How great his patience was the following Story will show.
One day he was sitting in the church porch according to his
cuStom, I think between the None and Vespers, when a certain
Scothus, a miserable fellow, who was frequently drunk and
who was altogether unworthy of the dignity of the priesthood,
came up to him, nobody else being present, seized him by the
hood, drew out a knife and said in a threatening voiceGive
me some money or 1 will kill you.” But by the providence
of God there came in a young and active canon who pulled
off Scothus very roughly. But when he wished to kill him,
judging him worthy of death, this moSt gentle-hearted saint
restrained him saying: “ Do not be angry, my brother, take
care not to hurt him, for it was only a joke.”

Never did he return evil for evil, because of the dovelike
simplicity that ruled in his heart. Yet full as he was of
wonderful tenderness, as we have often said, he nevertheless
burnt with a great zeal for justice. Once he happened to
meet the abbess of the convent of the eleven thousand virgins.
Before her there went clerks robed in the grey mantles of the
nuns, behind her followed hand-maidens and attendants, who
filled the air with a clamour of foolish words. But behind
the dean there followed a crowd of beggars asking alms of him.

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PLATE V

Of Singleness of Heart

The holy man, inflamed with a zeal for discipline, cried aloud
in the hearing of all: “ O lady abbess, it would better become
your profession and better honour your religion, if you were
followed by paupers as 1 am, rather than by buffoons.” At
which she blushed deeply, but did not presume to make any
reply to such a man.

So great was the love of justice in him, that one day when
someone in his hearing was speaking of the evil life of the
clergy, he replied at once : “ It is all one how they live,” as if
he had said : From an evil root no good tree can spring. For
he had known few clerks who had entered the church in the
right way, i.e. who had not been introduced by nepotism i.e.
pushed in by their relations, or by favouritism, i.e. thruS
forward by the power of great men ; or by simony, to wit,
by payment of money, or in return for some dishonourable
service rendered.

Novice .—This vice holds great sway among the clergy in
these days.

A lon \.—That is true, especially in those churches in which
prelates are appointed to draw their salaries without being
elected. Indeed Rudolph, bishop of Liege took so much
pride in simony that once, when he had sold a prebend of
a certain church of his, he clasped the money to his breasl
and said in the presence of many bystanders: “ I have greatly
enriched the church of Liege and have increased its revenues.
For the prebend which my predecessors sold for ten
marks, I have brought up to forty." And because the
saint knew that few men entered upon their canonries
with a simple heart, he judged that few lived in them with
simplicity.

And with this zeal for juStice he had also an eager love for
regular discipline. For after him even to this day there
has never arisen in that church a dean under whom discipline
flourished so vigorously. Even at the very close of his life,
right up to the day of his death, he would never suffer him¬
self to omit any weekly observance of Divine service. Often
when celebrating mass in the convent he had to be held up
by the arms of others left he should fall. On feaff: days,
he, like everybody else, chanted the Alleluia at the Steps.

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The Dialogue on Miracles

When others left the church, he rarely went out of it, unless
to go and take food ; and sitting down before the altar of
the Holy Cross he would Stay there hour after hour.

In public he was always so ready to receive penitents, that
he would frequently sit with them in the portico and would
read to them the manuscripts and comfort them, and make
them write out their prayers and petitions. His humility
was so great, that though he was far above all both in age and
dignity, he would always, except on special feaSls, choose
almoSt the loweSt place in the choir.

His robes were always very common and humble, neither
grey nor coloured but simply made of natural sheep’s wool,
and he always wore a cloak of the same material.

Novice .—Why is that you tell me no miracle of so great a
saint.

Monl {.—There is none greater than John the BaptiSl ; yet
we do not read that he performed any miracle such as the
gospel relates were done by the betrayer Judas (Mark vi. 13).
Indeed to some of those who now perform miracles in the
name of ChriSl, He Himself will say in the laSt day : " I
\now not whence ye are ; depart from me all ye workers of
iniquity (Luke xiii. 27). For miracles are not of the sub¬
stance of sandtity, but rather its signs. The Lord, willing
to reward his worn-out soldier after his toil, called him to
glory as follows. On EaSter Eve when he was expedted at
the solemn service because it was his week, suddenly his
Strength began to fail. The before-mentioned Rener was
sent for, who discovered by feeling his pulse that he was at
the very gate of death, and advised him at once to receive
Extreme Undtion, and placed in his mouth a medicinal
lozenge to relieve him. This he immediately spat out, say¬
ing : “ I shall be celebrating mass in the convent ” ; and
Rener replied: “ You will never celebrate mass again in this
life.” When he heard this he besought that he might receive
Extreme Undtion, and then joined the brethren in chanting
the Psalms and Litany. About three o’clock he gave up
his spirit to be with ChriSl in the company of the spirits of
juSt men made perfedt. When he was buried on the follow¬
ing EaSter Monday, Dom Everard, the vicar of St. James,

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Of Singleness of Heart

whose virtuous life I have described to you in the ninety-
eighth chapter of the fourth book, bore this witness concern¬
ing him in the hearing of the many: “ This day ” he said,
“ we have here committed to the earth the moff holy man
who has ever lived upon it.”

And as the question of miracles has been raised, I may
tell you that after his death there was no lack of signs and
wonders. A certain priefl and Stipendiary of that church,
named Adam, told me himself that once when he was
tormented with very violent pains in the head, he went to
the tomb of this saint and prayed as follows: “ Lord ” he
said, “ grant me some relief from my pain for the sake of
the merits of this saint of Thine.” Forthwith his prayer was
heard, and he who had come thither in sickness, departed
in full health. Many other works well worthy of recording,
did this holy man perform, but I omit them because I have no
room to describe them.

Novice .—Would that all deans were like him so simple-
hearted and so holy.

Monl(.—l call to mind how another dean, a simple-hearted
man and a worthy servant of God, some of whose virtues
were lately told me by Mailer John, the dean of Aix, who
was born in the same town in which that holy dean lived,
and I will tell you what I heard of him.

CHAPTER VI.

Also of the life of Dom Herman, dean of the
Church of Hildesheim.

There was in our own time in the church of Hildesheim
a good man and dear to God, by name Herman, full of many
virtues and works of virtue. In sacred vigils, in prayer
failings, and works of mercy all his desire was to do the will
of God. The enemy of the human race, angered by these

409

The Dialogue on Miracles

When others left the church, he rarely went out of it, unless
to go and take food ; and sitting down before the altar of
the Holy Cross he would Stay there hour after hour.

In public he was always so ready to receive penitents, that
he would frequently sit with them in the portico and would
read to them the manuscripts and comfort them, and make
them write out their prayers and petitions. His humility
was so great, that though he was far above all both in age and
dignity, he would always, except on special feafts, choose
almoSt the loweSt place in the choir.

His robes were always very common and humble, neither
grey nor coloured but simply made of natural sheep’s wool,
and he always wore a cloak of the same material.

Novice .—Why is that you tell me no miracle of so great a
saint.

Mon \.—There is none greater than John the BaptiSt ; yet
we do not read that he performed any miracle such as the
gospel relates were done by the betrayer Judas (Mark vi. 13).
Indeed to some of those who now perform miracles in the
name of ChriSt, He Himself will say in the laSt day: " /
know not whence ye are ; depart from me all ye workers of
iniqnity (Luke xiii. 27). For miracles are not of the sub¬
stance of sandtity, but rather its signs. The Lord, willing
to reward his worn-out soldier after his toil, called him to
glory as follows. On EaSter Eve when he was expedted at
the solemn service because it was his week, suddenly his
Strength began to fail. The before-mentioned Rener was
sent for, who discovered by feeling his pulse that he was at
the very gate of death, and advised him at once to receive
Extreme Undtion, and placed in his mouth a medicinal
lozenge to relieve him. This he immediately spat out, say¬
ing : “ I shall be celebrating mass in the convent ” ; and
Rener replied: “You will never celebrate mass again in this
life.” When he heard this he besought that he might receive
Extreme Undtion, and then joined the brethren in chanting
the Psalms -and Litany. About three o’clock he gave up
his spirit to be with ChriSt in the company of the spirits of
juSt men made perfedl. When he was buried on the follow¬
ing EaSter Monday, Dom Everard, the vicar of St. James,

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Of Singleness of Heart

whose virtuous life I have described to you in the ninety-
eighth chapter of the fourth book, bore this witness concern¬
ing him in the hearing of the many: “ This day ” he said,
“ we have here committed to the earth the moft holy man
who has ever lived upon it.”

And as the question of miracles has been raised, I may
tell you that after his death there was no lack of signs and
wonders. A certain priefl and Stipendiary of that church,
named Adam, told me himself that once when he was
tormented with very violent pains in the head, he went to
the tomb of this saint and prayed as follows: “ Lord ” he
said, “ grant me some relief from my pain for the sake of
the merits of this saint of Thine.” Forthwith his prayer was
heard, and he who had come thither in sickness, departed
in full health. Many other works well worthy of recording,
did this holy man perform, but I omit them because I have no
room to describe them.

Novice .—Would that all deans were like him so simple-
hearted and so holy.

Mon \.—I call to mind how another dean, a simple-hearted
man and a worthy servant of God, some of whose virtues
were lately told me by Mailer John, the dean of Aix, who
was bom in the same town in which that holy dean lived,
and I will tell you what I heard of him.

CHAPTER VI.

Also of the life of Dom Herman, dean of the
Church of Hildesheim.

There was in our own time in the church of Hildesheim
a good man and dear to God, by name Herman,' full of many
virtues and works of virtue. In sacred vigils, in prayer
failings, and works of mercy all his desire was to do the will
of God. The enemy of the human race, angered by these

The Dialogue on Miracles

works of his, tried to hinder him in every fashion, so that
the holy man was accustomed to say to him: “ O, devil ”
full of all malice, why do£t thou so much harass me ? ”

Once when he was planting in his orchard a little tree
and was grafting on to the trunk two shoots, one of these
dried up, but the other proved healthy. Thereupon as he
earnestly desired a sign from Almighty God, he prayed:
“ I beseech Thee Lord, if it be Thy Will that I should become
a prieSt, cause this dry shoot to live again.” Behold the
wonderful mercy of God ! forthwith that dry shoot began
to flourish with sap and in due time brought forth fruit.
Thus the Divine power which confirmed in his office Aaron,
the firSt prieSt, by causing a dry rod to flower contrary to
nature, showed by a similar miracle that this man was worthy
of the priesthood.

When after his death a certain clerk of his, Everard by
name, on whom he had beStowed a church, became blind, and
prayed daily at Herman’s tomb, relying upon his holiness
and pity, and begging that he might receive his sight for
the sake of the merits of his maSfcer, the holy Herman
appeared to him visibly one day and said : “ What will thou
that I should do for thee? ” and when the blind man replied :
“ MaSter that I may receive my sight,” the saint said to him
in the very words of the gospel: " Receive thy sight for thy
faith hath saved thee ” (Luke xviii. 42). That very hour
the clerk received his sight, and so long as he lived gave
thanks to the Lord, who had so glorified His saint, as he
himself had experienced.

Later, when a certain sick man had been carried to the
Martyr’s Memorial and had not been healed, by the advice
of a friend he made his prayer to the same St. Herman and
was cured. It happened that this man entered the church
on the anniversary of Dom Herman, and asked why all the
bells were ringing and received this answer : “ To day is
the anniversary of Dom Herman, formerly dean of this
church, a good and upright man, and a mass is to be said
for him in the convent.” The man replied : “ I beg you
to show me his tomb.” And when this was done, he Stood
there for a long time praying with much devotion, and the

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Or Singleness of Heart

precentor of the church, noticing this, made opportunity for
a private conversation with him, and asked and learnt the
reason of his prayer. And so by the mouth of a Stranger
his merits were known so that the brethren began to invoke
as their patron saint him whom they had formerly looked
upon merely as their dean.

Novice. —Such things are rare nowadays.

Mon\. —I prefer the works of piety of St. Ensfrid to the
miracles recorded of St. Herman. For the former, as I said,
make a man a saint, while the latter only show that he is a
saint.

Novice. —Indeed I heartily agree with you ; and if you
know any other works of simplicity I beseech you to tell me
them.

Mon\. —I will tell you the Story of a man, who had the
simplest of natures, and by this you will learn clearly how
pleasing to God is the holy and prudent simplicity which
comes by grace.

CHAPTER VII.

Of the simplicity of Werinbold, canon of St.

Gereon in Cologne.

In the church of St. Gereon, the martyr, in the city of
Cologne there was a certain canon, Werinbold by name, of
noble birth, and very rich in ecclesiaSlical preferments. He
was a man of so great simplicity, that he never could grasp
the sum total of anything, except so far that he was able to
tell whether it was odd or even. At one time he had a great
number of hams hanging up in his kitchen, and to prevent
them from being Stolen, he used to go and count them as
follows: “ Here is a ham and here is its fellow, here is a
ham and here is its wife, and so on to the end. One of
them having been Stolen by the dishoneSly of his servants

The Dialogue on Miracles

when next he went in and counted his hams in his usual
way, he discovered them to be odd in number, and cried
out: “ I have loft one of my hams.” The servants, secretly
laughing, answered him: “ We shall soon find it, Sir.”
And when he had gone out, and they had again made the
number even by ftealing another, and he, coming back,
counted them again and found them even, he said very kindly
to the servants: “ Alas ! my friends to think that I might
have kept silence too long.”

When the servants wished to have a feaft they used to
say to him: “ Sir, why do you not take greater care of your¬
self, for truly you are very weak.” And when he said:
“ How do you know this, my good lads ? ” they answered:
“ We see it clearly by your hair, because it is so rough ; ” and
so they put him to bed and regaled themselves with all kinds
of delicacies which they pretended to have prepared for his
sickness.

A certain unscrupulous and clever ruftic, hearing of so
great simplicity, pretended that he had been his original
servant and his father’s before him. “ Sir,” he said, “ I
cannot permit your affairs to be so neglecfted. For I am
your servant, and it is right that I should truly serve your
honour, and faithfully guard all your possessions.” To sum
up, everything was handed over to this man’s charge ; and
at night when his mafter went to bed, he used to sit down
by the fire with the other servants and drink to his heart’s
content. Once when he brought in by chance a jefter, who
by the sweetness of his music had roused the sleeper, the
servant ran to his mafter and found him juft getting up,
and he cried: “ Where are you going, Sir ? When he
replied : “ I hear the moft beautiful music, but I do not know
where it comes from,” the serving man went on: “ Go back
to your bed ; it is only the monks of Deutz who are playing
upon their organ.”

Not/ice. —I think there is great wickedness in thus mock¬
ing the simple.

Mon\. —There can be no doubt of that ; remember what
holy Job says: The jufl upright man is laughed to scorn
(Job xii. 4). Upon this passage Gregory comments: The

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Of Singleness of Heart

simplicity o£ the upright is mocked, because the virtue of
simplicity is considered foolish by the worldly wise. For
everything that is done in innocence is thought by them to
be pure foolishness, and whatever in their a&ions is
approved by truth sounds fatuous to worldly wisdom.

Novice. —Indeed this man seems to me to have been foolish
rather than simple, because simplicity ought not to be divorced
from prudence.

Mon\. —Prudence consifts in guarding againSf evils before¬
hand, and that was a virtue he did not lack. And so it
came to pass by the Divine Will that he was made cellarer
in the church of St. Gereon, whose revenues are many and
great. And as we read of holy Joseph, though he knew
nothing but the bread which he ate, and that only scantily,
the Lord, who loves simplicity, supplied this defeat of his
and blessed everything to which he set his hand.

One day, when he entered the granary of the convent, he
saw several cats running hither and thither amongSf the corn,
and could scarcely wait for the meeting of the Chapter, but
threw himself at the feet of the dean, and begged to be
released from his office and to give up his keys. When the
dean and the brethren said : “ Good maSter Werinbold, what
is the matter? why do you do this ” ? he replied: “ Because
I cannot bear to look upon the losses of the convent.”
“ What losses ” ? they asked ; and he said : “ To-day I saw
several cats in the granary, and they will devour all your
corn,” When they said: “ Cats do not eat corn, but only
protedf it ” ; yet for all their entreaties they could scarcely
induce him to take back the keys. They indeed had learnt
by experience that the Lord blessed them for the sake of his
simplicity.

Once when he had money of different coinage from
different eSfates, one of his servants Stole part of it and ran
away. When he found this out and was grievously lament¬
ing, he answered those who were trying to console him:
“It is not the loss that I am bemoaning, but the danger to
the thief. The coins are not such as will pass in exchange,
the wretched fellow muSt be caught, and if he is condemned
on their account, I shall be guilty of his death.”

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Novice .—We should not choose as cellarers such men as
this now-a-days.

Mon \.—Times are changed and men also. Yet even to¬
day it often happens that under simple-minded prelates and
officials Religious houses have great outward prosperity, and
come to poverty under those who are clever and practised in
all worldly skill.

CHAPTER VIII.

Of the simplicity of Chriflian who was cellarer in
Brauweile.

In the monastery of St. Nicholas in the town of Brauweile
there was a very simple-minded monk named Christian, who
was appointed cellarer by the abbot. But God, to whom
upright simplicity is dear, so directed all that he did that at
the time when he was in office the convent flourished more
abundantly in all necessary things than ever before or since.

Very often his servants and hired men Stole his corn and
wine and many other things, and carried them away to their
wives and children. And when he found this out and some¬
times saw it with his own eyes, he pretended in the great
pity of his heart not to see it, saying within himself: “ They
are poor and in want, and the brethren will not lack any
necessaries.”

The simple man is often compared to an a<Aor or jeSter,
for as their words or actions would often be displeasing in
the mouth or hands of one who is not a jeSter, and would be
worthy of punishment, yet when the same things are said or
done by jeSters they give pleasure ; and so it is with the simple-
minded. If I may put it in such a way the simple-minded
are the jesters of God and the Holy Angels. But if their
deeds are sometimes done by those who are not simple-
minded there is no doubt that they are displeasing to God
who delights in them when they are done by the simple.

4M

Of Singleness of Heart

CHAPTER IX.

Of a tnon\ of Burscheid.

In Burscheid there was a monk so simple-minded that
almost every day he used to sit among the paupers in the
baths which there flow naturally warm before the gate of the
monastery, and used to rub the backs of the poor and wash
their heads and cleanse their clothes. Now both the abbot
and his brethren used frequently and sharply to upbraid him
for this, but he did not desiSl but answered very simply as
follows: “ But if I leave off doing this, who will do it instead
for the poor ” ? Now if anybody else, without the excuse
of simplicity should have shown himself so presumptuous in
response to the orders of his abbot, there can be no doubt
that he would have offended God grievously (Eccles. v. i).

Moreover that the works of this simple-minded man were
pleasing to God will be made plain by the following miracle.
Once when he went to Cologne to preach there, he was enter¬
tained in the house of a certain Abraham. That night when
the bell for matins was ringing in the church of the blessed
Peter, he got up and as he was hastening thither, he saw that
the window of the upper room where he was sleeping was
open, and thinking it to be the door he went through it and
so came to the church after being helped to the ground in
wonderful fashion. As soon as matins was over, he came
back and when he knocked at the door of the house, and was
asked by those who let him in whence he came, and how he
had got out of the house, they discovered from his reply that
he had gone out through the window and not by the door.
He, himself, however was quite unconscious of any miracle.
I myself have seen this window, and it is so high above the
ground, that there cannot be any doubt that he was set down
by the Holy Angels (Ps. xli. n, 12). The following Story
will show how faithful a guardian of the simple the Lord is.

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chapter X.

The life of the blind Engilbert.

There was a certain simple-hearted man, Engilbert by
name, born in the province of Zulpich who died a few years
ago. This man was born blind, and became well known
in several provinces owing to the various gifts with which
Divine grace illuminated his inner man, and was venerated
by many great personages of either sex. He used to go
about in a simple cape and woollen tunic, walking upon
bare feet both in summer and winter, and, with a boy to guide
him, used thus often to visit very distant shrines of the saints.
He never ate flesh nor slept in a bed, but at night lay only
upon a little Straw or hay. I myself have seen many of his
good works, and he edified many both by word and example.

When he was a young man, he was passing the night in
the house of his mother’s siSter a wealthy matron, and had
chosen his bed amongSt her servants ; in the middle of the
night two thieves broke through the wall close to where he
was lying and came in. These men uncovered the fire, lit
a candle, broke open the lockers, and talked fearlessly
together. When Engilbert heard them and felt sure that
they were thieves, he tried to waken the servants sleeping on
either side of him, but unsuccessful in this, he took out his
knife and cut through the top of the bench, and so armed
himself with a club. And because, being blind, he could
not see them he went towards them under God’s guidance,
following the sound of their voices, and brandishing his club
firSt with one hand and then with the other, and Striking
like a madman in every direction as far as he could reach,
he drove them out of the house. He followed them as far
as the door, which he barricaded with a ladder ; and they,
when they found themselves outside the house, and discovered
that no one was awake except this man alone, were angry
at so ignominious an expulsion, and after taking counsel
together, forthwith they Strove to get in again. The move¬
ment of the ladder showed this to Engilbert, so he placed one

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Of Singleness of Heart

end of the ladder under a big cheft in which the grain was
kept and which flood opposite the door, and held the other
end with both hands. Now when they crept in on hands
and knees, Engilbert pressed heavily with the ladder upon
their backs, since they were crawling on their faces, and held
it down so Strongly that he took from them, not only all
power of advance, but even of retreat. Now when they
found themselves held as it were under a yoke, being in terror
that in the morning they mufl be caught, they begged for
mercy. When they had sworn with moft terrible oaths that
they would not injure his person, or try again to break into
that house, he let them go. In the morning Engilbert gave
information of the theft, but none of his neighbours sleeping
near could be awakened by any means. Then search was
made for signs of witchcraft, for they knew that this muft have
happened by some such power, and they found above the door
hanging from the roof what looked like the backbone of a
human corpse. When this was taken away, all at once awoke.

Novice .—These are great things to have been done by a
blind and simple man.

Monk .•—Greater is what follows because it has to do with
the saving of souls. Many years afterwards these same
thieves urged by the fame and the virtues of the said Engil¬
bert, and touched as I believe by his prayers, came to him,
confessed who they were, and thenceforward led a religious
life. This marvellous deed and certain others about which
we shall speak later were told me by others, and when I asked
him if they were true, he teftified quite simply that they had
taken place juft as related. And because the secret of the
Lord is with (Prov. iii. 32) the simple, He gave him the
spirit of prophecy to recompense the loss of outward light
with the brightness of the inward eye. Once when he was
invited to visit the Duchess of Saxony, the wife of Duke
Henry, a very religious matron he foretold to her, amongft
other things, that one of her sons would become Emperor.
And this we saw afterwards fulfilled in Otto who succeeded
Henry in the Empire. He after his election fell into great
tribulations and when everybody else despaired of him, he
was comforted by this same blind man, who assured him

W

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that everything which had been pre-ordained by God should
be fulfilled to the smallest detail.

Before this when Hildegund of Giemenich, a spiritually-
minded widow, was terrified for her sons, Arnold and his
brothers, owing to the quarrel of the two Counts of our
country, and begged him to pray to God that they might be
kept safe, he answered: “ Do not be anxious about this
quarrel, which will soon be at an end ; another far greater
trouble is at the door, by which not only your sons but the
whole world will be shaken.” This was fulfilled under the
Otto whom we have already mentioned and Philip his rival
in the Kingdom.

One day when he was walking through a certain Street in
Cologne, there met him several honourable matrons of that
city on their way to the church. While they were talking
together he said : “ Please Stop a moment, ladies.” And while
they Stood Still, he went on: “ Will she who was speaking
juSt now be good enough to repeat what she was saying.”
And while the ladies were hesitating as to whom he meant,
they all remained silent while he repeated the exaft words
which had been used. When he came to AStrada, who to¬
day is a nun in the convent of S. Walburgis, as soon as he
heard her voice, Engilbert replied prophetically in the hearing
of all: “ This woman with her whole house will be con¬
verted to ChriSt; ” which was fulfilled very soon afterwards.
For she, with her husband, her son, her daughter, who to-day
is an abbess in the afore-mentioned convent, and with her
man-servant and maid servant joined our Order. You see
how swiftly, by opening the mouth of the aforesaid woman,
The Lord told her His will in her ear (i Sam. ix. 15).

He was often accustomed to say much about the condition
of souls, and sometimes, it is said, a human spirit of error
deceived him. And this is not to be wondered at; for not
always did prophets speak with the spirit of prophecy, as for
instance Nathan (1 Chron. xvii.) who by his spirit exhorted
David to an aft, which the Holy Spirit immediately after¬
wards forbade to be performed.

On a certain feaSt of Our Lady, when his mother’s siSter,
whom we mentioned before, he was going in the evening to

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Of Singleness of Heart

a village close at hand for matins and said to him: “ Engil-
bert, come with me to-morrow morning ” ; that same night
before dawn he heard the voice of someone knocking at the
door, and saying: “ Come, Engilbert, let us go to matins.”
And although he did not recognise the voice, nevertheless
he got up and followed. He was led into a certain church
where he heard Matins, Prime, Terce, Sext and the None.
Then when he returned alone, and was asked where he had
been, he replied : “ Never have I heard such beautiful sing¬
ing, such sweet melodies, such a glorious Mass as I have
heard to-day.”

The same thing happened to him again the following
year ; for he had not yet put on the Religious dress. One
night he was taken from his bed, carried away and set down
near the caftle of Manbach in a very terrible solitary place.
Here his soul left his body and wandered round all the
corners and all the ups and downs of this wilderness, and
took such careful notice of everything that many were
astonished when he afterwards told what he had seen. As
his soul was returning, a demon met it on the way and said :
“ Your body belongs to me.” When he had crossed himself
and called upon the Holy Mother of God, the demon went
on : “ The middle part of your head is mine at any rate,
because it was washed when the Vesper bell was ringing
on Saturday.” And forthwith he hurled at him a lump of
pitch, which was afterwards cleaned away only with great
labour by many helpers.

When he was on his death bed his mother said to him
weeping: “ O deareft son you are now dying and leaving
me in very grievous sickness.” He replied : “ St. Mary will
deliver you, my mother.” And at the very moment of his
death, she was healed of a very severe illness under which
she had laboured for nine years.

I have read in the book of the visions of the blessed
Aczelina, that among the heavenly mansions, she saw an
empty abode of wonderful beauty and glory, and it was
told her that this was prepared for a certain blind man of
Germany ; and forthwith I recognised that this brother
Engilbert was meant.

The Dialogue on Miracles

Novice. —So far as I understand, a simple heart is very
dear to God.

Mon\. —Not only is it pleasing to God, but also to men ;
it sometimes happens that it has more weight in their eyes
than any worldly wisdom.

CHAPTER XI.

Of Dom Peter, the abbot of Clairvaux, by whose
simplicity his adversaries were confounded and
renounced the property for which they had been
contending.

Dom Peter, abbot of Clairvaux, who had loft an eye from
sickness, was a holy man, and an imitator of St. Peter the
ApoStle, both in name and fad ; he was called the son of
a dove, because he was of such great and pure simplicity.

Now a certain knight was contending with him and his
brethren about certain property ; and they had agreed upon
a day on which the knight should come to terms with the
abbot, or else a law suit should be begun before the judge.
On the appointed day the knight came with his friends ;
there came also the abbot, bringing with him only one
simple monk ; and they came, not on horses, but on foot.
And since the venerable abbot was a lover of peace and
poverty and a despiser of all worldly property, he said to
the knight in the presence of all: “You are a Chridian man,
and if you will give your word that this property, about
which we are disputing, is yours and really belongs to you,
your word will be quite enough for me.” The other, who
loved the good things of the world more than the simple
truth, replied : “ In truth I assure you that this property is
really mine,” whereupon the abbot replied: “ Then let it
be yours, in future I will make no claim upon it,” and so
went back to Clairvaux. The knight also returned to his

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Of Singleness of Heart

wife, delighted with his victory, and told her in every detail
what the abbot had said to him, and his own reply ; where¬
upon his wife was terrified at words so honest and simple,
and made answer: “You have atfled treacherously againSt
the holy abbot ; and Divine vengeance will surely befal us,
and unless you reftore their property to the monastery, I
dare no longer live with you." Then he too was Struck
with terror, went to Clairvaux, renounced all claim to the
property of his own accord, and asked pardon for the unwar¬
rantable vexation that he had caused the holy abbot. That
blessed man visited him in Rode in the days of some of our
elder brethren. He was also noble according to the flesh,
and a relation of Philip, king of France, who greatly loved
his holy simplicity.

CHAPTER XII.

Of Philip, King of the French, who was edified
by the simple silence of the holy abbot of St. Vitflor,
and constrained his adversaries.

Our fellow-monk Constantine told me that when he was
Studying in Paris, John the abbot of St. ViSlor, who was a
German by race, was pleading before King Philip against
several nobles and great men for an important freehold. He
had brought with him several brethren, who were skilled
both in learning and in law, and his adversaries had advo¬
cates well practised in trials; now while they were bandying
arguments on one side and the other, the abbot simply sat
Still and did not utter a single word in reply to what was
alleged, so that he seemed rather to be busy with praying.
When the King had thought over this he said to the abbot:
“ My lord abbot, why do you say nothing ? ” and when the
abbot replied with much gentleness and great simplicity:
“ Sire I do not know what to say,” the King was much

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edified and moved, and continued: “Go back to your
monastery and I will speak for you.” After his departure,
the King pretended anger and said to the knights: “ I order
you, under penalty of my displeasure not to trouble this holy
abbot again.” And so it came about that the property,
which the brethren could not obtain for all their complaints,
the unaided simplicity of the abbot obtained from the King
(Ex. xiv. 14). I will show you further by other examples
how dear to this same King was such virtuous simplicity.

CHAPTER XIII.

Also of the same King, who commended the
Chapter of Laon for the simple way in which they
presented to him the bishop they had defied.

It happened once that on the death of their bishop, the
Chapter of Laon chose to succeed him a simple canon from
among their brethren, and presented him to the king in
these words: “ Sire, we present to you Dom Almeric, whom
we have elefted.” This happened to be his name. The
King made no reply, but thought over the manner of this
presentation and said at laft: “ Who is it that you present
to me? ” and they answered: “ Dom Almeric.” Then the
King: “Do you wish to say anything further?” They
were frightened left by chance the King might be displeased
by their choice or by the words of their presentation, and
they answered : “ Nothing, Sire.” Then the King said :
“ Rarely have I heard such a presentation as this. When
anyone has been presented to me as having been ele&ed, his
dignities have been expressed by the eleftors in some such
words as these : “ Sire, we present to you Dom N. our arch¬
deacon,” or provoft or dean or scholafticus as the case might
be. I confess to you that I am very much pleased by so simple
a presentation, and for this reason I hope and believe that

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Of Singleness of Heart

this eledfion is in accordance with the will of God. Do
you know how elections have formerly been celebrated for
the dignities that have been recounted? If it has been a
scholafticus, he has been chosen bishop because he has upheld
the rights of his fellow-canons, or because of his learning,
or because of the many friends he has made ; if he were a
dean, by hypocritically hiding the excesses of his brethren,
and the friends and relations, by whom he has been promoted,
have been introduced ; if an archdeacon or provoft, he has
been thruft in rather than eledled, as a man of noble birth
and by the influence of his relations. Behold, this is the
reason why the heads of the church are so weak.” Then
turning to the bishop-eleft, he said : “ Dom Almeric, because
your election seems to have been simple, reasonable and
canonical, I will never fail you whenever you have need of
me.” Our fellow monk Lambert, who told me this, said
that he was in Paris at the time. But what and how great
was the aflcdion of this King for the simple-hearted will be
shown effectively by the following act of his.

CHAPTER XIV.

Also of the same King, who promoted a simple
mon\ to be abbot of S. Denys.

Three years before this, on the death of the abbot of S.
Denys, the Apoftle of the Franks, when that very rich abbacy
was vacant, and there were many aspirants to it, there came
to King Philip the provoSt who seemed to be the moft power¬
ful man in the community, and asked to be made abbot,
saying: “ Sire, here are five hundred pounds that I offer to
you in order that you may be favourable to me in the matter
of this abbacy.” The King made no promises to him, but
raising him to the height of his hopes by the acceptance of
the simoniacal gift replied: “ Give the money secretly to

The Dialogue on Miracles

my chamberlain. When the provoSt retired, feeling sure
of the royal favour, the cellarer, who knew nothing of this,
also went to the King and with the same objeCf as the provosl
offered a similar quantity of money, and the King gave him
the same reply. Laft of all came the unfaithful cuStodian
of the treasury, offering the King five hundred pounds for
the abbacy, and received the same reply as the others. And
though the King, as a prudent man, had disguised his feel¬
ings, nevertheless he was grievously displeased by the
ambition of those three monks and by the vice of private
property, and especially by the execrable theft, for he knew
well that the money offered had been taken from the monas¬
tery funds.

Then he assigned a day for the convent, on which he would
choose their abbot, because the appointment had fallen into
his hands. When the King had taken his seat in the chapter
house and opened the proceedings with words denouncing
simony, he looked round eagerly and considered the behaviour
of the monks before him, and he noticed that the three
already mentioned, viz., the provoSl, the cellarer and the
sacristan showed the greatest expectation, each one hoping
from moment to moment that the abbacy was to be offered
to him. And although they were so full of hope neverthe¬
less all were disappointed in their expectation. For the
King, noticing a certain simple monk, sitting in the corner
of the chapter-house, and altogether regardless of any pros-
peCts of the abbacy received an inspiration from on high and
ordered him to Stand up. When he Stood up modeStly in
the presence of his prince, the King said to him: “ Sir, I
now hand over to you the abbacy of S. Denys.” When he
heard this, that simple man declined to consent to the King’s
order, indeed he boldly refused, asserting that he was a person
humble, incapable of public office, and looked down upon,
and altogether unworthy of so great a dignity and quite
unequal to it. But the more he belittled himself, the more
he commended himself to the King, who finally compelled
him to accept. Afterwards he added : “ Sire, this monastery
is bound by many debts, and there is no means of paying.”
Then the King smiled and answered: “ See, I will give at

Of Singleness of Heart

once fifteen hundred pounds, and when it is necessary, I will
lend you more and also give you both help and advice.”
Forthwith he ordered his chamberlain to hand over to him
the money we mentioned above. I believe he is ftill alive,
and perchance that house is better governed by him than it
would have been by those who had aspired to its rule. A
similar Story to this also occurs to me.

CHAPTER XV.

Of a simple mon\ to whom the Emperor Frederic ^
gave an abbacy because of a needle.

Some time ago in the days of the Emperor Frederick, the
grandfather of the reigning Frederick, one of the imperial
abbeys fell vacant ; two men were elected, and when the
monks could not agree, one of whom took a large sum of
money, which he had collected in the monastery, and offered
it to Frederick, that he might take his part.

The Emperor took the money and gave his promise, and
afterwards he learnt that the other candidate was a man of
good life and simple and well-ordered, and he began to take
counsel with his friends, how he might get rid of the unworthy
candidate, and confirm the election of him who had been
chosen for his virtues.

And one of his counsellors said to him: “ Sire, I have
heard that every monk is bound by his rule to carry a needle.
When you are sitting in the chapter-house say to that candi¬
date of irregular life that you wish him to lend you his needle,
in order to take a splinter out of one of your fingers, and when
he proves to have none, you will find an occasion of disallow¬
ing him owing to his irregularity.

Now when this was done and the man had no needle the
King said to the other: “ Sir, lend me your needle ; ” and

The Dialogue on Miracles

when he immediately produced it, perhaps having been fore¬
warned, the Emperor went on : " You are a monk, upright
in keeping the rules of your Order and so you are worthy of
this great honour. I had intended to give the honour to
your opponent ; but his irregularity has shown him unworthy.
He that is careless in that which is leaft will be careless in
important matters.” By such sophiftry did the Emperor get
rid of the wordly-wise monk and promote his simple brother
to be abbot.

Novice .—I did not know till now that there was so much
virtue in a needle.

Mon \.—It was not in the needle that the virtue lay, it was
only the sign of virtue, that is, of humility, in the monk.
He carried it for the purpose of mending his garments if
they became torn.

CHAPTER XVI.

0 / an abbot whom the Emperor Otto commended
for the sa\e of a needle.

The Emperor Otto, the predecessor of the younger
Frederick now reigning, was one day talking with three
abbots of our Order, and wishing to make trial of them, he
said to one: “ Lord Abbot, will you lend me your needle? ”
When he replied: “ I have not one. Sire,” he asked the
second, who also had none. But when the third was asked
and produced his needle, the Emperor replied: “ You are a
true monk.” You see here an example of what I juft said
that a needle may be a sign of virtue in a monk.

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Of Singleness of Heart

chapter XVII.

Of a mon\ at whom when dying a demon hurled
a blazing needle, because in health he had scorned
to carry such a thing.

A certain Religious told me a very terrible thing of a monk
of our Order, which seems suitable to set down in this place
for an example. When he was in health, he refused to
carry a needle according to the custom of monks, or rather he
scorned to do so, but when he was lying in his laSt agony, a
demon appeared, bearing in his hand a blazing needle of the
length of a human body, and hurled it at him saying:
“ Because you refused in health to carry a needle, take this one
now that you are about to die ; ” and he, relating this vision
to the bystanders, terrified them all.

Novice. —If this be so I shall be careful for the future not
to go without my needle.

Uon\. —-A monk ought not to negledt any Rule of his
Order, unless compelled by necessity.

Novice. —I remember the monks you spoke of above, who
offered money to abtain abbacies. Can the monks of our
Order ever take part in such simony, since they possess no
money ?

Mon\. —Yes, because simony is not only material but also
mental. This makes a monk aspire to any dignity and
diligently plan how he may gain it, or, what is more perilous
Still, succeed in obtaining it by cleverness. I will give you
an example which was told me by Dom Charles the abbot
of Villers, as having happened recently.

4*7

The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter XVIII.

Of an abbot whom a recluse accused of simony
because he had obtained his eleftion by cunning .

A certain abbot came to a recluse, whom he knew to be
a saintly woman, and accustomed to receive Divine revela¬
tions, and said to her: “ I beg of you, sifter, to pray to God
for me that He will deign to make plain to you, if it is pleas¬
ing to Him and expedient for me, that I should remain in
my office as abbot.” Immediately she got up, went away
and prayed, and quickly returning told the abbot what had
been revealed to her : “ It is not,” she said, “ the will of God
nor expedient for you that you should remain in this office,
nor can you save your soul in it. Do you ask why? because
you entered upon it by simony.” When the abbot,
bewildered at this word, said to her: “ What is that you say
my siSter? Indeed I am not guilty of any simony in my
election ” ; she replied : “ I will prove to you that you gained
your position by simony. When your predecessor died, you,
in your anxiety to become abbot, did not walk before God
with a simple heart, but very cleverly got round your simple
brethren in the following way. ‘ It is not necessary,’ you
said, ‘ that we should choose anyone outside our house,
which is a very honourable one, for if we did that, we should
plainly accuse ourselves of incompetency.’ Now you knew
quite well that if the eleftion were made from your own
community, the brethren would certainly eleft no one but
yourself; and that was the way you became abbot.” Now
when he heard this, he admitted the truth of it and denied
nothing ; and forthwith he went to the abbot of Clairvaux
and besought him to absolve him.

Novice. —If that abbot sinned so grievously by aspiring to
the abbacy, why does the Apoftle say: " If a man desires the
office of a bishop, he desires a good wor\ (i Tim. iii. i).

Mon\. —The Apoftle does not blame the office of a bishop,
but the desire for it, because in the firft he looks for toil, and
in the second for ambition ; and that is why he immediately

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Of Singleness of Heart

adds: " A bishop then mu ft be blameless, vigilant, sober, of
good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach etc. (i Tim.
iii. 2). Also S. Benedict lays it down concerning an abbot in
his Rule. “ Although no one ought to take the honour on
himself, as alas ! many do to-day, but only he who is elected
by God as Aaron was ; nevertheless it seems to me that a
man may desire dignities of this kind without danger, if
there be in his mind this purpose only, that he may be of use,
not that he may rule.” The Saviour bears witness: If thine
eye be single thy whole body shall be full of light (Matt,
vi. 22).

Novice .—I would gladly hear an example of this.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of Maurice, the bishop of Paris, who with a simple
heart defied himself.

Mon \.—When in our own times the bishopric of Paris fell
vacant, the eledlors could not agree together, and so they
handed over their votes to three arbitrators. Now when these
three were unable to agree upon one man, the other two trans¬
ferred their authority to Mailer Maurice, who was the third,
so that whosoever he should nominate would become bishop.
And because this Maurice, as the event showed, desired rather
to be of use than to gain power, he nominated himself, saying :
“ I do not know either the consciences, or the proposals of
others, and therefore I propose, God being my helper, to govern
this bishopric blamelessly.” And he did this, for he was a
man of holy life, and was of great help to a vail number of
souls, both by word and example, and ended his life in that
bishopric. And know this, that often the ambitious have
their desire taken away by the will of God, and if by His per¬
mission they are promoted, they can scarcely escape from suffer¬
ing dangerous tribulations in those dignities, or else being

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deposed to their utter confusion. Liden to examples of these,
which perhaps may be necessary to some.

CHAPTER XX.

Of an aflute prior who nominated a man who had
been ejefted for his infamy that his own chance
might not be weakened.

A certain prior of our Order, on the death of his abbot,
aspired to the abbacy himself, and when, at the time of
eledion, he, like the other seniors, was asked by the visitor to
name a suitable person, with no dove-like heart he nominated
a certain monk who had been ejected from that monastery for
his infamy. For he knew that as a prior his nomination
would have no small weight, and if he nominated anyone
from the convent, such adion might weaken his own eledion,
and so hinder the fulfilment of his desire.

It happened by the Divine will, as is believed, that the rest
followed his example and nominated the same person, saying
to each other : “ Our prior is our eye and he would not have
nominated such a person unless he had been convinced of his
innocence.” Probably if this prior had aded with a single
mind, he would have been chosen abbot, and I am pretty
sure, so far as I can gather from the words of the abbot who
told me the dory, that he was as much tortured by the pro¬
motion of this monk as he could have been troubled by his
own rejedion.

Behold how God, even in this present time, punishes those
who are so clever and deceitful. There are plenty of examples
of the tribulation, confusion and downfall of prelates of the
church in these days, even more than in the old times. And
this, perchance, is so because they were not promoted by the
will of God (Hosea viii. 4).

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Of Singleness of Heart

Novice. —Since God has so great delight in the virtue of
simplicity as your examples have shown, I think he muff be
full of wrath againft that cunning which is the vice opposed
to it.

Mon\. —The vice opposed to simplicity is duplicity, and
cunning is its companion.

Novice. —Why is it called duplicity ?

Mon\. —From a double fold ; juit as simplicity is, as it
were, without any fold. For what the simple man says, that
he intends and does. But the double-minded man has one
thing in his heart, and another on his lips, he intends one
thing and does another (James i. 8 ; Eccles. ii. 12 ; Matt,
vii. 15). Such are many of those lay-brothers who compass
sea and land in the dress and tonsure of religion and deceive
many. Many of these even in our day have been put to death
because of their wickedness ; and although some of these
travellers are saintly men without guile, yet even these are
despised, owing to their wicked brethren. And this is why
Dom Engilbert, the archbishop of Cologne, gave orders in his
synod of la£t year, that none of them should receive any
hospitality in his diocese.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of a man who deceived many at Bonn under the
pretence of simplicity.

A few years ago a certain man came to Bonn with a great
show of piety and pretended simplicity ; and by his prayers,
vigils and failings deceived very many. Since the canons of
that diftridt thought that he was really as unworldly as he
pretended to be, they entrusted to his care a hoftel for the poor,
and many laymen put money into his hands. After a short
time that deceiver began to depart from his pretended asceti¬
cism, to drink wine, to eat flesh, to pray less and to sleep

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longer. When this was pointed out to him, he replied: “ I
undertook these observances for a time by the advice of a
prieSt” Why should I say more? He finally disappeared
secretly, carrying off the money entrusted to him and showed
by his acfts how ruinous is the vice of duplicity. When he
heard this, Dean Christian said as follows: “ Truly my
brethren, I will never give my soul for the soul of anyone.”
There are many kinds of deception by this sort of rascal which
I might tell you as having taken place in our own day, but
they are not edifying. Would you like now to hear the sort
of punishment that God often inflidts in this present life upon
the vice of duplicity and cunning?

Novice .—Indeed I very much desire it.

Mon \.—Listen then.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of a man who dealt treacherously with his mother
and was punished in the nec\ by a serpent.

There was a young man, a layman, born on the banks of
the Moselle, named Henry, if I remember rightly, who deceived
his simple mother in the following way, with words which
were indeed honeyed, but with an intention which was
poisonous. “ Mother,” he said, “ I beg that you will solemnly
renounce all your property, to wit, all your fiefs and freeholds
and allow me to take them over, so that by the aid of these
riches 1 may be able to marry a more honourable wife. Every¬
thing I possess is yours, and I will provide for you moil
honourably.”

His mother, who did not perceive the guile of the serpent
in her son, consented to his request and resigned all the income
of her possessions (Ecclus. xxxiii. 21). To make a long Story
short, the wife was brought home and the mother was driven
out. And when she fell into want and daily complained to

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Of Singleness of Heart

him, he shut his ears that he might not hear his mother’s
laments.

One day when sitting at table with his wife, he heard the
voice of his mother as she knocked at the door, and said:
“ Listen, the devil is once more making a disturbance here,”
and he said to the servant: “ Go and put this chicken in the
sideboard until she goes away and when this was done
and she was admitted, after begging her son to have pity on
her, she was driven out with a great Storm of words. Then
he said to the servant: “ Now you can bring back our
chicken.” But the servant, when he opened the cheSt, saw
not a chicken but a coiled up serpent on the dish ; so he came
back terrified and told his maSter what he had seen. Where¬
upon he sent a maid-servant and she said that she had seen
exa&ly the same thing. He, thinking that they were mock¬
ing him, said angrily: “ Even if it be the devil himself I’ll
fetch him out ”; and getting up from the table he bent over
the sideboard to take up the dish, and immediately the serpent
leapt upon his neck, and that he might properly punish the
vice of duplicity made a double coil of himself round the
man’s throat. And so when he sat down to eat, the serpent
shared his food, and as often as food was taken away from him,
or any instrument brought by which he might be detached, he
so tightened his hold on his vi< 5 tim’s neck, that his face swelled
and his eyes Started out of his head.

Novice .—Rightly does he seem to me to have been punished
by means of a serpent, because as the devil deceived Eve by
a serpent, so by the same means did he deceive his simple
mother.

Mon —You judge rightly. It is now thirteen years, more
or less, since these things happened. For this same Henry
was carried in a carriage through our province to various
shrines of saints, and many people saw him. And his mother,
having compassion on his pains, followed him with maternal
affection. About the same time the vice of duplicity and
cunning, being duly found out, was terribly punished by
Philip, king of France, of whom we spoke above.

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CHAPTER XXIII.

Of a provoft of Paris whom King Philip ordered to
be buried alive because he had guilefully Rolen a
vineyard from a dead man.

This same king had a provolt in the city of Paris who
coveted a vineyard belonging to a fellow citizen, and very
importunately insilted that he should sell it to him. When
the citizen replied in the words which Naboth is said to have
used to Ahab, King of Israel (i Kings xxi. 3), thereupon the
provolt turned to threats, but to no purpose.

It happened that meanwhile the man died. When the
provolt learnt this, he was delighted, and like a man who is
overcunning, he planned a device as follows to his own deltruc-
tion. He bribed two of the sheriff’s officers to bear false
witness for him ; and went with them, according to agreement,
one rough night to the grave of the dead man, and after throw¬
ing out the earth, he went down into the grave, and placing in
the hand of the dead man the sum which he had offered him
for the vine during his life, said : “ You, gentlemen, are wit¬
nesses that I have paid this man so much money for his vine¬
yard, which he himself has taken into his hand as you see,
and has made no objection.” When they said that they were
witnesses, he immediately took back the money and replaced
the earth. In the morning, bringing up these men as wit¬
nesses, he claimed the vineyard.

Now when the widow of the dead man heard this, she came
to the court in ItupefaCtion and contradicted the provoll, say¬
ing that neither her husband nor herself had ever sold him
that vineyard, nor had they ever received any money for it.
To which he replied : “ I bought the vineyard for so much
and I placed the money in the hands of your husband, as these
men will testify, nor did he make any objection.” When she
found that she could profit nothing she ran off to the king
and complained to him of the violence of that provoll. When
he contradicted her, supported by the teltimony of the afore¬
said men, the king, because he had no time to hear the case
himself, entrulted it to certain others.

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Of Singleness of Heart

Now, they, deceived by the witness of the sheriff’s officers,
favoured the side of the provoSt, and passed sentence for him
againSt the widow. Then she being at her wit’s end, came
to the king again with great importunity and clamorous
weeping, whereupon the king ordered the witnesses to be
called, and as a prudent man, he examined them prudently,
sending for one of them by himself, and speaking with him
privately, said : “ Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?” When
the other replied : “ Yes, I know it, sire the king went on :
“ Say it to me then.” And when the man had done this,
he said nothing further to him but ordered him to wait in a
neighbouring room ; then calling the other, he spoke to him
very severely, saying: “ Your companion has told me the
simple truth about the vineyard ; he has spoken as truly as
the PaternoSter, than which nothing is more true. Moreover,
if you disagree in any way with him, you will be punished.”
He, thinking that his fellow had told everything to the king,
caft himself at his feet in fear and trembling, saying : “ Have
pity on us, sire, because we have done thus and thus, being
persuaded by your provoSt.” The king was greatly angered,
restored the vineyard to the widow and ordered the provoSt
to be buried alive.

Novice. —It was juStly done that he should be pitilessly
buried alive, who had inhumanly dug up the dead man.

Mon\. —The punishment of sin comes from God, and it
very often happens that the method of the punishment is
shaped in accordance with the crime. I will give you another
instance of this.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Of a thief who was delivered from the gallows and
was flraightway hanged again because he unjuHly
attached his deliverer.

A certain canon of S. Andrew in Cologne, as was told me
by MaSter Rener his fellow canon, was accustomed to send

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his servant each year to colled the tithes of his church. Now
as this servant passed a certain gallows and saw a man who
had been recently hanged thereon dill quivering with life,
he was moved with pity, cut the noose with a sword and
brought water and restored him to life.

As soon as the man recovered his drength he returned
evil for good, followed his deliverer to the neared town, put
his hand on his horse’s bridle and cried out that this man had
robbed him by violence. Immediately a number of men
ran up from all sides full of anger for the robbery, and with¬
out listening to the youth, carried him off to the same gallows
from which the thief had been taken down.

The men of the other town who had colleded together for
the hanging of the original thief, had not yet all gone back,
but when they saw a gathering at the gallows, which was
shared between the two villages, they came back by the will
of God to enquire the cause ; and God opened the mouth of
the condemned man : “ I,” said he, “ delivered this man
from this gallows, and see the sort of wicked reward he gives
to me.” And when they had considered and discovered the
whole case, they hanged the man the second time and
delivered the innocent blood.

CHAPTER XXV.

Of a false pilgrim who was hanged by the jufl
judgment of God, after trying to palm off his crime
of theft upon a true pilgrim.

Not long ago when certain pilgrims from Germany were
on their way to the Church of S. James of Compoftella, one
night a false brother joined them. In the morning when
they went out of the inn, he followed them as far as the gate
of the city and there laid hands on one of them, crying out

436

Of Singleness of Heart

that he had Stolen his horse. The judge ordered them all to
return to the inn ; and when they all bore witness that he
whom this rascal accused was a simple and upright man, the
judge in his wisdom ordered the saddles and bridles to be
taken from all the horses in the absence of the accuser and
that all of them should be put in the stable.

When this was done he sent for the accuser and said :
“ Go in and bring out your horse.” The man went in and
brought out a horse which was not, however, the same which,
at the gate of the city, he had claimed as having been Stolen
from him ; for not even then had he taken sufficient notice of
him. Then amid the laughter of all and of him whose horse
had been brought out, they made their explanations to the
judge, and that wicked man was hanged upon the gallows.
You see now how God protect s those who walk in simplicity
and how He punishes the cunning of the wicked.

Novice. —I remember that you said above that punishment
for the sin comes from God.

Mon\. —That all punishment comes from God, the prophet
Amos is witness (Amos iii. 6 ; also Isaiah xlv. 7). By evil he
means punishment and tribulation, things which seem evil
to those who suffer them, though in themselves they are good
because they are the creation of God. Moreover I will give
you an illustration to show you how the punishment of sin
comes from God.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Of Bertolph, Palatine of Wittillinbach, who received
a command from on high to hang the ftrli man he
should meet.

Bertolph, the palatine of Wittillinbach was a very severe
judge and used to hang a thief even for the loss of a single

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The Dialogue on Miracles

penny. And as I heard from a certain abbot, whenever he
rode out, he hung a noose to his saddle bow that there might
be no delay in the punishment of the guilty.

One day when he got up early and was fastening the noose
to the saddle in his usual way, he heard a voice in the sky like
this: “ Bertolph, whosoever shall firft meet you when you
go out of the caftle, hang that man with your noose.” Now
he accepted this voice as a prophecy, and as soon as he came
out the firft man who met him was his own bailiff. When he
saw him, he was greatly grieved, because he loved the man,
and said to him: ‘‘I am very sorry to have met you.”
“ Why?” “ Because you will hang ”; and the other : “ Why
shall I hang?” And when the palatine replied: “ I do not
know, but prepare yourself by confession and set your affairs
in order, because I cannot oppose the Divine voice ”; the other
seeing that it could not be otherwise, said: “ The Lord is
juft. I have pursued and killed many who went into my
house ; I have plundered many of many things ; I have not
been faithful to you my mafter, nor have I spared the poor.”
And all who heard his confession, wondered, and by his death
they underftood that the punishment of sin comes from God.

And because this same palatine passed judgment without
pity, when he himself was slain by Henry the marshall to
avenge King Philip whom he had killed, he neither asked nor
received any pity. It is not juft judgment nor is it ordained
by God that small and great faults should receive the same
penalty.

Novice .—I am now quite clear from what you have told
me, that God punishes sin in accordance with the method and
degree of the guilt.

Mon \.—I will make this more clear to you in the following
chapters which will show how in our own times it has been
moft clearly His will to punish the vice of duplicity.

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Of Singleness of Heart

CHAPTER XXVII.

Of Theodoric of Erinportze, who was carried dead
through the same flreet on the anniversary of the
day on which King Philip had been introduced into
Cologne by his means.

At the time of the Struggle between Philip and Otto, kings
of the Romans, the people of Cologne clung faithfully to the
side of Otto, partly in obedience to the Apostolic see, and
partly because of the oath they had given to Otto, and though
they submitted to many expenses, losses and dangers, yet some
of them, as it was said, had been secretly bribed by the parti¬
sans of Philip ; and the moft powerful among these seemed to
be Theodoric of Erinportze. By his craft it was brought
about that Otto was forsaken, and Philip received into the
city. Indeed, while he gave the former lip-service, his heart
was with the latter.

One day, when Philip was courting the great men of the
city, who were gathered round him, this same Theodoric led
him to where the ladies were, and looking round, said :
“ Look, ladies, here is my king whom I have always desired.”
Wonderful dispensation! On the very day when the year
was completed he was carried on his bier through the same
Street. And when he was about to be buried in the convent
of nuns called Piscina, the interment was forbidden by letters
of the priors, whom he had often greatly troubled.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Of Henry Ratio, whose prebend was taken and held
by one who was thruil in his place by Cardinal
Peter according to Henry's own advice.

A few years before this, when Peter, cardinal of Saxony was
at Cologne, Henry surnamed Ratio, a canon of the church of

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S. Mary ad Gradus, and an advocate very skilled in all trials,
had induced the same cardinal to inftrudt the canons of his
church that they should choose as brother and fellow-canon
the son of a certain citizen, although there was no canonry
vacant. Now this had seemed to them too absurd, and they
refused and were consequently suspended from all services.
Judging that suspension to be merely frivolous, they unani¬
mously elefted a provoft. But Henry, that he might throw
them into the greater confusion, was the only one to choose
a different provoft, by whose help and on whose behalf he
greatly troubled the peace of his brethren by law suits and
losses. By the juft judgment of God he was the firft to die
in that same year, and was buried with his mouth wide open.
The young man, who had been thruft in by his advice,
received and held Henry’s prebend. I have been credibly
informed that the mouth of the dead man could not be closed
by any means, so that it might be plain to all how great was
his sin of selling his tongue in the law courts.

Novice. —I beg that for the present you will lay aside
ftories of the vice of duplicity and will return to your dis¬
course on simplicity, which can prevail even againft learned
tongues before the tribunal as you said before.

Mon\. —The ftory in the following chapter will illuftrate
this more fully.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of a half-witted priefl, who by the simplicity of
his words before Pope Innocent obtained his
church.

The lord pope Innocent, who was a moft learned man and
a very skilful speaker, according to the account given me by
our fellow monk, Cassarius, who was at one time abbot of
Priim, and who was present at the time of this ftory, was so

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Of Singleness of Heart

touched by the simple discourse of a certain prieft that the
preferment, which he deserved to have loft for his illiteracy,
he actually obtained by means of it.

It appears that a certain clerk had taken away his church
by some means or other, and being summoned by him,
appeared before the said Innocent and pleaded his cause in
elaborate language, and with weighty sentiments ; but that
simple prieft interrupted his discourse and said: “ Holy
father, the man is not speaking the truth, he had done me
great wrong.” The lord pope, looking earneftly upon that
moft simple man, replied: “ Tell me your own case in your
own words,” and he: “ I do not know how to speak Latin.”
“ Speak,” said the Pope, “ as beft you can, I shall under-
ftand you well enough.” Then he very timidly and very
clumsily used words something like these: “ Holy father,
that clerk has a number of churches and I had only one, and
he has taken this one from me, and now has one more with
all the reft. This is why I complain to you.” The Pope
had compassion on him and said to his adversary: “ What
reply do you make to this my brother? Your avarice did not
allow you to be content wth several churches, but you muft
also take away his only one from this poor prieft. He is of
so simple a nature, that if his cause had been unjuft, he would
never have come to the Roman Curia. It is the juftice of
his cause which has given him confidence; I order you never
again to difturb him in his church, and further, I will relieve
you of your other churches.” When he heard this he was
silent in terror, because he saw that simplicity was fighting
for his adversary.

Novice .—Seeing that the words and works of the simple
find so much favour with princes in the world, I think that
God muft greatly delight in their speech.

Mon \.—You see this from Paul the simple, but I will also
show it you by more recent examples.

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The Dialogue on Miracles

CHAPTER XXX.

Of the simple prayer of a lay-brother who threatened
Chrifl that he would complain of Him to His
mother if He did not deliver him from temptation.

A certain simple lay-brother in Hemmenrode was very
grievously tempted ; and once, as he Stood in prayer, he used
the following words: “ Indeed, Lord, if Thou doSt not deliver
me from this temptation, I will complain of Thee to Thy
mother.” The merciful Lord who is the maSter of humility,
and the lover of simplicity, forestalled the complaint of the
lay-brother, as if He feared to be accused to His mother, and
immediately made his temptation easier. There was another
lay-brother Standing behind him at the time, and when he
heard this prayer, he smiled and told it to others to edify them.

Novice. —Who would not be edified by such marvellous
humility of the Saviour.

Mon\. —I will tell you others prayers of the simple-hearted,
at which you will rejoice Still more.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Of a recluse who sought for Chrifl in a hole and
found Him.

MaSter John, who is now abbot of S. Trudon, when he was
once visiting in Saxony a recluse who was well known to him
and found her weeping, said to her: “ What is the matter,
siSter? Why are you weeping? ” And when she replied:
“ Because I have loSt my Lord,” remarking the fervour of her
devotion, the abbot, knowing her to be a holy woman, went
on playfully : “ Search round the corners of your cell and say :

‘ Lord, where art Thou, answer me and perhaps you will
find Him in some hole in the wall.” She, understanding

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Of Singleness of Heart

these simple words quite literally, after his departure, went
round the walls of her cell, calling upon the Beloved as she
had been told, and found at laft Him whom she sought, and
rejoiced in the recovered possession of what she had loft.
Often does God withdraw His grace that it may be sought the
more earneftly and guarded the more diligently when found.

A few years afterwards when this same John went again
to visit her and asked how she fared, she replied in high
spirits: “ I could not be better. And I give you hearty
thanks because I found my Lord exatftly as you taught me.”
And when he did' not underftand what she said, she smiled
and reminded him of what we have told above, and he gave
glory to Chrift who humours the simple-minded.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Of a simple siHer in Kummedc, to whom, while
praying, Chrifl made answer that He was in the
sac\.

In Kummede, a convent of nuns of our Order, there was a
certain simple maiden who possessed a wooden crucifix. This
she used frequently to adore and kiss, and then to put it away
in a sack and hide it under her mattress. One day she forgot
where she had put it and she wandered sadly round every
corner of the monastery seeking it, but could not find it.
Later, when she was lying proftrate before a certain altar, and
praying for the restoration of this image, and beseeching the
Saviour with many tears, the Son of God, pleased with the
maiden’s longing, replied: “ Do not weep my daughter, oe-
cause I am lying in the sack beneath your mattress.”

1 thought that it had been told me by the prior of that
house, that she had heard the voice in a dream, as I remember
to have set down in the moral homilies of the Infancy of the
Saviour, but, later, I understood that it undoubtedly happened

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The Dialogue on Miracles

as I have told it. Rising Straight way from her knees, she
rolled back her mattress, and found it exactly as she had
heard. See how this is what I said above, that sometimes
the Lord withdraws His Grace that it may be more eagerly
sought, and that it may be the more deserved by such seeking.

Novice .—Since God takes so great delight in the prayers
of the simple-minded, surely their death muft be very precious
in His sight.

Mon \.—Precious indeed, because the virtue of simplicity
outshines the palm of martyrdom and the glory of miracles.
I will give you three examples of this.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Of the death of the simple-minded Marcadellus.

In Ferrara, a city of Lombardy, a few years ago, there
was a man named Marcadellus of wonderful simplicity and
of the greatest devotion towards the shrines of the saints.
Indeed, on account of his special simplicity, he was considered
by many to be weak-minded, though in the sight of God
moft prudent. For whatever he could save from his toil
beyond the a<5tual necessities of life, that he scrupulously
expended in visiting the church of S. James or of the Blessed
ApoStles S.S. Peter and Paul. So long as he could, he fed
quantities of the poor and when on account of old age he was
no longer able to do this, he provided food for them from
the alms of the faithful by begging from door to door. He
never left the church while any service was going on and
thus became beloved by all.

Now he lived a long while in a certain village of the said
diocese and noticed in the church of that town a silver censer
hanging rather precariously, and being frightened both on
behalf of the church and also by his own conscience he said
to the prieft: “ That censer is not hanging very safely.”

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Of Singleness of Heart

When the other said it had hung like that for many years
without any danger ; Marcadellus replied: “ A thing may
often happen in one day which has not occurred for a
thousand years.” To make a long Story short, by the insti¬
gation of the devil the censer was Stolen ; but nobody imputed
the theft to Marcadellus. But when the thief, since the
Lord prevented him and was preparing for his servant an
opportunity of martyrdom, could not and dared not sell the
censer, knowing Marcadellus to be a very simple-minded
man and a great frequenter of that church he went to him
secretly, and after making him swear not to betray him,
confessed that he himself had Stolen the vessel. Marcadellus
replied: “ Give me the censer and I will easily reStore it
without any one knowing, and if it should be necessary I
will even give my life for yours. When he heard this the
thief handed over to him the censer, which he had wrapped
up in hay and put into a sack.

Then the other frequented the aforesaid church more than
ever that he might be able to put back the censer into its
place cautiously and without anybody noticing ; but one
day, when the doors of the church were closed, he was driven
away by the extreme violence of a Storm and was compelled
to seek the shelter of a neighbouring house, and forgot his
sack. A certain man who was passing by, picked it up,
and knowing whose it was, handed it over to his wife to keep,
that she might give it back to Marcadellus when he asked for
it. But she feeling the weight of the sack, answered her
husband: “ Bread cannot be so heavy as this ” ; I think that
in his great simplicity he mu Si have filled it up with Slones.
And when she opened the sack and found the censer in it,
and raised a great cry, showing her neighbours what she had
found, a crowd of people collected.

LaSt of all Marcadellus himself came up ; and when he
was asked to whom the sack belonged he refused to lie and
answered: “ The sack is mine, but what is in it is yours.
I did not Steal the censer, but yet I will not betray the thief.”
Then he told them the whole Story, how the thief had come to
him and what promise he had made. Then they said: “ It
is a law of Lombardy that you muSt either produce the thief

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or undergo his penalty ; ” to which he replied : “ I am in
your hands, do with me what is juft.” They, wishing to
consider their own interests, took this man to Ferrara, brought
him before the judge, laid the case before him, and bore good
testimony to his innocence and simplicity. But when the
judge could not induce him to disclose the name of the thief,
he passed upon him the sentence of death, and ordered him
to be beheaded before the doors of the cathedral, as one guilty
of sacrilege ; and certain men buried his body in that same
place.

Next night when some pious matrons of the city were going
to matins at the cathedral and came to his tomb, they heard
there angelic songs and saw wax candles burning, and per¬
ceived the odour of a very sweet smell on all sides of it. Now
when they found this ftill more plainly on the second and
third nights, they told the bishop of that city all their
experience. And since he was a spiritually-minded man, he
took with him others and having found on the fourth night
that what the women had said was true, he caused a church
to be built over the tomb of the man of God, and even to
this day miracles Still take place there to the glory of the
name of ChriSt.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Of the death of Margaret, a virgin of Louvain.

About the same time, a certain citizen of Louvain, with
his wife, set their affairs in order and arranged to go to our
monastery of Villers ; for they were both of them devoutly
minded, and devoted supporters of the Religious life. Now
they had with them a grown up maiden, a relation of theirs,
who very simply and diligently served as a hand-maiden,
both them and their gueSts, as is witnessed by our lay-brother,
and the name of this maiden was Margaret.

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Of Singleness of Heart

Certain wicked men, had found out that they had saved
money, and on the very night before they were to go, about
eight of them came to their inn late at night as if wishing
to lodge there, and sent the aforesaid maiden for wine.
While she was gone, they killed the mafter and miflress and
the whole household whom they found, and when they were
all thus murdered, they took away with them the girl, who
had now returned with the wine, and went, all of them, to
a certain house a long way from the city.

Now while she was sitting sadly there, and the owners of
of the house already guessed that she had been carried off
by force, they took her down to the river. But some of the
robbers had compassion upon her and one of them said:
“ Let her live and I will marry her ” ; but they refused because
they were afraid she might betray them. Then they added
ten marks to the share of one of them to induce him to kill
her, and he, taking the simple lamb like a cruel butcher,
having firft cut her throat, thruff his knife into her side, and
so threw her ftiil alive into the river, as a sacrifice to God.

But a woman who was a gueft in the house which they
had entered, followed them secretly when they went out,
and saw what was done. And in the morning when this
horrible crime became known, the whole city was moved,
and the wretches were hunted for, but could not be found.
After examining the bodies of those who had been murdered
at the inn, enquiries were made about the girl. Her body
was found a few days later by some fishermen, who did not
dare to give information, fearing that the crime might Ire
laid to their charge, and so they buried her on the bank.

Afterwards, several people saw lights around her tomb
during the night. Wherefore they dug up the body and
carried it thence to Louvain, where they built a chapel over
it. And even to this day various miracles are wrought, so
great were her merits, both in the place where she was killed,
and also in the chapel to which her body was translated.

Her maffer, Amandus by name, together with his wife,
appeared after death to a certain monk of Villers, and when
he was asked about his condition, he replied: “ We have not
yet attained to full glory.” When finally he was asked about

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the maid, he said : “ Whatever grace is given to us, we owe
to the merits of Margaret, nor do we dare to look forward
to the glory which she already enjoys.” Do you see now
how greatly simplicity and innocence of life contribute to
the glory of martyrdom ? All indeed were slain but all were
not distinguished by miracles. From which it is clear that
it is not the suffering that makes the martyr but the cause.

Novice. —What cause of martyrdom would you say, there
was in the case of this maiden?

Mon\.—Ks I have already said, simplicity and an innocent
life. There are different kinds of martyrdom, to wit, inno¬
cence as in Abel, uprightness as in the Prophets and John
the Baptiff: ; love of the law as in the Maccabees ; confession
of faith as in the ApoStles. For all these different causes
the Lamb, i.e. ChriSt, is said to have been slain from the
foundation of the world (Apoc. xiii. 8).

Novice. —Some have even put themselves to death from
an excess of simplicity.

Mon\. —Such have no share in the glory of martyrdom,
unless they are excused by some impelling cause. Here is
an example.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Of the simple-minded concubine of a prieSl who
threw herself into a furnace.

A certain prieSt, as was told me by a monk, was preaching
one day before a large congregation on sin and the pains of
hell, and a woman present being terrified and Stricken to
the heart, interrupted him crying: “ O Sir what will become
of the concubines of prieSts.” He, knowing the woman to
be of a very simple nature, replied playfully: “ They can
never be saved unless they pass through a burning furnace.”

Now this woman was herself the concubine of a certain

Of Singleness of Heart

priell ; and she, taking the words of the preacher, not in
jefl, but in all seriousness, happened one day to be in the
house alone when the oven was heated for baking the bread.
She closed and faftened the outer door and in the hope of
escaping eternal fire, hurled herself into the flaming furnace
and in the midft of the flames breathed out her soul. At
this hour, there were some Standing near the house, who
saw a snow-white dove come forth from the chimney of the
furnace and pass away into the sky in a flood of light.
Astonished by this sight, they broke open the doors, entered
and drew out the woman, lifeless and half consumed, and at
the bidding of the preacher, buried her in the open field as
a suicide. But God, that He might make clear that the
death so simply encountered was the result, not of wickedness,
but of obedience, lit up her tomb every night by burning
candles, as was seen by many.

Novice .—This Story does not scandalise me, because I
have read in V itaspatrum of a certain abbot, who ordered
one who wished to take the vows, to enter a burning furnace ;
and when he obeyed, it was counted to him for righteousness.
But I should like to know what was meant by the dove that
came out of the furnace.

Mon \.—It was the soul of the simple-hearted woman.
For it was under the same form that S. Benedict, as we read
in his life, saw the soul of his siSter ScholaStica enter the
heavens.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Of the death of Ludwig, a simple monp.

This dove calls to my mind a certain simple monk named
Ludwig who died among us two years ago. He fell into his
agony about noon when the whole convent was taking its
midday sleep, but a certain monk, in his dreams, saw a white

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The Dialogue on Miracles

dove sitting on the roof of the cell in which Ludwig lay dying.
He saw also a black cat Stalking this dove ; and when this
animal became too importunate, the dove, fearing to be
caught by it, flew away to the church and settled upon the
cross, and there reSted in safety. At the same time another
monk had a vision that the brethren were Standing on this
side and that in a circle and that a lion was prowling round
and trying to break through and enter into their midSt ; but
he was warded off by each one of them and being driven
away by their kicks was ultimately put to flight.

Meanwhile the gong sounded and the whole convent
assembled and Stood round the dying man repeating the
litany ; and soon the prieSt died and when he had been
washed and robed, he was carried with solemn chanting to
the church ; and I truSt that he escaped the wiles both of
the cat and of the lion. The devil is likened, on account
of his rapacity, both to a cat and to a lion which indeed are
very like each other both in appearance and in nature,
especially in the way they lie in wait for the passing souls of
the simple. How mightily he is driven away in that terrible
hour by the prayers of the upright, you will hear abundantly
in the Xlth book about the dying. This same Ludwig,
although he was simple by nature, had nevertheless lived a
very carnal life before his conversion, even to old age. But
how pleasing the virtue of simplicity is to God, with whom
there is no shadow of turning, the precious death of a certain
nun will make plain to you.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Of the death of a simple nun who imagined a goat
to be a woman of the world.

In the diocese of Treves there is a convent of nuns called
Ludzerath. In this convent, according to an ancient cuftom,

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Of Singleness of Heart

no girl is admitted at a higher age than seven years. This
rule or cuftom grew up in the desire to preserve simplicity,
which makes the whole body full of light.

Now there was quite lately, in this convent, a certain adult
virgin who was so child-like in all worldly affairs, that she
was scarcely able to distinguish between lay folk and cattle,
because before her conversion, she had no knowledge of the
appearance of either. One day a goat climbed up on to the
wall of the orchard and when she saw it, being altogether
ignorant of what it was, she said to a sifter who was Standing
beside her: “What is that? ’’ the other, knowing her sim¬
plicity, answered the wondering child in jeft: “ That is a
woman of the world ; ” and added: “ When women of the
world grow old, they develop both horns and beards.” The
maiden, thinking that it really was so, was pleased to have
learnt something and often by examples of such simplicity,
she lightened the seriousness of her sifters.

One day she fell grievously sick, and while she was lying
ill so that she could scarcely speak, the nurse came to visit
her, but she asked her firft by word and then by a sign to go
away at once, but the nurse, underftanding neither word nor
sign, and ftanding there ftolidly, the sick girl folded up the
veil and threw it gently againft her breaft, as she ftood there
and immediately she fell to the ground as though she had
been ftruck by a ftone. After she had lain there for some
time insensible, she recovered and got up and looked through
the window next the bed of the sick nun ; and lo in the
cemetery there were ftanding a multitude of horses with
gilded saddles and golden bridles. At this moment, the
aforesaid maiden fell into her agony, and when the sifters
came to her, she began to cry with a loud voice: “ Make
room, make room, make way for these lords to pass.” For
she had seen her cell filled with persons of wonderful beauty
and glory whose robes showed all of gold ; and so she fell
asleep in the Lord.

Novice .—I think that this muft have been the celeftial
army who came to condud the soul of that simple woman,
to its heavenly home.

Mon \.—You judge rightly ; but there is one thing I
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should like you to notice, namely that while she was sick,
she saw the horses in the cemetery, but, at her death, she
saw the angels come into her room. Henry the prior of
the Preachers in Cologne is the witness of this vision, and he
related that he had heard it from the provost of the aforesaid
nunnery.

BOOK VII

PROLOGUE.

Six divisions are now finished, namely those of Conversion,
Contrition, Confession, Temptation, Demons and Singleness
of heart ; and of the six that remain the firft place is taken
by the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God, because she
is the moft worthy member of the church. And it is not
unfitting this should fall into the seventh place, because seven
is the number of virginity, since no number below the number
of ten can be generated from it. The fail that a virgin gave
birth to a son was a faft above nature. She is the rod that
springs from the root of Jesse, who put forth for us that
flower, on which doth reft the sevenfold Spirit of grace.
Whose help I humbly implore that I may be able to write
worthily and complete my task.

CHAPTER I.

Of the my Hie names of the B.V.M. and of the
benefits she bellows upon the human race.

S. John, in the Apocalypse saw a woman clothed with the
sun, with the moon beneath her feet and a crown of twelve
liars upon her head (Apoc. xii. i).

This woman is the Virgin Mary, brighter than the sun
in the splendour of charity ; the moon, that is the world,

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is beneath her feet to show her contempt for earthly glory ;
she is crowned with all the virtues as with a diadem gemmed
with Stars ; and, a higher dignity than all these, she is
pregnant with the Divine offspring. Some of the names by
which she is called are : hill, caStle, courtyard, temple,
chamber, city, palm, cedar, vine, rose, and a great wealth of
noble names besides. Splendid are her names of: the rod
that budded the burning bush, the fleece of Gideon, Solomon’s
throne of ivory and gold, the sealed fountain, the inclosed
garden, and very many others which I muSt omit for the
sake of brevity.

For as in all creation there is nothing holier, nothing more
worthy or more excellent than the Mother of the Creator,
so there is no vision of the saints more worshipful, more
delightful, more exalted than the vision of Her :

“ Whose prayers,” as has been said, “ overcome vice, whose
name dispels sadness, whose odour is more fragrant than
lilies, and whose lips surpass the honey-comb in sweetness.
She is more full of savour than the nut, whiter than the snow,
more dewy than the rose, brighter than the moon, with the
light of the true Sun.”

Novice .—Happy in truth, and thrice happy, are they who
have been counted worthy to rejoice in the vision of her, and
to be delighted with the sound of her voice, to be consoled
with her prayers and to be Strengthened with her blessing.

Monf {.—This you shall learn more fully by examples.
Already you have heard some of the metaphors and figures
under which she is represented ; would you like now to
learn of what sort and how great are the benefits that the
world receives through her?

Novice .—There is nothing I more thirSt for.

Mon —She is the preserver of the round world, the con¬
soler of the sad, the faithful defender of her servants. By
her sinners are enlightened, the despairing brought to con¬
fession, the apoftate from God miraculously reconciled, the
righteous comforted with revelations. Her name and
remembrance (Ps. xxvi. 8.) heal the sick, put demons to flight,
loosen chains, drive away fear, retrain temptations, by her
the timid are made brave, the sluggards are roused, the exiles

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

mercifully recalled. She loves those who love her, nay, she
anticipates and honours them in love ; and because she is
juft, she punishes and brings low those who despise her.
With her are all ftrengthening balsams, all health-bringing
ungents. Her memorial is sweeter than honey and her
inheritance above honey and the honey-comb (Ecdus. xxiv.
27). She is present with the dying and she guides the souls
of the dead to eternal life.

Novice. —Athough I believe all this about her yet I would
like you to make it Still clearer by examples.

Mon\. —I will tell you what I have heard from the
Religious, assifted, I hope, by her prayers. And firft I will
give you two examples of how the world is preserved by her
merits and prayers.

CHAPTER 11 .

Of her image which sweated for fear of the Divine
judgment.

It is some years since that great ftorm of which I spoke
in the 21st chapter of the 4th book and during it, while the
people in a certain church in this province were worshipping,
and the prieft was celebrating the divine myfteries, the image
of the Mother of God began to sweat so violently, that the
byftanders wondered greatly and some matrons there wiped
off the drops with their veils, how, by God’s good pleasure,
there was present there at that time one possessed with the
devil. When asked for the cause, he replied: “ Why do you
ftand aftonished ? The Son of Mary had ftretched forth His
hand to ftrike and if she herself had not reftrained Him, the
world would no longer exift. This is the cause of that
sweat.” And all were terrified who heard such fearful words.
These things were told me by a pious abbot of our Order
as having at that time recently happened.

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CHAPTER III.

Of the plague of Friesland, on account of the insult
to the Body of the Lord.

Shortly after these events, to wit, in the year of grace 1218,
the sea overrunning its boundaries in the country of Friesland,
covered many provinces, destroyed towns, overthrew churches
though built of Stone and drowned more than 100,000 people.
So high were the waves, that they were seen to cover tne tops
of towers, and Storm following Storm, a universal flood seemed
to be threatened. And it was told our abbot who had gone
that year into Friesland to make visitations, the raging waters
would have spread even as far as Cologne, if He, who aroused
them, had not restrained them at the prayer of His Mother,
as will afterwards be told.

Novice. —Do you know the cause of so great a blow?

Mon\. —Yes. There was a certain Frisian pugilist in that
province who often came home drunk, and as often,
belaboured his wife with Stripes and blows. Once she pre¬
tended illness through fear of her husband and that the
pretence might seem more real, she asked that the Body of
the Lord might be given her. As the prieSt was coming,
the pugiliSt carrying a cup of beer and in a drunken condition
met him and urged him to drink. And when he replied : “ I
am carrying the Body of the Lord, I will not drink now ; ”
the Frisian in anger Struck the pyx with the cup and shook
out of it all the sacred wafers, so that they were scattered
over the floor. And the matrons, who had come to comfort
the woman, saw as it were Stars shining over each particle
of the HoSt, and the prieSt with weeping and mourning
gathered them again into the pyx and went away.

The Frisian indeed was summoned before the dean of the
province and excommunicated, but little he cared. Finally
he was compelled to this, that, branded with the cross for so
great a sacrilege, he should go to Rome with the aforesaid
prieSt also marked with the cross. Honorius, who was then
the lord pope, and to whom he confessed his sin, enjoined

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

upon him as a penance, that he should cross the sea and there
serve Christ in arms for three years. What need of more?
Both crossed the sea and both perished before Damietta.
After their death, the Lord in that same year smote the
province terribly and the cause of the Stroke was hidden from
the people.

Now there was a certain holy matron who served the Lord
continually with faStings, prayers, vigils and alms, and she
was the aunt of Witbold the lord abbot of S. Bernard ; to
her appeared the Blessed Mother of God, moved by her tears,
and full of compassion for the people and thus spoke : “ Be¬
cause of the insult shown to my Son in the sacrament of His
Body, Friesland is submerged and it will be Still further
afflicted, if condign punishment be not meted out.” From
these words she gathered that not only the sacrilege of the
pugiliSl, but also the crying sins of the whole people were
the cause of the punishment. Presently, the Mother of com¬
passion added: “ Lift up thine eyes towards the sea ; ” and
when she had done this, she saw, floating upon the waves
the pyx that had been Struck by the pugilist. And when it
drew near enough to be seen plainly she said : “ Behold the
Body of my Son. On the spot where it was scattered abroad,
a church muSl be built and the same reverence muSt be shown
to that place as is shown to the Holy Sepulchre. Know this
also, that both prieSt and pugilist are dead ; the latter, because
he died unrepentant, is buried in hell, but the prieSl is now
in purgatory." Now Theodoric, the prior of Jesse, told us
that the pugiliSf when he set out for the Holy Land had
shown abundant signs of contrition, but we are compelled to
believe the words of the Blessed Mother of God.

When this vision was made known, Theodoric, the lord
bishop of MiinSler, in whose diocese the chief part of Fries¬
land lies, sent letters by Ydidas, the cellarer of S. Bernard,
who himself told me of it, and enjoined a solemn penance
on all who dwelt in that province. That this was insufficient
is shown by the fatfl that in the following year, Friesland
was again punished and many thousands drowned in new
floods. A certain rich matron belonging to the family of
the pugiliSf built the church. From what I have said you

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can understand how solicitous is the B.V.M. for the salvation
of men, when she shows so much anxiety for their repentance.
How she comforts the affiidted will be made clear by the
following Story.

CHAPTER IV.

Of a feeble-minded priefl, who was degraded by
S. Thomas of Canterbury, and recovered his office
by the intervention of the Blessed Mary.

An abbot of our Order told me a pleasant Story of S.
Thomas of Canterbury, martyred in our own times, which
does not appear in his passion, nor is it found in the book
of his miracles. There was in his diocese a certain
half-witted prieSt, who knew no mass except that of
Our Lady, which he said every day ; and when he was
formally charged with this, the blessed bishop felt bound
for the honour of the sacrament, to prohibit him from saying
mass at all from that time forward.

Therefore he fell into sorrow and want, and called con¬
tinually upon the Blessed Virgin, who appeared to him and
said: “ Go to the bishop and tell him from me to restore you
to your office.” The prieSt replied : “ Lady, I am poor and
of no reputation ; he will not listen to me, indeed I shall
never be able to come into his presence.” The Blessed Virgin
added: “ Go, for I will prepare the way for you.” And
he : “ But Lady, he will not believe what I say.” And she
replied: “You will tell him for a sign that when at such
a time and in such a place, he was repairing his hair-shirt
which had come unsewn, I held one side of it and helped
him and immediately he will believe you.”

In the morning, the prieSt found audience of the bishop
without difficulty and gave him the message of the Blessed
Mother of God ; and when he said to him: “ How shall I

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

know that she has sent you? ” he repeated to him the incident
of the hair-shirt. And when he heard this, the blessed arch¬
bishop was Stricken with fear and amazement and replied:
“ See, I reStore to you your office and I enjoin upon you to
sing and repeat the mass of Our Lady only and to pray for
me.

Novice .—Wonderful indeed is the compassion of our Lady
that she should so defend a feeble-minded prieSt who was
worthy of deposition and should judge him worthy to remain
in so important an office.

Mon\. —All this arises from her ineffable pity, as you will
see Still more astonishingly in the following chapter.

CHAPTER V.

Also of a prtefl in Dern, deposed because he was
half-witted, to whom S. Mary ordered his church
to be reftored.

A certain canon of S. Gereon in Cologne, Hardarad by
name, of noble birth, born in Merenberg, was redtor of a
certain church called Dern, upon the river Lahn. Since he
was a man of extravagant and expensive taStes and found
his yearly income too small, understanding that the vicar of
his church at Dern had much money, he set about planning
how he might get some from him. And knowing him to
be quite illiterate, he took with him the dean of Limburg
and entered the church as if to hear mass within the ocffavc
of the Epiphany when the office is a particularly difficult
one, even when the prieSt has prepared himself for it. The
prieSt was terrified when he saw such important personages
come in ; and after the confession, as he did not know the
office for the day, he began the introit from that of our Lady,
which begins: " Vultum tuum deprecabuntur; ” and

Hardarad, not unwilling to confuse him, and using his

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authority as redtor, began the office of the day, i.c.: " In
excelso throno.” And when the prieSt went on with what
he had begun, the other Stopped, pretending to be thrown
into confusion. When the mass was over, he spoke harshly
to the prieSt and said: “ Sir, what mass was it that you said
to day?” And the other replied: “That of our Lady;
was there anything wrong with it?” Hardarad replied:
“ Take care that you never say any mass again in a church
of mine,” and so went away after putting in another prieSt.
Now he who was thus turned out, fell into poverty and want,
and the Mother of Pity took compassion on him ; one night,
when Hardarad had said matins, she appeared to him when
alone in the church at S. Gereon and spoke to him severely,
saying: “ Why did you, driven by your avarice, send away
my chaplain? If you do not at once reStore him, I will take
from you the use of your tongue.” He threw himself at
her feet, besought pardon and promised full satisfaction.
Next morning he sent a messenger to restore the prieSt who
had been deprived, charging him, as was said above about
S. Thomas, to celebrate the mass of S. Mary every day and
begging him to pray for his sins. This prieSt is Still alive
and presides over a convent of nuns, of which he was the
founder.

Novice. —It is indeed good to serve such a miStress who
thus comes to the help of her servants.

Mon\. —Not only does she warn and reprove those who
afflidt them, but she also mightily defends their property.

CHAPTER VI.

0 / the lord pope Innocent, who was reproved by
S. Mary through Renerius when he endeavoured
to impose exadions upon the Cidercian Order.

At the time when Baldwin, count of Flanders, Stormed
Constantinople with the crusaders, pope Innocent had by

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

letters enjoined the Order to send a fortieth part of all their
portable property, as a grant in aid of the Holy Land. The
Order however, relying upon the privileges granted to it by
his predecessors, and fearing left they should change into
slavery the freedom won by their forbears, refused to submit
to so serious an exaction. Whereupon Innocent raged in
such anger againft us that he proposed to permit the secular
authorities to lay hands upon the possessions of the Order.
But in the next general council, the abbots who attended,
refting their hopes upon the Blessed Mother of God, the
patroness and advocate of the Order, and feeling confident
that this ill-conceived sentence could easily be revoked by
her prayers, ordered special petitions to be said for this emer¬
gency until the next chapter, adding this also, that from the
beginning of Lent the monks should make a procession with
bare feet, from the chapter-house, singing the seven psalms
and the litany. And this was done.

Meanwhile the Blessed Mother of God appeared to a
certain monk named Renerius who was pope Innocent’s con¬
fessor, and charged him in these words: “ You are trying to
deftroy the Ciftercian Order whose advocate I am, but you
will not succeed. And unless you quickly reconsider your
evil intentions, I will break both you yourself and all your
power.”

When the lord Innocent heard this message, he was terri¬
fied, because he knew Renerius to be a saintly and truthful
man, and so truly did he repent of the sin he had intended,
that he confirmed the privileges of the Order, adding this
also, that the business of the Order should be carried through
the Curia before any other. This indulgence he ratified,
both with his own bull and with the signatures of all the
cardinals; and was so angry with the cardinal of the Order
of black monks who was the only one to resift, that he
threatened to degrade him. And when our fathers were
informed of these things at the next chapter they gave thanks
to Chrift and His Mother for a change so unexpected, and
closed the enjoined petitions with an act of thanksgiving.

Novice .—I do not wonder that so mighty a queen should
defend those whose advocacy she undertakes.

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Mon \.—You say well, for although she is the Mother o
compassion yet she is not unmindful of the punishment -
the unmerciful.

CHAPTER VII.

Of the punishment of the enemies of Marienfiatt.

A certain noble lady, Alison de Molsberg 1 with the consent
of her husband, the Burgrave Everard, by divine inspiration
had handed over some of her revenues into the hands of Dom
Henry our abbot, freely and without any one gainsaying,
and while she was ftill alive, the house which is called
Marienfiatt, was built. After her death certain noble
relations of hers began to molefl this new foundation with
complaints, threats, plunderings and many other annoyances.
But the Virgin Mary, the Holy Mother of God, the patroness
and guardian of this monastery, so wrought with her Son,
as was commonly said, that Henry of Molsberg, the chief
offender, was attacked, and being condemned as having a&ed
arbitrarily was banished from the caflle.

Another noble, de Ziegenberg, who had much troubled
this same house, was miserably slain by his own servant. A
third, while hastening to the plunder of the monaflery, burs'!
asunder in the midfl on the way. Yet another who was one
of the joint heirs, when he heard of these punishments, was
overcome with fear, and coming to the place, withdrew his
claim publicly, saying : “ O Holy Lady Mary, let this be thine
alone, I here renounce all part or lot in it.”

The knight William of Helpenflein, 2 urged on by his
wife, who maintained that she was the heiress of the family
eflates that had been assigned to the monaflery, took posses¬
sion of the befl farm and caused no little expense to the
brethren.

1 Countess of Froizberth, see Bk. V, 5.

2 A caftle under Ehrenbreilftein, opp. Cologne.

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Meanwhile a pious prieSt who was William’s confessor,
dreamt one night that he was transported to Marienffatt,
where he saw the said William endeavouring to prevent a
prieft from celebrating the mass, and as he watched, he saw
further a coal-black figure rise up againft the intruder and
slay him with a blow from a club. He related this vision
to the knight, and assured him that he had not long to live,
if he did not cease from troubling the monks, but he, protect¬
ing fretfully that he was daily urged on by the goadings of
his wife, refused to liCten to his counsel. He was summoned
by letters from the pope for being in violent possession of
some of the property, and after the judges and advocates
had protracted the trial for an unconscionable time, at laCt
they appointed two days for the parties, one for making an
amicable arrangement and the other for fighting it out in the
Court.

When it was found that they could come to no agreement
and there were now three days left before the trial, John of
Horicheim, a lay-brother in Altenberg, dreamt that night
that he was in MarienCfatt, and heard the glorious virgin say
in clear tones: “ I mud depart from this place.” And when
the monk asked : “ Whither wilt thou go, Lady ?” she replied :
“ To my Son, to complain of William of HelpenClein, who
will not suffer me to abide here in peace.”

In the morning he related this vision to the knight’s butler
and added : “ Be sure of this, that death is drawing very near
to your lord, on account of his behaviour to the convent of
MarienClatt.” And he replied with a jeCf: “ Never mind,
we shall be glad to get rid of him.” And a few days after,
he loCl a foot, as his punishment for his mock.

On that same day when William was riding through a
wood, carrying a hawk upon his fiCt, he met two servants of
the count of Sayn, who were leading away as a prisoner one
of his own men. This man he endeavoured to rescue and in
the scuffle that ensued, he was transfixed with a spear and
forthwith breathed out his soul. At the same hour, a woman
possessed with the devil in the village of Frisch, far diCIant
from the caCIle of HelpenCtein, began so to leap and clap her
hands and chuckle and grin, that twelve men were scarce able

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to hold her down. When asked what ailed her, she replieo .
“ My mailer has juft gained three souls. Know that
William of Helpenftein has juft been killed.”

Novice. —What did she mean by saying three souls?

Mon/(. —Those of the slain and of the slayers, as I think,
because he had the soul of the dead man in fail and of the
other two in prospect.

Not long afterwards in Brisach, the devil was queftioned
about the soul of this William, and replied by the mouth of
another woman : “ My mafter has it safe, and because of the
monks whom he despoiled, he pours into it sulphur and
pitch, filling it up to the brim.” Moreover his wife, who had
goaded him on to so much wickedness, was with her children
soon after driven out of her caftle by her ftep-brother. For
although it was considered impregnable, he entered in the
night, by a scaling ladder, and call her out with ignominy,
thus avenging the wrong done to the Blessed Mother of God.
From that time forward, the monaftery has possessed this
farm in peace until this day, by the help of the merits of the
Glorious Virgin.

Novice. —You have now made it quite clear that she is
the preserver of the world, the comforter of the afflifted and
the faithful defender of her servants. Show me now I pray
you by some example that she also gives light and under-
ftanding to the sinner, for I judge that to be a ftill more
beautiful thing than all the reft.

Mon\. —Since man can often win grace for his fellow-man,
it is easy to believe that this can be won much more fully by
the Mother of the Lord.

CHAPTER VIII.

Of Henry, canon of S. Kunibert who was converted
by the intercession of S. Mary.

There was a canon of S. Kunibert in Cologne, named
Henry, who lived a very worldly life. One day when he was

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riding unattended, he noticed a small bright cloud flit across his
path and heard a moft exceedingly clear voice speak from it:
“ Thy Will be done in earth as it is in heaven.” This voice
was of such exceeding sweetness that whenever afterwards he
called it to mind, he was melted to tears. And as he paid too
little attention to this gentle heavenly voice, or perhaps too
little understood its meaning, he dreamt one night that he
was Standing in his private chapel before the altar in the
presence of the image of the Blessed Mother of God. And
when, according to wont, he saluted her with the angelic
greeting, she replied: “Why doft thou salute me? Thou
art a loft soul ; unless thou amend thy life, very quickly wilt
thou perish. Yet I and S. Benedict are interceding for thee.”

Yet he negleftcd even this second warning, so entranced
was he in the sweetness of the worldly life ; and about six
weeks later he was seized with so grievous a sickness, that
extreme unftion was given him, for there appeared now no
hope of his life. Then at laft he came back to his senses and
remembered what he had heard and seen, and sending for
certain Bergensian brothers of the Ciftercian Order, he made
his submission to them, and became a monk at the following
Eafter, and to this day he gives thanks that he was enlightened
by the prayers of the Blessed Virgin.

Novice .—Whose was the voice from the cloud and what
was its meaning?

Mon \.—So far as can be gathered from what I have said,
is was the voice of the Blessed Mary and of S. Benedift, for
they prayed Chrift that as His will was done in heaven, i.e.
in the juft man, so also it might be done on earth, i.e. in the
youth that was then a sinner. Nor ought it to be a matter of
wonder to you that sinners are enlightened by her, for accord¬
ing to His name, so is His praise unto the world’s end (Ps.
xlviii. 9). For the name “ Mary ” is interpreted “ ftar of the
sea,” or “ illuminator.” Of how she also brings to confession
and pardon those who are desperate and hardened againft all
grace, I will now give you some examples.

The Dialogue on Miracles

chapter IX.

Of the mon\ who was sic\ in the Trappi/I mona-
flery for whom S. Mary obtained the grace of
confession.

In the province of Perche, there is a house of the CiStercian
Order called Trappa. Here, as was told me by Dom Henry,
the abbot of Scimenu who said that the ftory had been related
to him by the abbot of the aforesaid monastery, there happened
this that I am about to tell you, which had then recently
taken place.

There was a monk there who was sick to death, and two
monks were deputed to attend upon him. Once when these
two had gone out together and the sick man was lying alone,
there entered two evil spirits, who Stood together in a corner
of the room, clapped their hands and chuckled, saying to each
other : “ To-morrow at the third hour we shall have the great
pleasure of taking this man’s soul to hell.”

Immediately the sick man began to tremble and grow pale
from the bitter Stings of conscience ; for before his conversion
he had committed certain grievous sins which shame had
prevented him from confessing either when a clerk in the
world, or as a novice, or as a monk in the monastery. And
now, as he looked round in terror he saw in the opposite
corner of the room a moSt beautiful matron who thus replied
to the grinning demons: “ Do not rejoice too much, for I shall
advise him how he may escape your jaws.” And when she
had said this, the attendants returned, and the whole vision
disappeared. UuderStanding the advice to mean full confes¬
sion and the matron to be the Holy Mother of God, whom he
had invoked, as I think, in that extremity of danger, he caused
the prior to be summoned, to whom, helped by the merits of
the Blessed Virgin, he confessed all his sins, fully and devoutly,
and begged him to disclose them all to the abbot, who was at
that time absent from the monastery. Then, anointed with
the holy oil, and fortified by the sacrament of the body of
the Lord, at the hour foretold by the demons, he breathed
out his spirit in the humble hope of pardon.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER X.

Also of two beggars who lay ill in a hospital of Paris
whom she urged to confession.

Two paupers in Paris received a similar mercy from the
Blessed Virgin, as was told me by our brother Lambert who
said that he was Studying there at the time. And when they
were brought into the hospital, which is situated juSl opposite
her oratory in the parvis, the most Merciful Virgin herself who
cares for all men, deigned to appear to a certain religious who
was chaplain to this hospital and said : “ My friend, see that
moff watchful care is bestowed on these two poor men, because
they are in a perilous Slate and demons are hovering round
them, seeking how they may injure them.” And when she
had said this to the prieSl and he to clear his conscience had
exhorted them once and again without any effect, he added at
laSl: “ Wretched men, I know that you are in moSl grievous
sin and at the point of death, and unless you confess, you will
go to hell and be tortured with everlaSIing pains.” Then they,
terrified, and, as is moSl surely to be believed, enlightened by
the prayers of the blessed mother of God, made a good con¬
fession and died like good ChriSlians, giving grief to the devils,
and joy to the holy angels in Heaven,

Novice. —Such things are delightful to hear of.

Mon\. —Not only sinners who have faith without works,
are enlightened by her, as has been shown, but even apoflates
from the faith are reconciled to Chrift through her, and this is
a proof of Still greater compassion. Of this you have a clear
example in the twelfth chapter of the second book, of the
young man near Floreffe who denied ChriSt and gave him¬
self over to the devil and yet found pardon through her
prayers.

Novice. —The same Story is told of Theophilus of Alexan¬
dria. And now since you have told me enough of her good¬
ness to sinners, I pray you also to show me by illustrations,
the kind of revelation with which she consoles the good.

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Mon\. —How marvellously the Holy Mother of God con¬
soles her faithful servants, you shall underhand from the few
examples that I will now lay before you.

CHAPTER XI.

Of Peter the one-eyed abbot of Clairvaux whom S.

Mary blessed in the Church of Speyer.

Circumstances arose in which it became necessary that some
of the abbots of our Order should be sent on business to the
Emperor Henry, the son of Frederic. Chief among these
both in dignity and saintliness was Dom Peter, the one-eyed
abbot of Clairvaux, of whom we have already spoken in the
eleventh chapter of the sixth book.

And because the abbot of Citeaux was unable to come him¬
self, he sent his prior in his place. When they had come to
Speyer and said their prayers in the church of the blessed
mother of God, which is a building of Stupendous size, and
all the others had quickly risen from their knees and were
walking round the church, admiring its architecture, Peter,
whose thoughts and interests lay not in corruptible buildings,
but in the architecture of the heavenly Jerusalem, continued
in prayer.

At length they all went out, and at the door of the church
were greeted with much reverence by the canons, who very
warmly invited them to dine, and one of the abbots asked
in whose honour the church had been consecrated. When
the clerks replied: “ In honour of our Lady,” the abbot of
Clairvaux added without thinking : “ Yes, I felt sure of that.”
The prior of Citeaux noticed these words, but said nothing
at the time ; later when they had all left the city, he remem¬
bered them and said to the abbot: “ Tell me, how did you
know that the monastery of Speyer had been consecrated in
honour of our Lady?” And he, grieved for the words he had

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

let fall, replied : “ It seemed to me altogether fitting that the
patroness of so wonderful a building should be no other than
the Mother of God and Queen of Heaven.” The prior, know¬
ing well the man’s saintliness, and feeling sure from his reply
that some revelation had been vouchsafed him in the church
went on : “lam taking the place of the lord abbot of Citeaux
on this journey, and on his authority I enjoin upon you to tell
me the simple truth. Then Peter, constrained by obedience,
replied submissively : “ While I was lying prostrate before the
altar, earnestly beseeching mercy for my sins and for the
negligences of the journey, the blessed Virgin Mary herself
appeared to me, and in these words said over me the blessing
which our Order is wont to say over those who have come back
from a journey : ‘ Almighty and Everlasting God, have mercy
upon this Thy servant, and whatever harm has come to him
on his journey from sight of evil or from hearing of idle talk,
do Thou in Thine unspeakable mercy abundantly pardon,
through Jesus ChriSt our Lord.’ ” All this was told me by
an abbot of our Order, whose house this same Peter frequently
visited, for he understood from this blessing that she was
indeed the patroness of the place.

Novice. —How happy a prayer was his, to merit the blessing
of the glorious Virgin.

Mon{. —And she is wont to comfort with her blessing,
not only those who pray, but those also who sing God’s
praises.

CHAPTER XII.

Also of motifs and lay-brothers in Hemmenrode,
whom she blessed when at vigils in the sight of
Henry the lay-brother.

Henry the lay-brother in Hemmenrode, whom I spoke of
in the 5th chapter of the 5th book when I was discoursing

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of demons, often, especially on the church’s festivals, saw the
Glorious Virgin among the monks when they were occupied
in praising God with singing. One night he saw her come
from the choir of the monks, and enter the choir of the lay-
brothers, holding in her arms the Son of God who was born
of her. As she went round, Stirring the brethren to further
devotion, as the abbot does, she halted before some who
were watchful and earnest in prayer, showing them her Son
and blessing them, congratulating them on their devotion.
But quickly she passed by any who were lukewarm, or who
were allowing themselves to be overcome with sleep, nor
offered any comfort to them. And this same lay-brother
took diligent note of each of his brethren thus singled out
in this celeSlial visitation and told their names to the lord
Herman, then prior, and now abbot of MarienSlatt ; and it
was from his lips that I heard this.

Novice. —I remember that you told me a similar Story in
the 35th chapter of the 1st book about Godfrey the monk of
Villers.

Mon\. —With so great love does the Blessed Virgin enfold
those who are her devoted servants, that not only when they
pray, not only when they praise, but even when they sleep,
she blesses them.

CHAPTER XIII.

Also of the same lay-brother, and of other sicl^
lay-brothers, whom she visited in the night and
blessed them.

One night when this same lay-brother was sitting on his
bed in the infirmary and was saying his prayers while the
others were sleeping, he saw Our Lady in great glory enter
the cell, with a certain monk whose name I will not mention
going in front of her, and two matrons following. And

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

first she lifted up her hand over his head, and then she went
in and out among the beds of the sick and blessed them as
they slept, and finally she returned to him, and again raising
her hand above his head, she said: “ May the blessing of
the Lord abide upon all in this place ” and so went out.

Novice. —If sleepers are thus visited at night by the mirror
of all purity, it is moft necessary that the Religious should
Study to lie so orderly and composedly in their beds, that
the maiden eyes should find no offence in them.

Uon\. —MoSt rightly have you judged. I will give you
an illustration which I remember to have heard from my
maSter when I was a novice on probation.

CHAPTER XIV.

Also of monies whom she blessed in their sleep,
one only being left out because he was lying in
unseemly guise.

A certain monk who, as often happens, was saying his
prayers one night when unable to sleep, saw in the dormitory
a woman of wonderful beauty. She went round the beds
of the sleepers and gave a blessing to each one, leaving out
only one monk from whom she turned away her eyes. The
watcher carefully noted this man, and told him in the morn¬
ing the vision he had seen, whereupon he confessed that he
had lain that night somewhat carelessly, relaxing a little
from the Slridl rule of the Order. My maSter could not tell
me whether he had laid aside his girdle or taken off his
sandals or unfastened his tunic.

Novice.— If this monk loft his blessing for so small a
fault, I think that he muft be worthy of punishment who
goes to sleep habitually lying in a disordered and immodest
fashion.

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Mon \.—Of this you have a terrible example in the 33rd
chapter of the 5th book, where a lay-brother, lying asleep
in an immodeft attitude was kissed by the devil in the form
of a nun and Straightway fell sick and died in a few days.
For we can both sin and deserve well in our sleep. For
what we think of during our waking hours, or to what we
are impelled whether good or ill, these things often come
back to us in dreams. As in a chain when it is pulled or
jerked, motion generates motion, so in the sleeper what has
gone before, whether thought, adtion or consent, induces good
or evil results.

Novice. —I like what you say. Will you go on now
about the consolations of the righteous?

CHAPTER XV.

Of the appearance of the B.V.M. with S. Elizabeth
and S. Mary Magdalene to the aforesaid brother.

Mon\. —A certain monk of blameless life, whose name
I muft not give, repeatedly asked this lay-brother Henry that
he would intercede for him when next he should be visited
by the Blessed Mother of God. He gave this promise and
one day after saying compline in the chapel of the grange
of which he was head, he was praying for him, when as he
prayed, there appeared to him three matrons of wonderful
beauty. And while he remained bewildered by their beauty
and wondered within himself who they were and whence
they came, one of them made answer to his thoughts in these
words: “ I am Mary Magdalene, this,” pointing with her
finger, “ is the queen of the universe, the Virgin Mary, the
Mother of God, and the third is Elizabeth.” And she added :
“ Thou art praying for the monk ” ; and here she spoke his
name, “ rather hall thou need that he should pray for thee.”
And so they disappeared. The same lay-brother saw a dove

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

descend upon the head of this same monk, when as deacon
he was reading the gospel at mass, and abide there to the
end of the reading.

CHAPTER XVI.

Life of Dom Christian, mon\ of Hemmenrode.

In the same monastery and at the same time as this lay-
brother Henry, there was a monk, who was Christian both
in name and conduct. Him Our Lady used to comfort in
many ways, making clear to him hidden things. I will tell
you shortly, as far as I have been able to learn it, the life of
this blessed man both before and after his conversion ; but I
shall relate nothing about him, except what has been told me
by Religious men who saw and knew him. When Still a
scholar, he used to avoid the schools and travel through the
provinces. One night he was entertained in the house of a
woman whose daughter suffered from scab in the head ; and
she kept asking him if he knew of any cure for the disease,
and would not believe him when he disclaimed any know¬
ledge of it, for she said that scholars knew all kinds of
experiments ; and so, overcome at laSt by her importunity,
that he might rid himself of her, he said : “ Take some
house-leek, some soot and some salt and make an ointment
of them ; anoint your daughter’s head with this and
she will soon be better.” And although such ingredients
were really hurtful for the disease, the mother nevertheless
did as she was told, and very quickly the child grew
quite well, not, I think, because of the medicine, but because
of the simple-heartedness of the scholar. Another time when
he was sleeping in a ffrange house, a necessity of nature
compelled him to get up clad in trousers only, and the devil,
in the guise of a naked woman, met him and leapt upon
his bare back. And when by no effort could he shake him
off, he ran round the room till morning, suffering great,
fatigue both of body and mind. When ordained prieSt he

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became chaplain to the count of Lootz, and celebrated masses
in his caStle. Now the son of the count, knowing him to
be both a simple-minded and a timid man, wished to frighten
him, and put on a bearskin, and going on all fours like a
beaSt came thus to him when sitting alone in the chapel and
growled at him. Christian was terrified at the sight and
almoSt beside himself, snatched up a knife and struck the
boy so violently in the neck, that he fell over almost dead.
But after a little time he recovered his wits, and now was
terrified for the prieSt’s life and said : “ Flee master Christian
because you have killed the count’s son ” ; and he fled in
terror, and when he came to the caStle gate, he said to the
porter : “ Open and let me out for I have killed the count’s
son ” ; you see what simplicity? As soon as the news was
brought to the parents and family, they made sore lament.
Nevertheless, at the petition of the boy himself, Christian
was recalled and his fault pardoned and against all hope,
the wounded boy quickly recovered. This was told me by
Walter Birkbeck of blessed memory.

Once when he was saying the commendatory prayer
at a funeral, the dead man rose up ; all who were
present fled away in a panic and Christian himself fled
until he was Stopped by a neighbouring river. The
dead man followed and cried after him: “ Sir, there is
a fine sheep at my house, will you take it and pray for
me? ” And so the dead man returned to the bier from
which he had risen and was buried.

Besides the above mentioned chapel he had a regular
church of which he was paStor ; to this he had occasion to go
frequently, and on the way to it, there was a river to cross.
When the water was low, he would ride across upon
his horse, and when it was in flood, he used to go
over in a boat. Now one day, when he reached it,
he found the water to be higher than he expe< 5 ted ; and while
he was wondering what to do, as he did not dare to
truSt himself and his horse in the water, and there
was no boat to be found, behold ! there appeared the
blessed Mary Magdalene, who took him by the cloak above
the neck and put him down on the further bank, so that he

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

found himself there Still sitting upon his horse. And so he
came joyfully to church and began to celebrate the divine
mySteries, having no one else present except the ruStic who
looked after the church. But the blessed Mary Magdalene,
who had brought him thither, remained to take part in his
mass. For as often as he turned to the people to say: “ The
Lord be with you,” he saw a moSt worshipful matron, pacing
to and fro in the chapel. Now knowing that there was no
mortal there, save the aforesaid cuStodian, when the mass
was over, he called his man and asked him if he had seen
anyone in the church. And he said that he too had seen her.

Now this venerable prieSt, considering the dangers of
the world, the temptations of the devil and the incentives
of the flesh, by the guidance of divine grace left the world
and took the dress of Religion at Hemmenrode. One day
when he was prostrate in prayer in the room of the novices,
and thinking upon the weakness of his body, the severity of
the Order and the pains of purgatory, he began to grow weary.
And immediately he felt a marvellous power which separated
his soul from his body. He saw also a tomb being built
before him with marvellous workmanship. And lo ! he saw
entering by the window the Holy Mother of God, followed
by a great company of virgins. And he heard a voice saying :
“ This is the Lady of Nazareth.” Then she raised the
priest’s lifeless body by the head while the Emperor Frederick,
grandfather of the Frederick who is now Emperor, lifted it
by the feet, and reverently they lowered it into the tomb.
Then, the Blessed Virgin with a multitude of angels following
her, returned to the heavens, taking with her the soul of the
buried man and guarded it unhurt, though crowds of demons
followed, breathing out fire and smoke.

At length he was taken to a mighty fire and the angels
told him that after death he muSt return to that place and
pass through this fire ; and then immediately he found him¬
self restored to his body. Never was he willing to say
anything to anyone about the mode and cause of that passing.
He did however testify that the soul was full of eyes, and
that it had so great knowledge, so long as it was deprived
of the body, that after coming back to life, he was aStonished

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The Dialogue on Miracles

at the obscurity of his ordinary vision. When asked of the
forms and appearance of the angels and demons, he replied
that he saw the angels under the form of mo£t beautiful
maidens and the demons in the guise of ravens.

This reminds me of what was said recently by one whose
soul was taken out of his body and then returned to it. The
soul, he said, that is taken from the body finally without the
prospedt of return, sees other souls and the angels actually
as they are ; but when it is to return, it sees them only under
figures and forms, for the sake of the living.

Novice .—That seems to me probable enough. But what
was the signification of the prieSt’s burial by Our Lady and
the Emperor Frederick?

Mon \.—According to what was told me by the aforesaid
Walter, who with very great trouble and very secretly,
succeeded in eliciting from him the meaning of this burial,
the Blessed Virgin showed him by this vision how much she
loved him and how great was his merit in the sight of God.
As if she had said : “ There is none of greater dignity on
earth than the reigning Emperor Frederick, and yet even
he is unworthy to assist at your burial.” So it was that he
understood it. Moreover he often saw demons under
different forms, sometimes as men, sometimes as animals or
reptiles, as I remember I described more fully in the 6th
chapter of the 5th book. Once when he was Standing among
others to sing the psalms at the hour of sext, he saw, set up
in the middle of the choir, a table moSt beautifully prepared.
And there came three matrons of wonderful beauty, bringing
prieStly robes and unfolding them upon the table, they
presented them to him.

At another time when at the beginning of lauds, the psalm
“ God be merciful unto us ” was being sung, he saw the right
hand of God spread over the choir and giving the blessing
to the convent. On account of this, the concession was made
to the lay-brethren that they should sing that psalm on all
festivals.

Novice .-—I wonder how this saint came to so great favour.

Mon \.—Chiefly by the virtues of the soul, that is, charity,
singleness of mind, humility and the like. For the kingdom

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

of God is in these, rather than in speech or bodily toil. For
neither preaching nor manual labour are of much avail with¬
out inward virtues. Truly he was of so great humility that
if he met any of his fellow monks, he would fold his sleeves
together and draw aside left he should touch them with his
robe. When asked the reason for this, he replied : “ I am a
sinner and unworthy to touch these holy men, or to be touched
by them.” Before his conversion, he had begotten two sons,
out of wedlock, namely Henry, a lay-brother of Villers, a
saintly man about whom we spoke in the 31st chapter of the
4th book, and John a monk of Hemmenrode who is ftill
living.

Novice .—Why do we see greater favour in revelations of
this kind, granted to sinners and lapsed upon their repentance,
than to those who have kept their innocence.

Mon—Where sin did abound, grace did much more
abound (Rom. v. 20).

And this happens by the unspeakable mercy of God, both
that the lapsed may not despair because of the sins that are
passed and that the innocent may not fall into pride because
of their innocence. Once when I was sitting in a gathering
of the devoted women of our Order and we were talking of
visions of this kind, one of the virgins said to me : 44 You
see how God reveals His secret things not to us, but to such
an one,” pointing with her finger to one of the others who
was thought not to have joined the Order as a maiden. To
whom I replied as above adding this: 44 You will perhaps
ascribe this grace to your virginity, but God desires you to
be humble even more than to be virgins.” For well I under-
ftood that pride had been the motive of what she said. That
the virtue of virginity does sometimes exalt the minds of such
women may be seen more plainly from the words of another
of these devout women. 44 Assuredly,” she said, “ I who am
a virgin shall not be like widows who have borne sons and
daughters.”

Yet how much a really humble virginity is pleasing to
God, and how marvellously he reveals secret things to them,
the following chapters will declare.

Novice .—I remember that you said above, that merit lies

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rather in the virtues of the soul than in any outward works.
Why then do we every day mortify ourselves in prayers and
Study, in vigils and faSts, in singing and labouring with our
hands ?

Mon \.—It is possible to do all these without merit for life
eternal, but never are the emotions of the virtues unprofit¬
able. Whatever is done without charity and the other virtues
is dead. Hear now the useful distinction according to the
rule of theology, by which you may know wherein merit
consists. Truly merit consists in grace effectively, in free¬
will occasionally, in virtues formally, in the emotions of
virtue essentially, in the works of virtue, such as prayer and
the reSt that you enumerated juSt now, inStrumentally. I
would explain this distinction to you more fully, but that now
I want to haSten on to those other visions of the blessed saint
which are Still untold.

Once when he was grievously sick and his attendant was
urging him to take a little food, he said that on every day for
the laSt seven days, he had been visited by our Lord and His
moSt gracious Mother, and he had been so delightfully
refreshed by their visitation that he had no desire for food or
drink. Again at another time when he was ill with a mortal
sickness, and was telling some of his visions to his son John,
whom I mentioned before, the lord Gevard, who at that
time was in charge of the infirmary and who afterwards
became our abbot, and who told me this himself, ran to the
prior and told him that Dom Christian was telling great
wonders to his son John. The prior went to him at once
and sat down beside him, and with intention asked him if
he wished to say anything in the way of confession and when
he answered : “ I have made my confession,” the prior added :
“ I beg you then to say something to me for my edification.”
Then he : “ What shall I say to you? Even now, Our Lady
was Standing by me with her blessed Son, and because through
my bodily weakness I could not say my hours, they, them¬
selves helped me.” He had always been accustomed to say
specials hours. All these things Gevard heard himself, for
he was sitting behind the prior. And when they asked him
what dress they wore, he replied : “ Cowls even like ours.”

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For they deigned to show themselves to him in the very dress
that he had adopted in love of them. And dying thus in
happy ending, he was received by those who had visited him
on his death-bed and taken in glory to the eternal mansions.
Amen.

CHAPTER XVII.

Of the sacriflan of Locheim, who at night saw
S. Mary descend upon the altar.

Not long ago, a monk of our Order, Adam by name, flay¬
ing with us on one of his journeyings, told us among other
things some wonderful ftories of Our Lady, which he teflified
were of what had atflually taken place in his monaflery ;
two of these I will tell now, reserving the others for more
fitting places.

Now this house of his is called Locheim, and is in Saxony,
and he has charge of the church there and is well known
as a good and religious man. One night when he went into
the chapel before matins, he saw Our Lady, to whom the
chapel is dedicated, seated in great glory upon the altar.
This vision greatly rejoiced him for the hope that his service
was acceptable to her. On another occasion when he was
opening the doors of the chapel and had come to the screen,
where guefts are wont to ftand, he saw a demon lying upon
a tomb in the guise of a very hideous man. He made the
sign of the cross, but the phantom did not move, though
when he approached nearer it disappeared. Then that he
might the more confound the demon, he sat down upon the
tomb and remained there until he had recited the seven
penitential psalms.

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chapter XVIII.

Also of a mon\ of the same monaflery who at vigils
saw S. Mary go round and wipe the face of each
mon\, leaving out only two.

Another monk of the same house, a man worthy of much
favour, saw Our Lady one night go round the choir while
they were singing the psalms and wipe the faces of all the
monks but two. Of these two, one soon became an apostate,
and it is not yet known what became of the other.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of another mon\ of the same house to whom the
Blessed Mary appeared in the air above the altar,
surrounded by a great number of saints.

In the same monastery there was a monk who one night,
thnking the bell had rung for matins, got up in hafte and
went into the church ; and when he came in front of the
chancel, he saw in the air above the altar, a circle of exceed¬
ing bright light like a rainbow and in this circle he saw the
Son of God, our Saviour, with his moft Blessed Mother, and
around them on all sides a great company of saints, especially
those whose relics were contained in the church. He knew
their names, because he had once been sacriftan there, though
I do not know if he is the same sacriftan as was mentioned
above. While he was standing there, Our Lady said to
two angels: “ Bring him to me.” And when this was done,
the Blessed Virgin bade him read the writing round her
crown, and as he could not do this, she said to the angels:
“ Put him down upon the ground and when he has sought
pardon there and said the angels’ salutation, bring him again.”
This was done, but ftill he could by no means read the

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inscription. After he had been set down and brought back
three times, he succeeded at laSt in reading and understand¬
ing the writing and received the command that he should
reveal it to no man. And when the angels had again placed
him on earth, the vision disappeared.

Novice .—I wonder if Our Lady ever visits good women
as she visits men.

Mon \.—There is neither male nor female in her eyes.
She was born woman and she herself gave birth to the chief
of all men, even ChriSt. Both sexes she visits and consoles,
to both she reveals her secrets. That this is so, I will show
you by examples rather than in words.

CHAPTER XX.

Of the visions of the noble maiden of Quida.

In a town of France called Quida, there was a maiden both
of noble birth and of a religious mind, but she was paralysed.
Her father, being a man of high position and rich, appointed
a prieSt to celebrate the divine mySteries for her and liberally
supplied him with assistants and an annual revenue. She gave
all her attention to prayer, faSting and meditation, and so
fed upon the charm of these occupations that she was
nauseated with any bodily food, and could not take any of
it, but a little grape juice. She was extremely hospitable
and by this virtue earned the spirit of prophecy. She
venerated our Order in the highest degree, and it is said to
have often happened to her, that when any of our monks
or abbots intended to go aside and use her hospitality, she
herself foreknew their coming and would gleefully foretell
it in this fashion : “ On such and such a day, such and such
abbots or monks are coming to us ; please make all the neces¬
sary preparations ” ; and so it would fall out. It was

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granted her to see a wonderful vision about our Order, which
very much enhanced her love for it. At the time of a general
chapter, she saw a ladder of marvellous beauty, set up to
heaven, and the Lord leaning upon the ladder and looking
down upon the chapter. The sides and Steps of it were of
such splendour, as surpassed the rays of the sun.

Novice. —What then does this vision seem to you to signify?

Mon\. —Although all the subjects, handled in this
chapter by the abbots, who had colle&ed there from all parts
of the world, were suggested by divine inspiration, there
can be no doubt that holy angels, descending and ascending,
reported them to ChriSt, in whose honour all was being done.

Novice. —This holy virgin seems in her vision to have
matched the holy patriarch Jacob, whom scripture relates to
have seen a similar vision at Bethel.

Mon —In human judgment, this would seem to be the
greater vision, because that took place in sleep and this
occurred in full wakefulness and in ecstasy.

When at the next chapter, this vision was told to the
abbots, they, rejoicing in the Holy Spirit cried : " How dread¬
ful is this place, this is none other than the house of God,
and this is the gate of heaven (Gen. xxviii. 17).

Another time when on the day of the purification of Our
Lady, it happened by God’s providence, that all her clergy
and attendants were absent, she lying alone said sadly to
herself: “ You are now lying here alone, nor paying any
homage as the whole church is doing to-day to the Blessed
Mother of God,” and while she so pondered, her soul was
in marvellous fashion drawn out of her body by the power
of God and carried by an angel to the heavenly Jerusalem.
And there she saw a vaft procession of all the Orders of
that heavenly city. Patriarchs, prophets, apoStles, martyrs,
confessors, virgins, and all the reft of the faithful, walking
two by two and carrying lighted candles. All were singing
the antiphons or responses for the day, according to the
custom of the church militant and were observing the
due Nations. The angel who brought the virgin thither
gave her as a companion to another virgin of similar merit
and put a lighted candle in her hand. No tongue can tell

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

the beauty and glory of all, and yet each one had his own
degree of radiance. And the Saviour of the world who is
the Head of all the saints, the very splendour of glory and
the sun of righteousness, clothed in pontificals, wearing the
mitre upon His head with the staff, gloves and ring and the
other episcopal ornaments, came laSt with his Mother, whose
beauty filled all the heavenly hoSt with wonder. And after
the third Station He began the antiphon: “ This day the
Virgin Mary presented the boy Jesus in the temple etc.,” they
entered the temple whose walls were gold and the founda¬
tions precious Stones. Then began the introit of the mass
which was chanted by all together. Meanwhile ChriSt went
to the altar and after the Kyrie Eleison had been sung by
alternative choirs, and then the “ Gloria in Excelsis ” which
He Himself began, the blessed proto-martyr Stephen read
the Epiftle from the book of Malachi the prophet, and then
S. John the evangelist, robed in dalmatic read the gospel
from S. Luke : " As soon as the days of her purification were
accomplished, etc. (S. Luke ii. 22). When this was finished,
the Lord, according to the use of our Order, came back to
the Step and received the candles from those who presented
them. And now the virgin, feeling in her spirit that she
was about to return to her body, was reludlant to offer her
candle, even though the angel signed to her to do so, because
she desired to take it back with her to earth. Whereupon
the angel, considering and approving this desire of hers,
broke the candle into two pieces in her hand, taking away
the upper piece, and leaving the reSl to her. And so having
returned to the body she found that she was Still holding
that piece clasped in her hand. A great number of candles
were fashioned from this, and perhaps, even to this day their
miraculous powers remain. For sick folk grow well when
they drink of water that has been poured over them. So
clear and sublime was the revelation, that she could in nowise
understand the manner of it and when questioned could only
reply in the words of the apoStle: “ Whether in the body or
out of the body I cannot tell, God knoweth ” (ii Cor. xii.2).
Dom EuStace, abbot of Hemmenrode, our visitor, hearing
of this vision from several abbots, in his eagerness to know

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the truth went presently to the virgin and heard it from her
own mouth, juft as it has here been told.

Novice .—I think this is even as marvellous as the vision
of the apof le who testified that he had been caught up to
the third heaven.

Mon \.—Do you know what “ the third heaven ” is?

Novice. —No.

Mon \.—The firf heaven is that visible to bodily sight,
the second to the soul, the third to the imagination. The
apof le used this vision of the imagination in his being caught
up, juft as did this virgin. What they saw, that they under¬
wood. If indeed you seek to know where each is placed,
we may say that the firf heaven is the sky, the second the
place of the Wars, the third the empyrean. In this laf will
dwell the bodies of the elecf after their glorious resurrection.
Whether this virgin was caught up to this heaven with her
body or without, I cannot tell, God knoweth. But God
showed her another vision, much more excellent even than
this. Once when she was meditating upon the profound
difficulty of eternal predefination and upon the ineffable
myferies, and the remedy of the divine Incarnation, she fell
into ecfasy, and saw herself in the presence of a maiden
all cryfalline, i.e. one who appeared as bright and transparent
as crystal, and in her womb she saw a mof beautiful infant,
crowned with the royal diadem. This diadem had moreover
four branches growing from it, which, as she looked, grew
and increased, fed by the brain of the maiden, and became
trees, and soon filled the four quarters of the world. Whose
fruits were the mof beautiful, of wonderful odour and of
marvellous savour. And behold beneath their branches was
seen the whole human race, from the firf created Adam to
the laf man who should be born at the end of the world.
But only the elecf were able to pluck of the fruit of the tree
and feed upon it ; the reprobate could neither touch it nor
eat of it. In this vision she received so much divine know¬
ledge that afterwards whenever she spoke with anyone, she
knew at once, whether that soul was predefined to life or
to perdition. If indeed he was predefined to life, she
delighted in talking with him as with a fellow citizen ; but

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

if fore-doomed, she quickly withdrew from all further con¬
verse with him.

Novice. —These are indeed moft wonderful things that you
tell me.

Mon\. —If God show so great and marvellous things to
the juft while on their journey, what do you think He will
show them when they reach their home (r Cor. ii. 9)?

Once when this same virgin had washed the corporal, and
was drying it upon a fair linen cloth, spread upon her knees
in the rays of the sun shining through the window, a matron
of moil worshipful countenance came in to her, and laid
upon the corporal an infant of exceeding beauty whom she
was carrying in her arms ; and so departed. And when
she sought to move the child, not knowing who He was, He
said : “ Suffer me to lie upon my own linen cloth,” and so as
she gazed, He disappeared. And she knew that it was Chrift
who under the species of bread had often been enfolded in
this same linen upon the holy altar.

To this virgin many other visions came which have not
been told to me, but which perchance have been written
down by others. It is not very long since she left this world
to receive the reward of her labour and her patience.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of the devout ChrUlina, who taw S. Mary on the
day of the Assumption, let down her crown from
heaven upon the convent of HeiHerbach.

In the mount of S. Walburgis, two miles from Cologne,
a monaftery of our Order, there died a few years ago, a devout
virgin named Chriftina. To her the Lord and His Blessed
Mother vouchsafed many revelations, one of which I will
tell you not in orderly fashion but somewhat disjointedly.

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Once on the festival of the Assumption of our mo$t glorious
Lady when the before-mentioned EuStace our abbot was visit¬
ing us, and with him there were several other abbots, on
that moSt sacred night, the aforesaid virgin saw a vision about
our monastery, as follows:

When the abbot, after the reading of the gospel, had begun
the hymn Te Deum laudamus, she, while Standing in the
choir, fell into an ecStasy and saw the heaven opened above
our monastery. Now at that time, the whole of the church
was built of wood, but she saw both fronts of it to be made
of gold. Raising her eyes and looking up to heaven, she
saw the glorious Mother of God, the patroness of all our
Order, seated on the moSt splendid throne and around her a
multitude of saints who appeared, all of them, in the early
prime of life. Now when the choir of monks sang with
devotion: “ Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabaoth,” the
Blessed Virgin, delighting in their devotion, let down upon
the convent with a golden chain, her crown of marvellous
beauty, like those that are often hung in churches. In the
place of the usual knot, there was a gem very bright and
precious and on it was inscribed : “ O clemens, O pia, O dulcis
Maria.” From this gem proceeded three small arms which
supported the crown as it nung. And rays proceeding from
the name “ Maria ” lit up the names of all the monks in the
choir, which appeared inscribed upon the circle of the crown.
Among these names was great diversity, both in position and
in brightness, and the names of some who had joined us quite
lately shone in greater splendour than of others who had for
many years lived a laborious life in the Order. From which
it may be gathered, that in the sight of God the merits of His
servants do not lie in length of service, or in toil of body, so
much as in true fervour of devotion. But when in their
chanting they came to the passage : “ In Thee O Lord have I
trusted ; let me never be confounded,” she withdrew the
crown again into heaven, saying in clear tones: “ As I to-day
am rejoicing in glory, so also shall all these be with me for
ever.”

Now before anything was known among us about this
vision, Theodoric Lureke came in the morning to our abbot

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

Dom Henry, and lamented to him, that he in that same mo 9
sacred night, had been unable to feel any real fervour of
devotion, until they came to that place in the hymn : “ Holy,
Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabaoth ” ; and when the vision
was told him later, he marvelled much at it. Before this
same devout virgin came to the Order, being now of marriage¬
able age, she was Standing during the mass in a certain church,
when after the reading of the gospel, the server had gone out,
thinking that he could return before the “ Holy, Holy, Holy,”
and the celebrant having finished his secret prayers, had said :
“ The Lord be with you,” “ Lift up your hearts,” and the reSt
that follows there, the image of the Mother of God upon the
altar, made each response. She, noticing the Strangeness of
the voice, did not doubt that, in the absence of the server,
the Glorious Virgin had by the mouth of her image, supplied
what was lacking. And surely this impresses upon us, that
we should never be careless or negligent, since the saints have
so great care concerning that ineffable sacrament. And how
the invocation of the glorious name of the Lord’s Mother is
medicine and health to the sick, the following examples will
show.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of Otto, prefect of Xanten, who was healed of a
double sickness by the prayers of S. Mary.

Otto, a man of noble birth and at one time prefect of Xanten,
suffered in his youth under a twofold infirmity, to wit, an
acute fever and a fistula (in the more secret parts of his body.)
He concealed this laSt from the doctors from modefty and
often called upon Our Lady to restore him to health. But
at la$t, the fever increased to such an extent, that his life was
despaired of, he was taken from his bed and iaid upon the
floor, and a candle placed in his hand, as is customary with lay-
folk, and then, as it seemed to all present, he died ; when

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behold ! the Blessed Virgin on whom he had called, appeared
to his spirit accompanied by her Son whom she addressed on
behalf of the youth in these words: “ My Son, grant me this
youth.” “ Mother,” He replied, “ he is yours.” At this
word, the sick man, or as it seemed to the mourners, the dead
man, began at once to breathe again and to grow Strong to
such an extent that he desired them to put him back in his
bed. Thus by the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, he was
completely cured of the fever ; but being Still much troubled
by the fiStula, he requested that prayers for his recovery from
an unspecified disease addressed especially to Our Lady might
be made at every mass throughout the whole province of
Utrecht.

And because he prefered a spiritual to a material medicine,
before all the masses had been said, the power of the sacrament
broke the fiStula and emptied it of its poison. So was he
altogether healed and took the cross in gratitude. At the
same time coming to Vaucelles, a house of our Order, he
found there Dom Walter, formerly his master, and at that
time, a newly received lay-brother in that monastery and now,
the abbot of Villers, to whom he recited in order the whole
Story of his miraculous cure, adding: “ Would that you had
not been here, that we might have crossed the sea together.”
And when Walter questioned him about certain vices to
which he knew him to have been addidted in the paSt, whether
he had cleansed himself from them, and received a negative
reply, he added: “ In truth you are showing but poor grati¬
tude to Him and to her who gave you back your health.”
Later there arose a schism about him in the bishopric of Treves
which was the cause of many evils. All this was told me by
the abbot Walter. And now I will show you, by the Story
of a miracle, the virtue of the name of Mary.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

chapter XXIII.

Of a clerks to whom S. Mary gave a new tongue in
the place of one that had been cut out by the
Albigensian heretics.

Years ago when catholics were making a crusade againft
the Albigensian heretics, and already there was great bitterness
between the combatants, two honeft clerks were journeying
through the land, and seeing an abandoned church by the
road side, one said to the other : “ It is Saturday, let us go
into this church and say a mass in honour of Our Lady.”
For they were carrying with them, book, chalice and sacri-
mental vestments. Before the mass was finished, information
was given to the heretics, who entered the church in an armed
band, dragged the prieft outside and cut out his tongue by
the roots. With much difficulty his companion brought the
injured man to Cluny and commended him to the care
of the monks, who, as catholics and religious eagerly received
him and showed him all kindness, as a well-known catholic
priest, cruelly mutilated because of his faith in Christ and
the honour he paid to His Blessed Mother. Now on the night
of the Epiphany, when the solemn vigils were being sung,
he summoned the attendants who were waiting on him, by
knocking on the floor with a flick. When they came, he
made signs to them that he wished to be carried down to the
church. At firfl they refused, wishing to spare him the
fatigue, but when he persifled, they carried him down to the
church and set him down before an altar. And when he
had called upon the Mother of compassion with great fervour
and devotion, she appeared to him, carrying in her hand a
piece of flesh in the shape of a tongue, and thus answered
his prayers: “ Because thou waft deprived of thy tongue,
for the sake of thy faith in my tongue and for the honour
shown to me, behold, I reftore it to thee ; open thy mouth.”
And when he did, she put her fingers into his mouth, and
joined and united this same piece of flesh to the root of the

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tongue that had been cut out, and so disappeared. Immed¬
iately he broke forth into praise in the words of the angel:
“ Hail Mary, full of grace,” to the end. And as he continued
repeating the salutation, his attendants ran to him, as well as
the monks from the choir, and all glorified God and His
Mother for so plain and so joyful a miracle. The clerk was
not unmindful of the mercy shown to him, and became a monk
in that same monastery.

Now about this time John the scholaSlicus of Xanten was in
the provence of the Albigenses with the army of the Lord,
and heard of this marvellous miracle ; and on his way home,
he went to Cluny and asked if he might see this monk. His
requeSl was granted and he himself saw the tongue and
heard from the monks’ own mouth all that has here been
told. This same John told us that it was whiter than the
flesh around it and Slill carried the scar in the place where
it had been cut off. The whole convent of the Cluniac monks
is the witness of this miracle, even to this day.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Of Adam the mon\ of Locheim who was cured by
S. Mary of eczema in the head, and of the cures that
she wrought in Montpellier and of her image at
Sardanay.

Adam, prieSt and monk of Locheim whom I mentioned
before in the 17th chapter, knowing that I loved to hear of
miracles of this character, of his great kindness told me about
himself, this that I am now going to relate to you. When,
he said, I was a boy, my head was so full of eczema, that the
other scholars refused to sit or read with me, because of the
foul odour arising from it. The firft prayer that I learnt
was the angels salutation, and as a boy I used it frequently.
I had been placed in Miinfter in WeStphalia for my educa¬
tion, and as I went to school or to matins, I used daily to

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pass through a certain conventual church, and thus of neces¬
sity continually before a chapel dedicated in honour of the
Mother of God. And regularly without fail, 1 used to make
before it three genuflexions and repeat three salutations. One
night, thinking that the bell had rung for matins, I got up in
a fright, and when I came to the aforementioned monastery
and found the church Slill closed, I saluted Our Lady in my
usual way, by three times bending my knees and repeating
the words of the angel. Then rising I found the door open,
and so great was the light in the church, that it was like the
blaze of the noon-day sun. When I had entered wonder¬
ing, I saw seven moft beautiful matrons sitting before
the high altar, one in the midfl who was more dazzling
than the others, and six on one side and the other
i.e. on her right hand three and on her left three. And
the Lady in the midft called me and when I had drawn near,
she said to me: “ My lad, why has not care been paid to
your head ? ’’ And when I replied: “ Lady, my friends
have done all that they could but to no profit,” she went on :
“ Do you know who lam?” and when I said : “ No, Lady,”
she replied: "I am the Mother of Chriff and the patroness
of this church. Because you have been zealous to keep me
in mind, I will cure you. Take the fruit of spindle wood
and have your head washed with it three times before mass
in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghofi, and immed¬
iately you will be cured.” And when she added: “ Come
here to me,” I went and kneeled down before her and she
placed her hand upon my head, saying: “ From this hour
till the day of your death, your head shall no more trouble
you." Later in the morning, I told all this to my nurse,
and she went down into the neareft valley and gathered the
fruit that had been indicated and with it washed my head
and immediately 1 was healed. Never from that hour have
I had any pain in my head and this of itself is a marvellous
thing.

Novice .—It is plain that there is nothing more efficacious
and no remedy more sure than the medicine of the Blessed
Virgin.

Mon —And no wonder. She it was that produced the

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medicine of the whole human race, wherefore it is written :
" Let the earth bring forth fruit after its \ind (Gen. i. 24) ;
i.e. let Mary bring forth the man ChriSt. When he took a
living body, “ He did not despise the Virgin’s womb.” Also
more expressly in EcclesiaSticus: " The Lord hath created
medicines out of the earth (Eccles. xxxviii. 4) ; i.e. a Saviour
out of the flesh of a virgin. Jesus by interpretation is Saviour
or Healing. For a saviour is a dodtor, salvation is medicine.

That Mary is earth, Isaiah witnesses (Is. xlv. 8). Moreover
that He was created out of this earth (Is. xlv. 8), and the
apoStle says: “ that He was made of a woman ” (Gal. iv 4).
What wonder then if with her are all healing medicines,
since she is the garden of spices. My beloved, she says,
" came down into his garden i.e. into my womb, to the beds
of spices (Cant. vi. 2). Consider Rocamadour and other
places named in her honour and you will no longer wonder
that she is equipped with medicines and mighty to heal.
Therefore in Montpellier, where is the source of the healing
art, she works so many cures in her church, that the do< 5 tors
envying her popularity, are wont to say to the sick and poor
who flock to them for healing : “ Go to the church of S. Mary,
offer a candle to her and you will regain your health.” And
though they say this in irony, yet the poor who are thus
repulsed flee to her and are made whole. Do you not see
how swiftly the fever-Stricken are cured, when they vow a
three weeks’ faSt till the set of sun ?

Novice. —I see and admire.

Mon\. —Think of her image in Sardanay which turns
into flesh and drips oil continually. Of this, there are count¬
less witnesses, who have come diredt from that place and
have distributed to us and to other monasteries the oil which
has been taken from the sacred image under their own eyes.
Indeed in some vessels this oil begins to turn into flesh, as
you yourself have seen. That the power of Mary’s name
puts demons to flight, here are examples.

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CHAPTER XXV.

Of a lay-brother who was delivered from the attacks
of the devil by the Ave Maria.

Walter of Birbech, a monk of Hemmenrode, told me
about a certain lay-brother of our Order whom the devil so
persecuted that he could not get rid of him either by the sign
of the cross, or by any sort of prayer. He used to appear to
him in visible form and terrify him in a thousand ways.
At lafl he was advised, by a certain Religious to utter the
angelic salutation againft him when he made his next assault.
This advice he followed and the evil spirit, driven away as
if by a whirlwind, cried out: “ May the devil tear out the
tongue of him who taught you this ” ; and so he found
deliverance.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Also of a recluse who escaped from the snares of
the devil by the same method.

Our sub-prior told me about a certain recluse well-known
to him, who had for a long time been mocked by a demon
under the form of an angel ; for she had not the gift of the dis¬
cernment of spirits. A demon often appeared to her, sur¬
rounded by a sort of false splendour, and talking familiarly
with this simple woman, he said one day : “ Now I am
coming to reward you.” It happened at that time that her
confessor asked her how she was faring spiritually, and she
replied: “ I could not be better ” ; whereupon the priefl
being a prudent man and considering how confident was her
answer, enquired the cause of her confidence. When she
confessed to him that she was frequently visited by the angel

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of the Lord, he, knowing from the teaching of the apoftle,
that the angel of darkness is able to transform himself into an
angel of light, replied : “ Next time this angel visits you, say
to him:* I beg you Sir to show me Our Lady.’ And if he
agrees, as soon as you see her, kneel down and say : Hail
Mary, full of grace, etc. And if after this salutation she be
Still there, then it is no pretence ; but if otherwise, you will
know that the devil is mocking you.”

Now when she had done as she had been intruded, the
devil said: “ Why do you wish to see her ? my presence
ought to be enough for you.” But as she Still vehemently
insisted, he used his diabolic art to cause a maiden of wonder¬
ful beauty to appear before her. As soon as she saw this
appearance, the recluse threw herself at her feet and uttered
the angelic salutation to her, which caused her at once to
disappear in a miSt. But the enemy of souls, as he dis¬
appeared, so terrified the recluse that she was driven mad,
and only after six months did she recover her senses in
response to the prayers of many friends. Do you see now
the power of the name of Mary?

Novice. —Indeed I do, and I marvel when I think of her
might, as shown both in this and the former examples.

Mon\. —The invocation of her name not only puts to shame
the corrupters of the mind i.e. demons, but also the corrupters
of bodies, I mean, wicked and licentious men.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Also of a matron who by the same angelic salutation
was delivered from an attac\ on her purity.

A certain matron the wife of an honourable knight,
tempted by the devil, gave an interview to another knight.
But after some time, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, she
was seized with penitence for her crime and forthwith

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

refused any further consent to the adulterer. He, however,
noticing the absence of her husband, came to the house and
found her alone, and with the usual words urged her to the
usual crime ; and when she Still refused, he tried to gain
his objebl by force. And when she perceived, that as a weak
and delicate woman she could not resist a powerful soldier,
she turned her heart to the patroness of all chaStity, crying:
“ I beseech thee Lady to deliver me in this hour, in the name
of the sacred Ave Maria." When she uttered this word,
all the Strength of the knight withered and failed and the
woman was able to shake him off and escape unharmed.
Afterwards the knight asked her by what means she had
deprived him of all his Strength and she answered: “ Not
by any Strength of my own, but by the might of the glorious
name of Our Lady.” Now when he heard this, he was
truly terrified and never again dared to speak an evil word
to her.

Novice. —Blessed be the name of Mary.

Mon\. —I will show you by an illustration how chains are
loosed through her power.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Of the \night Theodoric whose chains were loosed
by the merits of S. Mary.

At the time when Dom Engilbert, archbishop of Cologne,
was building his caStle in FurStinburg againSt the noble,
Gerard of Brubach, a certain young knight of his army,
called Theodoric, in his eagerness to make a name for him¬
self was captured before this caStle. He was imprisoned
there for a long time, until he engaged to pay a ransom for
his liberty, when he was taken out of the prison and confined
in the upper part of a house.

Chains were laid upon him and guards assigned to him-

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They placed iron rings round his feet, and round his arm
an iron manacle which was connefted with a chain the end
of which was very carefully embedded in the wall. One
night when he lay down to reft with six guards watching
him and the other captives, he invoked Our Lady, as well
as other saints, according to his cuftom and fell asleep. And
lo ! in his dream he thought he saw himself transported to
our monaftery and when he wished to leave, sitting on his
horse like a woman, owing to his chains, two of our monks,
Manegold and Henry, blood-relations of his, said to him :
“ Do not leave us, but come back again since it is S. Mary
of Heifterbach who has set you free.” This indeed was the
name of our monaftery.

At this word he awoke full of joy ; and pondering upon
the vision and eager to know whether it was true or merely
fanciful, he made a movement with his foot and found at
once that he could draw out one foot without any difficulty.
And then with the same ease, he freed his hand from the
chair, though he had often tried both before without any
success. At the sound of the movement of the chains, one
of the guards awoke and the knight, in alarm, tried to replace
the iron circlet and failed. Realising then for the firft time
how marvellous a miracle had been wrought for him by the
merits of the Mother of God, as soon as the guard dropped
asleep again, he got up quietly and ftill keeping his chains
on one foot, let himself down through the window by his
sheets and fled.

As soon as the guards discovered his escape they gave
notice of it with loud cries ; but it was not possible for mere
human ftrength to capture one who was protected by divine
power. Great numbers pursued him with trumpets and
dogs and often they passed close to him, as he lay hid among
the bushes, but they could not find him. And so he came
to us and in gratitude, made an offering of those iron rings
upon the altar of the Blessed Virgin, and told us the whole
ftory of how he had been delivered by her merits.

All this took place in the year of grace 1219.

Novice .—I myself have seen the chains and can therefore
the more easily believe the miracle.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

Mon{. —How the name of Mary can dispel all fear, I will
show you in a Story which I lately heard.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of a prieft of Polch to whom S. Mary appeared
that she might take away his fear of a thunder-
ftorm.

In Polch, a town in the diocese of Treves, the vicar was
a certain prieSt who was a man of great hospitality according
to his ability and of praise-worthy chaStity ; for to this day
he is virgin of his body. One day he received a lay-brother
of ours as his gueSt and said to him : “ I have a great affe&ion
for your Order, because I have received much good from it.
It was from you that I learnt that glorious antiphon: Salt/e
regina misericordie, and I will tell you for your edification
how that antiphon helped me. I had been accustomed to
use it at all my Hours. One day I was crossing a small
field to visit a certain recluse who lived close to a solitary
church when there arose such a violent thunderstorm that
peal succeeding peal took away from me even the power of
movement. When at laSt I came with great toil and fear to
the church, I went in, proStrated myself before the altar and
prayed to Our Lady with regard to that Storm. And lo !
a matron, of innocent countenance and marvellous beauty,
came to me from the altar and while I was wondering who
she could be, she spoke to me in the following words: “Be¬
cause you chant so willingly and so frequently the antiphon,
Salve regina misericordie, never shall thunder or lightning
harm you although you have often suffered from fear of them
in the paSt.” And so, returning to the altar, she disappeared
from my sight ; and forthwith I realised that she was that
merciful, pitiful and gentle Mary herself. From that hour
up to this day, I have been delivered, by the merits of the

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Blessed Virgin, from the aforesaid fear of Storms, with which
I used to be much oppressed.

Novice. —From this vision I gather how greatly she
delights in sequences, canticles and hymns and other chants
composed in her honour.

Mon\. —This is undoubted, provided that the praise be
uttered humbly and devotedly.

CHAPTER XXX.

Of the blessed Elizabeth of Schonau, who at that
verse: Hear us, etc., saw S. Mary \neeling before
Chritt and praying for the convent.

Once as I was told by religious folk, when the convent of
nuns in Schonau was chanting with deep devotion the
Sequence '.Hail glorious Star of the sea, on a certain feaSt of
the Holy Mother of God, the venerable virgin Elizabeth, who
was then abbess, falling into an ecStasy at that verse -.Hear us,
for Thy Son honours thee in denying thee nothing, saw Our
Lady on bended knees, pouring forth prayers for that convent.
And from that day until now, by order of the said Elizabeth,
this same convent has been wont to seek for mercy at that
same verse whenever the Sequence is chanted.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Also of a cler\ in whose mouth S. Mary placed
bread at the verse: Virgin, pray for us.

In the monastery of S. Chrysanthus, there was a scholaSticus
named Daniel who taught the boys there. It was his habit

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

to go every day into the crypt of the church, and kneeling
before the altar, to chant the aforesaid Sequence in honour
of the Virgin ; when he had done this for some time, and
used always to rise and entreat for pardon at the verse:
Virgin, pray for us that we may be made worthy of that
bread of heaven, one day the Blessed Virgin appeared to him ;
she Stood above the altar, and holding in her hand a small
piece of bread whiter than snow, bade him open his mouth.
And when she had placed this bread in his mouth, he
savoured from it so much sweetness as far surpassed all honey
and the honey-comb. This youth was well-known to Dom
Daniel, the abbot of Schonau who told me this vision.

Would you like now to hear how the invocation of her
name can also restrain temptation?

Novice. —This is indeed all important to know, seeing
that we are perpetually harassed by temptations.

Monk -—I will tell you what I have heard from our abbot
who himself testifies that he heard this Story from a trust¬
worthy witness.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Of a knight who was tempted on account of his
mailer’s wife and was delivered by S. Mary with
a kiss.

A certain young knight lived with a rich knight, his
maSter, by whom he was very kindly treated ; and although
he was in the flower of his youth, he flourished even more
in the virtue of his virginity. But the envy of the devil
working in him, he began to be moSt grievously tempted
towards the wife of his maSter. Now after labouring inces¬
santly under this temptation for a year, it became unbearable
to him, and at laSt putting away all modeSty, he told his
miSlress how he suffered ; and he was Still more afflidted .
when she repulsed him, for she was an honourable matron

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and faithful to her husband. So he went to a certain hermit
on whose advice he wholly depended, and with tears, con¬
fessed his passion to him. The holy man replied faithfully
to him : “ O ! if that is all that troubles you, I will give you
such advice that your desire may be accomplished.” For
the coming year, go every day when possible to the church
and salute ioo times with the angelic salutation and as many
prayers for pardon, Our Lady the Virgin Mary, the Mother
of God, and through her you will obtain all that you wish.”
For well he knew that the queen of charity would never
forsake a chaSte youth, though he had fallen into error. And
when the youth in much simplicity was paying the enjoined
reverence to Our Lady, one day when sitting at his lord’s
table, he remembered that that very day was the end of the
year. Immediately he got up, mounted his horse and, enter¬
ing the neighbouring church made his usual prayers. When
he went out of the church, he saw a moft beautiful maiden,
surpassing loveliness all human beauty, holding his horse
by the bridle ; and while he was wondering who she could
be, she said : “ Does my appearance please you ? ” and when
the knight replied : “ I have never seen anyone half so beauti¬
ful as you,” she added : “ Would you be satisfied to have
me for a bride?” And when he replied to her: “Your
beauty might satisfy any king in the world, and he would
be judged a happy man as your consort ” ; she went on :
“ I will be your wife. Come and give me a kiss.” And she
constrained him and said : “ Now are our nuptials begun, and
on such and such a day they shall be completed in the presence
of my Son.” From these words he realised that she was
the Mother of the Lord whose chaStity delights in human
purity. And holding his horse’s Stirrup, she ordered him
to mount and the knight, constrained by her authority, obeyed.
From that moment he was so completely delivered from the
aforesaid temptation that even his master’s wife was
aStonished.

When he told all these things to the hermit, the latter,
wondering both at the goodness and the humility of the
Mother of God, replied: “ I wish to be present on the day
of your nuptials. Meanwhile set all your affairs in order.”

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

This he did and on the appointed day the hermit came and
said to the youth: “Do you feel any pain?” He replied,
“ No,” and again an hour later he asked him exactly the
same question and the youth answered: “ Yes, now I begin
to feel it,” and a little while after he fell into his agony,
breathed out his soul, and entered the heavenly mansions
to celebrate his promised nuptials.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Also of a nun who was inflamed with love for a
certain clerl{, and whom the Blessed Virgin cured
by a box on the ears.

A certain nun was urged by a clerk with licentious
words and Behemoth whose breath can set coals on fire (Job.
xli. 12) blew so violently, that she was inflamed and consented
both in heart and in words to his petition, promising that
after compline she would meet him at an appointed place ;
for she was the caretaker of the church. When compline
was over and the sifters had all gone to the dormitory, she
also tried to leave the church, but at the door she saw Chrift,
hanging with outftretched arms upon the cross. Since it
was impossible to go out that way, she ran to the opposite
door ; for she was so inflamed with love for the clerk, that
she was almoft out of her mind and scarcely took any notice
of the divine agencies that were hindering her. To make
a long ftory short, she tried every door and found the crucified
at each.

Then for the firft time she came to herself and said within
her heart in terror: “ Perhaps it is not the will of God that
you should go anywhere.” Now this virgin had been
accuftomed every day to say a special prayer concerning the
passion of the Lord, and this perhaps is why the Lord
rewarded her in the crisis of her peril with so invaluable a
vision. Then greatly trembling she threw herself before the

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image of the Blessed Mother of God and besought pardon
for her sin. But the image turned away her face from her,
and when, in the eagerness of her supplication she approached
nearer, the image smote her on the jaw with her hand and
said : “ Whither O mad woman, doff thou desire to go ; go
to thine own dormitory.” So violent was the blow that she
fell to the ground and lay there till the morning ; and when
the bells were rung for matins in the dormitory, and there
was no answering bell from the church, her sifters thought
that she muft be at prayer, or else overcome by sleep, and
they hurried to the church and found her in a deep swoon ;
and as soon as she had been reftored and was able to speak,
she told them to the honour of God, all that had happened
to her.

Although the blow was grievous, nevertheless she was
delivered by it from all temptation, for a grievous disease
requires harsh medicines.

Novice .—The male sex ought indeed to be kindled with
love for Our Lady, seeing that she put away the temptation
of the knight by kissing him ; and that of the nun by
smiting her in the face, though the will of both was equally
evil and perverse.

—For by this she shows, not only that she does
not abhor our sex, but also that she cares equally for women.
In truth it seems more fitting that a miftress should chaflise
her erring maid-servant rather than a serving man.

Novice .—I like your explanation.

Mon \.—I will tell you another flory of her kindness which
is {fill more glorious than this.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Also about Beatrice the custodian.

In a certain convent of nuns, whose name I do not know,
there lived a few years ago, a virgin named Beatrice. She

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

was comely in form, devoted in heart and especially fervent
in her worship of the Mother of God. She efleemed it her
greatefl happiness to offer to her secretly special prayers or
appeals for pardon, as often as she could. When she was
made cuftodian of the church, she carried out her duties
with the most willing devotion. Now a certain clerk saw
her and fell in love with her and began to woo her. When
she despised his licentious words and he importuned her all
the more, at lafl the ancient serpent so vehemently inflamed
her breaft that she was unable to resist the flame of love. And
so she went to the altar of the Blessed Virgin, the patroness
of the church and spoke as follows: “ Lady, I have served
thee as devotedly as I could, and lo ! now I give thee back
thy keys, for I can no longer endure the temptations of the
flesh.” And laying down the keys upon the altar, she
secretly followed the clerk. Now when this miserable wretch
had ruined her, after a few days he abandoned her. And
since she had no means of support, and was ashamed to return
to the convent, she gave herself up to a life of shame. After
she had passed fifteen years publicly in this vicious life, she
came one day in secular dress to the door of the convent, and
said to the porter: “ Do you know Beatrice who was once
the cuilodian of this church ? ” And he replied : “ I know
her very well, for she is an honourable and saintly lady, and
has passed her life in this convent without reproach from her
infancy up to this day." She took notice of the man’s words,
but did not understand them and was about to withdraw when
the Mother of Mercy appeared to her in her well-known
form and said: “ For all the fifteen years of your absence,
I have fulfilled your duties ; come back now to your place
and do penance, for none knows of your sin.” And truly
the Mother of God had carried out the dudes of her office
in her form and dress. Immediately she entered the convent
and spent the reft of her life in gratitude, making clear by
confession all that had been done for her.

That the dmid are Strengthened by her, the following
example will show.

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CHAPTER XXXV.

Of a \night who failed in his vigils, but was
Hrengthened by S. Mary in a vision.

A few years ago a young knight of luxurious habits called
Henry took the vows in Hemmenrode. He became a monk
and one day he was asked by one of his former comrades,
how he liked the Order and how he was faring. And he
replied: “ I greatly love the Order and am very happy ;
but at firft I was very unhappy,” and when the other asked
the reason, because he loved the man and wished to edify
him, he went on : “ When I firSt became a monk, the solemn
vigils were such a trouble to me that whenever it was my
duty to go to matins both my heart and my body failed
through fear and weariness of them. One night I fainted
and as I could not Stand up, I was taken out of the chancel
by the prior and placed in the Stall assigned to the sick and
a lay-brother was appointed to look after me. Immediately
I fell into an ecStasy and saw a moSt glorious lady preceded
by persons of different ranks walking down the passage which
lay between me and the choir. She had on her head a garland
of divers colours and wore a Jewish veil and when she drew
near to me, touching me as if unavoidably, she brushed me
with her robe and lo ! I was suddenly Strengthened, in such
a way that all the aforesaid temptation passed away, and
from that hour it became my chief delight to go to matins.
I believe that the lady was the Blessed Virgin, who ever
Strengthens the timid that they may not succumb to tempta¬
tion. When I asked Henry of the truth of these matters,
he assented. How she arouses the sluggish to devotion, you
have had an example in the 30th chapter of the 4th book, in
the case of our fellow monk Christian, whom she aroused,
when he was sleeping in the church, with the words: “ This
is not the place for sleep but for prayer.”

Novice. —I well remember the chapter you speak of.

Mon\. —The following Story will show how even those
who have been ejeded from the Order because of their vices
may be restored by the pity of the Blessed Virgin.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Of the monk Henry who was ejected and after¬
wards taken hack by the merits of the Blessed Mary.

At the time when the monk Daniel, that simple and upright
soul fell into his laft sickness in Hemmenrode, there was in
the same house, another monk named Henry, a prieft, who
was sick with the dropsy, but he was ffill able to walk about
with difficulty and was not yet confined to his bed. When
he drew near to the dying bed, he heard Daniel say these
words: “ That monk owes much gratitude to the Blessed
Virgin.” When Henry heard this, he was much aftonished
and made enquiry what these words could mean. The other
replied that it was with the help of Our Lady that he had
been received again into our monastery. For on account
of certain excesses and wickednesses, this same Henry had
been driven out of the house ; and being wholly Stricken
down with grief, he had by day and night with tears and
prayers never ceased to call upon the Blessed Virgin that she
would grant him a return to his monastery. At the time of
the general chapter, he besought the elders through his
abbot, but they unanimously refused him, because he had
shown himself incorrigible. And when he heard this, in
his anger he withdrew from the Blessed Virgin all the devotion
which he had been accuStomed to render her. But being
at length saved from this attitude by penitence, he resumed
the worship he had neglected, and bidding farewell to the
convent of Schul-Pforte he returned to Hemmenrode, begged
for mercy but found none. The abbot who was the only
one on his side, persuaded him to go to the archbishop of
Treves, and gain his admission by his help and intervention,
which he did with success. It was revealed to the aforesaid
Daniel that all these things were done for him by the kindness
of the Blessed Mother of God. Would you like now to know
how she loves those who love her with sincere affeftion, how
much she honours the beloved, and with what wonderful
revelations she blesses them.

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Novice .—To hear such things is food and drink to me.
Mon \.—What I am about to tell you I learnt from the
faithful account of many Religious.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Of the wonderful visions of Dom Bertram of
Karixtus.

In a certain house of our Order, called Carreto, there lived
a few years ago a monk named Bertram, who loved Our
Lady, the Holy Mother of God, with such fervent devotion
that he could never hear or read without great torture of
heart of any one throwing any kind of doubt upon her As¬
sumption in the body. When he had lived for fifteen years
in the Order, being now in the prime of life, on the vigil of
the Assumption of the Glorious Virgin, he asked the abbot
to allow him to go to a neighbouring grange, saying that he
could not endure to listen to the sermons of Jerome in the
church, or to the sermon in the chapter house, left something
of what we have juft mentioned should be said. The abbot,
fearing to diftress the faith of this holy man, and remember¬
ing that he was the mafter of that grange consented to his
requeft. Now when he came near the grange the angel of
the Lord carried him away in wonderful guise and within a
day set him down near a small church close to the caftle of
his brother, a man of noble birth, and so disappeared. But
the horse on which he was riding, was, together with his
attendant, set down near the grange. Now between the
caftle and the church, there was a river which could not be
crossed without a boat. While he was sitting there, wonder¬
ing where he could be, and how he had come to that place,
he saw a certain splendid youth come out of the church, who
cried to him in a loud voice that Our Lady desired him to
come immediately into the church. Having entered, he saw

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

the Holy Mother of God in her glorified body, sitting upon
a throne of wonderful beauty and round her were sitdng
divers orders of saints, patriarchs, prophets, apoftles, martyrs,
confessors, virgins, widows, and married folk. It was at that
time the ninth hour ; and the moil Blessed Virgin saluted
him in familiar fashion, saying: “ Bertram, in this place you
shall hear better sermons than those of Jerome.” Nones were
then said by those who were sitting round, and then after due
intervals there followed the other Hours, namely vespers, com¬
pline, matins, lauds, prime, terce, and sext. And the melody
of the psalms and the other chants was so sweet, and the har¬
mony of the voices so marvellous, as no speech can possibly
describe. Then turning to him a face full of joy she thus
addressed him in a sweet and cheerful voice : “ I know well,
Bertram, why you have at this time left your monastery.
Know for certain that I am glorified in both substances, i.e.
in body and soul, and that on the fortieth day, I rose again
from the dead.”

Novice .—This agrees with the vision of the lady Elizabeth
of Schonau, in which we are told that Our Lady revealed
her resurrection in the same words.

Mon^.-—All the more faith should be given to this vision.
As soon as the Blessed Virgin had uttered the aforesaid words,
the whole of that heavenly band vanished, and the monk
found himself again alone in the place where he had been
sitting. By the will of God, his brother, whom we spoke of
above, came to the spot and finding him sitting there alone
asked him whence he had come, and why he was thus sitting
there by himself, and the monk told him in order all that
had been done to him, that he might not scandalise a layman.
Then the other said : “ Wait here, brother, and I will go and
fetch you a horse.” Then a wonderful thing happened ;
for while his brother was haftening to the caftle, in a moment
of time the monk was restored to the place from which he
had been taken by the angel of the Lord. When the knight
returned, and did not find him whom he had left there, think¬
ing that he muff be either an apoftate or an outcaft, he made
all hafte to the monastery ; and arriving there juft after
compline, he asked for the abbot and enquired where his

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brother was. The abbot made a sign to him that he mull
wait until the morning, and the knight, greatly troubled,
said: “ I know that you have call him out ” ; and began 10
utter threats again!! the monastery. Whereupon the abbot
broke silence and said: “ I gave him leave to ride over to the
nearefl grange and I do not doubt that he is there.” They
rode there together, and found the monk praying in the chapel
of the lay-brethren, who told them that he had entered the
grange at the same hour at which the knight had left him
near the caSUe.

Novice .—From what you have told me, I think this man
was like the two ancient prophets Ezekiel and Habakkuk one
of whom saw miraculously what was being done in Jerusalem,
while the other, in a moment of time, was carried from Judaea
to Babylon.

Moni —I consider that what is told of this monk is a Sfill
greater thing, for surely to be able to see a glorified body, or
the heavenly Orders with the bodily eye is more wonderful
than to see them in the spirit, as Ezekiel testified in regard
to his vision.

Novice .—I agree.

Mon \.—I think that the vision which follows is even
greater ; one day the angel of the Lord made a sign to him,
on the authority of the abbot, that he should come to the gate ;
he obeyed, and followed the angel who went before him and
when he reached the gate, did not find the abbot, but was
drawn on into the fields by the same sign. While he was
wondering whither he was to go, the angel kept making
importunate signs, on the part of the abbot, to the monk as
he followed. At length they came to some lofty mountains,
and when they had crossed these, they entered upon a moft
beautiful country, very delightful with trees and flowers of
every kind, which indeed was the earthly paradise. Among!!
other things that he saw there he recognised two splendid old
men, Enoch and Elijah, and they held in their hands an
enormous book, written in letters of gold, with only one leaf
left blank ; and the angel of the Lord said to him: “ This
is the book of life, which contains all the names of the ele< 5 f
who have been born from the beginning of the world up to

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

this day. And when that leaf which you see blank shall be
filled in, the world will come to an end.” Then he showed
him his own name written therein. And when with great
gladness he had seen it, the angel added : “ Never shall your
name be blotted out from this book.” (Ps. cxxxviv. 16, Luke
x. 20).

Novice .—If only the names of the eledt are written in that
book, what is it that the prophet says about the reprobate
(Ps. lxix. 29).

Mon \.—The psalmiSI is speaking there of the hope of those
who think that their names are written there, because they
presume to think themselves upright. But that none of the
reprobate are written there, he shows immediately afterwards.

Novice .—I thank you for the explanation ; but I beg that
if you know anything further about this blessed saint, you will
not hesitate to tell me.

Mon \.—Once when he was at prayer in the garden, he
saw Standing opposite to him upon the green grass, the Blessed
Mother of God, and behold ! a fountain of a golden colour
burSl impetuously from where she Stood, and sent its rivulet
to her feet. And in it there were all manner of precious
Stones: emeralds, carbuncles, topazes, sapphires, jacinths.
And while he wondered at the vision, Our Lady said to him :
“Do you know, Bertram, what these things signify? ” and
when he answered: “ No Lady,” she said: “ This golden
fountain is the CiStercian Order which excels all other Orders
in the church both in dignity and holiness, juSt as gold excels
all other metals ; and as they flow chiefly from me, this Order,
by special prerogative of love, does not cease to flow back to
me. The precious Stones which you see in the Stream are my
special friends in the Order, and those who are moft fervent
beyond all others in my service.” And so the vision dis¬
appeared from his sight. All these things were repeated to
the abbots at the time of the general chapter. Many other
things did this blessed saint see and do which are well worthy
of telling, but they have not come to my ears.

Novice .—I wonder if so holy a man suffered from any
temptations in the Order.

Mon \.—At the beginning of his conversion, I have heard
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that he was very sorely tried by the regular food, as a man of
noble birth and delicately nurtured. Now when he told this
to the abbot, he, understanding from the purity of his con¬
science that the Holy Spirit was in him, replied: “ Ask God
what you will, he will not deny you ” ; and so he prayed,
and his prayer was heard ; for from that time he found so
much delight in the regular food, that he begged the abbot
for permission to exercise greater abstinence.

Novice .—Happy are those monks who are admitted to such
close friendship with the Mother of God.

Mon \.—It is not only cloistered persons that the Mother of
Holy love delights in and honours, but even secular persons
who love her, of whom Walter Birbech of blessed memory
occurs at once to my mind ; of whom I have already spoken
in several places and who was loved and honoured, not only
by men of low degree, but by kings and princes and nobles
when they heard of the benefits beStowed upon him by the
Mother of the Lord.

Novice .—I have learnt, from former chapters, something
of this man ; but Still I long to know who he was, what sort
of a life he led before his conversion, and whether he took
the vows in our Order.

Mon \.—All that I know of his adts that are worthy to be
recorded, I will expound to you faithfully.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

The life of Dom Walter of Birbech.

Walter of Birbech was born in the town of that name, a
man both rich and powerful and of very noble birth, being
a close relation of Henry, duke of Louvain.

In his youth he was occupied in secular warfare, and was
very Strenuous therein and of high repute ; from his earlieSt
boyhood, he began to call upon Our Lady, the Holy Mother

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

of God, Mary ever virgin and to love her from the bottom
of his heart and to honour her with faffing and alms and
masses, for although he was given up in body to tournaments,
as we have said, yet inwardly he was a whole-hearted wor¬
shipper of the Blessed Virgin. Once when he was on his
way to a certain tournament, travelling in the company of
many other knights they came to a church and he besought
them to come in with him and hear mass. And when they
refused, excusing themselves on the ground that so great a
delay was dangerous, he himself flayed behind while they
went on, and caused a mass, the mass of S. Mary to be sung
for him, and made his offering ; and then went after his
companions. And when he met some returning from the
tournament, and discovered this fa< 5 t from their reply to his
queftions, he asked: “ Has it already began ? ” and when
they said “ Yes,” he said : “ Who is doing befl there? ” The
lord Walter of Birbech ” they said ; “ it is he who is in every¬
body’s mouth, he who is preferred to all the reft and is praised
by all.” And when others met him and said the same thing,
he was bewildered and wondered what this might mean. The
ineffable goodness of the Blessed Virgin had caused her
devoted knight to be honoured in the tournament because
he had spent the time of his delay in her worship, and she had
filled his place during his absence with marvellous might.
Yet, when he came to the place and put on his armour and
entered the lifts, he had no great success there. But after
the games were over, several knights came into his lodging
and prayed that he would deign to deal mildly with them ;
and when he said to them: “ I do not underftand your peti¬
tion ” ; they replied: “ You have to-day taken us prisoners,
and we have come to ask you to treat us well.” When Walter
denied, and said: “ I did not take you prisoners ” ; they
replied: “ In very truth we have surrendered to you this day ;
we could not miftake your military banner nor your voice.”
And we knew forthwith that this had been done by the grace
of the Blessed Virgin whom he had honoured in the mass.

Novice. —Seeing that it is a mortal sin to take part in a
tournament, how could the prayer and offering of Walter be
pleasing to the Blessed Virgin ?

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Mon —In tournaments two mortal sins are committed,
pride and disobedience. Pride because the whole objeft of a
tournament is human praise ; disobedience because it takes
place againfl the prohibition of the church. That is why
those who are killed in tournaments are buried outside the
cemeteries of the faithful, whereas the worship paid in that
mass might have gained him merit for eternal life, if it had
been given in a Slate of grace, it now became changed to a
temporal reward. For good deeds, that is deeds classed as
good, are rewarded in this life. Through them too, as some
have shown from the scriptures, a man makes himself able to
receive grace. That this is true is shown by the following
example. When at another time he was on his way to that
accursed market, and was Standing among many other knights
listening to the mass ; the prieSt, when he uplifted the chalice
in the canon, saw lying at his feet a golden cross ; to which
was attached a parchment containing these words: “ Give
this cross from me, Mary, the Mother of ChriSt, to my friend
Walter of Birbech." The prieSt read these words, and when
the mass was finished, he mounted the pulpit and said aloud:
“ Is there here any knight called Walter of Birbech.” When
several made reply : “ Yes, here he is ” ; the prieSt took him
aside and gave him the cross, and told him where he had found
it and who had sent it. Walter received it with great joy and
when he made his profession in Hemmenrode gave it to the
abbot. Later, the countess of Holland, sending honourable
messengers, besought that the cross might be given her and
obtained it in the following way. For when the convent gave
answer to the messengers: “ We cannot give it up without
the consent of brother Walter,” hoping that he would never
give his consent, he, when asked about this, replied: “ I
have no claim to it, it belongs to the abbot.” And so, though
greatly grieving, they sent it away.

Its gold was of such splendour that all other gold seemed
pale beside it. The countess placed it among her relics, not
daring to use it. Walter, considering how he had hitherto
been a layman, and how many benefits he had received from
the Blessed Mother of God, was so inflamed with love towards
her that he went to a certain poor church dedicated in her

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

honour, and in the presence of the priefl, having placed a rope
about his neck, he offered himself at her altar as a slave of
the soil, paying every year a ransom for his life, in the same
way as those born slaves were accustomed to do.

And because he so deeply humbled himself in honour of
the queen of heaven, she in her turn gave glory to her beloved.
He was accustomed on the eve of all the feasts of the Blessed
Virgin to faft on bread and water, and frequently also on
Fridays in reverence of the Sabbath. One day when he was
faffing, a servant offered him a little pitcher of water, which
the divine power changed in his hands into the fineft wine ;
and when he had tafted the water thus made wine, he sent
for the servant privately and rebuked him, telling him that
he had brought him wine inftead of water ; and the
other denied saying that he himself had drawn the water from
a bucket and took the pitcher and pouring out some of it
showed that it was filled with the pureft water, and in order
that there might be no possible miftake, tafted it and offered
it again to Walter. But he, when he had drunk of it, found
it wine as before, and immediately said angrily to the servant:
“ Why do you mock me this second time by offering me wine
inftead of water? ” The servant was bewildered at hearing
this and denied it with the moft solemn oaths. Then it
dawned upon him that this miracle had been wrought on his
behalf by the wonderful mercy of the Mother of God, and he
adjured his attendant that he should never divulge what had
happened to any man so long as he lived ; showing by this
that he had no desire for vainglory. Now the attendant who
took part in so great a miracle, was brother Arnold who had
come to the Order with him, a man of holy and well-ordered
life who was afterwards buried on the hill at Stromberg.
Before he died, he published this miracle to the glory of God,
fearing that after death he might be called to account for the
treasure he had kept hidden. When Walter heard that the
Ciftercian Order was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, for love
of her he forsook all worldly advantages, all riches, honours
and friends and put on the regular dress in the monaflery
called Hemmenrode, whose fame was as great in those days
as it is now. And in this monaflery he passed his life, as

The Dialogue on Miracles

humble as he was fervent and obedient, and all the monks of
that convent testify how devoted he was in the worship of
the Blessed Virgin. He moll diligently repeated the psalter,
the hymns, the canticles and very many other prayers about
Our Lady which he had learnt as a novice. He was always
eager to take part in the daily mass of Our Lady and scarcely
ever spoke except for edification. He was made mailer of
the guells, because so many were edified, not only by his
words and behaviour, but also by the atmosphere of san&ity
which surrounded him. Once there was a man possessed of
the devil, who was brought to the monallery in the hope of
a cure, and received into the guell house ; he came from the
country and was both rich and well known ; and when he
could not be cured by any known remedy, neither by the
relics of the saints, nor the prayers of the monks, Walter visited
him frequently in pursuance of his office, and read over his
head prayers and verses written about Our Lady which he
had, showed him sacred pitflures and by all these things adjured
the devil to depart from him. One day when he had placed
the psalter upon the head of the possessed man, the demon,
crying and raging, so bruised and bewildered the man from
whom he was compelled to depart, that he fell to the ground
as if dead. An hour later, he came back to himself, crying
out that he was delivered from the devil.

All this was told me by a lay-brother who acfled as an
attendant upon the country-man in his madness. He went
back to his home in a sound mind, but after a little while
returned to give thanks to the Blessed Virgin and to her ser¬
vant, his healer, adding in the hearing of the whole convent:
“ If there were no other objedls of veneration in this monallery
beyond this holy man, by whose merits I have been healed,
that ought to be enough for any convent.

Novice .—These are great things that you tell me.

Mon \.—Not only demons, but also brute bealls were
obedient to his sandlity.

There was at the monallery a very beautiful colt, of such
value that both the bishop of Treves and the duke of Lorraine
offered, I believe, forty marks of silver for it ; for in this colt
was the Hrain of the bell kind of charger. Now the convent

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

feared to offend the other if it sold the colt to either, so they
sent Dom Walter, attended by two lay-brethren, to take the
horse as a free gift to the count of Holland. When they came
to a certain defile, the colt saw a herd of mares feeding in the
distance ; and immediately whinnying and gambolling shook
itself free from the hands of those who were leading it and
galloped off at full speed to join the herd. And when the
lay-brethren pursued it, the herd took to flight and the colt
only went further and further from them. Finding all their
labour fruitless they came back and Walter said to them :
“ Let us go forward, for that horse is lofl unless S. Mary
reflore him to us.”

They had scarcely gone forward for two miles when behold!
the colt who had not yet been broken in, galloped back to
them and like a gentle sheep submitted his neck to the hands
of his leaders.

Now because he was well-known to the nobles of the land,
and was held in high respedt by them both for his noble blood
and also for his holy life, he was often sent out againSt his
own will on the business of the monastery.

Once when going down the Rhine in a ship which was
carrying the wine of the monastery, when they reached Zee-
land, a very terrible tempeSt arose and terrified them all and
put the ship on her beam ends. Danger was added to danger,
for pirates rowed out to them and tried to plunder the ship
and behold by the juSt judgment of God two great tuns call
out of the ship by the violence of the winds capsized the pirate
vessel and drowned the pirates themselves in the sea. These
things took place on the eve of S. Nicholas after midnight.
Each of the crew fearing for his life fell on his knees and
prayed to God. But that blessed saint coming out of the
ship’s cabin took his servant aside and made his confession to
him, and then returned to his cabin. Then he placed before
himself an ivory image of the Holy Mother of God which he
always carried about with him, prostrated himself before it
and prayed, and in the midfl of his prayer gently fell asleep.
And forthwith it seemed to him that he could hear Dom
Arnold in Hemmenrode, a saintly man of holy life, singing
the psalms at the time ; and he was awakened by the very

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sweetness of his voice ; for it was the time of matins. Realis¬
ing at once that this righteous man was praying for them at
this very hour, he went out joyfully and consoled everyone
he met with these words, saying: “ Have no fear, no ill can
touch us, for I have heard Dom Arnold our monk from S.
Severin singing psalms on our behalf.” Very soon by the
divine power ana merits of the Blessed Virgin whom he had
invoked and by the help of the aforesaid Arnold, the florm
was abated. When this ftory was told to Dom Herman the
prior, now the abbot of Marienftadt, forthwith he summoned
Dom Arnold who was altogether without knowledge of these
things and asked him what he had been meditating upon on
the eve of S. Nicholas during matins, or what he was doing
at that time, and he replied: “ Believe me, I was singing the
psalms then.” “ In what way? ” asked the prior. And he:
“ When I cannot feel devotion, I move my fingers under my
cowl in the way of a man who is playing the harp and I touch
the cords in imagination and so I rouse the sluggishness of
my mind to devotion.” And the prior wondered greatly when
he heard this. Seeing that he was a learned man, I think
he muft have done this by the example of Elisha who was
roused to the spirit of prophecy by the sound of the lute (11
Kings iii. 15). To say nothing about the brethren, so great
was his compassion towards the poor that when he learnt
about any case he would forestall their requests and give them
money out of the sum that had been alloted to him for his
expenses. One cold day he met a bare-footed scholar, flopped
him, got down from his horse, took off his shoes and gave
them to him, and putting on some others which he had in
his wallet, remounted his horse and went on. This happened
when I myself was present.

He used to reconcile those who were at variance, by reason¬
ing with the disobedient and would often bring the angry and
impatient to a better mind, and help the tempted by many
examples which he always had ready to hand. Hence it was
that when I was talking with him about a certain matter, he
drew me aside and said : “ I too know what it is to suffer
severe temptations of the flesh.” That he might be able to
help others, he never hesitated to confess to them his own

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

weaknesses. One day the aforesaid prior told me that he had
asked him what he was thinking of at table because he did not
seem to be following the lecftion, and he replied: “ At such
times I always have my own lecbon. When I begin to eat, I
think of how the Son of God was for my sake foretold by the
angel and conceived by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the
virgin and so I turn my firSt page. And then I think how the
angels sang round him at his birth and how he was wrapt in
swaddling bands and laid in a manger ; and there is my second
page finished. In this way I pass through His circumcision,
the coming of the magi, His presentation in the temple, His
baptism, His faffing, His passion, His resurrection, His ascen¬
sion, the coming of the Holy Spirit, and the laSt judgment.
Such is my daily leflion, and when it is ended, my dinner is
also done." What he read in such a book during his meal, is
shown clearly by the tears which he shed upon the table. For
he found more delight in such holy meditations than in genu¬
flexions, by which the spirit of him who meditates is often
hindered. He did not so much petition for pardon in his
prayers but used to Stand or look up to heaven with uplifted
countenance while kneeling upon his knees.

Before God called him from this world, a wonderful vision
was revealed to him about a certain monk. When he was liv¬
ing in Villers, which is a house of the CiStercian Order whose
abbot then was Dom EuStace, one Sunday after supper this
abbot caused the whole convent to be called together. And
when this was done and the abbot said : “ Are all our brethren
here now?" the answer was made: “All, Sir, except two
younger ones who were sent hither as gueSts from France, and
who are especially zealous about the rule of silence particularly
on days when they have communicated.” But being sent for
a second time by the abbot and upbraided by him for their
delay, they excused themselves humbly and sat down among
the reft. On the next day when the convent was returning
to the monastery after the day’s labour and the firSt bell for
none rang before they reached the gate, while the senior monk,
waiting for the second bell, was Standing and reSting upon
his spade and was saying the none of Our Lady, as he thus
Stood he gently fell asleep and behold 1 he saw the Mother

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The Dialogue on Miracles

of God herself, accompanied by personages of different ranks
pass between him and the gate in a marvellous blaze of light.
And when, as if he was a Stranger, to her she neither looked
back at him or called him, he said sadly in his heart: “ Alas,
unhappy man that I am, why does she not call me? ” But
when she had gone a little way further, she took pity on him
and sent back a monk, who was permitted to be near her,
saying : “ Call that monk to me.” And when the other com¬
ing back to him, called him and said : “ Come, for Our Lady
calls you,” for very joy he awoke.

Entering the church and looking upon Dom Walter, he
said within himself : “ That monk is very like the monk by
whom Our Lady sent for me in my sleep to-day, except that his
cowl was grey while this monk’s cowl is white. And he told
the vision to his companion. Next day when the lord abbot
and Walter were about to depart, and the before-mentioned
youths were sent for by them to the gate, and Walter was
Standing there in his grey cowl, having laid aside the white
one which had been lent to him, the monk said to his com¬
panion : “ In very truth that is the monk who came for me,
I recognise his dress and have no doubt of his identity.” A
few days afterwards, Walter fell sick, and full of faith and
charity, having made his confession and in deep contrition,
he was summoned by the Blessed Mother of God, and passed
from darkness into light, from faith to sight, from toil to reft,
from deserving to reward, from the world to his heavenly
country. Whither may the Son of God Himself, our Lord
Jesus Chrift, born of the Virgin Mary, bring us all, for He is
the way by example, the truth in His promise and the life
for reward. Amen. Further the monk of Villers was him¬
self summoned, as was shown to him beforehand, and
after a few days departed to be with the Lord. The afore¬
said abbot Euftace told me this &ory.

Moreover that the Lord might show how precious in His
sight was this man, beloved of His Mother, He honoured him
with signs and wonders after his death. At that time Wine-
mar of Aldindorp, a rich and honourable knight, was lying
upon his bed totally paralysed. When he heard that the man
of God, who was dearly beloved by him, had departed to he

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

with the Lord, he immediately sent a messenger to Hemmcn-
rode, by whom he besought that the shoes of the dead man
might be sent to him. New ones were sent to him, and he
immediately sent them back because he realised that they had
not belonged to Dom Walter. Then by the same messenger
some very old boots of the man of God were sent which the
sick man received with faith and devotion, and as soon as he
laid them upon his hands which were already dead, he felt an
extraordinary benefit from them. And the same thing hap¬
pened with his feet. From that hour he was able to lift his
hands and feet and to recover, though gradually, the strength
of his whole body. Moreover, he held these shoes in so much
veneration as well as the benefit which had been conferred
upon him through their means, that he built a chapel in his
caftle and enclosed the same shoes in a wooden altar in the
presence of our abbot. And another knight who had a
dangerous tumour in his breaft, hearing how great a benefit
had been wrought in the case of Winemar by the aforesaid
shoes, begged that one of them might be sent to him, and as
soon as it touched the place of the ulcer, he was completely
healed.

Novice. —I confess that it has been fully proved to me, that
the Blessed Mary loves and honours those who love her.

Mon\. —Not only does she bring her lovers and beloved to
eternal life, but also she frequently advances them even to
temporal honours.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Of our abbot to whom S. Mary appeared to give
him the pafioral rod before he was promoted to
the abbacy.

After the death of our abbot Gevard, the predecessor of
our present abbot, there was among us a certain prieSt of great

5*9

The Dialogue on Miracles

age Syfrid by name who had, as we thought, at times the
spirit of prophecy. Here a long while before the celebration
of the ('lection, he foretold secretly to some that Dom Henry
who was then prior, would be our future abbot and that he
would be consecrated to the abbacy in the cathedral of Treves.
When asked how he knew this, he replied : “ I saw Our Lady
offering him the pastoral rod before the presbytery of that
church, the church of S. Peter.” Nevertheless he was unwill¬
ing to tell to anyone the manner of the vision. More words
are unnecessary. So unanimously was he chosen to the abbacy
that the visitor was a&onished, saying that so unanimous an
tied ion could not have taken place except by the will of God.
And because at that time installations could not take place at
Cologne, on account of the captivity of bishop Bruno, the
prior granted him leave to receive his ordination at the hands
of John, the archbishop of Treves. It had been made known
to us that he would celebrate his solemn ordination at Coblenz,
as indeed took place. Our abbot-eled took with him some
monks who were to be ordained and set out thither. And
I said in my heart: “ Surely that good man was partly deceived
by some spirit of error.” But because things which have
been divinely ordered, cannot be changed, after the lord arch¬
bishop had ordained the clerks and was greatly fatigued, he
said to the abbot: “ Lord Abbot, I am very weary : will you
come to me at Treves on Palm Sunday and I will gladly con¬
secrate you there,” and this was done ; and I was greatly
aftonished, nor did I henceforth doubt the truth of the vision.

Novice .—What if men should condudt themselves ill in
high office when they have been so promoted by the Blessed
Virgin ?

Mon \.—As they are exalted by her pity, so by her justice
are they sometimes brought low and this no doubt for their
own good.

Novice .—Will you give me an illufiration ready to hand?

5 20

The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER XL.

Also of the bishop Theodoric, who was promoted
by her to be bishop of Cologne and afterwards by her
will was set aside.

When the aforesaid Bruno died, and Otto was now con¬
firmed in his kingdom, after Philip had been put to death,
the queftion arose who should succeed Bruno in the
bishopric of Cologne. Herman the dean of Bonn who, as you
know, is a very learned man, prayed with all his heart to God
and His Mother, as I have been told, that a worthy man might
be appointed to so high an office and in the night the Blessed
Virgin appeared to him in a vision and holding out a book
written in golden letters, she said : “ Give this book to the
bishop.” The only writing the book contained was the angelic
salutation i.e. Ave Maria gratia plena. By the book she signi¬
fied the episcopate. And when he wished to give the book to
John the bishop of Cambrai, because both the king and him¬
self thought well of him, knowing his hone Sly, the Blessed
Virgin called him back saying: “ Give it, not to John, but
to Theodoric the provoft of the church of the holy apoflles.
Moreover if he does not show himself worthy in his bishopric,
as he has obtained it through me, so will he be deprived of it
through me. Now this Theodoric had always been a devoted
worshipper of the Virgin, and, as you already know, had been
eager to take part in a daily mass in her honour, making his
offering every day. At the time of the eleiffion the king did
his belt for the bishop of Cambrai, but gave in when the
electors told him that he did not know the language of the
country. The aforesaid Herman had already mentioned this
very thing. Then the eleiflors entrusted their votes to four
persons who chose Theodoric as their bishop. But after a very
short time he was so led affray by evil advice that he made
scarcely any difference between laymen and ecclesiaflics, be¬
tween countrymen and monks, taking toll from both alike
and oppressing all with undue exactions. The Mother of
God vexed by these and other wrong a<5lions of his caused him,

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as might be gathered from the aforesaid vision, to be deposed
in great disgrace by the bishop of Mainz, his rival taking his
place by election.

Novice. —I have indeed heard that during his bishopric he
behaved harshly to our Order.

Mon\. —Therefore he was deservedly caSt out by her who
is the advocate of the Order. So great is her care for the
Order that she does not pass over without reproof even those
who speak thoughtlessly against it.

CHAPTER XLI.

Of a scholar of Cologne whom S. Mary punished
in his dreams, when he had spoken evil of our Order.

At Cologne there is a scholar scarcely fourteen years old,
the son of a certain citizen, and canon of the church of S.
Mary in the capitol, who loved our Order marvellously. In
this year when the ships of the Order did not dare to pass by
Zeeland, through fear of pirates, a rumour came to Cologne
that they had all been plundered and certain men said : “ This
has justly befallen them, for the monks are greedy traders and
God cannot endure their avarice. The aforesaid lad was so
Stirred by words of this kind that he conceived a hatred againSt
our Order, spoke ill of religion and could no longer look
favourably upon a monk or lay-brother. One night in his
sleep he seemed to be Standing before the image of the Mother
of God, and when she had looked upon him with great
severity, and the boy was trembling before her, she turned
away her face from him saying: “ O boy of evil heart, you
are speaking evil of the beSt friends that I have in the whole
world.” He, understanding well what she meant, awoke in
terror and through the grace of the Virgin Mary rekindled in
his heart the love he had loSt. Moreover, that the MoSt Merci¬
ful Virgin punishes sometimes and humiliates those who

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

despise her, I will show you by two examples. I remember
that I told you others in a former chapter, about those who
seized the possessions of MarienSlatt, whom she brought low
and to this day continues to bring low.

CHAPTER XLII.

Of the punishment of Sybodon and his allies, because
of an injury done to the Blessed Virgin.

LaSt year two knights who were brothers, officers of the
count Palatine of the Rhine, one of whom was named Sybodon
and the other Baldemar, took a number of men with them
and came with an armed band to the town of Cussele and
robbed the market place of everything saleable through their
hatred of Waleram, count of Lutzelinburg, carrying off with
them much cattle and other booty of different kinds. This
day happened to be a day of threefold solemnity, for it was
Sunday, it was the feaSf of the nativity of the Holy Mother of
God, and the feast of the dedication of the church of that
town. The night before a soldier who was one of the com¬
panions of Sybodon saw this vision. He saw the Blessed
Virgin cafting herself at the feet of the Saviour, and saying
in a clear voice: “ Lord, I make my complaint to Thee of
Sybodon and his accomplices because they have disturbed the
dedication of my church and have spoiled those who were
flocking to it, and have paid no honour to Thy holy day, nor
to that of my own nativity.” For because she knew what
would happen on that day she counted it as already done.
The soldier trembling at the vision told it to Sybodon, but he
taking no account of the Story told the man that he had been
dreaming and compelled him to follow him againSt his will.
But the Lord of might who brought Nebuchadnezzar from
Chaldea to punish the pride of the Jews, summoned the
younger Waleram to avenge the wrong done to His Mother.

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For on that same day he entered Cussele with an armed band
unexpectedly about the hour of None. For he had not been
there for half a year. Those who had lot their property
making their complaint of Sybodon, when Waleram asked
which way he had gone or where he was they replied : “ Sir,
he is reting in fancied security in such a place about four
miles away.” Then he concealing his anger said : “ We may
not fight to-day, because it is the feat of S. Mary.” Never¬
theless he ordered food to be given to the horses, so that after
a short ret, they might be the bolder for the fight. Before
sunset he, with all his men, mounted and went after the
enemy, and falling upon them in the dark, when they thought
themselves safe, killed some and captured others, so that
scarcely anyone escaped except the soldier who had seen the
aforesaid vision. When this was over, a certain woman said
to Waleram : “ Sir, the leaders of those robbers are reeling in
such a place.” For they had retired a little way from the
town to a certain farm and were sleeping there. Immediately
they all turned thither and when they had cut down with
axes the hedge and the gate, they raised the war cry
of Waleram, and this was made known to Sybodon, he
in terror tried to flee, but found that he could not rise
or move his foot from that place. And when Baldemar said
to him : “ Get up, brother and let us flee ” ; he replied : “ You
go, brother, for I cannot get up ; for I feel as it were a lump
of lead upon my knees.” To which the other replied:
“ Neither will I flee, for I mean to £tay with you.” And so
both were captured and killed and thus paid the penalty for
the sacrilege they had wrought againft the Mother of God.

Novice .—It is very clear that this was a direcft punishment,
agreeing as it does with the vision, and with the penalty
exadted from Wilhelm of Helpinftein, as was told above in
the seventh chapter.

Mon \.—Not only for wicked deeds which dishonour His
Mother does ChriSt exadl punishment, but also for approbrious
words.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER XLIII.

Of the punishment of a gambler, who blasphemed
S. Mary.

We read in the book of the Miracles of Clairvaux a terrible
Story about two gamblers. When one of them had lost
heavily, in order that he might satisfy his anger and envy of
the good fortune of the other, he began to utter foul words
againSt God. And his companion inspired by the same evil
spirit retrained him saying : “ Be silent, for you do not know
how to curse.” And forthwith he began to blaspheme against
God terribly and when he broke out into insults againSt His
Mother, a voice was heard from on high: “ Insults against
Myself I have put up with, but I can by no means tolerate
affronts to My Mother.” And forthwith as he sat at that
table, he was Stricken invisibly with a visible wound, and
frothing at the mouth expired. And why should I speak of
opprobrious words when I have known even a foolish speech,
though uttered without any gall of malice againSt an image
of the Holy Mother of God, grievously punished in this present
life.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Also of the punishment of a certain matron of Vel-
denz, who uttered foolish words concerning the
image of S. Mary.

In the chapel of the fort of Veldenz there is a certain ancient
image of the Blessed Virgin, holding her Son in her lap, not
indeed fashioned with any skill, but endowed with much
virtue. A certain matron of that caStle, which is situated in
the diocese of Treves, was one day Standing in the chapel
and looking at this image and in scorn for the way it was

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The Dialogue on Miracles

sculptured said: “ Why does this old rubbish stand here? ”
But the Blessed Mary who is the Mother of mercy, not, as I
think making any accusation to her Son concerning this
foolish woman, but predicting a future punishment for her
fault said to another matron : “ Because that lady,” mention¬
ing her name “ has called me old rubbish, she will be an
unhappy woman all her life.” A few days afterwards she
was despoiled of all her property and lands by her own son
and even to this day begs her bread miserably, paying the
penalty for her folly. You see how the Blessed Virgin loves
and honours those who love her, and punishes and brings
low those who despise her.

Novice.— If those who despise sacred images incur such
heavy penalties, I think that those who venerate them muff
merit great favour.

Mon\. —You shall learn this more fully in what follows.

CHAPTER XLV.

Of another matron, who by the help of the same
image, recovered her daughter who had been carried
off by a wolf.

In the aforesaid fort there lived an honourable and devout
matron named Jutta. She it was to whom the Blessed Virgin
complained of the opprobious words spoken againft her image.
And rightly ; for she venerated this image with the higheft
honour, making before it salutauons, prayers and many peti¬
tions of pardon. Once when she had sent her little daughter
into the neighbouring town to be brought up and the child,
who was now three years old, was playing in an open space,
a wolf was seen by several people to seize her by the throat
in her play and throwing her over his back to set out for the
woods close at hand. Many ran after him with cries but

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

returned sadly without having rescued the little girl. One
of them ran to the caftle and telling the mother, who was
sitting at the table, of the carrying off of her daughter said :
“ Madam, a wolf has eaten your daughter,” to whom she very
much angered replied: “ Of a surety no wolf has eaten my
daughter.” Nevertheless she immediately rose from the table,
and entering the chapel in great bitterness of heart, tore
the image of the Saviour from His Mother’s lap, and Stand¬
ing opposite her and weeping bitterly she broke out into these
words: “ Lady, never shall you have your Son back again
unless you reflorc to me my child unhurt.” Wonderful
humility of the queen of heaven ! As if she feared to lose
her Son if the woman did not recover her daughter, she forth¬
with laid her orders upon the wolf who let the girl go. Many
from the town were following the tracks of the wolf in order
that they might bury the remains of the child, and found her
running about near a certain copse. And when they said to
her : “ Where have you come from, little girl? ” she replied :
“ Mummart has bitten me.” For the marks of the wolf’s
teeth in her throat showed clearly on the surface of the skin,
and they are there to this day as a witness of so great a miracle.
Then they took the child to her mother, who, as soon as she
saw her safe and sound, ran joyfully to make an a<5t of thanks¬
giving to the sacred image, and putting back the Child into
her lap, she said: “ Because thou half given me back my
daughter, lo, I reftore to thee thy Son.” This was told me
by Herman the abbot of MarienSfatt whom I have so often
mentioned and who saw the girl and heard from the mouth
of the mother all that I have told. While he was ftill prior
in Hemmenrode and had the firm intention of resigning his
office, the aforesaid matron besought his abbot Dom Eultace,
to whom she was giving hospitality to send him to visit her,
to which request Dom Euftace consented. When he came
the lady took him into the presence of the image of the Mother
of God and warned him not to resign his office. It is not
pleasing to God she said that you should resign. And when
he asked her how she knew this, she replied: “ It has been
revealed to me by Our Lady here,” pointing to the image
with her finger.

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The Dialogue on Miracles

Many revelations indeed were made through that sacred
image to this devoted woman, and very many were the bene¬
fits that were granted to her through it.

Novice .—Hitherto I have had no idea that such great bene¬
fits were to be found in the images of the saints.

Mon \.—The saints work many wonders in and through
their images, especially in those places where they are held in
veneration. Do you not remember the Story of the young
apoftate near Floreffe who obtained pardon through the image
of the Blessed Virgin ; and also, of the nun who received a
blow on the head from her image and so escaped a dangerous
temptation ?

Novice .—I remember both very well, for the firft of these
miracles was in the twelfth chapter of the second book and
the second in the thirty-third chapter of the present book :
and bewilderment overwhelms me when I hear that in wood
there can be a voice to speak, a hand to Strike and a body
which can bend itself, raise itself, and sit down, and perform
all other functions of life. This aStonishcs me far more than
the speech of Balaam’s ass. For it indeed had life in it
which could move ; but there is no breath of life in wood, or
Stone, or metal.

Mon \.-—The Spirit of God exists in every creature, both in
essence and in power, and to Him nothing is impossible nor
miraculous, and he daily works such things as these in honour
of his saints. But concerning the image of the Blessed Virgin,
I will tell you a very marvellous vision which took place three
years ago.

CHAPTER XLVI.

Of the image of S. Mary in Essen.

On the boundaries of Friesland near the city of Groningen
there Stands a certain convent of nuns of our Order, lately
built and called Essen.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

What I am about to tell you I heard from the prior of that
convent and about the same time I saw the image itself and
celebrated mass before it. It was well sculptured by angelic
hands and represented the Blessed Virgin holding her Son in
her lap. One day, after mass, when the nun who was in
charge of the church, had extinguished the candle which was
burning before the image, two carpenters who went into the
church to do some work, found it relighted and they said to
the prior: “ Sir, unless you warn the cuftodian to be more
careful in extinguishing this candle, you will lose your
church.” For it was all made of wood, altar, candlefiick
and walls alike. The cuflodian was sent for and upbraided,
she denied any carelessness and put out the candle. The
carpenters coming in again, saw that the aforesaid candle
was alight again and as soon as they had informed the prior,
he was very angry and upbraided the cuflodian very harshly.
But being assured by her words that she had really put out
the candle, he ordered her not to put it out again because he
wished to find out what this might mean. For the whole of
that day and the following night, the aforesaid candle burnt
before the image, and yet in the morning it had been scarcely
consumed to the length of half a finger joint. On the feafl
of the blessed Andrew the apoflle, when one of the aforesaid
carpenters, a man simple-minded and devout, who had lately
become a lay-brother in that convent, was ftanding at the mass,
and the priefl was beginning to lead the gospel, he saw the
image of the Saviour rise up from His Mother’s lap on which
he was sitting, take the crown from her head and place it on
His own. But when the gospel was over and they had come
to that place in the creed : and was made man, he reflored the
crown to His Mother's head and sat down again. When
this simple-minded man saw this and was aflounded at the
novelty of the vision, he said to himself: “ It is better to
remain silent, for if I speak, I shall not be believed.” But
when on the feafl of S. Nicholas he saw again exactly the
same vision, he feared to incur divine wrath if he should
remain silent and so he told the prior all that he had seen,
and because, being a layman, he could not explain the exadl
place where the crown was put back, when he was asked about

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The Dialogue on Miracles

it, he replied : “ When the name of Mary was mentioned.”
Immediately it occurred to the prior that on the feaSt day of
a confessor the church was not accustomed to say the Nicene
creed. And calling his companion he said : “ Did you say
mass in the convent on S. Nicholas’ day? ” For he himself
had been away from home on that day. And when the other
replied : “Yes ” he went on : “ Did you say the Nicene
creed? ” “ Yes I did ” he said and the prior: “ You did not
do rightly, for he was not an apoStle.” To which the other
replied : “ Assuredly, I hold S. Nicholas the equal of many of
the apoStles.” And thus the prior was assured that the vision
was true.

Novice. —Will you explain to me the myStery of this vision ?

Mon\. —The royal diadem seems in this place to signify
the glorious flesh of the Virgin which came to her from royal
ancestors. But Chrifl: placed His Mother’s crown upon his
own head when by the sacrament of the incarnation, he
united flesh taken from the Virgin to His own divinity.
Whence the Holy Spirit calling us to the consideration of so
great a myftery says, in the song of songs: Go forth, O ye
daughters of Jerusalem and behold king Solomon, i.e. Chrift
the true prince of peace with the crown, i.e. in human flesh,
with which his Mother crowned Him, that is the Virgin Mary
in the day of her espousals (Cant. iii. n), when at the annun¬
ciation the heavenly nuptials were celebrated in her womb
between the divine and human nature. But by the fa<fl that
at the words: and was made man, He restored the crown to
His Mother’s head, He seemed to say: “ Mother, as I,
through you, am made partaker of human subftance, so you
through me are made partaker of the divine nature. For
we are the body and the members of Chrift, who is both God
and man. Let these things be said for the consolation of
the ele<5t through her sacred image.

Hear now another kind of consolation about what I said
in the beginning of this book, namely that there are with
her comforting medicines.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER XLVII.

Of a medicinal monk{ to whom S. Mary at fir ft
refused her eleduary in the church and afterwards
gave it to him when he had amended his life.

There was in our Order a certain dodor, a monk rather in
dress than in fad, who travelled over the provinces at the
call of the sick and scarcely ever returned to the monastery
except on the principal fedivals.

On a certain fead of the Holy Mother of God when at
night he was landing with the others to sing the psalms, he
saw the mod Blessed Virgin herself, surrounded by a great
light, enter the choir and go round the singers. With a spoon
she drew out some eleduary from a box which she carried
in her hand and placed it in the mouth of each. But when
she came to him, she passed by him and said : “ You have
no need of my eleduary because you are a dodor and provide
many medicines for yourself ” ; he, in much sadness, followed
her with his eyes as she went by and realised his fault. For
from that time he never left the monadery unless compelled
by obedience to the abbot ; and put away from him all bodily
comforts. On the next fead day of Our Lady, she visited
her servants as before, and when she came to the dodor, she
dopped and said: “ Because you have amended your ways
and have preferred my medicines to your own, behold I give
you a share of my eleduary, as I do the red.” And when
he had taded of it, he immediately experienced so much
sweetness of devotion that forthwith he remained a faithful
member of the community and counted as dung all fleshly
comforts (Phil. iii. 8).

That eleduary is to be underdood as the grace of devotion
by whose virtue worshippers are drengthened, and by whose
sweetness the toil of vigils is changed into delight. The
components of this medicine are the heartfelt memories of
the Lord’s incarnation of His nativity, and of all the other
sacraments of Chrid, all of which are flavoured with the

53 1

25 A

The Dialogue on Miracles

honeysweet hope of future reward and by the merits of the
Blessed Virgin are shed upon all worshippers.

Novice .—What you say is pleasing to hear.

Mon \.—That the ointments of the Blessed Mother of God
are health-giving, the spouse bears witness in the Canticles
(Cant. iv. io) and in Ecclus. xxiv. 15 . Of how great virtue
and grace are these same unguents, the following example will
declare.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Of a nun, whose injured leg was anointed and
healed by S. Mary in a vision.

A very delightful thing happened a few years ago in a certain
monastery of nuns of our Order which I know very well.
There is there a sifter, also known to me, of praiseworthy
life and very fervent in her worship of the Blessed Virgin.
Once when she was making a genuflexion, impelled by too
much fervour, she injured her knee or shin-bone, and was
asleep in the infirmary at mid-day, when the Blessed Virgin
Mary appeared in her sleep, Standing by her, carrying a box
of ointment in her hand ; and putting in her fingers, she took
some of this ointment and with it anointed the injured leg
of the nun. Immediately the air was filled with so Strong
an odour that the sifters who were sleeping near aroused
by that odour got up and coming to her bed because the
Strength of the odour seemed greater there, awoke the sleeper.
When they asked her by signs what was or whence came so
Strong an odour, she, fully aware of the cause, but indeed
made all the more sure of the truth of the vision by these
very signs, was unwilling to tell them or to make any signs
in response, only nodding to them that they should go to
sleep. And when she again fell asleep, the Mother of the
Lord came a second time, and in a vision took her with her

532

The Blessed Virgin Mary

into the orchard of the convent ; and placing her hand under
her chin she said : “ Kneel down.” And when she had done
this, Our Lady added: “ For the future you ought to seek
pardon in this modeSt and submissive way,” giving her
instructions. And then she added : “ You ought to say to
me every day the sequence, Hail Mother of God, and at every
verse to pray for pardon. For in this I take much pleasure.’’
Then the nun awoke, and that one might find out whether
there was any result from the vision she examined her knee
and was filled with wonder to find it entirely healed.

Novice. —I conjecture from this vision how little the Blessed
Virgin cares for indiscreet fervour in prayer or for undisci¬
plined movements in genuflections.

Mon\. —I agree with you. For to say nothing of the
person of the Blessed Mother of God I will show you how
her name is sweeter than honey, not by mere words but in
living example.

CHAPTER XLIX.

Of a recluse who, through the Ave Maria,
experienced a wonderful sweetness.

Near the church of Severin in Cologne there lived a
certain anchorite, Marsilius by name, who had formerly been
bishop at S. Sebastian in Tuscany, and who had been deposed
by Alexander at the time of the schism which took place
between Alexander and Paschal. The matrons of the city
used to go to him and one of them had confessed to him
that she could never say the name of Our Lady without
experiencing a wonderful sweetness, and when asked if she
knew the reason of such grace, she replied: “ Every day I
have been wont to say fifty Ave Marias in her honour, with
as many prayers for pardon, and this is why I have gained
such sweetness that while I am praying, all the saliva in my

533

The Dialogue on Miracles

mouth seems changed into honey. Now when the said
recluse heard this, following the example of the devout
woman, he had scarcely finished saying the angelic salutation
in the way described and in the same number for six weeks,
when behold he began to tafte such sweetness in his mouth
and throat from the utterance of this moft entrancing saluta¬
tion as to far surpass the sweetness of honey. A monk also
of our Order, induced by his example, gained also the same
sweetness. This was told me by the anchorite himself.
These three examples show plainly that her name is sweeter
than honey and her inheritance than honey and the honey¬
comb (Ecclus. xxiv. 20).

Novice. —How fitly is that said : Her inheritance is sweeter
than honey and the honey-comb.

Mon\. —Repetition is confirmation. What we inherit that
we make a pradtice of using. In the honey-comb is both
wax and honey. Wax because it is tenacious refers to the
memory ; honey expresses the sweetness. Only by the bond
of memory can the sweetness of the name of the Mother of
God be realised. Further wax gives light, while honey feeds
and intoxicates. The name of Mary is li\e the composition
of the perfume that is made by the art of the apothecary : It
is sweet as honey in all mouths, and as music in a bouquet of
wine (Ecclus. xlix. 1). For the invocation of this holy name
causes both illumination and refreshment, as has been shown
in the above examples.

Novice. —How such benefits are conferred both on the juft
and the unjuft through the name of the Blessed Virgin will
ever dwell in my memory.

Mon\. —If indeed this be the case you will not lose her
consolations in your laft hour. Moreover here are examples
to show you how she helps the dying and shows to them
her honeysweet presence.

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER L.

Of a mon\ who was \issed by S. Mary in the hour
of death.

In a house of our Order in Spain, called Tumerane, there
were two young lay-brethren, and so worthily did they pass
their lives there, that their condutfi was an example to all
others. One of them was so fervent and devout in his
worship of the Blessed Virgin, so absorbed and intent in chant¬
ing her hours, that not only did he carry to his memory every
verse but even every word, and so, even when occupied with
severe toil, he almost continuously carried on his worship.
After seventeen years of this life he fell grievously sick and
the prior gave leave to his companion to attend upon him.
Knowing him to be a holy man and mo$f devout in his service
of the Mother of God, he besought him to say something
for his edification from an impulse of mutual affection. And
when the other was unwilling, but yet could not refuse, he
replied : “ Yesterday Our Lady came to me and foretold that
in seven days I should go to be with the Lord.” And he
added: “ Because you have served me more earnestly than
all other mortals, I too, will do for you what I have never
yet done for anyone. And then she put her arms round my
neck and gave me a kiss.”

Novice .—Readers might find a difficulty in this because it
is said above in the thirty-second chapter that she delivered
the knight from temptation by a kiss.

Mon \.—This vision was before that other one in time.
But when he fell into his agony on the day and at the hour
foretold the sleeping prior saw a crowd of the white robed
enter the cell in which the blessed brother was lying, and
they said that they had come to take away his soul. And
immediately he was roused by the ftroke of the gong, leapt
up from his bed and ran to the cell of the dying man, and
never for one moment doubted that this was the celeftial
hoft who had come to carry away the devoted servant of the
Mother of God. This £fory was told to many by Dom

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The Dialogue on Miracles

Arnold, a CiStercian abbot who lived at Treves. He said that
it had moft certainly happened in the monaftery where he
had formerly been abbot.

CHAPTER LI.

Of the lay-brother Herman, on whose behalf when
wearied out S. Mary chanted his office and foretold
his death.

In the cloister which is generally called Hemmenrode,
there was a certain lay-brother named Herman who was
appointed to the ploughing of the woodland of a certain
grange. Now he was a man of very Stainless life and received
in secret from the Lord many comforting revelations, very
few of which have come to our knowledge. In his work he
had to do with a fierce and high-spirited bull amongft his
other oxen which he could scarcely harness to his work without
great toil, and sometimes failed altogether. When once he
wished to harness this animal and had tried every means in
vain, he grew angry and turned aside into the wood, and there
cut down a Slick to beat the rebellious bull. And when he
came towards him, threatening him with the Slick, the bull
impelled by I know not what inSlindl, came up to him and
proSlrated himself at his feet and besought pardon though
not in words yet by the attitude of his cringing body. When
he saw this the man of God was entirely appeased and said:
“ You ask for mercy and mercy I will not refuse you. Get
up and see that you do not trouble me any more.” Now from
that day this bull laid aside all his ferocity so far that in
gentleness he was found inferior to none of his yoke fellows.
At another time this same brother, when worn out with the
toil of the day had lain down on his bed after compline to
reSl, suddenly remembered that he had put off saying one of
his hours, owing to pressure of work, and this hour was one

536

The Blessed Virgin Mary

which he was accuftomed to chant in honour of the Blessed
Virgin and had now, after postponing it, forgotten and
omitted it. Whereupon he leapt up from his bed that he
might even then fulfil what he had forgotten. But the queen
of the universe took pity upon his toil and appeared to him
suddenly ordering him to Lie ftill for she herself would say
for him the forgotten hour. Now when the Lord God
determined to give him the juft reward of his toils, He sent
upon him a weakness of body but did not withdraw the joy
of his soul or the consolation of his spirit. So when he had
lain sick for several days, the abbot Gilbert came to visit both
him and the other sick brethren, and when he said to him:
“ Are you not ashamed, brother Herman, that brother Godfrey
will be before you in the kingdom of heaven? ” pointing
to another lay-brother lying in the infirmary, who had scarcely
accomplished three years in the Order ; he replied: “ No
Sir, whatever good thing it is God’s will to do for him I
greatly rejoice for Him.” Then said the abbot: “ You make
a joke of everything.” For his face always seemed naturally
ready to laugh. “ Take my permission to go to church again
and to your work.” He replied: “ I will go withersoever
God may will.” “ Where,” said the abbot, “ will you go.”
He replied : “ To the kingdom of heaven.” “ When there ”
said the other “ Will you die? ” And he : “ In two days. For
when mass begins on the third day from this I shall ftill he
here, and when the gospel is begun I shall ftill be here, but
before it is finished I shall be in the kingdom of heaven. And
this three days seems to me to be very tedious, and weighs me
down more heavily than all the reft of my life that I have
lived upon earth.” “ How ” said the abbot, “ Do you know
this? ” The other replied: “ Our Lady, the Blessed Virgin,
came here and thus consoled me. But also I was snatched
up into heaven, where I was even granted to see the glorious
place, where I shall dwell by the bounty of God.” Then
from that day the abbot very frequently visited him, and now
the third day had come and when the hour of mass drew
near, there came to him brother Theodoric of blessed memory,
his attendant, and said: “Brother Herman, may I leave you
to go to mass? ” For it was Lent. But he said “ No, let

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the others go, but do you Stay with me, and make ready
warm water with which I may be washed,” and a little while
afterwards: “ Spread out my mat and call two brothers to
help you, for it is time for me to go.” Then as the gospel
was beginning, the gong was beaten and the convent came
hurrying to the infirmary, and the abbot himself among the
foremoSt ; and so that holy soul was set free, as he had
predicted, before the gospel was finished.

Novice. —I do not wonder that that righteous man longed
for death, since the queen of life thus consoled him before
his death.

Mon\. —Not only does her presence give confidence in
death to the sick, but it even Stirs laughter in the dying which
is a sign of great joy.

CHAPTER LII.

Of the lay-brother Pavo, who at his death saw S.

Mary.

A young lay-brother, a Frisian, fell grievously sick in Lucka
which I mentioned above. When he was in extremis, in the
very agony of death, as was told me by a monk, who was
present at the time, he began to laugh, and when one of the
bystanders said to him: “ Pavo,” for that was his name,
“Why are you laughing?” He replied: “Why, should
I not laugh ? See, Our Lady is Standing by me and is about
to take my soul.” It seems to me that the verse of the poet
was herein fulfilled. " Do not delay, O new born child, to
recognise thy mother with a joyful smile ” (Vulg. Eel. iv. 60).
For this lay-brother was a child in virtue because he was
simple-hearted and pure ; he was new born because he was
humble and gentle. I have no doubt that the Blessed Virgin
made motherly signs to the dying man ; for a Stern conten-
ance would excite fear not laughter.

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CHAPTER LIII.

Also of a nun to whom she appeared in death.

A similar thing happened at Cologne in the church of S.
Maurice. A certain nun of irreproachable life was brought
there into her agony, and the sifters were Standing round the
dying woman, when she, with tranquil face, smiled and
said in the hearing of all: “ Welcome be my sweeteSt Lady,
thrice welcome.” And so closing again her lips she expired.
For she had always dearly loved the Blessed Virgin, and so
it came about that in that terrible hour she found grace to
see her beloved, and when seen to greet her, and by her aid
and with her to enter her heavenly home.

Novice .—I hope that the demons, who are often impor¬
tunate at the death of even the moSt holy men, cannot endure
the presence of so much majeSty.

Mon \.—I will show you this by an example.

CHAPTER LIV.

Also of the mon\ Warner to whose help she came
when in extremis and terrified by demons.

About three years ago a monk named Warner died in
Eberbach, young indeed in years and beardless, but mentally
of a ripe age. His abbot told me that juSf before the hour
of his death, he saw demons surrounding him, and being
greatly troubled by their importunity, he cried aloud : “ Holy
Mary, deliver me from these awful beings,” repeating this cry
over and over again. When those who flood around him
heard this cry of his, they wondered greatly, knowing him to
be a silent man, who scarcely gave answers to questions that
were asked of him. A little later he breathed freely again,
bowed his head and said : “ Welcome my deareSt Lady, thrice

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welcome.” Presently he lifted up his hand againfl the
demons, mocked them and added: “ Now lie you there,
now lie you there.” And so after a little while, he expired
peacefully, giving joy to the angels in heaven but no little
grief to his brethren in the monastery. For he had been a
youth of good and well disciplined life, pure both in body
and mind. And it is certain that at the coming of the queen
of heaven, all that crowd of evil spirits was driven away and
call down, juSt as a morning cloud is dispersed at the rising
of the sun.

Novice. —If our moSt merciful Lady, by her pity alone has
put to silence the grinning of demons at the death of a sinner,
as we have already shown in the ninth chapter, I am not
surprised that she put to flight their unmerited terrors at
the death of this righteous man.

Mon\. —-You are right ; for it is only natural that the
Mother of all chaSlity should reward the virtue of purity in
her servant by so gracious a visitation even before his death.
Nor do I wonder at this in the case of a perfeft monk, when
I remember that the Mother of God granted her presence to
a dying secular clerk as a reward for this same virtue.

CHAPTER LV.

Also of a canon of Cologne to whom she showed
herself at his death.

A certain canon of Cologne cathedral, as he lay on his
death bed, saw and recognised the presence of the Blessed
Mary. When he told this vision to those who were standing
round his bed, he received invisibly an unmistakable blow
upon the head.

Novice. —What then was his fault ?

Mon\. —I think that it was vainglory, which was immed¬
iately cured by this same blow. His name was Albert, and

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

although he was pure in body, he was nevertheless both
worldly and dainty, and particular about his clothes. But
that you may not doubt that Our Lady visibly be slows her
presence upon all chaSte persons in dying whether they be
cloistered virgins or not, and brings them to everlasting life,
I will give you an example of a married layman.

CHAPTER LVI.

Of Kono, a crusader, whom S. Mary comforted in
death.

A certain citizen of Ziilpich, an honourable man by name
Kono, took the cross in the laSt expedition and came to the
coast with other pilgrims. There he fell grievously sick and
when he was at the point of death, he began to show himself
marvellously happy. When his friends asked him the cause
of this happiness, he replied: “Why should I not rejoice?
Lo, Our Lady S. Mary is here present and she has said to me :

‘ Kono, since you have left your wife, your children and all
that you have, exposing yourself to danger for the honour of
my Son, I will reward you well and fully.’ ” And then he
cried forthwith: “ Lo I see heaven opened, and a place pre¬
pared for me there, to which I shall quickly ascend.” Forth¬
with he asked to be anointed with the holy oil, and to be
Strengthened with the viaticum of the Lord’s body, and so far
from home he died, and as a true pilgrim received the reward
of his toil in his heavenly home.

Novice.—I am not surprised if that righteous man, who
was indeed Still further justified by the taking of the cross saw
and deserved so wonderful a vision ; but if you know, tell
me more wonders.

Mon \.—I will give you two examples of divine pity and
of that Holy Mother which will not only cause you admiration
but will even rightly bewilder you.

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CHAPTER LVII.

Of a beheaded \night who by Her help escaped
from hell.

A noble but crime-ffained knight was once captured by
his enemies. And because they held him in deadly hatred,
it seemed good to them to put him to death without delay.
The noble, perceiving that his death was imminent and that
no hope of life remained made the following supplication to
them: “ I beseech you, in the presence of God that you will
deign to put off my death for a little, that I may confess my
sins to a pneft." They replied: “ Such a delay would not
be safe for us. It might happen that your friends and
relations would come up and snatch you from our hands,
and so the laff error would be worse than the firft.” Then,
when they ordered him to lie down that he might be
beheaded, he said this: “ God, Thou knoweff my desire."
And he added “ I commend my soul to the Son of the Virgin.”
And so he was beheaded.

Now there was at that time a certain possessed man in the
neighbourhood ; and when some said to him after hearing of
the death of so great a tryant: “ You muff be greatly delighted
at gaining the soul of that wicked knight ” ; he replied in
a gloomy voice: “ Not at all ; for as he died he uttered one
word by which he won salvation.” There is no doubt that
by the help of the Blessed Virgin, to whose Son he committed
his soul at the point of death, he was delivered from the pains
of hell and taken like the dying thief to the joys of paradise.
I will tell you another ffory which will surprise you ftill more,
which was told me by an abbot of our Order who said that
it happened about five years ago.

The Blessed Virgin Mary

CHAPTER LVIII.

Also of a robber whom she caused to be buried in
a church, after he had been executed.

In the neighbourhood of the city of Trent, as I heard from
a certain abbot, there lived a well-known robber, by whom
many had been spoiled, and those who wished to defend
themselves and were unable, were simply killed. This man
one day met a monk of our Order and hoping that he was
carrying money with him, he said: “ Unless you follow me
willingly, I will kill you.” The monk therefore followed
him, and on the road asked him who he was and what he
wanted with him ; the other replied: “ I am that notorious
robber,” and mentioned his name. And when the monk
said to him: “ Your hair is already beginning to grow white,
have you no fears for your soul ? ” he replied: “ No more
than an ox,” and the monk was silent. But when he came
to the robber’s cave he said to himself: “ If only you could
convert this man you would do a great service to God,” and
he said to the robber: “May I ask you something?” and
when the robber replied : “ certainly ” ; the monk went on :
“ What sort of a life has yours been from the beginning?”
he replied: “ Vile. When I was a boy, I fought with all
my companions ; when I became a young man, I turned all
my zeal to thieving ; and finally when I became a man I
practised highway robberies, in which I became so proficient
that to-day I am the head and chief of all the robbers of this
province."

To this the monk replied: “ Have you no fear of the
eternal pains, that you are laying up for yourself by deeds of
this kind? ” And when he said that there was no question
about his soul, for that was already loSf ; the monk answered :
“ Supposing I could show you a way of salvation, would you
liSfen to me or not? ” The bandit said: “ Indeed I would
gladly take your advice,” and the other went on : “ FaSt one
day in the week in honour of S. Mary, the Mother of God,
and do no injury to anyone on that day, and I tell you moSt

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certainly that you will find favour with her Son.” The
robber replied: “ In good earnest will I do this, and now
I take upon me this vow ; I will eat nothing on that day, I
will rob no one, I will do harm to no one.”

And he chose the Saturday for the day, working no ill
on that day, nay rather, in honour of the Blessed Virgin,
delivering very many from the hands of his companions who
would have been robbed or slain. Now at that time the city
of Trent was surrounded with enemies and one Saturday the
city guards made a sally and pursued the enemy, and with
the reft they took prisoner the aforesaid bandit, who was
unarmed because it was Saturday. And though he was a
very brave man, he did not defend himself when he was taken,
he made no excuses for himself, and when he was brought
before the judges, he would not speak when questioned. He
was brought into the city and as soon as he was recognised
he was condemned to the gallows. Nevertheless, as it is
believed, by the will of the Blessed Virgin, the judges were
moved by his beauty, and agreed to this, that he should be
banished from the province, and permitted to live. This he
declined, and said: “ I will not agree, for it is better for me
to expiate my sins now than in the future ” ; whereupon
they replied : “ Then we muft have you beheaded.” “ It
makes no difference to me,” he said, “ of what kind my
punishment is, so long as I am put to death.” And they said :
“ Would you like to see a prieft?” he answered: “ It is not
necessary. For you are all Chriftian men, and in the presence
of you all I will confess all my sins.” And when he had done
this with great contrition, he admitted that he had done no
good thing, except that faft, which he had learnt from the
monk.

And so he was taken out of the city and beheaded at the
place of execution. During that night the guards of the gate
saw lights flashing round his tomb ; and five matrons dug
up his body, fitted the head to the trunk, laid it on a bier,
throwing over it a purple pall of marvellous texture. Four
of them having each a lighted candle in her hand, carried
the bier by the four corners, while the fifth who was the moft
splendid of all, followed with a candle till they came to the

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The Blessed Virgin Mary

gate, where they laid the body down. When the guards
saw these things they were terrified, supposing it to be a
vision. And that lady said to them: “ Go and tell your
bishop to bury honourably in a certain spot in the cathedral
this chaplain of mine, whom you have beheaded,” and she
added threats if he should disobey ; and then she revealed
her name.

In the morning, when this message was brought to the
bishop, he came out with a great concourse of clergy and
people, and when he laid aside the pall, and saw that the
severed head was united again to the body, he was Stupefied,
and wondering at the texture of the pall, which surpassed all
human skill, he believed all that he had heard, and in fear
and with the higheft honours he buried him in the appointed
place, not as a bandit, but as a Christian martyr. From that
time to this day scarcely an adult has been found in that
province who does not follow his example and faSt on Saturday
in honour of Our Lady.

Novice .—Since good works done without charity are dead,
how could a faSt or any other kind of good work, wrought
while he was Still a bandit, be pleasing to the Mother of God.

Mon \.—By the worship which he paid to the Blessed
Virgin, he rendered himself capable of receiving grace ; by
his final contrition he became a son of glory ; by the temporal
punishment, which he bore willingly and patiently, he escaped
the pains of purgatory. For God does not punish twice for
the same fault, unless the healing medicine be despised. I
do not dare to explain it otherwise. For we read in Vitas-
patrum of a certain converted bandit to whom when he was
recounting the works of mercy which he had performed in
his life as a bandit the holy Pafnutuis replied: “ Never in
my life have I done such a thing, i.e. so great a deed.”

Novice .—This wonderful Story ought greatly to kindle
sinners with love for the Holy Mother of God.

Mon \.—There is Still one chapter left, which more than
all that you have heard so far, ought to kindle all the adherents
of our Order with love for her. I have kept this for the end
of the present book because that which is told laSt, is more
Strongly impressed upon the memory.

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CHAPTER LXIV.

Of a mon\ who saw in the kingdom of heaven the
CiSlercian Order beneath Our Lady’s cloak.

A certain monk o£ our Order, who was a great devotee
of Our Lady, a few years ago fell into an ecftasy and was taken
to view the glories of heaven. Now there he saw the different
ranks of the church triumphant, to wit, angels, patriarchs,
prophets, apoftles, martyrs, confessors, and all of them divided
into their particular Orders, i.e. canons, regulars, premonflra-
tensians, or Cluniacs, and being troubled about his own Order,
he flood there and looked around and could find in that glory
no single person of his Order, and therefore turning with a
groan to the Blessed Mother of God, he said: “ Oh ! moft
Holy Lady, why is it that I see no one here of the Ciftercian
Order ? Why are your servants, who serve you so devotedly,
shut out from sharing in so great happiness? ’’

Whereupon, the queen of heaven, seeing him greatly
troubled, replied: “ Those of the Ciflercian Order are so
dear to me, and so beloved, that I cherish them in my bosom.”

And opening her cloak, with which she seemed to be
clothed, and which was of marvellous amplitude, she showed
him an innumerable multitude of monks, lay-brothers, and
nuns. Then he, greatly exulting, and giving heartfelt thanks
to her, returned to his body, and told his abbot what he had
seen and heard. He indeed, at the following chapter, reported
this to the other abbots, and bringing great joy to them all
kindled them with flill greater love for the Holy Mother of
God.

Now because I have no wit to praise duly this Blessed
Virgin, who is indeed the mirror of purity, and whose merits
and glory exceed the loftiefl flights of all other saints, like
an unskilled orator, I belittle her, by trying to praise her ;
and therefore, helped by your prayers, I beseech of her to
supply my deficiencies, and make fruitful all that I have
written, or am about to write. Amen.

546