S. Edward King.
S. Hugh.
S. Martin.
S. Otho.
S. Stephen King.
S. Bernard Abb.
S. Fulgentius. B.
S. Malachy Bish.
S. Anselm Bish.
S. Benet Abbot.
S. Antony Abbot.
S. Tho. of Aquin.
S. Ant. of Padua
B. Andrew Bish.
S. Pachomius.
S. Theodosius.
B. Iustinian. B.

FVGA SAECVLI.

OR THE HOLY HATRED OF THE WORLD.

Conteyning the Liues of 17. Holy Confessours of Christ, Selected out of sundry Authors.

Written in Italian by the R. Fa. Iohn-Peter Maffaeus of the Society of IESVS.

And translated into English By H. H.

Printed at Paris. M. D C. XXXII.

Mart. B [...].

TO THE NOBLE AND MOST VVORTHY KNIGHT SYR B. B.

SYR.

THE Emperour TIBERIVS vvas of opinion, by vvearing a Laurell-vvreath on his Brovv, no disa­strous Lightning could touch his Person. [Page] And I, as secure and confident, vnder the couert of your Noble Patronage, feare no malignant blast of Obloquie, or breath of those, that shall seeke to soile the Mirrour of my sincere Intention, in my louing Seruice to my Countrey. Which made me thus pre­sume, to erect your Name, as a Laurell­branch; that euery one beholding it, vvho knovves your excellent Dotes, and Facul­ties in this kind, may make more fauourable reflections on the Worke.

I forbeare to alleadge many Motiues, (as the manner is) vvhich I had for this dedi­cation: It is inough, that your UUorth and Merit claymes it as due: This the Tuscan Genius secondes; Maffaeus himselfe re­quests; my Obligations vrge; and Necessity importunes. Your free and Generous assent onely remaines. To obtaine vvhich, I ap­peale to your Noble Disposition, and Good­nesse, apt to communicate it selfe.

And therefore to go about to extort this Fauour, vvere iniurious to your Bounty, [Page] vvhich flovves like a Torrent; and ouer­flovving al obstacles that might deterre me, makes the passage cleare. So that I, vievving the BROOKE, like NARCISSVS (though I savv nothing before, but my Unvvorthy­nesse) behold my selfe, as you haue ena­bled, and encouraged me, resolute to pu­blish these my small Labours.

Vouchsafe then (SYR) to shrovvd them vnder the Laurell of your Protection: Whereby you shall patronize Holy, and Glorious CONFESSOVRS, and oblige Me further, to be

Your most deuoted to commaund. H. H.

THE AVTHOVR TO THE PIOVS READER.

IN things vvhich at first sight are vvont to bee considered in any VVorke vvhatsoeuer, it seemes the Intention of the Authour, and Trace, or Method are the principall. VVhence I, to giue a breife accompt of eyther, say first;

My End in this vvorke to haue been, to make a choyce of Liues, not led so much in So­litude, as in Community; and of Examples also, not so miraculous, or stupendious, as vertuous, and (vvith diuine Grace) not vneasy to bee [Page] imitated.

Next, in the manner of proceeding I haue taken lycence to cut of al superfluityes, to reduce scattered Narrations to the order of Tymes, or Kinds; and finally to modify those passages, vvhich transferring the thoughts to things dis­honest or hurtfull (as somtymes it happens) the chaster Eares, or more delicate Consciences, in some manner, come to be offended: But yet is all endeauoured in such sort, as the substance and truth of the Historyes remayne (vvhat possible) entire, sincere, and vncorrupted.

Such in summe, my designe in this present vvriting hath beene: VVhich if, in so great an infinity of Bookes, it proue not to be super­fluous or vnprofitable; the vvhole Glory therof shall be ovving to our Lord: And vvhen the Effect likevvise, shall not ansvvere the De­sire, at least the Good-Will, I trust, shall be had in reguard.

THE TRANSLATOVR TO THE ENGLISH READER.

COVRTEOVS READER,

Behold I put Maffaeus into your Hands, no lesse Serious, then De­lightfull, Pious then Elegant, Simple then Admirable; whose Pleasure yet takes not away the Grauity, whose Quaintnesse the Piety, nor In­dustry the Simplicity; as being Graue without Seue­rity, Fluent without Superfluity, Terse without Affectation, and full of the Ornament he shuns.

And I present him to YOV, thus clad, and [Page] reuested in our English VVee [...]es, that he might now walke as familiar amongst VS, as in his na­tiue Vulgar he hath done: As properly Ours, as Theirs from whence he came. Since, besides that Examples and Liues of SAINTS are vniuersall, and cōmon to the whole Church, some of these are found to be of our Nation.

Wherein I suppose, that such as are acquain­ted with the Genius of his neater stile, will rather challenge me for attempting it at all; then won­der I should fall so short, if they but consider how hard it is, to frame a perfect Copy, of so rare and genuine a Prototype.

Yet take it, Gentle Reader, as it is, from him, who holds it a lesse ill the while to blush therat, then the glory of such SAINTS should be vn­knowne amongst VS.

THE PREFACE TO THE ENSVING TREATISE Of the Holy Hatred of the VVorld.

MAN is a Spheare, his Soule th' Intelligence;
Grace is the Sun that sends his light from hence:
Vertues the Starres, that glistring deck this frame
And with their rayes giue lustre to the same;
Whose Lights still fixt, which like th' immortall sourse
Maintaine a constant gyre, a settled course.
The Worlds Contempt, Canopus like, doth keepe
The highest point, most seuered from the deepe
And earthly Center: T'is the Starre that brought
The Easterne Sages to the Light they sought;
Which through the Heau'ns as it his course did run,
Aurora-like forshewd the following Sunne.
T'is that, which did th' Isaacian squadrons garde,
And to the promis'd Land their way prepar'd;
And while we floate vpon these daungerous waues,
The Cynosura that vs wandring saues.
Within the Land, which that mysterious floud
Fattens with his blacke slime, and fruitfull mud,
The Crocodile (Niles Pirate) euer striues
Of their delicious combes to spoile the hiues:
This to effect, he takes a thousand guiles,
And summons all his slights, and all his wiles.
But vse is made of that Antipathie
That is betweene the Saffron-floure, and hee;
Which planted round doth giue assur'd redresse,
And counter-mands his lust, and greedinesse.
This Crocodile, is mans inueterate Foe,
Th' Apostate Prince of darknesse, that doth goe
Euer about to spoile th'increase of Grace,
And in our souls Gods Image to deface.
Sensuall Delights, Pleasures, Desires to be
Great in the World, the Philters are that he
Doth vse in this designe. The Worlds Disdaine
The Moly is, that saues our soules from baine;
The Saffron-floure, that driues his force away,
And guards vs safe, that els might be his pray.
For if the Eye, cleare and vnblemished,
Void of all preiudice, accustomed
In their owne colours obiects to descry,
To know Appearance from pure Verity,
Would take a right suruey of what's below,
The Spheare and Center of true Blisse to know;
And not (as those Astronomers, who take
Great heights by Instruments vnequall) make
Vnpardonable errors: So the Sense
Fore-taken, blinding the Intelligence
(Void of proportion) should presume to raigne
A Handmaid o're the Mistresse; or to gaine
So great preheminence, as Iudge to be
[Page] Of perfect Blisse, or true Felicitie:
Then as in Landskipp's, where we thinke appeare
Disioyned farre parts that indeed are neare,
Little things great: Or as that hellish art
By altering the Medium, doth impart
Chimera's to the Senses, and doth make
Th'astonisht Powers for Truth Impostures take:
We should discerne the glossed Alchimy
Of our allurements, and the vanity
Of worldly pleasures; and vndoubting know
Our ioyes are dreames, how euer faire in show.
Wee are but In-mates heere, and entertain'd
As if no Denizens, or rather chayn'd
In golden fetters; When first Life began,
A darkesome prison clos'd vp wretched man:
Whence if we rightly come, we fall vpon
An ominous precipitation.
So witty's ruine, so importunate
Vpon mankind; so seemeth angry Fate
To enuy vs the least conceipt of ioy,
As all things doe conspire to our annoy.
The Elements, that so much disagree,
Band against vs, their common Enemie:
Yea, that which, void of substance, Essence takes
From that first motion which all motions makes,
Time, measure of our ioyes, is tedious growne,
And not by pleasures, but afflictions knowne;
Whome Tyrant-like we would deceiue, and bend
(Only to shun, what least we wish) to end:
Yet, as if Sorrowes we might not enioy,
Or as the Fates did enuy our annoy,
So as they would not grant vs Time for woe,
Our Time's contracted, as Tymes larger grow;
[Page] And their increase doth hasten to their waine,
Hopelesse to bring them to their spring againe.
For in the worlds first infancy, when man
Aequall wellnigh vnto the Spheares, began
His being, then was absolute, and he
Enfranchized to Immortality:
But forfaiting this state, though Death could claime
And challenge part in him; yet the strong fraime,
And firme connexion of his parts, did cause
A lasting vnion, and a during pause.
Th'immortall Starres, and Man then seemd to striue,
Ioint-tennants to the world, who should suruiue.
Now Time, hath Time abridg'd, our Life's a breath
Which scarcely drawne, is stopped straight by death.
The world's in a Consumption, not as then
We seeme mankind, nor the same sonnes of men;
And seiz'd as with an Hecticke, seemes to dance
His sickly motions, led with discordance.
Behold how those, which as they moue, do giue
By sympathie, to moue, to breath, to liue:
The golden Spheares are in their motions chang'd,
And from their former courses seeme estrang'd.
The liuely Spring, the Summer we behold
Like those weake children, who are borne of old
And sap-lesse Parents, quite degenerate,
Void of their ancient strength, their vigorous state.
In vaine we seeke the stations of the Sun,
And falsely thinke the wandring Planets run
Their wonted courses: Southward still they flye
And leaue our Clime stain'd with Impietie.
So when our Proto-martyrs Holy gore,
Guiltlesse it self, made guiltie Verlam's shore,
The siluer Thames recall'd his ancient floud,
And left the soile distain'd with sacred bloud.
Distracted Nature, seemeth to haue lost
Coherence, with a thousand Monsters crost,
A thousand Prodigies; Proportion's gone,
Strength is decay'd, lost is Connexion.
Sometimes strang Starres affright th'amazed skie,
The ayre oft thunders, it not knowing why.
More strange Coniunctions do the Heau'ns infest,
And bloudy Comets rayse a worser crest.
Winter yields Flowers, the lusty Ramme that bore,
Through the salt-waues, young Phryxus to the shore
The barren Earth oft ceaseth to supply,
And leaues to yield his wonted fragrancie.
Summer is bare: The Dogge whome heat did vex,
With moisture oftner doth the world perplexe.
The furious Winds are fiercer growne; and more,
The thundring billowes rend the conquered shore:
As when our Ile, from Belgia's fore-land rent,
Did yield her selfe to that proud Element.
So when the Chariot of the golden Sun
By the first cradle of the world did run;
In wandring from its path, did often stray,
And ignorant did leaue th'vntracked way:
Or with its proper weight deprest, did take
A doubtfull course, and different times did make
Confusedly the same; when Heate did cloy
The Thracian shafts, and Cold the Dogge annoy.
Strange signes are these, yet more then these, doth rage
Feare in our Harts that nothing can asswage;
Mis-giuing minds foretell our ills, and show
Th'vnsure condition of the world below,
Whose Loue is sourse of all these feares. Then kill
And sacrifice the Cause of all this ill;
[Page] This offring shall thee expiate, and giue
By death deseru'd, deserued power to liue.
O would our Soules vpon themselues reflect,
And search from whence Content they might expect;
Which mindfull of their birth, do scorne to flye
At other marke then faire Eternity!
Then should wee see, how like the Towring Fyre
They would to Heau'n their home, their Spheare, aspire
Which only is their Center. Heere below
Hope sailes with Feare, and Ioyes with Sorrowes flow;
No true content is had. A tottring sand
That fleeting yields, and leaues not where to stand
Is our short life. Our pleasures, like the gold
The Alchymist produceth, to behold
Beauteous inough, but by the powerfull flame
Straight turn'd to smoke, or matter whence it came.
Our Ioyes are dy'de with Oaker, euery showre
Defaceth their false Lustre. Honours, Power,
Are only vapours, which the growing day
Or hoater Sun dissolues, and driues away.
Beauty's vnperfect, like that plenteous fry
Halfe flesh, halfe mud, that on Niles bancks doth lye.
Riches a crazed Ship, vnsure defence
In need to those that there put confidence.
Our Knowledge skilfull Ignorance; and Art
The plague Prometheus did to man impart
By his stolne fire, that makes ou [...] soules to fry
With feauers of fond Curiositie.
All vnder Heau'n is vaine: Wealth, Dignitie,
Knowledge, and Beauty, Principalitie,
Are distant from the Spheare where Ioy doth moue;
Rest d wells below them, Happinesse aboue.
Then giue a little time, and see how heere
[Page] These Heròes scorning what the world holds deere,
Did make a way to Immortality,
And by Contempt attain'd Felicity.
Heere shall you see no sumptuous Houses fraught
With Banquets, or with Viands dearely bought;
No costly Beds shining with Tyrian dye,
No Iewell faing'd for glistering brauerye,
No roomes replete with Musickes charming sound,
No Followers with eyes fixt on the ground:
But Woods and naked Rocks, and thereupon
Horrour express't. Heere base Refection;
Small time to sleep allotted; Bodyes clad
In basest rayment; Men in penance glad,
Delighted in their paynes, whome Life did tyre,
Whose Hope was Heau'n, and Death their cheif Desire.
But yet no cruell Furies do perplexe
Their quiet rest; no pining Cares do vexe
Or trouble their Content; nor Enuy clad
In faire appearance, euer made them sad.
True Rest, great Ioyes in their small Cells reside,
And perfect smiles from spotlesse hearts do glide;
Whose soules remembring whence they came, contayne
Themselues and Heau'n, and striue it to regayne.
Then loose thy selfe with these, with these to winne
That Heritage, which thou hast lost by Sinne.

THE TABLE OF THE LIVES.

  • S. Malachy, Bishop of Conner then in Ireland. pag. 1.
  • S. Antony Abbot, & Ermite in Aegypt. pag. 64.
  • S. Pachomius Abbot in Thebais of Aegypt. pag. 121.
  • S. Martin Bishop of Towers in France. pag. 155.
  • S. Fulgentius Bishop of Ru [...]pa in Africke. pag. 193.
  • S. Theodosius Abbot of Magariassa in Cappadocia. pag. 217.
  • S. Benet Abbot, & Father of all Monkes in the West. pag. 235.
  • S. Stephen the first King of Hungary. pag. 259.
  • S. Edward Confessour, King of England. pag. 287.
  • S. Anselme Bishop of Canterbury. pag. 308.
  • S. Otho Bishop of Bamberge in Germany. pag. 169.
  • S. Bernard Abbot of Clareuall in France. pag. 187.
  • S. Hugh Bishop of Lincolne. pag. 155.
  • S. Antony of Padua. pag. 282.
  • S. Thomas of Aquine, the Angelicall Doctour. pag. 316.
  • B. Andrew Bishop of Fesula in Italy. pag. 344.
  • B. Laurence Iustinian first Patriarch of Venice. pag. 361.

S. MALACHY.
THE ARGVMENT.

BOrne in the Land, surrounded with the mayne
Of the Vergiuian deepe, S. MALACHY
Appeares, and shewes vnpolisht shells containe
Pearles often fraught with richest brauery.
We honour by our deeds, not Countries gaine,
And do our selues infect, vnstaynd thereby,
And learne to note, how ere we rise or fall,
We, and our Soiles are not reciprocall.
See how in tender yeares the world he leaues,
And from his childhood beares th'appointed crosse:
Try'de with affliction, nothing Grace bereaues,
No paynes are hard, no worldly domage losse;
No false allurements mooue, no fraud deceyues
Him of his hopes, no Vanity doth tosse
His constant soule, nor from his Hauen driue;
Where we, if like, shall like to him arriue.

THE LIFE OF S. MALACHY BISHOP OF IRELAND,

Of his Birth, Minority, and the first Flower of his Youth. Chap. I.

SAINT MALACHY, borne in Hybernia, or as we call it, Ireland, in the Citty of Ardmach, was there through the particular fauour of the Diuine Clemency, bred and brought vp in such sort, as from the Natiue Barbarisme of the pla­ce, he drew no more then Fishes do from the brackish Seas. Whence it comes to be a thing most delightfull, that so vnciuill and rude a Nation, should seeme to yield vs a person of so gentle behauiour, & celestiall manners. He who deriues the hony from Stones, & fetches oyle from the hardest Rockes, hath moreouer wrought this [...]. True it is, the Pa­rents of S. Malachy were both of noble Bloud, and of high Degree; and the Mother no lesse generous of Mynd then Lineage, was ve­ry solicitous to shew to the Child, as yet tender, the true way of [Page 3] Saluation, making a great deale more reckoning thereof, then of the swelling Literature o [...] the world, and yet wanted not the Child a good towardnes for eyther of both professions. In schoole he lear­ned the Grāmer, at home the feare of God; & continually through his profit, did satisfy both Mother and Mayster. Which thing should not seeme to others to be any whit vntrue; he hauing through espe­ciall fauour from heauen, the lot to haue so good a Soule, which made him as well docible, as strangely amiable and gracious.

From Mothers breast, insteed of milke, he sucked the waters of wisedome, and day by day, became more wise. More wise, shall we say, or more Holy? If I say, both the one and other, I should not much repent me, because I should haue sayd but truth. For manners he was graue, a child indeed yeares, but voyd of childish sportfullnes: and howbeit, held in veneration and admiration of all, yet became he not thereby, as generally others do haughty or insolent, but rather quiet and submisse with all meckenes. He was not impatient of go­uernment; not stubborne to discipline; not dull for studies; and fi­nally not delighted with games, the proper and general affect of that age: so as in learning, which was competent for him, he out-stript all his equalls of the same age▪ but in Goodnes of life and purchase of vertues, he excelled as many, as taught him; and that not only through the industry of his Mother, but euen also by the Vnction of the spirit; wherwith being interiourly solicited & pushed on, he was neuer backward in diuine Exercises; as to retire himselfe in solitude; to meditate the holy law of Christ; to make o [...]en prayer; to be tem­perate in dyer; to vanquish sleep. And wheras from publique fre­quenting of Churches he was partly hindred through schoole, and partly kept backe through a certayne respectfull modesty; yet for­bare he not the lesse, to lift vp his Mynd to the supernall Father, & to adore him euen likewise with exteriour gestures, wheresoeuer in secret he could find occasion there vnto: being at such tymes very cautious and circumspect to eschew vayne glory, the most certaine poyson of vertues.

There lyes not farre off from Ardmach, a village whither his Mai­ster went often to walke, without other company, the this beloued Disciple. Now therfore on a tyme, while they were walking both together, Malachy obseruing the Maister in a deep study with himself, making a step (as he related afterwards) remayned somewhat be­hind, and on the suddayne lifting vp his innocent hands from the [Page 4] how of his [...] euer bent▪ [...] forth enflamed Iaculatoryes to the Starrs; & for not to be discouered, very [...]lyly would he be putting himselfe agayne somewhat handsomely on the way: and with so pious a theft, would the blessed youth from tyme to tyme be decei­uing his Guide. It boots not heere to relate all the acts, which made his greener yeares very illustrious and admirable. My penne makes [...]hast to much greater things. And yet neuerthelesse will I not seeme to let passe this one thing by the way, which in that tēdernes of his, gaue matter, not only of a good, but of a soueraigne hope.

Being now arriued at last somwhat towards the end of the first arts, and thirsting after the grauer Sciences, being moued through the fame of a learned Doctour, he went his wayes with great dili­gence; though somewhat farre off, to be acquainted with him. But finding him at his entring into the howse very busy, scoring of the wall very impertinently with an awle, being disgusted with such a leuity, and immediately pulling backe his foote from thence, he had no list to re [...]te him any more; so much (howbeit neuer so greedy of Learning he were) he preferred honesty before knowledge. In this sort then, he passed ouer his childish yeares, and yet in Youth re­teyned he still, as it were, the same tenour of candour & purity; sau [...] only that together with yeares, did Wisedome and grace, both with God and men alike increase in him: with this besides, that continu­ally there beganne more high and sage reflections, and discourses to awake in his breast. For that the prudent youth beholding on the one side the malignity of the world, and on the other the quality of the Spirit which swayed within his mind; came more thē once to speake within himselfe in this sort.

My spirit is no whit secular; for what hath it to do therewith, since there is no more resemblance betweene them, then betweene night and day? Mine seemes, to proceed from God, nor am I igno­rant of the gifts, which he hath vouchsafed me. From him, do I ac­knowledge the stole of innocency I enioy, with the flower of con­tinency in me preserued hitherto. From him, that glory of myne so much securer, as it is more secret, consisting wholy in the testimo­ny of the proper conscience. None of all which possessions can a­bide without much daūger vnder the Prince of this naughty world. Besides, I go carrying so great a treasure in an earthen vessell, and there is good reason to feare, least it come to take a knock, and be brokē, & the Oyle of gladnes within be vnhappily spilt. And how [Page 5] is it possible not to take a knock among so many stones, & amidst so many rocks of this way, & life so full of turnings, windings, & rubs? And shall I seeme in a moment to be loosing of all these blessings of holy sweetenes, wherewith the Eternall Goodnes from the begin­ning hath preuented me? Rather I resolue to secure the same in the hand of him, who hath giuen it me, & my selfe likewise therewith; since also I am his, I will temporally loose my life for not to loose it eternally. And where may the same with my being, & all what I am, be in more safety, then in the right hand of the giuer? For who is more wary then he in keeping? who more potent in deffending, and more faythfull in restoring? He will keepe it safely; he wil re­store it in his tyme. I shal not loose a iot of whatsoeuer I shall seeme to distribute in workes of piety. Perhaps moreouer, I may looke for a good returne. This magnificent Bancher, is wont to redouble with vsury, the things which he hath giuen of courtesy. Such were the thoughts of S. Malachy, and he really went about to execute the same, as knowing most cleerely, that good wils without good effects [...]re of litle, or no profit.

How S. Malachy submits himselfe to the discipline of Imarius, and [...] first. made Deacon, and then Priest. Chap. 2.

THERE was a holy man in Ardmach, Imarius by name, of a very austere life, and a most implacable chastiser of his proper flesh; he dwelt reclused in a Cell, neere the great Church, in perfor­ming there very hard penaūce with continual prayer. To this man went S. Malachy to be instructed, and guided in a spirituall life, by him, though lyuing, yet voluntarily condemned to the graue. And though from a Child (as we said) he had God himselfe for Maister in the art of louing God, yet now more ancient, as a rude disciple, would he needs submit himselfe to the rule of a man. Heere now let those note well this point, who vndertake to teach the same which they haue not learned, and go gathering and multiplying Scholers without euer hauing been at schoole; blind guiders of the blind. And if S. Malachyes example suffice them not, yet let them marke what the Apostle S. Paul practised. For had not he, trow you receiued the Ghospell from Christ himselfe? And yet thought he it not amisse to cōmunicate the same with men, least his way & labors might prooue otherwise in vaine. Where S. Paul holds not himself secure▪ do I hold [Page 6] me lesse. And let him who vnderstands it otherwise, beware his se­curity proue not presumption.

But returne we now to the fact of S. Malachy, whose fame be­ing incontinently spread, all were astonished at such a nouelty; but yet all not discoursed alike thereof. Many through humane affect▪ were bitterly sory, that [...]o delicate [...] a youth, and or so good dispositiō should so of his owne choyce be obliged to so great sharpnes & au­sterity. Others attributing the fame to ficklenes and youthfull he [...] disdaynefully blamed him, for putting himselfe vpōan enterprize, so farre beyond his forces. But they wrongfully layd the blame v­pon him, while he could not be culpable of temerity, who so adhe­red to the counsayle of the Prophet, saying: It is good for him, th [...] shall carry the yoke, from his youth. But such an act in S. Malachy seemed so strait a way, as had not been seene to be trod by others steps; nor vntill that tyme, had any Student of the same Academy euer entred in. So as he was faygne to be exercised a good while with­out a fellow of anyranke, sitting in silence and submission, all the while at the feete of Imarius, and refining his vnderstanding & will with entire Obedience, with perpetnall mortification, and with al those industries and arts, which easily conduct a soule, that is both feruent and meeke, to the top of Euangelicall perfection. It was not long neuertheles, that others being enflamed through his example, began to giue themselues to the selfe same Discipline they seemed to abhor so much the other day: In so much as where he was soli­tary at first, and the only sōne of his Father, very soone he came to be the eldest of many Brothers; but as he was more ancient in Cō ­uersation, so was he more sublime in Contēplation. Whence he see­med to the Archbishop Celsus, as likewise to Imarius, who by this tyme knew him well, to be worthy of Sacred Deaconship, & so they ordayned him.

From that tyme this new Leuit, seemed to buckle himselfe pu­bliquely to all the workes of piety, but especially to those which are ordinarily held in most contempt with others. And with particular diligence would he attend to the Funerals & Exequies of the Poore decea [...]ed, whiles this Office to him seemed to be of no lesse humili­ty, then humanity. And therin our Toby had the temptation of a wi­cked woman, or rather of the ancient Serpent, by her meanes, be­cause a Sister of his▪ esteeming it a dishonour to her, that he should imploy himselfe in such affayres. What dost thou (would she say) [Page 7] thou foole as thou art? Let the dead go, and bury their dead. And with such sayings▪ would she neuer c [...]se to molest him▪ euery day. But the foolish woman had her answere giuen her, very apt ther­unto; O wretch, you seeme to know well▪ the Syllables of the sa­cred Sentence, but not awhit the sense therof. And so in this sort would he be cheerefully pursuing that Exercise, so gratefull to the eyes of the Diuine Goodnes. And for his perseuerance therein, his▪ Superiours holding him moreouer to be worthy, of Priesthood, with­out delay promoted him there to, notwithstanding all the resistance which he could make. S. Malachy▪ was found at that tyme, to be 25▪ yeares of age. In which two Ordinations, if the Decree of the Ca­ [...]ns were not strictly obserued, which prescribes the 25. to the one. & the 30. yeare to the other, it may well be imputed, both to the zeale of the Ordaynant, and merits of the Ordayned. True it is, that as such anticipation of tyme in so eminent a subiect, is no way reprehensible; so for my part I would not seeme to counsaile the same to any other quality of persons. But yet the same was not though to the iudicious Archbishop, who made him moreouer his▪ Vicat in the preaching of the diuine Word, and in the Careohisme of that rude and sauage people. Nor was S. Malachy [...] of his [...]a­uayle, but rather with feruour, accepted the same, as not willing [...] couer▪ the talents▪ he had, but to negotiate with them, according to the will of the Highest.

Thelabours and trauels of S. Malachy in his functions, and how he goeth to Ma [...]i Bi [...]op of Lesmo [...] Chap. 3.

BEhold how S. Malachy anon, with his mystical tooles, p [...]ts him­selfe▪ to del [...] vp stumps to breake vp lands▪ to tread out path­ [...]aies, to louell banks, & with a Gyants hart to be a [...]hād, now heere now there. He seemed to be a flame amidst the Forrests, & a hooke among naughty plants. In lie [...] of barbarous, customes, he inserts Ecclesiasticall rites. All ranke superstitious (which were not few) all diabolicall charmes, & finally whatsoeuer heeretofore he iudged to [...] disordinate, indecent▪ or out of square, endured not long in his fight, but as fruite with the hayle, or as dust with winds. So before the face of this holy Reformer, abuses and vices were quite defeated or dispersed. But as on euery▪ side he endeauoured to set down Lawes & Rules full of iustice and honesty, yet laboured he still with par­ticular care to incroduce the Apostolicall Constitutions, the appro­ued [Page 8] Councells, and aboue all the Traditions and Obseruances of the holy Roman Church. And hence it grew, that whereas at first, no [...] so much as in the principall Cittyes of Ireland, were Diuine Offices celebrated with solemne harmony; now, not only in Cittyes, but in Townes and Villages also, were sung the Masses, and Canonicall howers, no lesse then in the rest of Christianity. Wherto it helped not a little, that S. Malachy from a youth had attended to his part in Musique. But that which more imports, he renewed the vse of the Sacraments, and in particular of Confession, Confirmation, and of Matri­mony, things that eyther out of malice, or ignorance, had bene heere­tofore as it were, wholy forgotten, and dismissed.

Amidst these labours and trauailes, and many others, which for breuity sake are letpasse; we may belieue for certayne, this Seruant of Christ, had receiued great gusts and consolations from heauen: and yet neuerthelesse, being as he was of a most delicate Conscience, & thinking very lowly of himselfe, & for that to him it seemed he had neyther practice nor Learning sufficient for so high employments; those same delights came to be much watered, with a continuall seare which he had, least through his imprudence any opinions or customes might be introduced in some points discordant to the Cu­stome of Catholique Institutes. So as, to get out of these anxietyes, for his better instruction, he was resolued, with the approbation of the Prelats, to transferre himselfe for a tyme to Malcus Bishop of Les­mor, being a famous Citty of Momonia, in the Southerne part of Ireland. Which Malcus, being now surcharged with yeares, as well for profoundnes of wisedome, as for singular sanctity of life, & like­wise for the gift of Myracles which he had; was held in those Regi­ons, as an Oracle of Truth, and a common refuge of the afficted. S. Malachy being courteously receiued by this good oldman, while he carefully ministers to him, and likewise with diligence goes on obseruing the things appertayning to diuine Seruice, & to the cure of Soules, through an vnlook't for accident, was a noble field laid open to him to exercise Charity.

How Cormacus King of Momonia repayres to Malcus; and being put out of his Kingdome, is by friendly saccours restored againe. Chap. 4.

IRELAND in those tymes (as it likewise ought to be at this present) was deuided into certayne little kingdomes, and by [Page 9] consequence subiect to warres, seditions, and tumults. Now there being a great discord risen betweene Cormacus King of Momonia, & a wicked brother of his; the King being vanquished in battayle, and thurst out of his seate, made his recourse in persō to the Bishop Mal­cus, to be succoured by him; not for recouering his scepter, but rather to saue his soule, as being timourous of him, who takes away the spirit of Princes, & as very much alienated from sheding of Chri­stian bloud for temporall interests. At the newes of such a Ghest, did Malcus make preparation to receiue him with due honour: but he would not consent thereto, affirming his intention was to liue with him in a priuate and quiet manner; and laying aside all memory of royall pompes, to betake himselfe to the discipline, and fare of the other Canonists. Malcus, at such a resolution by how much more asto­nished, accepting the offer of a contrite hart, assigned to the King a little howse to lodge in, S. Malachy for his Maister, with bread and water for his sustenance. Nor did the Prince himselfe desire hence forth any cheere or delicates; remayning in a place of all other swee­tenes most satisfied with the incorruptible gusts and celestial viāds ministred him by S. Malachy. Through which, notwithstanding remayning more mollifyed, he rightly bewayled his sinnes, and ex­tinguished the incentiues of the flesh, with baths of the coldest wa­ter, with Dauid, crying to our Lord: Behold my [...]asenes and my misery, & pardon me all my offences. Nor were the Soueraigne Iudges eares found deafe to such a prayer; but rather heard he the supplication made, not only in the sense he vttered it, wholy spirituall and internall; but euen like wise (conformable to his infinite Goodnes) in the ma­teriall and extrin [...]ecall. And as he reserues not all sentences to the Tribunall there, he was pleased to succour likewise in this life, the de­pressed innocency of Cormacus, by exciting the spirit of a certayne King neere vnto Momonia into so great an indignation for the iniu­stice offered, as that cōming in post to the Cell of the poore Peni­tent, he laboured to encourage him to a generous returne, in setting the goodnes of the cause before him, the perfidiousnes of the Rebels, the fauourable right hand of the Highest; & this, for the more efficacy with feruent exhortations, mingled with large promises. With en­gines thus addressed, he sought to stirre vp & prouoke that afflicted Prince, but perceiuing the obiects of Soueraignity, and motiues of selfe-loue, were not of force inough to preuayle with him, he turned himselfe with dexterity, to those of Christian piety, and the publi­que [Page 10] weales most liuely representing to him the miserable oppressiō of his subiects the insolencies and iniuryes of the intruding Tyrant, and the obligation which a lawfull and naturall Lord hath to deli­uer, to his power, his vassals from so great afflictions and miseryes. In which point the friendly King dilated himselfe with greater vehe­mency then before, as hoping sure with such a battery at last to make the mynd of Cormacus to render vp its hold.

But finding him to be firme notwithstanding all this, in his de­terminatiō, & more fixed then euer; at last, as to a sacred Anker, he made his repayre to Malcus the Bishop, and to S. Malachy: who both being voluntarily enclined therto, as to be the greater glory of God, without much difficulty was he won to their opinion. In such sort as Cormacus enforced through the authority and commaund of both the one and other, did finally accept the humanity & prompt­nes of his Neighbour, and with his ayde, and much more through his presence Who can do all, the impious and wicked Intruder was put to flight, and he not without the infinite ioy of the people, was installed agayne into his Royall throne; and from that tyme euer af­ter did he loue and respect S. Malachy. Who after he had for some tyme, not without notable emprouement, enioyed the familiarity and discourses of Malcus, being by Letters and Messages recalled by Celsus, and Imarius. (who could no longer endure his absence) he accordingly made his returne backe into his Countrey.

How S. Malachy had a vision, and deliuers his sisters soule from Purgatory: with the noble resolution of his Vncle, in surrending vp an Abbay to S. Ma­lachy. Chap. 5.

IN the meane tyme his Sister was departed this life, of whome we made some mention aboue. Concerning her, it behooues vs not to passe ouer in silence a Vision, which the Man of God had. Because that although while she liued in flesh, he abhorred her be­hauiour, in such sort, as that after some yeares, he made a vow not to see her any more: yet now she being quit of body, he himselfe remayned discharged of the vow: and beganne to reuisit her in spi­rit, whome he had no will to see euer any more aliue. For so much as on a night, it seemed to him in sleepe, that he was aduertised by a Man in hast, that his Sister attended without, in the Church yard in a browne habit, without hauing tasted any thing for these thirty [Page 11] dayes together. At which voyce, now S. Malachy being a waked, he presently vnderstood, what manner of famine tormented her: and exactly casting vp the tyme, he found it had been iust thirty dayes, since he had said Masse for her. And in regard the Seruant of Christ loued the soule, as much as he hated the imperfections of his Sister, without delay he returned to his suffrages so intermitted. Nor was it long ere the dead Woman appeared to him, vpon the thre shall of the Church (but yet bard from entring in) and apprelled in black. But her Brother perseuering still in assisting her without euer omit­ting any morning, wherein some Sacrifice was not offered vp for her, he espyed her very soon in a grayish gowne, within the Church indeed, but not admitted as yet to the Aultar. In summe, he ceased not to celebrate for such intention, vntill finally she appeared to him, not only within the Church, but euen likewise neare to the Aultar in a white garment, amidst a most happy troupe of blessed Spirits, who in like manner hauing now finished the purgatiue paynes, were noted with the same candour. Whence cleerely appe­ares, how great is the valew and force of the Sacr [...]d Masse, to the can­celling of sinnes, to vanquish the aduerse powers, and to lead into Heauen, the Creatures taken out of the earth, and mire, or rather from the mouth of Hell it selfe. S. Malachy tooke exceeding content­ment at so certayne a Deliuery of his Sister, and felt no lesse ioy in himselfe for the pious and magnanimous resolution of an Vncle of his. The which, to the end it may the better be vnderstoood, & pō ­dered, this it was.

We must vnderstand, that in a place of those parts, called Benchor, was anciently founded a Monastery, by a certayne holy Abbot, called Congellus, with so prosperous increase, as well of meanes, as of subiects, as that from thence, as from a fruitefull Metropolis were sent, as it were, infinite Colonies into diuers regions. And it is a constant rumour, that one child only of that Blessed Congregation, called Siluanus, had planted alone in diuers countryes, full a hun­dred Conuents. From thence came also S. Columbanus into France, and after into Italy, and among other Monasteryes erected that of Laxonium, so numerous, and frequent, as that the Quires succeeding by turnes, there was no intermission had from diuine Offices, per­petually night, or day. But that of Benchor, as the origin and foū ­tayne of all, retayned the chiefe dignity, vntill such tyme, as through the fury of the outragious Free-booters, it was wholy de­stroyed, [Page 12] yet withall enriched with a great number of venerable Reliques [...] since, besids so many other bodyes of Religious Men, who there reposed in peace, there were by the same Free-booters, in one day only, marryred and slayne nyne hundred. With so cruell a de­struction, that most noble Seminary though quite extinct, yet the inhabitants notwithstanding, ceased not successiuely, to create by a certayne forme, a Secular Abbot, who without any thought of Religion, attended only to the gathering vp of rents, and conuer­ting them sacrilegiously to his proper vses.

In this tyme now, S. Malachy had an Vncle (of whome we spake before) who had this rich Abbay in his hands: who eyther prickt with a Synderisis, or sting of conscience, or moued with the Ex­amples and Exhortations of his wise Nephew, determined while he had space for holesome pennance, not only to quit his hands of such administration, but to renounce the world outright, and to apply that huge benefice, together with his person to diuine wor­ship, and to the institutes of S. Malachy; who notwithstanding he were vnder the direction of Imarius had now begunne to haue ma­ny imitatours and followers. The man of God being glad of such a Vocation, did voluntarily accept of the care of his Vncle, and the plot, for some restauration of the building. But as one tenacious of the pouerty of Christ, would by no meanes admit of the possessi­ons, suffering the people to depute another to such affayres. The which afterwards (as we shall see in its place) repayed the benefi­cence of the diuine man, with abominable ingratitude. The renun­tiation being made in this sort, and the possession taken of the holy place, S. Malachy by commission of Imarius went thither with ten brothers, and some Carpenters, and immediately put himselfe to worke. Nor was it long, ere that, in approbation as it were of the enterprize, there happened vpon the fact, a notable wonder.

S. Malachy workes a miracle, and is made Rectour of the forsayd Abbay: with one, or two miracles besids. Chap. 6.

ON a day S. Malachy, for the encouragement of others, was la­bouring with his proper hands, & with great diligence hew­ing of certayne tymber. Now while he stood with the axe suspen­ded in the ayre, as ready to giue the stroke; behold one of the wor­kemen, improuidently putting himselfe betweene the arme of S. [Page 13] Malachy, and the axe, receyued the whole blow vpon the very ridge of the backe, which should haue fallen plumpe vpon the designed [...]biect, whē presently, being depriued of his senses, he fell downe [...]r dead. At the sight whereof euery one came running in with pit­ [...]full cryes. The wound was searched, and the shirt was found to [...] slit from the collar to the reynes, but the flesh wholy entire, and [...]ot hurt, except, that only the vpper skinne was only touched so li­ghtly, as the marke thereof could hardly be discerned; so as the la­bourer arose suddaynely very ioyfull and lusty, with so much the more gladnes of the standers by, as more probably it hence was cō ­ [...]uded, that their trauayles and paynes, as we sayd, were gratefull and acceptable to the Diuine Goodnes. Whereupon with fresh vi­gour they set thēselues to worke agayne. So as in few dayes was the Pratory finished with polished timber, & firme couplings, a worke [...]or those swaynes and people, very gracious. And this was the be­ginning of the miracles of S. Malachy; & from that tyme began they to attend afresh to diuine Offices with like piety, though not with equall number of persons.

There S. Malachy himselfe was Rectour a good while, through commaundent of Imarius. Who as he was of degree aboue others, so likewise in his deportments was he a liuing Rule, & bright glasse, and as a booke layd open to those Clerks, for as much as in all his proceedings, there were true precepts of Religious cōuersation to be read. And he not only, in cōmon obseruance, seemed to go alwaies before that little flocke, in sanctity & iustice in the sight of God; but would moreouer be doing particuler pennances, and other acts of Perfection, which no man was able to equall. Which things the common Aduersary, not being able to brooke, put into the hart of a familiar friend there about, lying sick, (whose name was Malcus) that S. Malachy cōming in to him, as he was wont to visit him, he should suddaynely with a knife giue him his death. The good Father, being aware therof, (the sick man not being able to keep it in silence) be­taking himselfe to the armes of prayer did notwithstanding freely present himselfe before him, and with the Signe of the Crosse, on a sudden banished the malady frō his body, & the diabolicall thought from his mynd. This man was the naturall brother of Christianus, [...]bbot of Mellifont. He was conuerted to our Lord vpon so great a be­nefit, and with the habit tooke vpon him new behauiour: & at this day do both liue a great deale more vnited in spirit then bloud.

[Page 14] In the selfe same place he restored to health, a certayne Cle­arke, named Michael, afflicted with a most grieuous dissentery, and despaired of Phisitiās, with the only sending him frō his table a litle of his portion. This Michael fell afterwards into another dangerous malady, and the seruant of Christ cured him anone, not only in his limmes, but in his mind also; & he in like manner for feare of worse did enter into Religion, and is now (as I vnderstand) abiding in Scotland, Superiour of the Monastery, which S. Malachy foūded lately in those parts.

S. Malachy is made Bishop of Conerthen. His labours there, and the fruit which he wrought in that Diocesse. Chap. 7.

BY such actions as these, the same and family of this great Abbot increased euery day; so as the Church of Conerthen, not farre frō Benchor, hauing beene now a long tyme vacant, those to whome belonged the Election of the Bishop, resolued vpon the person of S. Malachy; nor did any thing hinder the expedition, but the resistāce only of the Elect himselfe. Although afterwards, at last, he was cō ­manded by Celsus and Imarius his lawfull Superiours, to yield & af­foard his Consent, being as then of the age of about some 30. yeares. When after the solemne Consecration, being led into the Citty, he suddaynly applyed himselfe to exercise of his pastorall Office, with such ardour of spirit, as was requisite for so important a cure.

But scarce had he begunne the gouernement, when he saw himself doubtles to be there not destined for the rule of men, but, set­ting Baptisme asyde, very properly of beasts. In no place had he euer yet noted a people of so ill a breeding; of so detestable superstitions of so stiffe a hart to Faith-wards; so vncapable to law; so vntoward to good institutes; nor finally of so soule and dishonest conuersatiō. They were Christians by name, in life Pagans. There was no vse of Tithes, or tendring the first fruites, nor of Confession, or demaun­ding penances; nor likewise who to demaund them of, so rare were Priests in those parts; and those that were to be had, so negligent & careles, as in Churches was no preaching, or diuine Office sung. In this Forrest now of sauadge beasts, what course should this Champion of Christ take? Of force must he eyther shamfully retire himselfe, or els combate with daunger. But he as a good Souldyer & good Pastour withall, determined to stand fast, and not to budge a [Page 15] foote, as ready to giue vp his life, for his flock, when neede should [...]uire the same.

And howbeit, it might wel be fayd, they were not sheepe, but so many wolues; yet stood the couragious Keeper amidst the [...], seeking by all wayes and remedyes, from wolues to render thē [...] Sheepe. So as he ceased not feruently to admonish al in publike & with teares to reprehend euery one in priuate; heere to vse Word [...], there to deale with tharpenes. And such like meanes would [...] continually be vsing, to draw them out of the snares of the deuil, where with they were so fast entangled. And if these his pious en­deauours fayled, he would seeme to recurre to Prayer; and accom­pany his Deuotions with profoūd humility of hart, & propitiatory afflictions of body. How many nights passed he ouer without [...]epe, and in making supplication for them? How often in person, went he in the Citty vp and downe a seeking of the fugitiues, and constrayning them with sweete violence to appeare in the Church? Nor was the faythfull Steward of Christ lesse anxious for the soules, which were scattered through the Countrey, hastning now heere, now there, with that holy troupe of Conuictours, never frō his side. He went, and dealt among those spightfull & thankelesse people, whole measures of corne, which some reaped in such aboundance, that atlast they became fit to be layd vp in Gods barne. And let no man thinke, he vsed to ride in any of these iourneys: for lo, he wal­ [...]d continually a foote; she wing himselfe euen in this poynt, to be [...] Apostolicall Person. Nor is there a tongue able to expresse, what this Father, tender of such cruell and wicked Children, hath suffe­red in so frequent Pilgrimages, and Episcopall visits. The tribulati­ons, affronts, and iniuryes, which he susteyned cannot fully be rela­ted. How often through their faults, was he like to perish for huger, and thirst? How often afflicted with cold, and nakednes? & with a thousand other incommodityes? And yet still, with the Enemyes of peace was he pacificall, and still importuned them in season & [...]ut of season, to amend their wicked liues. For cu [...]es, he afforded blessings: being strookē, he would ward himselfe with the buckler of Patience: being scorned and made a laughing stocke, he prayed more instantly to God for them: and perseuering after this manner so long in knocking at the gate of the Diuine Mercy, at last, it was [...] open to him, & through the power of the Omnipotent, the stones were mollifyed, barbarisme mitigated, and crabbed minds began to [Page 16] mellow, and by little and little to acquaynt themselues with things appertayning to their saluatiō, & to admit of discipline & precepts. And in summe, through diuine Grace, they were snatched out, as it were, frō the clawes of the rauenous and greedy deuourer, in whose hands they had alwayes beene; out of whose diabolicall custody being set free, they made so notable a change, as at this day to those people, these words suite well, which God seemed to vtter by Esay the Prophet: The people which heeretofore were none of mine, are now become my people.

The Citty of Conerthen is destroyed, and S. Malachy with his, repayret [...] Cormacus. The Church of Ardmach fell into Seculars. With the Reso­lution of Celsus therupon. Chap. 8.

AFTER a certayne number of yeares now passed ouer, for better purging of sinnes, succeeded an incursion vpon them, by the barbarous Inhabitants of the North, when a great part of the Citty of Conerthen was destroied: in so much as S. Malachy, with his Religious, who were about an hundred and twenty, was constrayned to go his wayes out of that Citty. But yet his departure frō thence, proued not altogeather vnprofitable, because that repairing himself into the kingdome of Momonia (whereof we haue spoken before) hee erected there a goodly Monastery, at the cost of Cormacus, being very mindfull of the good Offices, and Charity affoarded him, in tyme of his banishment. So as besides his cōming in persō to meete and receaue him, and his conuersing with him afterwards, & with the rest of his Company, with much familiarity & loue, he concur­red moreouer, as we said, very royally to the Fabrick. Whereby in short tyme it was fully accomplished, and wonderfully increased in annuall rents, and moueables; and that which is yet more to be esteemed, in subiects. Who, to the end, they might walke with the better will, by the strait and difficult way, the Blessed Man ceased not, being a Bishop, and a Maister as he was, as if but then he had newly become a Nouice, to be the first in obseruing the Traditions and Rules.

He serued in his turne, now in the Kitchin, now in the Re­fectory. In the Antiphons, Lessons, Ceremonyes, or labours of the Quire, he would haue no manner of priuiledge at all, performing alwayes his part, as one of the least. Heere likewise he shewed him­selfe [Page 17] to be so ardent a louer of voluntary Pouerty, as in courting and [...]uing the same, among all the Riuals there was none could seeme [...] come any whit neare him. And howbeit for the maintenance of [...] place, he iudged it fit to admit of rēts in cōmon; he was yet not­withstanding very vigilant, least the publique, through human fra­ [...]y, might degenerate into priuate. Amidst such cares as these, whi­ [...]st in holy peace he aduaunceth by all meanes, the profit of his, & [...]e glory of God, for his greater probation, there came an assault [...]on him, no lesse slyly, then vnlooked for. Which truly the better [...] vnderstād, it shall be needfull for vs to fetch the narration a prety [...]ay off.

The Church of Ardmach, as it is the Mother of the other Churches [...] Ireland, so is it more illustrious and farre more reuerenced, then [...]. Besides that, heere was the residence of S. Patrick, and the sa­ [...]ed bones heere left of that first Apostle, & first Father of all those Na­tions. Whose fame & esteeme with great reason, is heere so famous, [...]at euen his Successours, be what they will, do come to be feared [...]d obeyed, not only of the inferiour, & the rest of the Clergy, but [...]en likewise of any Baron, Lord, or Peere of the Iland. But as all [...]e affayres of mortal mē, seeme euer to incline to the worse, there [...]d entred in now a good while since, a very execrable abuse; to retayne (forsooth) the Pastorall Chayre in a certayne family: In so much as from one Vsurper passing to another, it had there so endu­ [...]d now for fifteene continuall generations, and vnder a Diaboli­call tytle of imaginary Prescription, they were so rooted in the wicked possession, as that when there were found to be no Clerks in the family, they would be substituting the marryed: and of the [...]me condition, before Celsus, there had beene to the number of [...]ght, men though learned for the most, yet as I sayd, without sa­cred Orders. And hence came the dissolution of the whole Chri­stianity with the spirituall ruine and temporall likewise of all Ire­land, in creating and changing heere & there Bishops, at euery ca­ [...]riccio of the wicked Metropolitan: yea a thing which was neuer [...]eard of, in making in one Bishopricke only, for euery people, as [...] were, an infamous Bishop, with a hellish multiplication of most vnworthy administratours.

Now then to take away so pernicious a scandall, it pleased the Diuine Maiesty, the Miter should lastly light on the head of Celsus; Who though of the same stocke, yet notwithstanding he being [Page 18] prickt with the feare of God, as soone as through a mortall infirmi­ty he perceiued the end of his dayes to approach, he determined to put in execution the designe, which he had a pretty while before; that is, to cut off indeed, that infenall line of inheritance, by freely yielding vp the Archbish opricke into the hands of S. Malachy, whose reputation and credit he knew well to be very sufficient in this case, to purchase to himselfe the fauour of the Citty, and to oppose him­selfe as a firme wall to the ambition and greedines of Tyrants.

To which effect, as it were by way of Testament, he declared his mynd to be, that the Sea being vacant, by all meanes the holy Bishop Malachy should be placed therein, since there was not to be found a person, more deseruing it then he. To which purpose he most earnestly desired that the Primacy might be (after his decease) transferred vpon him. For the better manifestation of his arden [...] desire, he not only declared this intent viua voce, to the standers by, but euen likewise did intimate and recommend the same by letters and precepts, on the behalfe of S. Patricke to such as were absent, and especially to personages of quality; and very particulerly to both the Kings of the vpper and lower Momoni [...]. These through di­uine inspiration were the thoughts of Celsus: and they had a glad successe, though not so easy, nor yet so speedy as he would haue wished.

S. Malachy is elected Bishop. Mauritius holds stillpossession, whilst S. Mala­chy refusing the charge, is enforced by Malcus, and the Popes Leg [...] to accept it. Chap. 9.

THE occasion of the delay, was, for that Celsus departing this life, & the Electours being come to the Diet, the greater & bet­ter number of suffrages, without controuersy elected S. Malachy: and the rest of the voices were for a certaine Cousen of Celsus, called Mauritius. This man through his presence and power ouer-sway­ing quite all iustice and reason, was temerariously planted in the Archiepiscopall Throne, to the infinite griefe of all good men, and especially of Malcus the Bishop (euen now so extolled by vs) and of the Bishop Gilbert, Legate of the Apostolike Sea, for all the Kingdomes of Ireland. These two great Prelates, with many o­thers of ech quality, made great instance, and offered whatsoeuer they were worth [...]o S. Malachy, not to refuse to enter into Ardmach, [Page 19] and to take vpon him the spirituall gouernment thereof, according [...] the determination of Celsus. But the humble seruant of Christ▪ [...]o esteemed euery climing to be his owne precipice; stood very [...]e in refusing the interprize, while he thoght he had a good pre­ [...]t for the same, through the perill of seditions and tumults, that [...]ght happen to arise thereupon. With such delayes were now [...] yeares already passed, when the two zealous Bishops aboue [...]ntioned, being not longer able to endure the adultery of the [...]me Church of Ireland, and the dishonour of Christ, assembling [...]ew the Clergy & Princes, & with common consent made their [...]ourse to S. Malachy, as prest to constrayne him with mayne force, [...]case he should seeme to perseue [...] in the negatiue.

But the Friend of quietnes still shewed himselfe to be more [...]ckward, alleadging the difficulties of the busines▪ the multitude, [...] power, the couetousnes of the Aduersaryes; that he had not [...]rage in ough to stand in contention with the meanest fellow▪ [...]d much lesse with so many, and such as those, and for the space of [...]. yeares so rooted in the Sanctuary, whence how should he [...] be able to [...] them ou [...], they being especially his Ancestours [...] possession? Nor was it worth the while, tha [...] for his occasion [...]ould follow man slaughters, and the earth by dyed with human [...]oud. And he finally obiected the cōiunction he had already made with another lawfull Spouse, from whome he saw no reason how [...]e could disunite himselfe. With such like words and defences, the dexterous Souldiour went skir [...]ishing in the continuall velitati­ [...]ns and assaults of them that loued him so much. But his Friends not with standing all this, now afresh pressed him hard, and much more those that were of greater authority, to accept of the Archie­piscopall gouernment. Which he agayne denying, they threatned him with open Excommunication; for now they would not ad­mit of any excuse. Whereupon he made them this finall Reply: You draw me violently to my [...]uyne (sayd the holy Man) and I will follow, whilst it seemes to me, I shall he [...]rby gayne the glorious Crowne of Martyrdome. But if no persuasions will content you, let vs make a bargayne first, ere I enter into the field? That if it shall please God (according to your desire) to put some order in affayres, and to take out of impious hands the dominion vsurpatiously pos­sest, there may be some other sufficient Rectour immediatly substi­tuted into the dignity, that you now go about to put vpon me: [Page 20] and that I be licenced to returne agayne to my present Spouse, and to my most beloued Pouerty.

This was the last and most resolute answere of S. Malachy, Whereby very cleerely may be seene a great purity conioyned with an equall Fortitude; since on the one side without simulation he fled honour; and for iustice sake on the other, he feared not death.

In summe, by no meanes for prayers or threats, would he seeme to yield his assent thereto, vntill such tyme as promise and firme word was giuen him, vpon the conditions propounded. Assoone as he was in security therof, he finally accommodated himselfe to assume the charge; & so much the rather, as besides the vnanimous, and perseuering instances of such like personages, it seemed to him he had yet some other manifest signes of the diuine will: whereof one is worthy of ponderation, and very considerable. There ap­peared to him (euen about the sicknes of Celsus, while he was then a farre off, and knew nothing thereof) a woman of a tall stature, and of a graue aspect, who being demaunded by him, who she was, made him answere, she was the Wife of Celsus, and without more ado, putting the staffe of gouernment into his hand, she sud­daynely vanished. And within a few dayes after, while Celsus now drew neere to his death, he really sent him indeed in signe of Suc­cession, a rod euen iust of the figure of the same Fantastique one. The memory whereof, and the correspondency of the tymes, was a matter of much moment in the mynd of S. Malachy, and iustly made him feare, least standing out longer, in such an occasion, he might seeme apparently to wrastle with God himselfe. He accep­ted then the charge; but yet without euer entring into the Cit­ty, whiles the intruder liued; and the same he did, for not to giue on his part any manner of perturbation, by which otherwise they might hap to loose their liues, to whome he was rather come to affoard the same. So as for the space of two yeares, (for so long that ambitious man escaped) did S. Malachy attend to exercise the office, abroad through the Prouince.

[...]ritius being dead, Nigrettus succeeded. A Diet is called to install S. [...] Malachy: The opposers are defeated, and stroken by the band of God. [...] Chap. 10.

MAuritius being now dead, another of that danable race, cal­led Nigrettus, or Nigerrimus rather, with the like impudency, [...]s anon to the sterne; while the malicious Predecessour, to adde [...] to sinne, had a prety while before, wrought notable practices, [...]aue him first for heyre in the world, and after his Companion [...] follower into Hell. The rumour and disdayne of this great au­ [...]iousnes being spread through all parts, a new Diet was called, [...]nstall at last the good S. Malachy into the degree, now for so [...]y yeares, and that for so many reasons, due vnto him. But be­ [...]d how the Sinagogue of the malicious Hel-hounds, opposeth a­ [...]st him. One of the Children of Belial, being a notable fauourer [...]igrettus, and very prompt and potent to euill, as he knew the [...]e where the States were to assemble themselues, with a good [...]ber of Russians, layd himselfe in ambush in the next hill, with [...]ll deliberation, when the Councell should be set, by treacheryes [...]ome forth suddaynely, and to rush in vpon them without fayle, [...] aboue all to take away S. Malachyes life; and for the lesse daūger [...]euenge likewise to kil one of the two Kings, who was there also [...]eete. And now stood matters in a readynes, the Conspiratours [...] wayte for effusion of bloud, and the Good men vpon the point [...]oing to the shambles; when through the diuine Benignity, the [...]ocent S. Malachy opportunely had intelligence of the cruell plot [...]ithout making a noise, or putting his people into a hurly-burly [...] no more but enter into the Church, and lifting vp his hands, [...]ue succour of the Omnipotent, whose prayer was easily heard, & [...]ke effect accordingly.

For behold on a sudden the heauens to be couered, the ayre [...] darkened, flashes of lightning to breake forth, cracks of thunder, [...]etuous stormes, and hideous tempests to arise, the day of wrath [...] extreme iudgment to be represented to mortals. And to the end [...]men might discerne how forcible the prayer of S. Malachy was [...]isturbe, and to put the Elements thus in commotion, those were [...]y punished with so sharpe menaces, & with so wonderful, dre­adfull, and cruell a tempest, who more then the rest seemed to thirst [Page 22] to take away the life of the Holy Man. The head of this diuelish fa­ction, with three others of the principall, being stroken with a thē derbolt miserably perished: & the day following were their bodye seene to be blasted & disfigured, one vpon this, another vpon the bough of the trees, whersoeuer through the violence of the thunder ech one was furiously cast. Three others were foūd to be halfe de [...] on the ground. The rest of the baser crew, were dispersed into di­uers parts very confusedly, and with exceeding great horrour, a [...] they went about lyke men distracted. Whereas those of the part [...] S. Malachy so neere to the place amidst so perilous accidents, had no molestation with such prodigyes, nor hurt at all, nay not so much as a hayre of their heads were diminished; Which bred a farre greate admiration in the mynds of the people, wherby they euidently be held that God himselfe tooke S. Malachyes part. The vnhappy Ni­grettus, with his cōplices, through the fury of the people, was th [...] out of the Citty, and with the greatest ioy that might be, the [...] Bishop and Primat of all Ireland introduced into his place, being [...] that tyme of some thirty eight yeares of age. But yet for all this ney­ther within or without, was he wholy free from persecutions an [...] troubles, as shall presently appeare.

Nigrettus his craft, as also the plot of his wicked Complices: & how all turu [...] to a perfect Reconciliation. Chap. 11.

THE Diet being now dissolued, and the aforesaid King, wi [...] the other defenders of the right and equity of S. Malachyes caus [...] departed from Ardmach; that viperous race not able to brooke th [...] priuation of the ancient dominion, began to exclayme bitterly, an [...] complayne for being ouer borne and oppressed by the more poten [...] and with all endeauour and art, gaue themselues within the tow [...] to renew seditions and tumults, against the Seruant of Christ: & th [...] fugitiue Nigrettus without, was not wanting the while with fra [...] and subtilityes to stirre vp seditions abroad, and to put euery thing into garboyle, rebellions, and disorders.

In the Sacristy of Ardmach, among other things of best esteem [...] are two famous Reliques very charily kept. Whereof one is a ce [...] ­taine Text of the Ghospells, which had been heeretofore belonging to the Blessed S. Patrick. The other a Staffe, all couered with gold, & beset with most rich Iewels, which they call Iesus Staffe, as holdi [...] [Page 23] certayne that our Sauiour himselfe had framed it, and vsed it with owne hands. Now these two reliques, as I sayd, are by those [...]le had in so great Veneration, as the Simple, in whose possessiō [...] see them, do hold them to be the true & lawfull Successours of [...]tricke. Which thing Nigrettus knowing very well, flying had [...]ily carryed them away with him; and with these tokens and [...]ges, did carry himselfe as the true Archbishop, and went about withdraw the people, as much as he could, from their Obediēce [...] Malachy.

But a principall man of the same stock, seemed to play the fury [...]e the rest; who not regarding eyther the promise made to King, not to molest the most holy Priestof God, nor yet the [...]ages giuen for that end; with a crew of seruants and kinsfolkes [...]ractize how to murder S. Malachy. And for as much as he could publikely attempt the same without manifest danger, in respect [...]e Deuotion which the people bare to so great a Pastour, he de­fined together with the others, to rid him away by some trea­ [...]ous meanes, in causing him to come improuidently to his house [...]r the pretence of confirming a new amity with him. With this [...]cept in his head, the roomes being furnished in good tyme with [...]ed men, one day while the Archbishop was singing of Vespers the great Church, he sent certayne men in hast, very humbly intreate him (the Office being ended) to vouchsafe to come to [...], as soone as he could, it being so needfull for them to establish accord. Which thing seemed to be very extrauagant to the follo­ [...]rs of S. Malachy; and being aware of the deceipt made answere, [...] more fit it were he should come himselfe to the Prelate; & that [...] Church was a more competent place for acts of that quality. [...]e Messengers replyed, their Lord could not come with safety, [...] durst he aduenture for the multitude, who but yesterday were [...]y to cut him in peeces.

While such manner of contentions passed betweene them, the [...]ine Man, who desired peace, and feared not death: Let me alone [...]ith he) Brothers for Gods sake: let me follow the example of [...] Maister. And shall I be a Christian, if I do not in some sort imi­ [...] Christ? Peraduenture this my submission will mollify the hart [...]ur Aduersary, and in the meane tyme, with this Example I shal [...]e you some Edification. And if this sauage people should teare in peeces, I will willingly yeild my life into their bloudy hāds, [Page 24] to the end I might leaue you a patterne how you should order th [...] course of your life. Besides, by this occasion you shall truly see wh [...] ther your Superiour haue learned of Christ to be affrayd of death [...] Christ, or no. And with this, rysing vp on his feete, he beganne [...] walke on with an vndaunted gesture: howbeyt his freinds & Dis­ciples with teares trickling downe their cheeks, humbly besough [...] him not to be so willfull, as to hazard the sheading of his bloud a­mong those bloud-suckers: because a great multitude of the faithly were like to be left desolate, who in all things wholy depended v­pon him. But he confiding, and fixed in the Diuine protection ( [...] eares being stopt to sighes and laments) went boldly on, accom­panyed which no more, then with three disciples only, being prōp [...] and disposed to lay downe their lyues with him.

In this manner he came to the Enemyes gate, he had no soone put in his feete, but he was seene to be encompassed round with great Troupe of terrible Hacksters, he standing the while, like a [...] innocent Victime, exposed to the strokes of whosoeuer had th [...] will to sacrifice the same. But (O force! O power of Christian con­fidence!) while they were all expecting the signe to set vpon him he with the only cast of an Eye, with one serene looke only, di [...] mitigate them in such sort, as there was none of the most forward est or couragious, durst so much as offer any manner of violent vnto his person, the diuine power did so bridle their fury. Nay, [...] ther the Prince himselfe, and Captayne of them, suddaynely chan­ged his inhumane intention, and insteed of tearing him to peeces, [...] destroying him wholy, arose to do him great Reuerence and ho­nour, shewing an incredible desire of a sincere concord. At whic [...] wordes, S. Malachy exceedingly reioyced, and was no whit slack in a matter sought for by him, with so great daunger of his life. A solemne peace then was ratifyed between them with such sinceri [...] as that he who before was so grieuous and dangerous an Aduersary was not only satisfyed now with the Election made, but shewed himselfe afterwards alwayes louing, and much deuoted to S. Mala­chy. For which successe the good conceiued an incredible ioy, is beholding him to escape so that day, who had no fault, & through his merits so many soules deliuered from the perill of eternal death. This action of his, made not only the name and respect of S. Malachy now to dilate it selfe more then euer; but euen likewise wrought a great dread in all people, who vnderstood that two of his most [Page 25] fierce and potent Persecutours, were with a sudden & diuine pow­ [...] made prostrate, though in a very diuerse manner; the one, be­ [...]g terribly punished in body, the other benignly compunct, and [...]nged in mind.

[...]gretus is constreyned to render vp the pledges to S. Malachy [...] the Iudge­ment of God is seuerely shewed vpon two bitter Raylers against S. Ma­lachy. Chap. 12.

SVCH difficult Encounters, and grieuous disturbances being now passed ouer, the holy Archbishop began very freely to or­ [...]yne and dispose whatsoeuer might seeme in any wise to belong [...] his Ministery, but yet neuer without some eminent daunger of [...] life, while he found no tyme, or place secure from treacheryes. [...]erupon by publique counsayle there was a Guard of select men [...]poynted for his person day and night, although he was resolued [...] we haue said) euer to relye much more vpon diuine protection, [...]n on human guards. And because the banished Nigretus was con­ [...]ually working of no small domage in stirring vp the rude people [...]d causing of separations and discordes in the Church of God; it [...]med conuenient to S. Malachy to vse his best endeauours against a [...]order & scandall of so great importance. And therefore the good [...]chbishop applyed himselfe withall care and industry to wype a­ [...]ay this great scandall; and did vse such effectuall meanes to stop [...]o the wayes to the minister of the Deuill, as the wretched Man [...]as constreyned, in despight of himselfe, to yeild, and restore the [...]lne pledges, and for euer after to rest quiet, and subiect himselfe [...]ithall humility. And thus S. Malachy, though amidst so many diffi­cultyes and Tribulations, notwithstanding with the fauour of God [...]ent prosperously on, procuring the saluation of many Soules, and [...]oceeding successiuely day by day. Nor were the malefactours [...]ly, but euen likewise his detractours chastized by diuine Iustice. [...]herof, among others, vpon a certayne peruerse fellow, was a no­ble demonstration shewed.

This man not content to thinke vnworthyly of the great [...]rchbishop, and to maligne him agaynst all reason: but moreouer [...]deauoured to defame and wound him with bitter speaches, and [...]amefull calumnyes in publique meetings & more eminent places, [...]lping himselfe therein with a certaine pernicious Eloquence, [Page 26] wherwith he was endued, and with the fauour of Princes, & great Ones, purchased through base flatteryes & scurrile iests. And now was he arriued to such enormous insolence, as that wheresouer he met with S. Malachy, & espccially in the more publique assemblies, he would not spare to vse him discourteously both in words and ge­stures. But this manner of audaciousnes did cost the wretch full deare; for the instrument of rayling in him, was so putrifyed, and swoln vp, as that after he had for seauen continuall dayes done no­thing but spit out wormes, which seemed to swarme from his diue­lish tongue; being finally consumed quite, and pined away with abominable corruption issuing from thence, he gaue vp the Ghost, leauing his filthy Carkasse to be meate for wormes of the Earth.

The other was a Woman of that accursed generatiō, so enuious, & alwayes bearing such an implacable hatred towards Blessed Ma­lachy, as she euer abhorred his very sight. Notwithstāding as she wēt to heare him preach to the people, the wretched and shameles crea­ture did not forbeare to lift vp her voyce in that assembly, & call him Hypocrite, and a robber of other mens goods, adioyning be­sides, to so bitter iniuries, outragious taunts, vpon the Baldenes of the man of God: who being wise and meeke, gaue no answere himselfe of any kind; but the great God (who reserues reuenge & glory to himselfe) sufficiently made answere for him: for that the wicked and damnable wreth thereupon lost her wits, became furi­ous and frantique, continually crying out, she was strangled by S. Malachy, nor ceased she from horrible screeches, til she likewise yiel­ded vp her vitall Spirit. Insomuch, as hauing vsurped the ancient Nickname of Elizaeus, through the iust iudgement of God, she found to her cost, another Elizaeus.

In the meane tyme there happened a cruell Plague to rage in Ardmach: by which pestilence an infinite multitude of people con­sumed eueryday away. Whereupon S. Malachy ordayned a solemne procession, and sent vp enflamed darts (both of iaculatory and vo­call prayers) which pierced the skyes, and came to the Throne of his diuine Maiesty; who graunted his humble request, and very speedily caused it to cease.

And this thing bred a wonder in the people, who did obserue the sanctity of the great Archbishop, and euer after caused them to haue a farre more reuerent respect to his sacred person; and likewise it stopped the mouthes of the malignant, and in particular those of [Page 27] the seede of Chanaan, who being by this and other examples terri­ [...]d, and conuinced by such soueraygne wonders, sayd likewise [...]ith the Egyptians: Let vs fly from S. Malachy, because the Lord seemes to [...]ht for him. But to late were they aware of their owne wretched­ [...]es: nor were they able to auert the heauenly Indignation, since [...]ithin a litle while after, that vnfortunate race was quite annihi­ [...]ed and extinguished, not without the terrour, and amazement of [...] many as knew the same.

[...]. Malachy surrenders the Archbishopricke, and returnes to Conerthen: and soone after resolues vpon a iourney to Rome. Chap. 13.

BY these meanes the affayres of Ardmach, being now reduced to good termes, the Clergy reformed, the rumours quieted, & the Enemyes by this tyme taken away; S. Malachy, whose breast was inflamed with the loue of Humility, after he had now brought peace to others, determines to procure the same likewise for him­selfe. And calling a new Diet of Priests & [...]ayks, obteyned in ver­ [...]e of the former Pact (though not without their great sorrow & griefe) to discharge himselfe at last of that cure so burdensome, and in his roome to substitute a person of rare and approued vertues, by [...]ame Gelasius. Whome as soone as he had consecrated, and seriously [...]ecommended to the principall of the kingdome, being loaden with victories and triumphes, he returnes agayne to his first charge of [...]onerthen, which by this time was reasonably well recouered of the [...]osse receiued from the barbarous people. And in this returne see­ [...]ed S. Malachy to giue forth apparent signes now more cleere then euer of Christian Modesty; or to say better, of the greatnes of a sin­gular courage.

The Diocesse of Conerthen of ancient tymes, had two Episcopal Seates; but afterwards through the couetousnes, and ambition of a great Incumbent, they were confounded together, and reduced to one only. Which thing our S. Malachy dislyking, for iust respects, deuided it anew, and renounced that of Conerthen, being the better prouided with Rents, and more noble of the two, for another, much inferi­our to the former for wealth; It is called Dune, a place obscure and little, which our Blessed Man choose rather to reteyne to himselfe. And to that purpose he passed from Con [...]rthen to Dune, accōpanyed with a few disciples; and likewise immediately forsooke the emi­nent [Page 28] Title of Archbishop of Ardmach, to a poore title of Bishop of Du­ne. O pure hart! O eye of the Dou [...]! Let all men be euen rauished at this Example of exceeding great Humility, which shined bright in the course of thy whole transitory life! Where are they now, who so earnestly contend about their lymits and bounds? Who meerely for a base cottage, or a plot of ground, do wage Law, and stirre vp such fearefull tragedyes? But let vs desist from entring into such manner of discourses, and rather proceede to declare the rest of the life of this great Saint. From Metropolitan and Primate of Ireland, being thus made Bishop of Dune, the first thing he endeauours, is to haue (as he was wont) a flourishing Colledge about him of Re­gular Clerks.

And behold now another tyme, how our new Souldyer of Christ, puts himself agayne into spiritual combats; he harnesseth him­selfe with complete armour of Mortification, and perpetuall Medi­tation, although by this his desire, he seemed to obteyne the merit, rather then the effect; it being impossible for him to deny his endea­uour, counsaile, and presence to such a number of persons, as eyther touched with good inspirations, or tempted with sundry temptati­ons, repaired to him as to a fafe refuge & true Oracle. Besides which, the obligation he had of trauayling through the Prouince, to sow the word of God, to visite the parishes, and to ordeyne all things as one of the Apostles, did employ him not a little. And commonly there was none would say vnto him; In whose authority do you this? so great was the opinion and credit he purchased; partly through the life he lead, partly also for the signes & Miracles which he wrought. And yet for all that, while it seemed to him, that he could not with security promote so high affayres, without the ex­presse commission of the holy Apostolike Sea; he determined to tra­uayle in person towards Rome, and that so much the rather, as he had many other occasions besids of no light importance, mouing him to this long and tedious pilgrimage: Whereof one the most vrgent was this which we shall now tell.

Within the costs of Ireland, are two Metropolitan seates, the one of Adrmach, whereof we haue spoken heertofore more ofren, illu­strious, rich, and founded euen from the tyme of S. Patricke: the other (whose name is vnknowne vnto me) of a meane [...] quality, and but newly erected by Celsus, and subordinate to the first, and not confirmed hitherto by the Vicar of Christ. To both these Seas, [Page 29] now, S. Malachy desired for their greater complement of honour & reputation to obtayne the vse of the sacred Pall: and to the second as more late, the consent also of Apostolicall approbation. And to this effect, he went about to prepare for his iourney. But as the same came to be knowne abroad, not only his domestiques, but al others likewise were infinitely sorry thereat: while it seemed to be a very hard matter for them, to remayne so long without him: and fearing withall, in so great and difficult a voyage by Sea and land, some sinister accident, might betyde him.

Their anxiety was increased the more, by reason of the death of Christianus Bishop and Brother of S. Malachy, which happened much about those dayes: a Prelate indeed, though second in glory, yet for zeale and sanctity, peraduenture not much inferiour to him. By reason of this fresh and grieuous a losse, came now the depar­ture of the blessed Father, to be continually more difficult. And they all affirmed with one voyce, they would by no meanes con­sent, their only prop should depart from them; the country in the meane tyme abyding in so manifest danger of a totall ruine, if both such pillars should thence be taken away at one tyme. So as all from the highest to the lowest, with one and the selfe same spirit, ran hastily to him, and hauing in vayne mixed their reasons, coniura­tions, and protestations to moue him; did at last playnely giue him to vnderstand, that when they saw Loue would not preuayle with him, they would detayne him by force: When [...]o, the Seruant of God, with a seuere countenance, threatning them with chasti­sement from Heauen, endeauoured to pacify them: and yet was it not possisible for him to hinder them, but that for a finall conclu­sion, the matter should be remitted to a decision by Lots; and yet notwithstanding all that, so great was the pertinacity of them, as that after the first, & then the second being drawne in fauour of the Bishop; yet they with exclamations and plaints, would needs haue him come to a third Election: when still finding the same to be conformable to the afore passed, and for that they iudged it to be enacted by the supreme Head, and Disposer of all things, a­gaynst their wills they yield to his desire. But before they would let him go, they desired and humbly requested him to ordeyne one to supply the place & Episcopall Seate of his Brother deceased. To which he willingly condescended, and therefore calling into his presence some: three of his Schollers, was much perplexed in mynd [Page 30] and vncertayne which of them were the most sufficient for such a high and eminent Ministery. And when he had taken a carefull and diligent suruey of them all: Do thou Edanus (sayth he, for so was one of thē called) take vpon thee the charge. But the poore Wretch ex­cused himselfe, in the best manner he could, and powred forth a shower of brinish teares. Feare not (replyed he) since thou hast been de­signed to me by our Lord himselfe, and I haue seene thee already with the ring of the mysticall Espousalls on thy finger. Whereupon Edanus assuming more confidence then before, very humbly obeyed.

S. Malachy in his way to Rome goes to Yorke. He visits Clarauallis by the way, and arriues at Rome. Chap. 14.

SAINT Malachy hauing now consecrated Edanus Bishop, puts himselfe on his iourney, and with an easy and short cut passed ouer into Scotland. From thence being come to York, a Citty in En­gland, a certaine Priest, Sicarus by name, hauing the spirit of pro­phecy, beholding S. Malachy in the face, albeyt he neuer saw him be­for, yet did he point at him with the fingar, to the stāders by, saying: Behold him heere whome I told you of, that a holy Bishop should come out of Ire­land, who sees into the thoughts of men. More ouer, the said Sicarus, discoue­red to S. Malachy many hidden things, which were with al punctu­ality found to be most true. And being demaunded by some of the Bishops companions, concerning the successe of that pilgrimage of theirs, among other things he answered, they were not al of thē like to returne backe with him into Ireland agayne. Wherupon they fell into some suspition of their dying by the way, but their prediction came to be verifyed indeed in another sense. For as much, as in the returne which S. Malachy made from Rome, as we shall set downe in its place, he left part of them in the Conuent of Clarauallis. And so much may suffice of the Prophet Sicarus.

In the same Citty of York came to the holy Bishop a Noble mā, whose name was William, being at that tyme Prior of the Canons of Circham, and now Monke, and Father of the Monkes, in our house of Mailros: who after he had very humbly recommended him­selfe to his prayers, did him a noble act of courtesy; which was, that seeing the trayne of the Bishop to be som what great, & his prouisiō of horse but slender (for hauing with him besides Seruants & Cle­arks, some fiue Priests, he had no more then three horses for thē al) [Page 31] he made him a friendly present of a horse of his: which because he was outward for the saddle, & of a naughty pace, William did inge­nuously alleadge for himselfe how sory he was for the defects, and that he would haue more willingly giuen the same, if he had been much better. Whereto S. Malachy made answere: And I like him so much the more, as you seeme to depaynt him worse; and turning himselfe to his followers: Make ready (sayd he) this Beast for me for he is like to proue well inough, and will hold out for along voyage. And so got vp, & though in the beginning he found him to be rude, & of a ve­ry hard trot; notwithstanding shortly through a meruaylous chaūge it appeared he now had a very dexterous Rider on his backe: and for confirmation of whatsoeuer he had prognosticated of him, for nine whole yeares togeather which S. Malachy suruiued, he alwayes serued his turne, becoming really a very excellent & prized horse; & for a later empromement, wheras before he had a coate of a darke gray, he beganne to wax white, in such sort, as within a short space there could hardly be seen a whiter beast.

These and other like Offices of friendship, found S. Malachy, in that pilgrimage: and I my selfe likewise had the hap to know such a Man, and to be fed, and enriched with his spirituall Discourses; and he mutually made shew likewise of some contentment taken in me a Sinner, and loued me deerely, euen to the end of his life. More­ouer he seemed not to thinke much, to lodge in our homely Cotta­ges, giuing also to all the Monks a rare and singular Example of Christian Perfection, and wee receiuing alwayes from his follo­wers some manner of edification. And so hauing taken the place & Inhabitants into those his bowels of Piety, giuing vs all his holy Benediction, he departed from vs, not without sorrow and great la­mentation of the people. Hasting now forward in his iourney, our blessed Pilgrime ariues at the Citty of S. Claude, where he presently cured his Hosts child in the place where it lay in extremity. From thence by the shortest way he passed to Rome, where Pope Innocent the second at that tyme did gouerne the Ship of S. Peter; who gra­ciously receiued him, and tooke much compassion vpon him for the grieuous paines he had sustey ned, and the hard trauayles he had takē in so tedious a iourney.

S. Malachy remaynes a while in Rome. He is made Apostolicall Legate: and returnes homeward by Clarauallis. Chap. 15.

ALbeyt S. Malachy were nothing vnmyndfull of his principall busynes: yet before all other things, he began to demaund the fauour to leaue off the Episcopall Office, and to retire himself to liue and dy in our Monastery of Clarauallis. Which how beyt denyed by the Vicar of Christ, because it seemed to him not iust, that a person so helpfull to the world, should so be shut vp in a corner ther of, he had notwithstanding obteined from Christ himself, some part of what he desired; since it was afforded him by the Diuine Goodnes, if not to liue, at least to dye in Clarauallis, as shall be declared in its due place S. Malachy remayned for a whole Moneth in the holy Citty, visi [...]ing with singular deuotion those places which were consecrated with the bloud of Martyrs. And in the meane tyme, the Pope informed himselfe by him, more fully and at large of the estate and customes of the Churches in Ireland. At last vpon mature deliberation with his Cardinals, he declared our Blessed S. Malachy his Vicegerent and A­postolicall Legat, through all that Iland, in the place of the Bishop Gilbert, who being surcharged with yeares, most humbly craued to be discharged. After which did S. Malachy propose his demaunds, which were, for the confirmation of the new Metropolis; and for the Pals both of the one and other. And as for the Confirmation, he ob­teyned it without difficulty. But for the Palls, the Pope answered; It was conuenient, the matter should be treated of more sol [...]mnely. Wherfore as soone as you shall be arriued at home, shall you assemble a generall Synod: & by common Decree, you shall procure for the said Palls that some worthy persons with speed may be sent hither, that the same may benignly be affoarded them. So sayd Innocent, and then taking off the Miter from his head he put it on S. Malachy: and besides he pleased to giue him from his owne vestments of the Masse, a stole and maniple. And then with the lou­ing kisse of peace, and Apostolicall benediction, very courteously licen­ced him to depart.

In his returne homeward, he reuisited Clarauallis, & reuiued vs a new with his most gratefull aspect, he being exceedingly grieued that he could not alwayes make his aboade with vs, and then with deepe sighes he spake to vs, as followeth. Seeing it is not the Di­uine pleasure of Almighty God, that I shal heere remaine with you: [Page 33] yet I beseech you at least, that insteed of my person, you would take some of my Clerks vnto you: Who with you being made good dis­ciples, may serue to supply vs afterwards with Maisters: adding mo­reou [...]r, they shall serue vs for seed, and in their seed shall people be blessed: People (I say) who though by ancient Tradition haue had some kind of knowledge of Monasticall functions; yet hitherto haue neuer seen any Monks amongst them. Leauing then some foure of them behind, he departed from thence, who succeeding very wel in the probation, were admitted into the Order: and within a litle while afterwards were some others sent thither, and those likewise being admitted, and instructed with diligence, were together with the first, sent back into Ireland, vnder the care of the holy Brother Christianus, (being of the same family) with an addition of so many of ours of Clareuallis, as being al together, sufficed for a formall Abbay: which like wise in processe of tyme, conceiued, and brought forth some fiue daughters. From whence with multiplyed seed, the num­ber of Religious euery day increased, according to the prediction and vow of S. Malachy.

S. Malachy arriueth in Scotland, and there cureth King Dauids sonne. He passeth from thence into Ireland, and comes to the Monastery of Benchor. Chap. 16.

THE venerable Ghest being departed from vs, & prosperously landing in Scotland; found there King Dauid, in a certayne ca­stle of his, with his only Sonne, lying sicke of an incurable disease. Where being intreated to stay, and that he would be pleased to af­ford him health, he sprinckled him with water by him blessed, & looking him in the face, said to him: Be of good cheere, my Sonne, since you are not to dye at this present. These were his words; & immediatly the effect followed: For the day after, the Prince recouered his health to the exceeding consolation of the King, and the infinite iubiley, and ioy of all the Court, and finally to the stupour and amazement of al that heard and knew the same. The rumour therof being spread there was nothing euery where but bon [...]yers, ringing of bells, and giuing of thankes, and voyces of prayse, as well for the vnexpected recouery of their Lord, as for the greatnes & nouelty of the Myra­cle it selfe. This Dauid the father, and Henry the sonne, being now valourous, and wise Souldi [...]urs, are yet lyuing to this day: and as [Page 34] at that tyme, they vsed much importunity to retayne S. Malachy their Ghest with them, to make much of him; so while he liued, they alwayes striued to honour him, and to shew themselues, not to be vnmyndfull, and very gratefull for such a benefit, and therefore offered to him many rich Presents.

But the wise Contemner of transitory Rewards, and worldly pompe, by any meanes, on the next Morning would needs depart from thence; and passing by the way of Crugeldus, restored speach to a certaine young Girle.

And in the Iland of S. Michael, he cured, in the presence of all the people, a woman so possessed with Deuils, as her friends were en­forced to hold her very streightly bound with cords, & sometymes in chaynes of Iron.

From thence being come to the hauen of Lapisperius, while he expected commodity to passe ouer into Ireland, he was not ydle, but among other things gaue order, and himselfe likewise put hands to a certayne Oratory of grates or lattuce-worke, & encompassed it round with a fense, leauing in the midst a certayne space for the bu­ryall of the dead; and blessed the same. Which was so efficacious, as that euen to this day, from diuers parts are brought thither many la­guishing persons, and ill affected, and from thence returne with strength, and wished comfort.

That same also was very notable, which happened there to a certayne insolent fellow: who being entred into that inuiolable Cemeter, with soule and impious intents to profane the same; he was seized vpon by an vgly and horrible Toade, which suddenly shewing it selfforth, with a swelling looke fell a spitting of venome vpon him. Whereat the poore wretch being sorely astonished and affrighted, threw himselfe ouer the sacred rayles, euen headlong the shortest way.

But to leaue these degressions, and returne to S. Malachy; after he had embarqued himselfe in the said Port, with a good gale, he very happily arriued at the Monastery of Benchor, to the end that his first Children, perhaps might likewise be the first, to gayne his Benediction. And who were able sufficiently to expresse the ioy they felt in the reuiew and receiuing of such a Father, returned safe and found from parts so remote? Nor the said Congregation only, but euen all those people also thereabout, did shew forth such ioy for his returne, that euen from Cittyes, Castles, and Townes they ran [Page 35] thither in great troupes, to do him Reuerence, & bid him welcome. And he himselfe, not to hold his new Legation in vayne, without delay endeauours to visit all those kingdomes, distributing on euery side very holsome gifts of Apostolicall Facultyes, in such sort, as no Sex, nor Age, nor Condition, or Profession whatsoeuer remayned without feeling of some part of the Comfort.

He celebrated likewise some Nationall Councells, in the more conuenient Cities. Where, for the sound and Catholique Religi­on, were most profitable Canons and Decrees established: carry­ing in the meane while, his eyes continually fixed vpon the neces­sityes of euery one, and applying remedyes all wayes as need requi­red; now with sweetnes, and now with seuerity. Nor was there heere to be found any one that would seeme to contradict his pre­cepts, or proudly contemne his admonishments, but they were ra­ther accepted of all, as holsome medicines, and as constitutions de­riued from Heauen. And how could it be otherwise, while al was confirmed by so many workes aboue nature. In testimony wherof, besides those others we haue touched already, we wil in the Chap­ters following relate some others most to our purpose; since to re­count & vnfold them all, were not possible: and I on the other side am more willing to dilate my self in things conducing to Imitation, then such as may only excite Admiration.

A briefe Description of S. Malachyes manner of life, as an introduction to the ensuing miracles, which he wrought. Chap. 17.

IN my iudgment truly, the first, and most stupendious myracle that S. Malachy wrought, was S. Malachy himselfe. For why; set­ting apart the interiour man, whose beauty, worth, and sincerity sufficiently shined most brightly in his life and actions, what shall we say of the exteriour only; which with conformity of manners, to wit, most modest and decent, he would be alwayes shewing in such sort, as not the least thing could euer be discouered therin, that might any wayes seeme to offend the eyes of the beholders? Let vs come to the tongue: It is surely most certayne, that for a man not to trip in talking is a very great perfection. And yet what man, so curious let him be, was euer knowne, that could euer espye, or note in S. Malachy, I say not a word, but so much as an ill gesture? Who euer saw him to moue eyther hand or foote with vanity? Nay [Page 36] wherin gaue he not Edification to his Neigbhours, in walking in his habit, and semblance? He had so perpetuall a serenity in his cō ­tenance, as neyther with the grauity of Melancholy, or leuity of Laughing, was he euer seen to be distempered. All was discipline in him, all harmony, all Vertue. He was an Enemy to scoffs, but yet not austere, or froward. Remisse would he be sometymes, but dissolute neuer. Careles in nothing, though in many he knew wel how to dissemble, till tyme and place. Quiet oftentymes, but yet not once would seeme to be slouthfull.

From the day of his conuersion, vnto his last breath, he had ne­uer any thing proper, not seruants, nor farmes, nor messuages, nor finally any manner of rents, eyther Ecclesiasticall or secular. For his Episcopall table, he had no assignement made him at all: yea the good Prelate indeed, had not so much as a determinate dwel­ling to put his head in; as he who spent all his life, as it were, in vi­siting of Villages and Parishes; so seruing the Ghospell, and by the Ghospell therefore susteyning himselfe, according to the order and decree of our Lord. It is true, that he and his companions, be­cause they would not be burdensome, or put any to expences, would mainteyne themselues oftentymes with the sweat of their browes, and labours of their proper hands. And when at such ty­mes he had need of some rest, he would vsually be taking it in pious places, dispersed by himselfe heere and there through Ireland: and if he chanced to abyde any where, he would allwayes so conforme himselfe to the customes and obseruances of the house, as neyther at Table, or elswhere, would he seeme to haue any thing in par­ticular: nor euen at first sight could there any the least difference be discouered betweene him, and the rest of the Brothers.

What more can be sayd of him? Euen inough to conteyne ma­ny Volumes, his life was so admirable, & a mirrour to all Mortals. But my scope and intention is only, to demonstrate those thinges which in his life are most imitable, as I said aboue. To proceed then; although our blessed S. Malachy, were now an aged man, and Le­gate of the highest Bishop; yet did he neuer giue ouer his ancient vse to go on foote, to preach himselfe in person, still causing such others as he lead along with him to do the like; a forme very truly Euangeli­call, and so much the more recommendable in S. Malachy, as it is found to be lesse in practice with others. Whereas he, who doth such things, may worthily be called the lawfull heyre, and Succes­sour [Page 37] of the Apostles. What wonder is it then, if the diuine Man, did worke such admirable things, he being so admirable himselfe, though he wrought them not of himselfe, but God in him, since we read; Tu es Deus qui facis mirabilia?

By occasion of the loud acclamations of these his transcendent Vertues, & most notable working of Miracles; his fame beganne to spread it self through out all the neighbouring places, nay euen ouer the whole Country; and there resorted dayly many to be cured by him of all kind of diseases; and among the rest a woman extremely vexed with the deuill, who dwelt in a Citty which is called Culta­fin. Her parents thereupon procured S. Malachy to be sent for: Who comming into the house, presently fell vnto his prayers, and com­maunds the vniust possessour in the name of the highest, to go forth of that body; he obeys, but in stantly leapes into another Woman present. S. Malachy perceiuing this, spake thus to the accursed Ene­my of Making: I haue not so quit thee of her, as that thou shouldst seeme to assaile that other. Therefore I charge thee agayne in the name of the Highest, that thou let her go also. The Fiend being constrained thereto, obeyes, his behest, but yet returnes to his former habitation. When the Bles­sed Seruant of Christ, obseruing the deceypt of our Aduersary, ex­pells him a new from thence, he then flyes agayne into the se­cond. This bobb the peruerse spirit gaue to him for a pretty while, in chopping so alwayes, and flying from one into the other. At last S. Malachy being stirred vp with a holy zeale, and not without iust indignation, to see him so mocked by all vncleane Spirit, recolle­cted himselfe a little, and resuming more in tense forces from Hea­uen, withall violence quite banished him from both: leauing the cruell Serpent (so full of fraude and deceipt) enraged thereat, thin­king perhaps by that policy to make the Holy man desist from further troubling himself. But peraduenture some will admire at this long delay heerein, and resistance of the Aduersary, attributing the same (it may be) to the power of the malignant Spirit. To such persons I answere, that it pleased the Diuine Dispensatour of all things, Qui omnia ben [...] & suauiter disponit, to try the patience of his Seruant S. Malachy, and to the end that by such delay and changes, both the presence of the Enemy, and victory of S. Malachy, more cleerely might appeare. Which thing is yet more illustrated, and made to appeare to be true: therefore attend heere a while to that which els­where this great Seruant of Christ seemed to worke, not in person, [Page 38] as before is declared, but in absence. Which yet surely had been [...] great deale more easy for him to haue done at hand, then so same asunder.

A man is dispossessed of euill spirits, by the power of S. Malachy in his absence. With diuers other miracles besides. Chap. 18

IN the Northern parts of Ireland, in a certayne howse, where S. Malachy before had happened to lodge, lay one afflicted, and ter­ribly tormented with Deuils. Who on a night, ouer heard some dis­courses they had among them; Wherin they sayd to ech other: Beware this wretch do not touch any of the straw there, wherin that Hippocrit had sometymes slept, least perhappes he escape out of our hands. Frō which words, the sick man did gather that those infernall Spirits meant it of S. Malachy; and then taking courage began to approach by creeping thereunto, as well as he could: but being weake in body, he could not get thither by crawling; yet was he very strong in fayth, for he desisted not to go forward, as he was able. Wherupon you might heare in the ayre certayne feareful cryes, and perplexed voyces, Hold, hold him off, or we loose the prey. But he trās­ported with hope and desire, made so much the greater hast, to reach thereunto: & through diuine Mercy, being come to the blessed Lit­ter of straw, fell a stretching himselfe thereon, and wallowing vp & downe therin: While the infernall furyes with howling & la [...] most bitterly exclamed: Alas, alas, we haue bewrayed our selues: we haue deceiued our selues. For loc, he is euen now made sound. And so he was in­deed, being whole in a moment of all his lymnes, and freed of the diabolicall affrights and horrours, which he suffered.

In Lesmor likewise did S. Malachy deliuer a Lunatike person; & made him whole and perfect in all his senses. Moreouer, our great Saint did restore another person to his former wits, who dwelt in Praginia. And in the same Countrey, by causing a frantike woman to wash her selfe with a water which he blessed, she was present­ly released of her chaynes, and disease. Another woman in like sort being enraged, so as she would be a biting, & tearing her flesh with her teeth, was by him through Prayer, & a simple touch only restored to health. There was like wise a Man, who in phrensy could seeme to foretell certayne things to come, and so impetuo [...] and terrible withall, as the greatest cords were hardly able to with [Page 39] hold him. And yet this Man in a moment was freed also through the prayers of S. Malachy, & restored to his wits. I could name the place where this fel out; but because it happened in a place of so barbarous a name, that (as it happens often in many other words of that Na­tion) it may scarce seeme fit to be expressed with the voyce much lesse represented with the pen, I thinke it a thing very conuenient, to let it passe namelesse.

There was in the aforesayd Citty of Lesmor, a certayne young girle very dumbe, whome her Parents hauing humbly put in the presence of S. Malachy, as he passed along, the man of God made a stop, and touching her tongue with a little of his spittle, without more ado, in the sight of all, affoarded her the vse of speach. Ano­ther tyme going forth of the Church, with a great trayne after him, a woman was presented to him at the Porch, by a distressed Man her Husband, wholy depriued likewise of her pronunciation. Whē S. Malachy beheld this miserable woman, he signed her with the most holy Crosse, and commaunded her in the presence of all, to re­cite the prayer of our Lord: which she presently sayd very punctu­ally. The multitude seeing this Myracle, gaue glory to the diuine Goodnes. In a certayne place called Ob [...]reb, a rich man being mor­tally sick, had now for some twelue dayes continually remayned without once being able in any wise to vtter a word, and conse­quently was hindered from making his Confession. But S. Malachy comming to visit him, immediately he recouered his lost speach, & being armed with the Sacraments, with singular Confidence of eter­nall life, gaue vp the Ghost.

A certayne Baron being in S. Malachyes Inne, while he was tre­ating there with him, about some affayres; at one full of faith, stole away but three rushes only from his poore little Couch, and with that pious theft, wrought wonderous things; which we haue not tyme to relate in this place. The Man of God being come to Duenu­ [...]ania, there came in to him a Gentleman of that Citty, as he sat at table, earnestly beseeching him on the behalfe of his wife, who was not without great feare & daunger of her Child-birth, being longer thē the ordinary terme required. The Bishop of Mehome likewise with others that were present at that sitting, did very earnestly re­commend the case vnto him. When S. Malachy heard this, he answe­red: I am not a little sorry for it, in reguard that the is a very good Matron. And without more a doe, reaching to the Husband, a cup by him [Page 40] blessed, added: Go your wayes, and giue her this drinke and bid her not feare any thing. So the Noble man did as he was commaunded, and the next night without any difficulty at all, the woman was safely de­liuered. S. Malachy happening to abide in the Champion countryes, with the Count of Vlidia, behold a woman appeared before him, very great with Child, now at least for fifteen months and twenty dayes gone: and who finding no humane remedy, with piteous teares came seeking for succour from the Seruant of Christ. Malachy being moued with so new and vnexpected an accident, puts himselfe into Prayer, & sudenly there in the place the poore wretch without any trauaile at all, brought forth the creature into the world,

A rehearsall of other myracles of S. Malachy, vpon sundry occasions. Chap. 19.

ANother thing yet of no lesse wonder, though in a diuerse kind happened in the land of Vlidia. A certayne Souldiour of the Count of Vlidia, hauing no regard vnto Gods commaundements, and without hauing any feare of his heauy displeasure, kept the Concubine of his owne Brother. Saint Malachy hauing notice heereof, performed, like another S. Iohn Baptist, the very same of­fice of charity in reprehending the wicked man. But that wretch­lesse creature, representing Herod, not onely disobeyed him, but made him answere moreouer, with swearing, in the hearing of all, that he would neuer abandon his Mistris. S. Malachy, the true ser­uant of Christ, being fraught with the zeale of Iustice, answered, God may then disseuer you, agaynst your will. For which the incestuous wretch as caring but litle, in a most despightfull manner, went his wayes from him. He had scarce gone a mile from that place, and within lesse then a full houre, but God punished him for this his e­normous crime; by being assayled by certayne men, and that so des­peratly, as wounds were the beginning of their fray, and stabbes euen to the heart, were the period. In this bloudy on set, his Soule payed for the transgression of his disobedience. For one of the Ruf­fians sent him on a rufull message to Grand Lucifer. At this newes euery one remayned astonished, especially seeing the speedy execu­tion of the sentence of S. Malachy: and other wicked men being heerby gently admonished, were truly conuerted. In the same coū ­trey, Count Dermitius, through manifest disorders of Gluttony, & and other Sensualityes, had layne now sicke, and vnweildy a long [Page 41] tyme. This man being visited by S. Malachy, & first sharpely rebuked for the scandall, and ill example he had giuen, and after blessed with holy water, was sudenly raysed, & beyond the expectation of him and his, very nimbly mounted on his horse. In the Citty of Cassel, came one to S. Malachy, with a sonne of his, being sick of the palsey crauing pitty at his hands. The holy Bishop thē litting vp his mynd to our Lord, said to the Father of that child: Goe thy wayes, for thy sōne shall recouer. He went then, but returned the next Morning, with the child not yet cured. S. Malachy making his prayer for the Child some what longer then before, cheered him vp, and gaue strict or­der to the Father of the lame child, to dedicate him to the diuine Seruice, which he faithfully promised to do. But yet afterwards kept not his word. Wherupon the youth after some yeares relapsed agayne into the same palsey.

Another Man likewise brought his sonne to the holy Man, frō parts farre distant. This child had withered feete, and was not able to moue a whit. S. Malachy demaunded how the same happened. I thinke (answered the Man) it was the worke of the Deuill, because my sonne, being, on a tyme, childishy disporting himselfe in a cer­tayne meadow, that accursed Fiend (if I be not deceiued) made him to fall a sleepe, & then awaking, I know not how, he was foūd taken in this manner. And speaking thes words, he powred forth a­bundance of teares, and humbly prayed the Diuine Man, to giue his sonne some succour. Who being mollifyed therwith (according to his custome) cōmaunded the lame child, to giue himself to sleepe while he prayed; who did as much: and when S. Malachy had ended his prayer, the child immediately stood vpon his feete, very iocund and lusty. The holy man kept him afterwards with him, a prety while, and iustructed him well in the Rudiments of the Christian Fayth, carrying him along with him, into diuers places with his other Domestiques.

A certaine poore Man, serued in a Mill of the Monastery of Benchor, maynteyning himselfe partly with that labour, partly also with dayly almes. This man had likewise been lame now for these twelue yeares, in such sort, as he was compelled to go with his hāds on the ground, and trayling his dead feete after him. Now S. Mala­chy, beholding him one day before his Cell, to be somewhat sadder then ordinary; with the bowels of Charity, demaunded of him, the reason why he was so pensiue? The disconsolate man answered: You see, [Page 42] alas, how long now it is, that I miserable Caytiuehaue suffered this same: and how the hand of God seemes verily to oppresse me, and for a greater increase therof how I receiue dayly nothing but scornes and reproaches of such, as should rather compassionate my Case. The benigne Father, being wholy mo­ued with these words, with eyes and hands lifted vp towards the Mercy-Seate of God made his prayer to that Soueraigne Iudge; & to the end they should be more efficacious, he retires himselfe into his Cel, where falling prostrate on the ground, he most hūbly beseeched the diuine Mercy, to restore that poore creature to his formen strēgth. His prayer was quickly heard. For the Man arising from the groūd, stood vp firme on his feete. This thing seemed to him a Dreame, for he did nothing but looke about him, to see whether it were true or no. And yet neuerthelesse making some proofe to moue his Legs, & to frame his Steps, he at last acknowledged the diuine Mercy to be shewed vpon him: and then nimbly returned home to the Mill, with much ioy, and with infinite rendring of thankes to God. Wher­upon his Companions, and the others who knew right well who he was, remayned astonished, and amazed, as it were, at the sight of some phantasme; attributing the same to the Goodnes of God, and the Sanctity of their blessed Bishop.

In the same place, was a Man cured of the dropsy, through the only Intercession of S. Malachy. Who afterwards remayned in the seruice of the Monastery.

There was a certayne Gentlewoman of parentage very well descended, but yet farre more illustrious for her vertue, which made her most deere to the blessed Pastour. This woman, was grieuously afflicted with the bloudy flux; & this her disease was so vehement, as she, in processe of tyme, was brought to an extreme debility, & euen, through the aboundant issuing of bloud, was ready to giue and yeild vp her spotlesse Soule into the hands of her mercifull Re­deemer. Her friends seeing her in this lamentable case, sent a messen­ger with all speede to S. Malachy, to entreate him to vouchsafe to come and visit her, and affoard her some Comfort in this her Ex­tremity. When the holy Bishop heard this heauy Newes, he was strooke very sad, for the losse he saw would ensue of a Matron of that great worth and rare Example, as she was of. And sudenly de­termined to go his wayes thither: but afterwards fearing to arriue too late, called to him Malcus a man of a singular integrity of Con­science, (of whome we made mention before) and a very dexte­rous [Page 43] young man. Go your mayes (said he) in hast, it the sickwoman, and carry her these three apples blessed by me; I hope in our Lord, that hauing once tasted of them, she shall not come to tast of Death, before she see me, though I be not otherwise able to come so speedily as I would. The good Malcus obeyed with expedition: and with efficacious meanes exhorted the dying woman to tast of the Present, which was sent her by the Bishop S. Malachy. She being cōforted somewhat with the most gratefull name of her spirituall Father, beekens to her Mayd, (being not otherwise able to speake, or to moue her self) to put vp her pillow a litle. Wher­upon, taking one of the apples, with a trembling hand she beganne to bite the same, and being newly reuiued with the only tast ther­of, brake forth into words and prayses of God. By & by her sleepe, which together with her tast had now for a good while been lost, returned to her agayne, and she reposing with great sweetnes, the bloud in the meane tyme came to make a stop. In so much as being now a wake without more ado, she found her selfe to be altogeather whole although not without some māner of weakenes, the which notwithstanding by the next day did likewise leaue her, at the vn­expected presence of S. Malachy.

A Continuation of the Miracles, which S. Malachy wrought, vpon diuers other Occasions. Chap. 20.

THere dwelt neere to Benchor, an Honourable Knight whose wife being ariued at the article or point of death, S. Malachy was speedily sent for to help her with fit accomodations, and with the Extreme Vnction. Who came thither, and hauing cheered her at first with his only aspect, prepares himself to apply the holy Oyle with­out delay: It seemed notwithstanding to al her friends very behoo­uefull (I know not vpon what occasion) and farre better, to di­ferre the same till the next Morning. The good Father (very loath) yeilds thereunto, and making the signe of the Crosse vpon the sick woman, retyred himself into the other Chambers. He had not been there long, but behold you might easily haue heard, some pittyfull cryes, plaints, and noyses founding through all the howse, that their Mistries was dead. The blessed man of God hearing this tumult, runs with his disciples, and approaching to the bed, certainely found she had giuen vp her last breath. Whereat he was full of sorrow & heauynes, laying the fault on himselfe, for that she had so departed [Page 44] without that Sacrament; and then lifting vp his hands to heauen, with great affect. Lord (said he) I cry thee mercy for I haue playd the foole, and been too negligent heerein. It is I, euen I, that haue sinned, with this pro­longation, & not this poore wretch, who for her part had a very good wil therunto. After he had thus exclaymed, he vowed to take no more Comfort or repose of any sort, till he had rendred to the dead, what he had wrongfully taken from her: and so standing with his face ouer the corps, endeauours to warme and foment those frozen limmes with bitter teares, and burning sighs, supplying to his power, the passed want: and turning towards his Company, from tyme to tyme, would besaying to them: Watch, and pray, So as they with Psalter, and deuout prayers, he with deepe Sighes, passed away the whole night, without a winke of sleep; when as lo the Morning came, it pleased the Diuine Clemency, to listen vnto the vnspeakeable sighes of his most faythfull Seruant. What more? She opens her eyes, who was dead before: She sits vp right, and knowing S. Malachy, with a deuoute bow, saluted him. Whereat as many as beheld the sight, & heard so meruaylous things, were exceedingly amazed; and all the sadnes turned into ioy. Yet S. Malachy, (though there appeared no more danger for the present) very piously would needes annoynt the reuiued, as knowing well, how assuredly in that Mistery sinnes are remitted, and how likewise the body feeles a help. After he had finished this good act, he departed from thence. As for her, she (to the greater glory of God) suruined for some tyme in good health: & hauing performed the Penance imposed her by S. Malachy, sell sicke afterwards agayne, & with the wonted succours of the holy Church, very happily dyed.

There was moreouer a Woman so afflicted with the spirit of anger and fury, as not only her kinsfolkes and neighbours seemed to shun her conuersation; but euen her owne children could hard­ly endure to inhabite with her. Wheresoeuer she was, there was nothing but scolding, rancour, and a hideous storme, bold, fyery, audacious, gibing, light of fingers, vntollerable, and fastidious to euery one. By reason whereof, her afflicted Children not finding other way of redresse, from so continuall and bitter grieuances, re­solued to bring her (as dexterously they did) into the presence of S. Malachy, where breaking forth into teares and laments, they humbly demaund succour of the seruant of God. He taking com­passion, as well on the danger of the Mother, as on the Childrens [Page 45] infelicity, tooke her a little asyde, and dernaunds of her with great affect, and gracious semblance: Whether she had euer been confessed in her dayes, and she answering, No. Do you now then confisse (sayd he to her.) Which the furious woman did through diuine instinct: and he hauing enioyned her a conuenient pennance, & prayed a while ouer her, commaunded her on the behalfe of Christ our Lord, that from thence forth, she should be angry no more. A thing incredible: there suddenly grew such a meeknes, and so great a patience in her, that euery one might know, there could be nothing therein, but meer­ly a change from Heauen. Which was so great a comfort to her chil­dren, as cannot be expressed. She is yet lyuing, and is sayd to be of so fayre a condition, & of so deep a Tranquility, as where be­fore she was wont to exasperate and offend euery one; she is now not troubled a whit withall the losses, iniuries, or tribulations that can befall her.

Now let euery one, esteeme of things as he please. If with the Apostle it may be lawfull for me, to abound in my sense, I dare say, that greater was the exploit of this amendement, then was the re­calling of the Gentlewoman spoken aboue from death to life: be­cause in the former was the exteriour Man raysed, in the later, only the interiour. But let vs go forward.

A secular man of good quality, came to condole with S. Ma­lachy for the sterility of his soule; beseeching him to obteyne for him at the hands of God some plenty of teares. With that, the holy Man of God, with a cheerfull countenance approaching to him, in si­gne, as it were of friendship, layd his cheeke to his, and added with­all, That grace be giuen thee. From that tyme forward, had the lay man so great aboundance of water in his eyes, as that sentence of the Scripture, seemed to be verifyed in him: A Fountayne from the gardens: A spring of liuing waters. This aboundance of teares the Man had to his dying day, which made his sould white, and pure from the staynes of Mortall sinne. And being so washed and cleansed from those spots of Capitall sinnes, his innocent Soule ascended on high to him, Qui in altis habitat, there to giue him laudes and prayses, and continually to sing the celestiall Song of Alleluia.

S. Malachy, through his prayers multiplyed Fishes: With other Miracles of that kind Chap. 21.

SAINT Malachy in trauayling (as we haue sayd) to preach the word of God, did many Miracles, whereof this is one. The ho­ly Bishop, endeauouring withall power to spread the Ghospell of Christ Iesus, throughout all the Kingdome of Ireland; fell by chance on a certayne Iland, in former tymes very famous for fishing [...] and for the [...] of the people, reduced in so great a sterility, as the poore [...] were brought into very hard strayts for want thereof, and ready to be famished. It was reuealed, through the diuine Clemency, to a certain woman, that the intercessiō of S. Malachy were the only remedy to help them to their former a­boundance of fishes. This was the reason that the people [...] about him, as soone as he was landed, being a great deale more an­xious and sollicitous for fish, then for preaching, or doctrine: for they were neuer frō his sides, cōiuning him, that laying aside, for the present, all other care whatsoeuer, he would vouchsafe to cast his eyes vpon their foresayd necessity. But the true seruant of Christ, an­swered them, that he was come thither, not to catch fishes, but sou­les: yet they not withstanding, went still recommending themsel­ues with so much more feruour, as at last it seemed good to S. Mala­chy, not to see light by the notable fayth which they shewed. Knee­ling then downe on the same shore, he besought our Lord to affoard the grace to these men, though altogether vn worthy thereof. His praier no sooner came to the diuine throne, then a good quantity of fishes somwhat greater then vsuall ascēded to the top of the water, and euen to this day doth the plenty continue. What wonder is it then, that the prayer of the Iust, which penetrates heauen, should likewise diue into the Abysses, and call from thence such like, and so many squadrons of waterish creatures?

On a tyme S. Malachy, with three other Bishops, arriued at the towne of [...], where they all lodged, at the house of a cer­tayne Priest; who finding himselfe, but ill prouided for such Ghests as they, sayd to S. Malachy: How shall I do, trow you, that haue no man­ner of fish at all? Seeke for some, answered he, of the Fishermen. O, re­plyed the Priest, It is now two yeares since that there could none be found in the riuer, in so much as these poore men, through despaire haue been faigne to abandon the trade. Then S. Malachy replyed. Do you cause in the name of God, the nets to be cast. Which was accordingly performed, and at [Page 47] the first draught there came vp some twelue Salmons at once, & as many at the second: so as all the company had meate inough to feed on, and to celebrate the Eternall Benignity. And to the end, that [...]his thing▪ without all controuersy, might be attributed to the Me­ [...]its of S. Malachy, after the feast was consumated, the former steri­ [...]ity did returne, and so continued for two yeares.

From these pleasant aduentures, and as it were of sport, let vs passe to a graue example of the diuine Seuerity, yet euer mixed with his wonted Mercy. There was in Lesmor a Clerk, of good exam­ple for the rest, but of Fayth not so orthodoxe. This man taking much complacence in his knowledge, and for the sharpnes of wit which he tooke himselfe to haue, durst impiously affirme, that in the Eucharist, howbeit the Sacrament were there, or Sanctification, to say rather; yet was there not therefore, the Thing of the Sacra­ment (as Deuines vse to say) that is the reall Body, and Bloud of Christ our Lord. Vpon which so abominable errour of his, being of­ten secretly admonished by S. Malachy, but euer in vaine; at last he was cited to appeare before a certaine Congregatiō of Ecclesiasticall persons, without the accesse of, any secular person, that with the least shame that were possible, he might come to acknowledge his errour. Licence was there giuen him, freely to propound and argue: he endeauoured withall the forces he had to mainteine his falshood. But S. Malachy disputing against him, and with liuely reasons, and found authorityes shewing how farre he was from the truth (and besides S. Malachy, the rest likewise, confuted him) yet notwithstan­ding that arrogant man persisted, still in his diabolicall opinion: he departed from thence indeed much confounded, but not amended, shamefully alleadging he was not conuinced through force of lear­ning, but meerely ouerborne and oppressed with Episcopall power. And thou Malachy (he stucke not to say) shouldst not haue dealt with me in this manner, in speaking thus against the truth, and (if thou wilt but confesse the matter as it is) euen in truth against your owne Conscience. The holy Pastor being exceedingly contristated with so pertinacious an impudency as well for the losse of that erring soule, as for the loue of the Ca­tholike Fayth, causeth the Clerke anew to make his appearance in a more solemne and numerous assembly: and heere the fallacyes & vanity of that contumacious wretch, being afresh layd open, and confuted he publikely exhorted him to acknowledge the falshood, and depose his pertinacy. The same admonition did many other [Page 48] Priests and the grauest Prelats affoard him. But being not able to [...] moue him an inch, at last they declare him a manifest Heretique, and by consequence deuided from Christian Society. And yet notwith­standing all this, that ignorant and proud Wretch, perseuering still in esteeming himselfe more wise and learned then all that were present, and further vpbrayding them for partiality, whereas he only freely but defended the Ghospell; S. Malachy at last being pre­uoked therewith, spake out with a lowd voyce: Since thou [...] willingly confesse the Truth, let God then make thee to confesse it by force. An [...] the Heeretike answering, Amen, the Councell was dismissed: & that excommunicated person, not being able to suffer so great disho­nour and infamy, determined to runne into some forrain parts; & now with his fardell was in readynesse for the way, when behold him ouertaken on a suddayne with a grieuous infirmity; and feeling his strength to fayle him, he cast himselfe on the ground very wea­ry and anxious.

In the meane tyme, there happened to passe by, a certayne va­gabond distracted fellow: Who seeing him lye on the ground i [...] that manner, demaunded of him; what dost thou heere? And the mi­serable Wretch answered, he was not well, and therefore not able to go backwards or forwards. This malady (sayd the mad man) is nothing els but death it selfe; Get vp then and go home agayne, and I will help thee. Which words were not vttered by chaunce, but through Diuine disposition, that he might be cōstreyned to obey a mad fellow, that would not seeme to consent to so many learned and wise men. I [...] summe, being guided by him, he was faygne to returne back into the Citty against his will, where hauing now better bethought himselfe, at last comes truly to repent his cryme, and with a great deale of contrition causeth the Bishop to be sent for to him, and as it were in a moment confesseth the fault, detests the opinion, recei­ues absolution, and giues vp the Ghost. In this manner that delict seemed to cost him no lesse then his life, and as many as had heard the imprecation, were astonished at the efficacy therof.

Two notable accidents, vpon certayne faythles Men, for breach of accord with S. Malachy and another Bishop, about certaine differences amongst them, Chap. 21.

GReat, doubtles was the trauaile, which S. Malachy tooke, in the reduction of that man we mentioned aboue. But he suffered [Page 49] no lesse paynes, nor shewed he lesse vertue, in according certayne people, now entered into a sharpe contention in matter of Confi­nes. At what tyme S. Malachy resided in the Conuēt of Benchor, those people happened to be in a great difference; to compose which, on all sides they accorded to stand to the arbitrement of S. Malachy the true Seruant of Christ Iesus. But he was at that tyme very much trou­bled with many cares, which was the reason he gaue the charge to decide that cōtrouersy to another Bishop. But he also excused him­selfe, saying, that S. Malachy, and not he, was required for the effect. And therfore he desired to be quitted of that toyle, for that they would contemne him, & he take paynes to no purpose. Go your wayes (sayth he) and our Lord shall be with you. And the other Bishop replyed: I am content to vndertake the charge, but if they listen not to me, then know for cer­tayne that I will send for you to determine this debate, which is rysen amongst them. At which words, S. Malachy smiling: Do so then, answered he. Wherupon the Bishop condescended to vndertake the taske, and so departed.

Within a short tyme after, this Bishop caused the partyes to be assembled together. The cause was throughly debated on both sides: and for that tyme they were attoned, in such sort as they came to the signing of some articles of agreement betweene them, agreed vpon with full Consent on all sides: and theerupon they went home to their owne howses. But scarce were they gone on the way, when one of the Company being tempted by the accursed enemy of Mā ­kind, raysed a sedition betweene them, hauing a fayre opportunity offered him. For the other was turning homwards carelesse on the way, supposing they were now out of all daunger, and therefore were naked, I meane, without any manner of defensiue or offen­siue weapons about them. Wherupon that wicked Company wher­of we first spake, began to say among themselues: What do we stand vpon? We haue already the victory in our hands, and we may now worke our owne reuenge. With this fatall resolution they furiously turning back, made hast to ouertake them on the suddayne, and vnawares. Which the Bishop perceiuing hyed him to the Captayne of that Rout, or assembly, and began to complayne for so great an iniustice, and for so open and vntolerable a treason; but his complaynt auayling little, he addes protestations, he alleadgeth the respect and authori­ty of him that sent him thither, he menaceth the wrath of God, & in fine vsed all possible meanes to diuert him from so great a perfidi­ousnes. [Page 50] But the barbarous man, after he had let him a while con­iure & cry, at last turning himselfe to him with a proud countenāce: Do you think (answered he) that for your sake we should let the malefactours get out of our Clawes, whome God as a prey, hath so deliuered to vs? Then the poore Bishop remembring himselfe of the admonishment giuen at his departure, stretching his eyes and armes towards the Monastery began vehemently to weepe & exclayme: O man of God, where are you now? Where are you? Did not I presage as much before? O Father? Wretch that I am, vnhappy [...] Hither I came to do good, and not any hurt. And behold beere, through my occasion do those there loose their bodyes, and these their soules.

In this manner the good Prelate went vp and downe afflicting himselfe, and calling vpon his S. Malachy. When on a suddaine amōg the wicked Persecutours, was heard a terribly voyce, (nor could it euer be knowne from whence it came) as if certayne other of their Neighbours with armed troupes, had made some incursiō into their country, and put all to fire and sword, leading their wiues and children captiues without mercy. At which rumour, though vayne, their boldnes immediately being repressed, euery one betooke him to his heeles, leauing the rest to shift for themselues: and as it chaun­ceth in like tumults, the confusion was so great, as the hind most not hauing once heard the said voyce, nor knowing wherefore, let thē ­selues be led by the formost, vntill such tyme as comming into their countrey, and fynding there no such matter as they stood in feare of, remayned ashamed, and came to know, how in recompence of the malice and pride, which they had shewed to the messenger of S. Malachy, they had through diuine Iudgment, been giuen into the power of the Spirit of Lying. Wherat the Bishop reioycing, he spee­dily returned back to carry the newes to S. Malachy. Who seeing things notwithstanding as yet very broken, and still fearing new disorders, determined to go thither in person, to establish betweene those s [...]uage Nations, a sound and sincere concord indeed.

But yet neyther could he for the present seeme to bring his de­signe to passe, in regard the Conditions being freshly renewed, not without much adoe, & particular oathes hauing been takē of such, as the busines concerned, those who had been abused, being mindful of the iniury done them before, did impiously agree among them­selues to cry quit [...]ance with the periurious and perfidious people: And so they went after them, as sure to ouertake them embroyled with domestique cares, wherby they might handle them as they list.

[Page 51] But it fell out, through diuine dispensation, that hauing easily passed ouer a certaine great Riuer, which lay in the way, they were yet stayed with a little brooke, not farre off, & in despight of thēsel­ues were constreined to make a stop. For now to them it seemed to be more then the wonted brooke, yea a very huge water, which on euery side denyed them passage; in so much as being al in admiratiō, they said: Whence comes this inundation? the weather is fayre, the moūtaines without snow, there hath fallen no rayne of late; and though it should chaūce to haue rayned, yet which of vs can remember this little torrent, with any wa­ters euer to haue been swolne in this sort, as to come thus to couer the land, and to ouer flow the champaines? The hand of God without doubt is heere. He hath cut off our way, for loue of this Saint, whose pacts we haue not obserued, and haue likewise violated his precepts. So as these also without satisfying their greedy desires, full of shame, & dread, now turned their backs. The fame whereof was spread all about, and euery one blessed the Di­uine Maiesty, that knowes so well to catch the crafty in their owne snares; to pull downe the crests of the proud; and to exalt such as humbly and faythfully serue him. Which is likewise made more manifest in the case we shall presently tell you.

Two other terrible examples of the iudgement of God, shewed vpon the con­temners of S. Malachy; yet mingled with mercy for his sake. Chap. 23.

A Principall Gentleman of Ireland, falling out with one of those Kings, though he dealt about reconciliation, yet by no mea­nes would he seeme to trust him, vnlesse such a one as S. Malachy at least would seeme to interpose himselfe as surety between them. And certaynely not without cause, as the sequell will make appa­rent. For asmuch as that Gentleman assuring himselfe, not so much vpon the word of the King, as on the authority and promise of the mediatour, who was euen S. Malachy himselfe, while appearing in publique he walked without feare at all, behold vnawares is cast into prison by the King; who could not subdue the inueterated passion in him, nor Christianly forget that ancient hatred. The friends & kinsfolkes of the poore knight beholding him with their infinite sorrow in manifest perill of death, recurre to S. Malachy; vnder whose surety that other had put himselfe into the power of the King.

The Seruant of Christ, being stroken heerwith, and affronted [Page 52] withall at so iust a quarrell, what he intends to do in this case, we will declare. Hauing so sure a foundation, as the past promise of the King, he quickly reares vp a strong Bull warke agaynst ensuing assaults, and endeauours withall power to suppresse this enormous treason; to effect which, he musters vp a braue army, to wit, a good company of his disciples, and with them presenting himselfe before the king, demaunds the prisoner at his hands: and being shamefully denyed. You wrong (saith he) at once the diuine Maiesty, your selfe, & me, in violating the pact. And if you haue no care therof; yet haue I truly. This good man was perswaded by me; he founded himself vpon my word. If he chaūce to dye, I am he that haue betrayed him, and am by consequence guilty of his bloud: to what purpose would you seeme to make me a Traytour, and you disloy­all? Then know for certayne, that neyther I, nor these of myne, are resolued to tast any food, vntill such tyme, as the innocent, be put into liberty, as be ought. That sayd, he entred with them into the Temple, where all that day, with the next night, they perseuered together in Fasting and Prayer. But the King who dwelt hard by, fearing least their prayers, he being so neere, might seeme to haue too much force vp­him, with a foolish caution and aduise, tooke the resolution to absent himselfe from thence. But he no sooner was departed, but God, who reserues reuenge vnto himselfe, stroke him blind, and hauing lost wholy his sight, was glad to restore the prisoner; and to be as an other Saul to Ananias, so he to the holy Bishop, being led vnto him, where humbly crauing pardon, and mercy, through the benigne & feruent intercession of him, that could not be mind­full of iniuries, with a double miracle he had presently his sight. And in fine, the Gentleman being deliuered, an inuiolable friend­ship was accorded on. This surely was a great demonstration of the diuine Iudgement; but perhaps, this other, which (God assisting vs) we intend to declare, will by the wise arbitratours, be held no lesse.

We haue related aboue, that S. Malachy accepting the Abbay of Benchor, being content with the Church, and Seate, had volunta­rily yielded the rents and demeanes to a certayne lay man. This mā paying as commonly is wont so great a benefit with great discour­tesy and ingratitude, from the tyme he entred into the administra­tion of those goods, beganne to vse many insolencies agaynst the holy Abbot and agaynst his Religious; annoying them in euery thing▪ persecuting them on euery side, and endeauouring alwayes to vi­lify, [Page 53] and denigrate their actions and deportments; but he escaped not free for so great iniustice. He had an only sonne, who through the example of the wicked Father being likewise bent to molest & offend the Man of God, within the terme of a yeare onely, made a miserable End. The matter succeeded in this sort.

It seemed good to S. Malachy, for the increase of diuine wor­ship, to build an Oratory of stone worke, as he had seene done in other countryes, and the foundations now being layd, those bar­barous people, fell a wondering thereat, as at a thing very vnu­suall with them. But that malicious and proud yong man aboue the rest, of whome we spake, shewed not only with the others an admiration thereof, but such rancour withall, as he could not con­teyne himselfe from murmuring heere and there agaynst the same: and after he had with diuers instigations and calumnies endeauou­red to stirre vp those people agaynst the Seruant of Christ; at last comming with a shole of Townsmen, vpon the heate of the bu­sines, and with a scornefull eye, beholding S. Malachy. Hold (sayth he) O you Syr: what cappriccio is now come into your head, to bring such a nouelty into our house? We are in Ireland, not in France: What a le­nity is this? What need is there of such a sump [...]uous and proud worke? Where haue you meanes to finish it, poore thing as you are? Who shall euer see it come to the roofe? It is surely the tricke of a mad man, to set hand to a worke so beyond his compasse. Hold, hold your hand; Desist from, a vanity so great, or otherwise shall we make you giue ouer, nor will we suffer you to go for­ward by any meanes about such a building, impossible to be brought to perfe­ction. In which words, the hayr [...]brayne and rash man came to disco­uer his wicked intention: without once reflecting on his small for­ces. Forasmuch as his followers▪ in whome he confided so much, as soone as they came in sight of the venerable Bishop, being sudden­ly chaunged in hart, returned home to their houses; that impious, seditious and wretched Leader being quite aboandoned, as he de­serued. To whome with Fortitude and Meroy withall, the man of God, answered: Thou miserable wretch, this worke which thou heere seest begunne, and beholdest with an ill countenance; shall be finished without doubt, and many shall see it accomplished. But thou, because thou hast no will thereunto. shalt neuer see it: And looke you to it, least Death surprize you not in your sinne. So S. Malachy sayd, & so fell it out. He dyed, and the worke was finished: but he saw it not, because, as we sayd; he dyed the very same yeare.

[Page 54] Now the Father of that wicked wretch, hauing known of the Saints prediction, he hath kild (sayth he) my sonne, and was so in­censed agaynst him for it, as in the presence of the Captayne and of the Chiefe of the Country there, he had no respect to him a whit, but called him Enuious, hollow-harted, and a meere Cosener; and lastly for a greater spight, termed him a Moncky. To which bitter contumelies, the follower of Christ answered not a word: But yet the great God would not seeme to hold his peace, throgh whose will, on that very day, that impious wretch, being seized on by an infernall spirit, and cast into the fire, was by his friends very hardly taken forth from thence, with his lymmes all burnt, with his wits crackt, with his face awry & foaming as the mouth; sending forth such horrible cryes, & framing such strange gestuures of the body, as put a terrour into euery one, and many togeather had much a do to hold him. Heerupon Saint Malachy was called to the spectacle, and with wonted clemency making his prayer for him, was heard, but not to the full; Because that in chastisement and memory of the offence committed agaynst the holy Father; he had after that, euen to this day, certayne grieuous fits, which at changes of the Mooue, doe most bitterly afflict him.

S. Malachy lights on a treasure to build with, the medell was presented to him in a vision. Together with his gift of Prophesy. Chap. 24.

REturne we now to the building: for which in truth, S. Malachy had no manner of meanes at all, eyther little or much; but yet felt in his hart, a certayne firme confidence in God. Wherof he was not a whit deceiued; since our Lord, perceiuing this Seruant of his not to go founding himselfe in treasures any wayes by him purcha­sed, made him to light vpon one, within the scituation it selfe, ne­uer touched or knowne till that very hower. S. Malachy then seemed to find in the purse of God, what he could not haue found in his ownes and that worthily truly. For what was more reasonable, then for him to haue the coffer in common with God, who had no­thing proper of his owne? While he in fine, that hath a liuely fayth, hath all the riches of the world. And what els is the world, but an inexhanstible Banck of the diuine Clemency? The whole circuit of the world is myne (sayth he) and whatsoeuer is conteyned therin. And hence it is that S. Malachy discouered those moneys, not disposing the or laying [Page 55] them vp, but exposing them indeed; ordeyning so large a donary of the Creatour, should wholy without sparing a whit be spent in the seruice of the Creatour: and so much the rather, as by a passed Reuelation, he knew that Edifice to be acceptable to his diuine Ma­iesty. Because that hauing first before he once set hand vnto it, con­ferred the intent with his Domestiques, and finding them somwhat dubious, by reason of the charges; he gaue himselfe to prayer, to find out by that meanes the will of God therupon.

When returning one day from a certayne Pilgrimage, which he made, being now somewhat neare to the place designed, he lif­ted vp his eyes, and behold, he seemed to discerne a very goodly Oratory of stone, and of excellent workman ship withall, & regar­ding the scite, the former, & cōposition therof, impressed the same in his fantasy with that tenacity, as the thing being cōmunicated with some few of his owne disciples of the more ancient sort of them, he gaue beginning to the building, & finished with such diligence the scite, the modell, and prorportion, with all the circumstances, by de­grees, as the plot came iust to answere the fold; as if he also with Moyses had heard, See you do all according to the plat-forme, which was [...]hewed you in the mountayne. He had afterwards a like vision to this of that other Oratory, which he built in a place called Sabelline; sauing that he saw the fashion not only of the Oratory there, but euē of the whole Monastery like wise.

These said manifestations were of material and sensible things. But that which now we shall set downe, was of an edifice meerely spirituall. S. Malachy passing a long by a certayne Citty, and a great multitude concurring thither to meete with him, by chaunce he dis­couered among the troupes, a yong man very curious to view him, who mounting on the top of a huge stone, was standing there a tip­ [...]oe, for that purpose to behold him, extēding forth his neck as much as he could: and S. Malachy being certifyed from heauen, how that person stood there with the spirit and vertue of Zacheus, yet the friēd of God held his peace for that tyme, making shew as if he had not [...]eeded the same. But after at night in his Lodging, he told some of his how he had not seene him only, but also foreseen what should betyde him. The third day was not passed, when that deuout man [...]ppeared at his Inne, in the company of a Gentleman his Maister: who courteously proposing to S. Malachy, the good defires of the young man, besought his Paternity to accept him, among his chil­dren, [Page 56] and followers. S. Malachy acknowledged him presently, and added: He had no need to be recōmended by men, who already by God had bin so recommended to him. And so taking him Iouingly by the hand con­signed him to other Fathers, & Brothers of his, & liues (if I be not de­ceiued) at this day, a chiefe Lay-Brother in the Monastery of S [...]ria, with an excellent fame of religion and sanctity.

The Blessed Bishop, like wise shewed a great gift of Prophesy, e­uen at the tyme of his saying Masse when being aware of a certayne crime which lay hid in the Deacon, for that tyme did no more but looke vpon him, and fetch a sigh, but after the sacred Mistery was ended, he examined the minister himselfe in secret, as touching his conscience and he ingenuously confessed, that night he had felt an illusion. Wherupon the most chast Priest enioyning him a secret pē ­nance; this day, sayd he, thou oughtest not to appeare at the Aul­tar, but chastly and modestly rather to haue withdrawne thy selfe, and to haue carryed the respect due to the most holy Sacrament: to the end that being purged with such humiliation, thou mightst haue been found more worthy hereafter to so noble an office.

And so another tyme, while he was offering the Host, with accustomed reuerence & purity of hart. There was a glorious doue seen to enter in at the window of the Tēple, which illumining the whole Church, that was somwhat obscure before, after it had flown heere & there, came lastly to rest vpon the Crosse, before the face of the Celebrant. He that serued was astonished at the nouelty as well of the light, as of the Bird itselfe, (which is rarely seen in those coū ­tryes) & as halfe dead, fell groueling on the ground, so as he hard­ly came to himselfe all the tyme of the ministery. When Masse was ended S. Malachy did forbid him vnder mortall sinne, to discouer the thing as long as he liued. He being at Ardmach, in company wi [...] another Bishop his Collegue, they arose by night togeather will others, to visit deuoutly the Sepulchers of the holy Martyrs there layd vp in the Cemeter of the blessed Patrick. And behold how one of those Aultars did seeme to burne into liuely flames. Whence S. Malachy ghessing the great merits of such as reposed there, ran in of a suden, and plunging himselfe into the midst of the flames, with opē armes imbraced the Aultar. Where what he did, or felt in the place there is no mā knowes. This is true, that the Man of God came forth of that fire more enflamed with celestiall Loue, then euer: as all his more dearest friends very easily perceiued.

S. Malachy remembring his purpose, calls a Synod about the Palls. And vnder­takes a second voyage to Rome. Chap. 25.

NOw at last, let vs heere make a stop to the signes and prodi­gyes from the diuine arme, shewed forth in fauour of S. Malachy by an entire catalogue therof. It sufficeth that noting the same with some diligence, which we haue already touched, the Iudicious wil assuredly acknowledge all the species, at least of the anciēt myracles; as Prophesies, Reuelations, Chasticements of the wicked, Healths of body, Conuersions of mynds, Resurrection of the Dead. Besides which, through his so excellent vertues, he was magnifyed of our Lord likewise in the sight of Kings, and the greatest Men: he was full of merits, and after many and grieuous persecutions, surmoun­ted at last, euen Enuy it selfe. From so honorable a Race, what might be expected heere, but a glorious yssue? Let vs now see then in what manner he went forth.

On a day S. Malachy, and the Brethren togeather were in a holy recreation, conferring amongst themselues of the last passage: and euery one being inuited by turnes, discouered where, & when it would like him best to depose his terrene carkas, while some insi­nuating one, and some another solemnity; some this, some that Ce­meter or Churchyard; S. Malachy (when it came to his turne to an­swere) standing first a litle in suspense, for the place distinguished: That if he were to remayne in Ireland, it would be most gratefull to him, to be where he might arise in the company of the holy Apostle S. Patricke: & if in forraine parts, no where more willingly would he repose his bones, then in the church of Clareuallis. As for the tyme he chose the day of All-soules: to the end to be accompanyed then with greatest number of suffrages, that might be. Now if this were S. Malachyes desire, he had the fauour afforded; If an Oracle, it missed not a iot, as we shall see.

The feruent desire, which S. Malachy euer had to adorne the two Metropolitans with the sacred Palls, was not a whit extingui­shed, though for a tyme buryed in the ashes of obliuion. Which now he vnraked, and was wholy enflamed with a desire to put it in pre­sent execution. Which to performe effectually, after he had recom­mended himselfe to our Lord, he gathered a generall Synod in Ire­land: and after the dispatch of other particulars, came to the foresayd [Page 58] point of the Palls. The proposition pleased all for the most; but with condition, that the enterprize should be committed to some other, besides him. Yet notwithstanding S. Malachy made great in­stance to go, in regard Pope Innocent was dead, & Eugenius, a Monke of Clareuallis, was mutually chosen for his Successour: yet had he no cause to feare a repulse, in renewing of his memorial; for he was a Man of that benignity and sanctimony, as the fame therof spread it selfe throughout the world: and likewise in respect, Pope Euge­nius for publique affayres, was then resident in France, which was a short way, and lesse daungerous, then the first he vndertooke. The Prelates perceiuing the great desire he had to vndergoe that paynefull iourney, durst not much oppose themselues agaynst the will of the holy man, but consented to his desire: Which he vn­dertooke as soone as the Councell was dissolued.

Amongst a great number of his friends, which accompanyed him to the Sea syde, one was called by name Catholicus, who was sorely molested with an Epilepsy; in such sort as often tymes in a day he would fall on the ground, to the exceeding great brusing of his whole body, which to preuent he had alwayes one to at­tend vpon him. This miserable wretch turning himselfe to S. Ma­lachy, with a lamentable voyce, and full of teares, sayd. Ay me, Fa­ther, you go now your wayes, and know in how great, and how many afflictions you leaue me, and yet can you help it, if you please: and though I for my sinnes, haue, and do deserue all euill, yet alas, what fault haue these poore Bro­thers done, to whome for my sake is not permitted an houre of rest? with this plaint the hart of the Blessed Bishop was as it were, now spilt asun­der: When he deerly imbracing the sick man, made the signe of the Crosse on his breast, saying: Rest secure yet, and be confident that you shall not fall into the like fit agayne, till my returne. That malady the poore man had susteyned for six yeares togeather. But now at the only speach of S. Malachy, he was recouered in such sort, as he neuer fell more thereinto, being in a moment deliuered from so grieuous, & bitter a payne, and the assistants themselues from a long and yrk­some a custody.

After which, as S. Malachy was taking ship, came two of his most inward friends to him, for to craue a notable boone at his hands; and he demanding what their request was: we will not tell you, sayd they, till you promise vs first to comfort vs: he promi­sed so to do; then they replyed. We will (sayd they) that you faith­fully [Page 59] promise vs another thing, which is to make your returne to Ireland agayne, very safe and sound: the very same did all the o­thers beseech him. Whereupon the seruant of Christ, retiring a litle, as he was wont, within himselfe; and being sorry first for hauing so engaged his word, not knowing how to discharge himselfe, being [...]ing on the one syde to come out of debt, and sory on the other [...], leaue Clareuallis. But after the same, at last resolued with him­selfe, to comply with that which pressed him most, that is, not to fayle in his promise, remitting the rest to the diuine pleasure. Then though with an euill will he answered, yea: and his disciples being comforted not a litle heerwith, he caused them to hoyse vp sayle. But in the midst of the Sea, he was driuen backe agayne vpon the cost of Ireland, by a sudden contrary wind. Where he landed, and passed the night in a Church of his, acknowledging and thanking the diuine goodnes, for that without the preiudice of any, he had by that meanes acquit him from all wherein he was bound to his Monkes. And in the morning being afresh embarqued, he landed very happily on the same day in the Kingdome of Scotland, & after two dayes more arriued at Verdestagnus, where leauing certayne sub­iects for a Cistercian Abbay which he had founded there, he pursued his iourney, and being honorably receiued by King Dauid, in the confines there, staying in that place for some dayes, not without a great deale of fruite, he passed into England.

In Gisburne in England S. Malachy cures a woman of a Canker. And after arriues at Clareuallis, where he fals mortally sick. Chap. 26.

SAINT Malachy at his entrance into the kingdome of England lodged in the Canonry of Gisburne: where he contracted a very streight friendship with those Priests there of singular fame. Moreo­uer in that place, a woman was presented to him, very much defor­med, and eaten with a horrible Canker: He blessed a little water, & therewith sprinkled the soares so efficaciously, as the paines therof sudenly ceasing, the next day they could hardly be seene.

Departing from thence, he went to the Sea side, where he met withan vnlookt for impediment, caused through certayne differēces risen at that tyme betweene the Apostolique Sea, and the King of England about iurisdiction; which were then growne so hoat, as he through aboundāt iealousy permitted no Prelate to go forth of the [Page 60] Iland; and for the same respect, was the Bishop Malachy likewise reteyned for some tyme. Who on the one syde though he were sory to be delayed in that sort from his businesses: yet was he not aware on the other syde, that this very delay seemed to fauour his vowes, & designes. Because, if he had presently gon into Fraunce, he had been feigne, leauing Clareuallis, and passing the Alps, with diligence to haue measured the greater part of Italy; the Pope Eugenius being alre­ady gone forth of France, & approached to Rome. Where as now by this delay through a sea-passage, his iourney by diuine prouiden­ce came to be disposed in that manner as he arriued at Clareuallis, euen at the point himselfe desired. Where being receiued by vs, as an Angell descended from Paradise; what a light seemed to shine vpon this our habitation, and what a solemne Feast was it for vs al? and I my selfe now trembling, and weake as I was, being reuiued with the newes, ran full of exultation and iubiley to his holy kisses and imbraces; and he reciprocally, shewed himselfe to vs, as he was wont, very pleasant and affable, and wonderfully gratefull to euery one.

Now by this tyme were some foure or fiue dayes of our com­mon gladnes passed ouer, when behold on the Feast of the glorious S. Luke the Euangelist, after he had with extraordinary deuotion ce­lebrated Masse in publique, he was taken with a feuer. Wherupon falling downe on his bed, he fell sick, and all our ioy was turned [...]o sadnes; though somewhat moderated the while, in that the feuer as yet was not very violent nor rigid. So as recouering hope, you might haue seene, what running there was vp and downe in the howse, some to prouide medicins, some to apply somētations, some to bring him meate, some to exhort and intreate him to eate, euery one striuing to serue such a Ghest, and accompting themselues most happy that could haue most accesse to that holy & blessed man Whē S. Malachy beholding thē with a benigne countenance: All these paynes (would he say) are too much for you to take: but yet for your sakes I refuse them not, and willingly do what you cōmaund me. He knew right well his latest hower approched: and to his companions, who would seeme to comfort him with saying there appeared in him no mortall signe, It is conuenient (would he answere) by all meanes that Malachy this yeare depart this life. The day approches now, which I, as you very well know, haue alwayes wished to be the last of my short dayes. I know well in whome I trust: and now that I haue part of my intent, I am certaine, and secure in like [Page 61] sort that my desire shalbe graunted in the rest. He that brought me through his clemency to this place I desired so much; will not deny me the tyme nor terme: and for as much as concernes this weary body of myne, I will heere repose it: for the soule he shall prouide for it, who giues saluation to such as put their trust in him: Nor haue I any small confidence in the same dya, wherin by the lyuing is purchased so great a help to the dead.

And now approached full neere the day indeed, when he spake so freely of it: so as not to loose any tyme, he craued for the Extreme vnction. And while the Monks were about to descend into the Church to fetch the holy Oyle with procession thence vnto his chamber, he would not seeme to consent thereunto by any meanes: but would in person be led downe thither, where with the greatest veneration that might be, hauing taken the holy Oyle, as also the heauenly Viatique, he returned to his bed, and recommended himselfe to the prayers of the Brethren, as he likewise mutually recommended thē to our Lord. And it is a meruaylous thing, how from an vpper chā ­ber that was somewhat high, wherin he was lodged, he came forth and descended on his feete, while he affirmed not withstanding, that death had knocked at the doore. And yet, who would belieue it? He was not pale in the face, nor meagre, nor wrinckled in the brow, nor had his eyes funck, nor his nose sharpe, nor his lips cō ­tracted, nor black his teeth, nor leane & slender his neck, nor crūpt in the shoulders, nor finally had he the flesh of the whole body any whit fallen away. Thus far hath my pen gon on its course; now it seemes, as it were, to runne a ground, and loath to passe to that which by all meanes is conuenient to be written, as immediately followes.

The blessed Death of the most venerable Bishop S. Malachy. With a myracle which fell out after. Chap. 27.

THe ioyfull Commemoration of All-Saints, arriued at last; whē we entred into the Quire, but with a dolefull musique, & yet was it necessity for vs to sing in mourning. S. Malachy though he could not sing, yet mourned not, but reioyced rather for his ap­proach so neare to the triumph at hand. His defect of voyce he sup­plied with a iubiley of the mind. He honoured that Blessed Society, wherof he was very soone to make vp one he payed to others that tribute, which within little after was likewise to be payed to him: [Page 62] The sacred Offices being ended, as well as they could be, S. Malachy now approched, not to night, but euen to Aurora, as it were; not was it Aurora indeed, since darknes being now banished, the day was come: so as the feuer renforcing it selfe, the vitall parts begā throgh all the lyms to put forth first a boyling, and then a cold sweat. To the end that euen that blessed soule it selfe like wised might seeme to passe through fire and water, into rest.

And now hope being quite lost on all sides, and ech one resu­ming his owne prognosticat, and acknowledging those of the sicke to be likewise true; we were called on his behalfe to the Cel where he lay, & he casting his eyes towards vs: With a great desire (sayd he) haue I desired to make this present Pascha with your Charities: Thanks be to the supernal piety, that I see not my self defrauded of my hope. If I be able I shall not be vnmindfull of you. Go to, I shall. I haue put my trust in God, and euery thing is possible to the belieuer. I haue loued God, I haue loued you: Loue is without terme. Hereupon looking vp to heauē, he adds, O Lord conserue these in thy name, and not these only, but all those who by meanes of thy word, and my ministery, haue beene dedicated to thy holy seruice. After which imposing hands vpon all, one by one, he makes vs to go rest our selues: alled­ging the extremest article was not yet arriued. We went our wayes then, and about midnight, being newly awaked, we ran to him a­gaine, who was now vpon departure. The chamber, and all the howse was filled; there hauing beene besides our owne family, many Abbots repayred hither from other places. And so with psal­mes, hymnes, and spirituall Canticles accompanyed we our friend in his way homwards.

Thus S. Malachy Bishop of Ireland, & Legate of the Apostolique Sea, assumpted as it were from our hands by the Angels, in the ye­are of our Lord. 1148. and of his age 54. in the day and place by him chosen & prognosticated before, most peaceably slept in our Lord. And may be said to sleepe; Since we all hauing our eyes fixed vpon that venerable face of his, were none of vs aware of his last breath; there not appearing in the dead the least signe to distinguish him a whit from what he was liuing. And such was the freshnes of that whole angelicall countenance of his, as he might seeme to haue re­ceiued rather an ornamet from death, then any iniury at all. And fi­nally himselfe was not changed a whit, but he changed vs rather: Forsomuch as in a moment, our mourning was turned to Iubiley, playnt to song, and the domesticall discipline also, which was som­what [Page 63] troubled before with so grieuous an accident, was now retur­ [...]ed to its frame agayne.

The sacred Body being taken out of the chamber, vpon Ab­ [...]ots shoulders, was carryed (according to his owne designe) into [...]he Chappell of the most blessed Virgin. There were the Exequies [...]erformed with great celebrity; the Masse was solemnely sung, nor was there any want of those diligences, which appertayne to such worke of piety. Nor is it to be silenced the while, how a certaine [...]hild standing in the meane time a pretty way off, with a dead arme [...]f his, not without a grieuous impediment and deformity to him; I my self being aware thereof, becked to him, to come to me, when [...]aking the withered arme, I applyed it to the hand of the glorious Bishop, and he publikely on a sudden, retyred from thence with is arme, and hand made whole and sound. That done, those Or­gans of the holy Ghost, were deposed in the appointed Sepulcher.

In this manner the good S. Malachy, hauing happily runne his [...]ariere, went his wayes to the immortall crownes: leauing vs all [...]o lesse full of solid edification, then of laudable Enuy. It rests now O Sauiour, and our Iesus, that as we being put in trust with this most [...]oble treasure of yours, ready to restore it whensoeuer you shalbe pleased tn require the same: so your Maiesty, would vouchsafe not [...]o take it from hence, without the spoyles of so many companions [...]nd friends; but as we haue had him, as a Ghest, and Conuictour [...]n this transitory life; so may we haue him as a Guide & Conductor [...]nto heauen, for to raigne there with thee, and him, world without [...]nd.

FINIS.

S. ANTONY.
THE ARGVMENT.

SPeake, Oyee shores, neere which the Sunne doth rise,
How bright from you his golden Chariot flyes,
Reflecting his strong lustre on your streames,
And makes your gemmes vye purple with his beames:
Expresse you this, and we may parallell
The glorious light that issued from the Cell
Of this deare Saint; which made th' enamor'd sky,
To wonder at a State, so low, so high.
Behold his fasting, watching, dayly strife
With hellish Foes, his troubles during lyfe;
Yet like the Palme with greater burden prest
Rays'd more aloft, by paynes obtayning rest.
Contempt of riches did a treasure gaine
Immortall, precious. He cast downe, doth raygne
Aboue the Sphaeres. And we from him may know
Heau'ns high way lyes not through the world below.

THE LIFE OF S. ANTONY ABBOT.
Taken out S. Athanasius, from S. Hie­rome, Palladius, and others.

The Genius and disposition of S. Antony: with his Vocation, and Renuntiation of the world. Chap. 1.

SAINT ANTONY of Aegypt, that glo­rious Conquerour of himselfe, and triumpher of the Princes, and powers of darknes, was borne in the confines of Heraclea, in a place cal­led of Sozomenus by the name of Coma, and by Nychephorus Conia; a variety sprung peraduen­ture from the errour of the Copyers: and so it is to be thought, since Coma in the Greeke tongue doth signify a Bourg, and therefore it is a common opinion of some, that eyther of both the Authours had so written. But howsoeuer it be, it ap­peares very well, that S. Anthony from the first beginning was de­stined to high enterprizes; since Nature, Education, and grace haue concurred with so liberall a hand, to fauour and adorne him. He had an able, and liuely temperature of body; an aspect both graue and pleasant; a sacacious iudgement; a memory tenacious; a witt [Page 64] [...] [Page 65] [...] [Page 66] docible, acute, and constant. Besides he was bred of Christian pa­rents, very honourable, with singular care and custody, and with so much the greater facility, as the Child of his owne accord, being much aliened from childish sports, and profane studies, shewed him selfe most amorous of silence, and of Churches; attentiue to the word of God, content with simple fare, and without any delica­cies. To such matters, and addresses as these, the holy Ghost added the forme, and the ornaments, which presently we shall see. For that indeed in the most dangerous passage of his age, which was of 18. or 20. being left an Orphā, with one Sister only, certaine things began to come into his mynd, which formerly he had heard, or read, of the Counsayles of Christ, of the conuersation of his disci­ples, and of the meruailous feruour of the primitiue Church, at such tyme as the faythfull, replenished with charity, selling their hou­ses and liuings, and whatsoeuer els they possessed in the world, went voluntarily, bringing the price thereof, and laying the same at the feete of the Apostles. Considering withall, the inestimable re­wards, wherewith for the same they were to be recompenced in Heauen.

These thoughts, went S. Antony reuoluing in his mind; when as it happened through diuine disposition, being entred into a Tē ­ple, according to custome, he heard in the very same instant, these words of the Ghospell recited; Si vis perfectus esse, vade, & vende om­nia quaecumque habes, & da pauperibus, & veni sequere me, & habebis the­saurum in caelo. The words were not sung to a deafe man: they sud­denly pierced with extraordinary feeling vnto the marrow & [...] Wherupon the Sacrifiec being ended, he returned home from thēc [...] without delay: and gaue liberally the rents of his Patrimony to his kindred, which were 300. acres of very fertill land, as S. Athana­su [...]s affirmes (to whose Greeke text I do particularly adhere, though others haue accompted it for some 300. trees of fruitfull Palmes) and this to auoyd all manner of contention. For the moueables he put them to sale, and taking from thence a summe of money, distri­buted the same to the poore; reseruing to himselfe, but a very small part for necessities occurring, and especially for his Sisters sake. But within litle after, being returned to the Church, and hearing that other aduise of the chiefe Verity; Nolite cogitare de crastino: with a ge­nerous resolution he made an end of selling the rest, and placing the child his Sister, in the company of some noble and deuout Virgins, [Page 67] he distributed the rest that remayned, to the poore. Thence lea­uing his house, and parents, being replenished with singular con­fidence, he made his entry into the sharpe way of perfect Vertue.

At that tyme, there were not on foote so many Monasteryes in Egipt, as were afterwards to be seene: and in the Deserts which were more remote (none can remember) that euer any one inhabi­ted, till that tyme: But, he that would with particular study, giue himselfe to diuine Seruice, and attend to the saluation of his soule, for the most, recollected himselfe into some little Lodging, neare to his country, and there would exercise and apply himselfe with sun­dry meanes to pacify the heauenly wrath, to amend his manners, & to prepare himselfe for death. The holy youth hauing got some no­tice of one of these Exe [...]citants, being now of good yeares, and wel experienced, disposed himselfe to do as much. And likewise seque­string himselfe from the conuersation of seculars, began first to deale with him, and afterwards with others, frō time to tyme, such as dayly he discouered to be addicted to that manner of life: and not for curi­osity to know sundry inclinations of natures, or features of faces, but with diligence only to obserue the industryes, and vertuous quali­tyes of all, and in ech one to imitate whatsoeuer might seeme more admirable in him; and so like a wise Bee, for the framing of his mi­sticall hony, in visiting them at tymes, and shewing himselfe offi­cious, obsequious, and obedient to them, he went on with a great deale of iudgment; collecting abstinence from hence, thence affa­bility, from one dexterity in conuersation, from another vigilancy in praying, from this heere patience and meekenes, from him there sharpe penance and mortification, and from all together a feare of God, and christian charity to his Neighbour. And it is truly a thing worthy of note, that he contending so with euery one to his power in so noble an enterprize, would be doing the same with such cir­cumspection, and with so much sweetnes; as not only he was free from rancour and enuy, but likewise highly beloued and esteemed of euery one. And moreouer now hauing made the renunciation of his goods, and hauing nothing to susteyne himselfe, he would not liue with the sweat of other mens browes, but would giue some tyme to the labour of his hands, & of the price which he purchased with his trauells, reteyning onely to himselfe, so much as might suffice him for a little bread, he would diuide the rest with very great charity, among the poore.

S. Anthony is twice tempted by the euill Spirits: but reiects them both. Chap. 2.

TO so fayre a beginning, and so happy a progresse, the subtile & cruell Enemy of human kind, opposeth himselfe, vsing all art, and framing euery engin, to withdraw the new souldiour from his glorious purposes. First he beginnes on the one side, to reduce into his mynd, his parentall inheritance, the commodity and delights of his home; his nobility of bloud, with the hope of new purposes. On the other, the streight way of vertue, the frailty of flesh, the diffi­culty of pennances, especially in the spatiousnes of a long life, which with apparent reasons, he would seeme to make him promise to himselfe. He added moreouer, the due sollicitude of his kindred, & particularly of the virgin his Sister; who though recommended to others, yet if peraduenture any sad disastre should betide her, she might iustly in the sight of God & men, cōplaine of him. With these suggestions, gaue Sathan the first assaults to S. Antony: and perceiuing himselfe to be so valiantly repelled with words of the diuine scrip­ture, through liuely fayth, and with the memory of the Pouerty, of the dolours, and Passion of Christ; he reenforced the battayle afresh, with a squadron of bestiall & carnall thoughts, enflaming in an in­stant, the naturall incentiues of youthfull age, and representing in his imagination day and night, sundry formes of beautifull and lasciuious women. This new warre, as it was continuall and peri­lous to S. Antony, so was it grieuous and troublesome to him beyond measure, and the Enemyes so much the more audacious and fierce, as their intelligence on earth was greater, and their enflamed darts seemed to penetrate more neere to the Fort of the soule.

Neuertheles, the stout and faythfull Guardian, opposed so many rampiers of vigils, fastings, considerations of infernal paynes and of the last iudgment; and aboue all obteyned with humble and feruent prayer so much succour from heauen, as euen likewise from these battayles, he seemed to carry away alwayes a happy & glo­rious victory. Whereupon the restles Aduersary did tēpt him with arrogancy, and vanity, hoping by that meanes to depriue him of the crowne. Within a little after, the Enuious & diabolicall wretch appeared to the blessed young man, in the shape of a horrid, & yong Blackamore, complayning with a human voyce, & prostrate at his [Page 69] feete, sayd to him: Many, and many, O Antony, haue I deceiued in my tyme, but as by other Saints, so likewise now by thee, and thy valour, am I put to confusion. Being demanded, who he was: I am said he, the friēd of Carnality. I am he that moues debates, & in sun­dry manners, do cause perplexities in youth; & therfore they do call me, the spirit of Fornication. How many, that haue beene disposed to liue in Chastity, haue I made them already to alter their purposes? How many, that haue begun to keepe the same, haue I reduced a­gayne to their obscenes and vncleanes, as before? I am he, through whose occasion, the Prophet so reprehends the lapsed, saying: Spirit [...] fornicationis seducti estis: & surely with reason too, since I, & no other but I, am he that deceiued them. And I finally, am he, who haue tempted thee often, yet hitherto could I neuer ensnare thee.

At these words, S. Anthony acknowledging, all good to come from heauen, sudenly gaue thanks to the diuine Goodnes, & thence taking new confidence, thus answered the Deuill. Thou then for ought I can see, art a very coward, and hast little in thee: and like­wise the age, and hew thou hast taken vpon thee, are right signes of great weakenes and basenes in thee: and added, For this reason alone, (quoth he) I will not care for thee. And concluded with great iubiley of hart: Dominus mihi adiutor, & ego despiciam inimicos ineos. Scarcely had he begun to sing this goodly verse, of the hundred & seauententh psalme, when the infamous seducer vanished quite, ful of rage, and confusion. And it was but iust, that the fierce encoun­ters, and vercrate stratagems of that immortall substance, which had once the impious boldnes, to rise vp against the Highest; should re­mayne thus scorned & reproached by a yong man, encombred with flesh, and encompassed with infirmity.

But yet for all this, S. Antony held not himselfe a whit secure, or out of danger: because he had well vnderstood ere now, how the wicked spirits, haue a thousand inuentions to hurt with. Heerupon taking al wais new courage, at the presence of God, he would neuer lay down the armes of iustice; nor yet discouered he only, from the strongest tower of holy fayth, with high contemplation, the coun­try afarre off, but euen lay also in wayt with particular attention to be alwayes ready agaynst the domesticall enemies, not suffering in the Ports of the hart any thought to haue entrance, not through­ly examined, and well known. He had all his parts subdued and restreyned with seuere lawes, and heasts. He would passe very of­ten [Page 70] whole mights in prayer, and when through extreme necessi­ty it behoued him to rest somewhat, he had no other bedd, then a peece of a mat, or the bare ground. Some two or three dayes to­geather, would he be without eating or drinking awhit, and at last would refresh himselfe with nothing els, but bread, and a l [...]le water, and salt.

And heere it is to be noted, that he slackt not his rigour after he had thus continued a while as if he had done inough: nor mea­sured he the greatnes of his profit by continuance of tyme: But day by day, he would suppose he did but then beginne, remembring that saying of Elias: The Lord liues, in whose sight I do stand to day. In which saying, S. Antony would ponder on that word, to day: be­ing well aduised, that the souldier of Christ, were to make no rec­koning of the trauayles, and yeares now passed ouer; but as if e­uery day, he had but newly entred into the lists, so were he to be alwayes in a readines, to giue forth himselfe, as a glad spectacle to the diuine Maiesty, Men, and Angels. And now since mention i [...] made of Elias, I will not spare to add, how the blessed S. Antony ac­cording to the light he had in raysing vp his thoughts, from tyme to tyme, was purposed at last, with singular study to expresse in himselfe, the lyfe and manners of that louer, not of Prophecy so much, as of retirednes, and solitude.

S. Antony betakes himselfe into a Cell in the Desart; and is therefore ma­ligned by the wicked Spirits. Chap. 3.

NOr farre of from S. Antonyes Cottage, were many ancient rui­nes, not inhabited by any. In one of which causing himselfe to be shut vp, by a certayne friend of his, with order taken with him, to bring him bread within such a space; he heere would treate with none other, then himselfe, and God alone. For which the Prince of darknes, being now anew enflamed with rage, and fearing if he put not remedy to it in tyme, he should soone behold (to his irreparable losse) the desert likewise filled with Monasteries & Monkes: sending presently to the Cell of S. Antony, a great num­ber of cruell Ministers, caused him (through diuine dispensation) to be so sharpely scourged & whipped, as he was left on the ground, deuoyd of speach or breath: and he himselfe likewise related after­wards, that the smart of those stroakes exceeded any tormens, which [Page 71] were humanly supportable.

While then he lay along stretched forth in this man nor; behold through diuine prouidēce) his coadiutour came now to him with [...]is wonted prouision. Who opening the doore, and finding the [...]oore S. Antony in so ill a plight; tooke him vp for dead on his shoul­ [...]ers, & with much cōpassion carryed him so to the Parish Church. Heere now, who were able to explicate the concourse of freinds, Parents, and Neighbours, who came suddenly to behold him, to, [...]ewayle him, and to prepare his obsequyes? Some lamented the [...]red of so heroicall actions should so beyond al opinion be cut off. Others very bitterly deplored the losse of such a Father and Maister, [...]nd perhaps there wanted not those (such is the nature of men) that [...]r lack of consideration, would seeme to re [...]rehend him of immo­ [...]rate feruour, & foolish temerity. The Euening being passed with [...]ch discourses, while they stood about the Corps with many lights [...]fficiously, expecting the Exequyes; by little and little (as it hap­ [...]ens) they fell a sleep. And now it was about midnight, when S. [...]ntony being returned to himselfe, & opening his eyes, was aware, [...]at all the Standers by were oppressed with a profound sleepe, ex­ [...]epting his familiar friend, who through his much sollicitude and [...]harity, was continually in suspence, and vigilant. Which S. Antony [...]rceiuing, coniured him so much, partly with signes, and partly with a low voyce, as in fine he obteyned, without any noyse to be [...]onueighed back into his cell againe. Where being not able, throgh [...]e many soares he had, eyther to kneele, or to stand on his feete, [...]e was feyn first, as he lay, to make his prayer a prety while, & af­ [...]er that with a greater courage thē euer, began he with a lowd tone [...]o defy the infernall squadrons, saying.

Behold me Antony, heere I am, I fly not your shirmishes, how [...]ierce soeuer they be, nor shal euer any thing in the world be able to [...]euer me from Christ; and presently gaue himselfe to singing of Psal­mes, saying: Si consistant aduersumme castr [...], now time bit cor [...]; whē [...]s the Authour of Pri [...] conuerting himselfe to his cursed Crew, See you (saith he) this vntamed beast, how after so many punishments, [...]nd bitter woes, he daies yet to prouok vs thus? Take vp your armes fresh, and assayle him now more sharpely then euer; that he may [...]nce come to learne, whome he hath to deale with Lucifer had yet [...]ow scarcely finished his commaunds, when the foundation being [...]aken with a horrible Earth-quake, and the foure sides of the poore [Page 72] Cell layd open. There entred in a moment by those chincks a h [...] multidue of vncleane spirits, in sundry and dreadfull figures of Ly­ons, Buls, Leopards, Beares, Wolues, Aspes, Scorpions, a [...] Serpents, beating the ayre, and bestirring themselues, ech one, ac­cording to its proper forme, and nature. The greedy Lion roared, ready to deuoure: The Bull lowed, threatning with his cruell hor­nes: The Dragon hissed, with the neck stretched forth, and [...] pestilent breath: The rauenous Wolfe fell a houling, with open mouth, and sharp teeth: and all the sauage beasts, in fine, with eye [...] enflamed, and open iawes, fell a brissling themselues, being ech o [...] power, if not hindred from aboue, to teare S. Antony into a thou­sand peeces. But as they had no power vpon the lyfe of the Saint: so on the person, as farre as they had leaue, they striue now agayne, to worke him what domage and outrage they could.

At which very tyme the inuincible Champion, though other­wise groaning amidst all those terrible blowes, yet fayling not [...] ­whit of his courage, reproachfully rebuked the malignant spirits, saying: If there were any force in you, some one of you alone, were inough (I trow) for so light a conflict, but because God ha [...] taken away your forces from you, therefore you do go thus abo [...] to affright me with multitudes, and with strange figures of beasts▪ being surely an euident token of your misery. And manfully infe [...] ­red moreouer: If you haue any power in you; If God hath giu [...] you any authority ouer me, am I not now heere in your hand [...] Then do you swallow me vp. & glut your appetites vpon me: b [...] if you haue no such lycence, why trouble you your selues in vayn [...] See you not, how the signe of the holy crosse, & the Fayth in Go [...] serues christians, as impregnable walls.

At these words, the wicked fiends, encompassed him round, & euen fretted, and gnashed their teeth at him: When the Seruant of God, in lifting vp his eyes, beheld incontinent, the roofe to open it selfe, and the ayre to appeare with a celestiall ray; wherupon th [...] roome was illuminated at once, the Enemyes vanished, the payn [...] ceased, and the building shaken and disioynted before, came sudday­nely now to be vnited agayne, & reduced to the former estate. And from thence in a moment, S. Antony was informed of the presen [...] of God, and sending forth a deepe sigh, to the vision-wards, exclay­med. Where wast thou, O good Iesu [...], where wast thou? Why w [...] thou not heere from the first beginning to remedy my wounds? [...] [Page 73] answere whereof, was heard this voyce: Antony, I was heere in presece with thee, but stood expecting thee. And since thou hast shewed thy selfe to be thus stoute, & daunted not awhit, I will al­wayes succour thee, and shall make thy name famous through the world. With this Visitation S. Antony rose vp from the ground, with a great deale more vigour, then before he euer receyued. And was euen iust at that tythe; of the age of 35. yeares.

S. Antony retires himselfe into more inhabitable places. He meetes with the illusions of the Diuells: and shuts himself vp. Chap. 4.

SAint Antony being now by this tyme enflamed to greater enter­prizes, determines to penetrate further into the more inhabitable places, and most remote from humane society: [...] yet thought it not meete to conceale this determination of his, from his first and dee­rest Mayster, but rather communicating with him his whole desi­gne, inuited him also to be partaker with him of so illustrious a cō ­quest. But he excusing himselfe, through his oldage, with other difficultyes besides, S. Antony doth put himselfe alone on the way: And while he hauing confidence in God, goes forward, very sud­denly he beheld a great siluer Bason on the ground. At which sight, making a stop, and glauncing his eyes, obseruing the ap­parition, did presently perceyue the subtility of him, that had for­ged the same, and began to discourse with himselfe. Whence might this siluer vessell seeme to come hither? The place is quite out of the way, heere are no steps of any passengers, and when peraduenture one should loose it, yet such is the greatnes thereof, as suddenly he must needs be aware thereof, or at least would he afterwards haue turned backe at leasure to seeke it out: so as this is thy trick, O Satha, nor thinke thou thus to hinder my intention heerby. Go thy waies then with thy mettall with a mischiefe.

This sayd, the Plate immediately vanished like smoke, when S. Antony pursuing his iourney, but a little way off discouered a very great wedge of gold on the ground, and that not counterfayte and phantasticall, as the siluer was: yet could not be discerned, whether it were by diabolicall operation, or els (for the greater proofe of the Seruant of God) by some heauenly power, there put in that fort. But this is well known the gold was not imaginary, but true & per­fect. At the quantity and brightnes wherof, while S. Antony won­dered, [Page 74] to the end so betwitching an obiect, might not penetrate th [...] mynd, starting away from it, as it were from fire; he passed on his way, with his eyes shut, & flying through the playnes, neuer made stop, till he had quite lost the sight of the place. When taking some breath, & renewing his holy purposes againe, he arriued at a Moū ­tayne, where was a Castle halfe ruined, and inhabited with serp [...] and hurtfull beasts, insteed of men. Which at the appearing of the Saint, as if they had been chased, went headlong away in al post; & he damming vp the gate, with stone & tymber, remayned within, with prouision of bread for six months: hauing left order with his friends, that twice a yeare (for which space and more some Egiptians knew, & especially the Thebans, how to bake breake, & make it last) should supply be made him, from tyme to tyme: with which suste­nance, and with a little water only to be had in the same place, con­tinued he his admirable sobriety, and singular abstinence.

There came many to visit him, while he himself not withstāding being shut vp, saw them not, nor would suffer himselfe to be seen of any: and the bread I spake of, was let downe to him by certay­ne holes in the roofe. In the meane while, his friends, attending with great desire at the doore, and passing that way many tymes by day and night, might heare from tyme to tyme, a very great noise within the roome, with raylings and outcryes, which sayd to him: Get you hence, out of our house. What haue you heere to do, in this desert? You shall neuer be able to endure our persecutions. The friends of S. Antony now hearing such quarrels, and menaces, with­out, did verily belieue some ill disposed persons, and enemies of the Saint, had byn gotten in with a ladder, from the top: but af­terwards, looking in very curiously through a chincke, they cau­sed some to get vpon the roofe, and by diligent search they could fi­nally discerne no such matter: It was presently knowne, that those horrible clamours, proceeded from none, but infernall spirits. Whereupon, the poore people, being now affrighted, began sud­denly to call vpon S. Antony by name, & to craue his succour: Wh [...] regarding the good of these, more then the menaces of those, appro­ching to the doore, exhorted thē with fayre speeches to retire from thence, and not to feare, since the Deuill is commonly wont (if you be fearefull) to increase your vaine and needles feares. Go home then on Gods name, and do you make the signe of the holy Crosse. Go your wayes, home, I say, in the name of the Highest, & leau [...] [Page 75] them heere in fine to be illude themselues.

With this conge, the visible friends giue backe, and departed thence, and he alone remayned behind to stand in contest with the inuisible Enemies: although from henceforth in all bickerings, he had not much to do with them, partly in regard, that they, through so many losses, became continually more weary & feeble: partly also, because he felt himselfe euery day more couragious and stoute, being very often comforted with diuine Visitations, and with often triumphes ouer his now vanquished Enemyes. In the meane time, new troupes of people, ceased not to resort from Cit­tyes and Villages to S. Antonyes Cell: Who making accompt to haue found him allready dead, beyond all hope, did heare him sing. Exurgat Deus, & dissipentur inimici eius, & fugiant qui oderunt eum, à faci [...] eius: sicut deficit fumus deficiant, sicut fluit cera à facie eius, sic pereant peccatores a facie Dei. And like wise: Omnes gentes circumdederunt me, & in nomine Domini, quia vltus sum in eos. With such and other like darts, the valourous Champion, transfixed so the rebels of Christ, as in all the encounters, they had euer the worst.

S. Antony remaynes reclused. His fame spreads through all parts: whereby many come to renounce the world. Chap. 5.

IN this manner of inclosure, the seruant of God, remayned for 20. yeares continually, without once seeing to yssue forth, or e­uer being seen of any person. Whereupon, the fame of S. Antony was so spread, and was in so great credit, of more then humane vertue; as day by day, there assembled about him a greater concourse of di­uers Nations, and conditions of persons, then euer. Some came with desire to be instructed, and trayned vp by him: & others to be deliuered from the Deuill, and from sundry infirmities. Others in fine desired, to behold such an Hermit as he, with their proper eyes, and so rare and liuely example of perfection, and to speake in a word, such an Angell on earth. Who, by how much more through humility retyred, so much greater thirst was excited in men of his conuersation. And in briefe, the matter went so farre, as they being able no longer to endure the expectation, pulling a way the obsta­cles by violency, and breaking vpon him with boldnes and re­uerence alike; they intreated him so much, as he was able to resist no longer, but forth with he came out of a Sanctuary, where he [Page 76] had beene, as it were, annoynted with the diuine hands, consecra­ted and promoted for the gouernement of soules. And it may well be conceyued the while, what a plenitude of graet, he receiued from Heauen; since loc, the very same redounding like wise to the body, after so many yeares of pennance, so great fastings, and such meditations, combats, and vigils, appeared to be of so good a cō ­plexion, as if in all that tyme, he had attended to his health, and had entertayned himselfe in pleasant pastimes.

With this was matched such a manner of composition, mode­sty, and grauity, as well beseemed a foster-child of the supreme wi­sedome, and Citizen of the supernall country. In such wise, as to haue met him, after so long a retirement in so great a multitude of men, applying themselues to him, and euen profuse in his prayses & renowne, yet should you not haue seene any signe of perturbation in him, or of vayne conten [...]mēt, but was alwayes found with Rea­son in the Sterne most firme, constant, and equall. He had so [...] refull & serene a coūtenance, as all men that looked vpon him, were comforted therwith. But what shall we say of the other Gifts of the holy Ghost? The dispossest of euill Spirits may suffice to winne be­liefe: the infirme also whome he hath restored: And the many be­sides aflicted and disconsolate, through diuers occasions, which with sweet & efficacious words he hath recomforted. How many emnityes, and how many strifes hath he reduced to peace and con­cord? He would exhort all with great vehemency of spirit, nory [...] lesse with the weight of reason, and examples, by no meanes to preferre any wordly thing, before the loue of our Lord Iesus. And he would also discourse of the future goods, and of the excessiue cha­rity of God towards miserable mortals: since for their Redemption and Saluation he would not seeme to pardon his owne most well­beloued Sonne, but rather in satisfaction of our debts, deliuer him o­uer to so cruell and bitter a death. With which discourses and ad [...] ­nishments, S. Antony went mouing the people in such fort, as many conceauing a like desire of the Eternity, and contempt of the world, determined themselues likewise to be sequestred from the vulgar, & to giue themselues to a solitary life.

From hence so many Monasteryes tooke their beginnings, where with in a very short tyme, were all those craggy mountaynes and champians of Egipt filled. And he, so long as he liued, had the superintendency and sollicitous care ouer them all▪ receauing with [Page 77] singular affect of charity, such as for diuers occurences of good go­ [...]rnement, would be making their repayre vndo him, and he him­selfe also would no lesse be visiting them in person, when tyme re­ [...]ired, without sparing any labour, or respect of manifest perils, ha­ [...]ing alwayes the heauenly custody with him, which miraculously [...]efended him from all disasters.

As it happened once among other tymes, in his visit of the coū ­ [...]y of Arsinoe; whither trauayling with some of his, and being to [...]ade ouer a branch of the riuer of [...] full of Crocadills, & most [...]uell Enemyes & Deuoures of men, hauing made his praier a litle, [...]tred into the water, and passed quite through it, both going and [...]omming, without any manner of hurt at all of himselfe or his Cō ­anions. Being now returned to his Cell, he gaue himselfe to his [...]onted labours and exercises, as before: and aboue all to his pasto­rall care, by inducing alwaies the Monks to greater perfection, with words and deeds, full of holsome incite ments, and holy doctrine. Nor was it hard for him to assemble an Auditory, so great was the [...]unger which euery one had of his words, and so singular the grace [...] his discourse, vouchafed him by our Lord, But especially, one day, [...]ere being [...] together a very great [...]course of people, to heare [...]im, the venerable Abbot with accustomed modesty, & candour of [...]ynd, in the Egyptian tongue, began to deliuer himselfe, as it fol­loweth in the next chapter.

The Exhortation of S. Antony to the Monkes, and people of the Disart Chap. 6.

ALthough the diuine Scriptures (my Children, and most belo­ued Brethren) are sufficient of themselfes for the instruction, and erudition of men: Yet is it a thing notwithstanding very reaso­nable, and iust, that euen Men no lesse knowing themselues, with mutuall incitements, excite one another to the execution of that, which they haue well vnderstood; and with pertaking ech one with the rest, the inspirations and lights he obteynes of God, they may all come to be euery day more wife, and expert in his holy ser­ [...]ce. Wherfore you, my children, whensoeuer you shall haue any good conceipt, to propose, vnto others, & to me your Father; omit [...]not, and I also as more ancient in yeares and most ready for the glory of God, will participate with you, in a much of that kind, as [Page 78] I haue hitherto any wayes, eyther by document of others, or of my owne experience, been able to comprehend.

The first then, and principall aduertisement for all, is [...] that ech one of vs, endeauour two things. The one, not to dimin [...] a whit of our labour or industry, reputing our selues, to haue do [...] inough. The other, not to loose courage, while the affayre seeme too prolix and tedious to vs; but rather, we are to make accompe that euery day is the first beginning, and to be alwayes a conseruing and increasing our holy purposes. Because, that as the whole age of a man, is very short, in comparison of what succeeds: so is al the created tyme, as nothing, being paraleled with Eternity. And truly in this life, things are ordinarily bought at a iust price, & in human traffiques is accompt made of so much, for iust so much: but in [...] case it is not so: while the Eternall Crowne seemes to stand vs [...] deed, but in a very little.

We read in the Psalmes: Dies annorum nostrorum in ipsis, septuag [...] anni: Si autem in potentatibus, octoginta, & amplius eorum labor & [...]. Whence put the case, we do spend the same whole space of eighty, or a hundred yeares, in the diuine seruice, thinke you the rew [...] therof to be equal? The trauaile exceeds not an age, the guerdon en­dures foreuer; the toyles are on earth, the recompence in heauen; the body comes to be rotten and consumed, but recouers a glorious, and vncorruptible one. So as my Children, let vs not go foulding o [...] armes; Let vs not thinke it to be ouer long; or that we haue done already any great matter, since according to the Apostle: The T [...] ­lations of the present life, haue not any proportion with the glory, which is [...] manifest in vs. Nor, casting our Eyes to the world, belieue, that we haue forsaken any great matter. For as much as the whole round [...] of the Earth, is but a point, in respect of the vniuersall fabrique of the world: and yet supposing we were Lords of as much as the S [...] warmes, and should haue quite renounced such a Monarchy, for the Loue of Christ; yet for all that would it be nothing at all, if we re­gard but the Realme of the Heauens, which is proposed to vs. And who is he, that would not willingly seeme to cast away a dramme of yron, to haue for the same a hundred of gold? Euen so a Man, that should abandon for God, all these earthly Signoryes, should afford very little, and receiue a hundred for one.

Now, if all the Earth at once, may not seeme to contest with the worth of Paradise; it is cleere, that for one to depriue himselfe [Page 79] of armes, or houses, or summes of money, he should not yet seeeme take eyther any vayne glory, or foolish sadnes for the same: es­ [...]ially considering, that though we despoyle not our selues of [...]se things for the loue of Christ, yet of force are we very soone to [...]go them, when we come to dye; and to leaue them very often, [...] such, as we thinke least of, as Ecclesiastes well notes. Why then [...] we not make a vertue of necessity? Wherefore exchange we not, [...]sitory patrimony, for an incorruptible inheritance? And if it [...]olly, to be tenacious of that which we possesse, much lesse be­ [...]g once disentangled from the same, should we be turning our [...]ought agayne vpon such a purchase? but alwayes aspire to the ga [...] ­ing of such things, as follow vs after the departure of the Soule [...]m the body: such as are the merits of Prudence, Temperance, lu­ [...]ce, Wisedome, Fortitude, Humanity, Liberality, Fayth in Christ, [...]eekenes, Hospitality, and other such like merchandise: where­ [...] if we make vs prouision in tyme, being once recalled from this [...]nishment, we shall find them to haue gone before vs, as Har­ [...]ngers, to prepare vs a Mansion, in the Citty of the Blessed.

These things, being well considered, should surely shake off, [...]om the mynd all negligence, and weake pufillanimity: but when [...]ey suffice not, at least we ought to be moued, with the strictnes of [...]ligation we haue to God. He truly is our law [...]full Lord, and we [...]s naturall vassayles and slaues. Now then, as a slaue dares ne­ [...]r to matter thus much, and say, I haue laboured yesterday in ough, [...]o day therefore I will do nothing: No, but day by day (as the [...]ospell sayth) still shew forth the selfe-same promptnes, which he [...]d before, presuming not at all vpon his passed toyles, nor thinke [...]ereby to be idle, eyther now, nor heerafter; to the end, he [...]ight conserne himselfe in grace, with his Mayster, and not to be [...]ust out of his seruice: so likewise should we, euery day be encou­ [...]ging ech other to Religious Discipline, assuring ourselues, that [...] we cease from working one day only, we shall not obtayne re­ [...]ission, in vertue of any former seruices done, but shall be punished [...]ther for this dayes demerits. For so sayd the Prophet Ezechiel; That [...]ter death, euery one shall beiudged, according to the state, he shall then be [...]nd in. And Iudas also for his ill carrage (if I might so say) of one [...]ght onely, did loose the fruite of all his yeares for passed.

So as, attend we, my children, to the true Obseruation of our Ru­ [...]s, and not suffer our selues to be vanquished with tediousnes, as [Page 80] knowing, that according to the Apostle, Our Lord is not backward whit to cooperate with him that hath a good will, and endeauours to help [...] selfe. It shall likewse auay le vs not a little, to chase away Slouth carry alwayes, in the memory, that saying of the Apostle himse [...] Quotidie morior. And if we likewise would be alwayes thin [...] with ourselues, that this present day were to be our last, & a wak [...] in the morning we would but suppose not to arriue to the Eueni [...] and agayne being layd downe at night, not promise to our se [...] to liue till morning: If we would regard, how vncertayne the [...] is, and how the diuine Prouidence, seemes to measure, and num [...] our steps, & how it hath continually the Eyes vpon vs; we sho [...] certainely not sinne, nor sufferre our selues to be carryed aw [...] with vnbrideled desires, nor should we be angry with our Nei [...] bour, nor giue our selues to lay vp treasure in earth: but we she [...] hubly yeild to others, in all, & through out, & should abhore all [...] suall pleasures, as a lewd and transitory thing, remayning alway [...] with our wits about vs, & with the Eyes turned towards the T [...] bunall, where we are all to be iudged. And after this manner s [...] the feare of euerlasting torments, be of more power to extingui [...] then the delicatenes of the flesh to enflame the desires of the [...] man. And with such a Stay shall the Soule sustayne it selfe, th [...] enclining already to a miserable precipice.

S. Antony proceeds yet in his Exhortation: And giues them other [...] sides. Chap. 7.

NOw, therefore, beginning a new, as if to day we but en [...] into the way of Perfection; let vs enforce our selues, to ar [...] to the End; and let no man turne his face to looke back, as di [...] wife of Lot especially our Lord hauing said so expressely, Th [...] soeuer hauing once set his band to the plough, should turne his face to heed [...] remaynes behind, were not apt for the heauenly kingdome, And this; [...] back, is nothing els, then for a man to repent himselfe of his go [...] beginning, & to returne yet agayne to wordly thoughts & acti [...] But some peraduenture may be affrighted with the name of ve [...] Go to then, yet let it not seeme strange or impossible, since [...]ey [...] is it farre from vs, or extrinsecall to vs, but rather within vs and [...] matter is easy to him, that truly disposeth himselfe to seeke it [...] Let the Grecians, and other profane Louers of themselues, go th [...] [Page 81] wayes to seeke it out, in forren Prouinces: let them plough the [...]as, crosse mountaynes, runne ouer the playnes & countries: For [...]s, there is no need to make any voyages for it, by sea or land, since [...]at, as the Prime Verity affirmes, The Kingdome of Heauen is with in vs. [...]n so much as to obteyne the same (supposing the diuine Grace, as [...]nclined to all) on our parts there requires no more, thē a meere effi­ [...]acious will. For so much as looke when the superiour part of the [...]oule, should be reduced to its naturall state, it would come to [...]aue in it selfe a solid and formall vertue indeed: since the naturall [...]ate seemes to be nothing els but the great rectitude, & much good­ [...]es, wherein it was framed by the soueraygne Creatour.

And hence it was, that the captayne Iesus Naue sayd to the He­ [...]rew people: Direct your hart to the Lord of Israel: And S. Iohn Baptist; [...]o you rectify your wayes. Because it is proper to the nature of a Soule, [...]o haue no wrinesse or crookednes in it. But whē it goes bending to [...]his or that side, then looseth it the naturall rectitude, & that ben­ [...]ing so, is worthily termed malice. From whence may appeare, [...]hat the enterprise is not so bad, as it seemes. For that if we, with [...]he helpe of our Lord, but conserue ourselues, such as we were fra­ [...]ed by him; we may come without more a do, to possesse Vertue: [...]ut if through election, we adhere to the euill, we do voluntarily [...]ecome wicked. If then the matter be not to be sought for else­where, but only consists in our selues, let vs beware of vncleane cogitations; and since from God we haue receyued our soule, as in [...]posito, let vs so deale that in his time, he may acknowledge his own workemanship in vs, and find the soule to be such, as himselfe had [...]ormed at first.

Let vs fight manfully, that we be not tirannized by wrath, nor yet ouerswayd with concupiscence: While it is written, The anger of [...]a man, workes not the iustice of God: and concupiscence after its conce­ption, doth bring forth sinne: and sinne being put in effect be­ [...]gets death. Let vs then be circumspect, in the gouernement of our selues, and stand we alwayes vpon our ward: and as the sacred Scripture aduiseth vs, let vs guard our hart withal the warynes that may be; because, though our enemyes on the one side, be infeebled, and deiected, notwithstanding on the other, are they very saga­cious, great dissemblers, and most subtle withall; and as the holy A­postle well notes: Non est nobis colluctatio aduersus carmen, & sangui­nem, sed aduersus principatus, potestates, aduersus mundi rectores tenebrarum [Page 82] harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae, in caelestibus. Great is their number, in this lower region of the ayre, nor are they in truth farre off from vs: They are likewise very different from ech other, in nature, and species; of which differences surely might a long discourse be had, but being a matter so litle necessary to our present purpose, & wor­thy of a more sublime vnderstanding, then mine is; It shall suffice me for this tyme, to touch that only which more imports vs; to wit, the fraudes, and stratagemes, which those maligne substances do worke, to the offence, and domage of our soules.

The blessed S. Antony, being come to this passage, made a pause for a while: and then began more at large, to discouer diuers arts and subtilities of Sathan, for that tyme as yet very new, and vn­known; at this day notwithstanding by the obseruation of so ma­ny ages, God be thanked, now very common, and vulgar. And then began he afresh, to declare a certayne remedy agaynst them, which was a vigilant, and continuall memory of God, conioyned with spirituall gladnes, with the firme confidence of the fatherly Prouidence, and with the care which our Lord, taketh of his Seruā [...]s In which state so long as the Christian stands, and the Religious al­so, he hath no need to feare any thing. Since as the Diuels, withall their fury, and rage, when he stands in his owne defence, cannot endomage him, with force; so are they not wont to assault him, with open warre, but with ambushes, and snares: wherein yet ly­ing in wayte, if they note the Citty of the soule, to be neglected, ill prouided, and vnquiet; then rushing in on a sudden, they will enkindle seditions, multiply breaches and put all in confusion and disorder. And this in summe sayd the blessed Antony, for asmuch as concernes temptations, and inuisible traynes.

But for apparitions, and visions, to be able well, and secure­ly to distinguish them; he counsay led the Monkes, in such a case, not to be dismayed a whit, nor to shew any signe of feare at all: but be the Spectacle what it will, couragiously to speake vnto it, and demand, who art thou, and from whence comst thou? For that if it be good it will suddaynely cleare thee in that point, through diuine power, and will replenish thee together with true gladnes: If naught, it shall loose its forces in a moment, in beholding the mynd so stout, and constant; since to demaund in that manner, is a manifest signe of assurednes, & tranquillity. In this manner we may see Iesus Na [...]e to be cleered by the Angell of light; and others not to be deceyued [Page 83] with that of darknes.

The Exhortation ended; a certayne Probleme is handled among the Fathers of the Desert: wherein euery one passeth his verdict. Chap. 8.

VVHile the holy Abbot spake in this sort, it canont be expres­sed, what comfort and consolation the Auditory felt; so as the tepid, were enflamed with the loue of vertue, the pusillani­mous seemed to pretend now great hope. And some on the contra­ry, being full of vayne persuasion before, came now to be humble, and to thinke more modestly of themselues; and finally all remay­ned astonished at the discretion of spirits, wherewith our Lord had seemed to endue S. Antony. Of which so precious a gift, since we are now fallen vpon it; we cannot so slightly passe ouer in silence that so famous a discourse, that to this purpose Iohn Cassian declares, with the Morall therupon; which was, that some of those ancient Fathers, on a tyme, being come to the blessed S. Antony, in Thebais, to conferre with him, about spirituall matters; the conference it selfe grew so hoat betweene them as it lasted from the beginning of [...]he night, to the next day morning.

The Probleme was this. What vertue, or what obseruance, might seeme more efficacions, and more secure, to preserue a Monke al­wayes assured from diabolicall snares, and deceipts, and to leade him by the stricter way, and with greater fredome to the top of Per­fection? Concerning which doubt, ech one, according to his capaci­ty, produced what he thought best. Some there were, who placed al in fastings, and vigils, affirming for proofe therof, that the soule, be­ing extenuated therby, and made pure of hart, & body, comes more easily to be vnited with God. Others extolled entire pouerty, and the totall contempt of worldly things; in reguard the mynd, being [...]aked, & quite stript of all those things, without doubt, being now [...]light, and discharged of all, may sudenly mount to the heauenly de­lights. By some others, was giuen the palme to the loue of solitude, and the deserts for being the true, and only way to become familiar with God, and to be alwayes vnited with his infinite Goodnes. Nor were they wanting, who preferred the works of mercy, and faternall charity, before all other Exercises whatsoeuer: alleadging that especially to these is the kingdome of heauen promised in the Ghospell. Thus euery one, hauing now vnfolded his mind, and [Page 84] more spaciously enlarged himselfe, in proofe of his proper assertion the greater part of the night, as we said, being spent already, di [...] the blessed S. Antony, beganne to speake in the manner follow­ing.

It cannot be denyed, my Reuerend Fathers, but that the same propositions by you made, are of singular auayle, for him that hat [...] the loue of God in him, & hath a longing desire to come vnto him Neuerthelesse to place a principall foundation theron, in numerabl [...] proofes and seuerall euents, occuring to diuers persons, wil not a [...] ford me to do it. For as much as I haue seen heeretofore some me [...] being giuen to wonderous abstinence from meate, and sleepe, in­credibly retired from all human society, so addicted to Pouerty, a [...] they would not reserue a penny to themselues, or a loafe of brea [...] for the tyme to come, being wholy employed with exceeding d [...] uotion, and with singular feruour in hospitality, and in the comfo [...] and succour of Neighbours; to fall at last into such errours & illu [...] ons, as their issue proued nothing answerable to their genero [...] beginnings, and magnanimous enterprizes. So as we may clerely discerne, which way is the better, to arriue to God by. If wi [...] diligence we seeke, and search into the occasion of the ruine, and perdition of those vnhappy ones, who most certayne it is, had bee [...] gathering together, along tyme a notable treasure of good, and ho­ly workes; what then was it, that made them not perseuere vn [...] Death? Surely the only lacke of Discretion, they hauing not suffici­ently learned of their Maysters, the rules and conditions of this Ver­tue, which shunning eyther extremes, continually maintaynes [...] vpon the high way, and lets vs be carryed away with the rig [...] hand of spirituall consolations, to superfluous & vnmeasurable ser­uours; nor yet with the left of temptations and aridities, vnder c [...] lour of care of the body, to fall into slouth, and sensuality.

This Discretion is that, which by the Lord and Sauiour of m [...] kind, is called the Eye, and Lampe of our body. Which eye being simple, the whole body shall be replenished with light: but when the Eye is too blame and naught, all the body shall be as full o [...] darkenes: the reason is, for that to this faculty of the soule it belon­ges, to weigh, ballance, and discerne all the thoughts, and operati­ons of man. Whence being corrupted, that is, not founded in true knowledge, or some errour, it comes to obscure the whole body, in blinding the vnderstanding and folding it vp in the night of vices, [Page 85] and of disordinate passions: and immediately our Sauiour himselfe [...]dds the cause thereof; For that if the light which is in thee, be darkenes, [...]ow great then shall the darknes it selfe be? And in truth, who sees not, [...]hat when the iudgement, through ignorance, remayning in the darke, goes doubtfull and wauering; but needs must the thoughts [...]nd actions, depending thereon, come thence to be entrapped in a greater and thicker myst of sinnes? Of which truth, he doth giue vs [...]ufficient testimony, who by the eternall Maiesty, being chosen the first King of Israel, for not hauing this eye of discretion sound, but [...]ll members ill affected with darknes, deserued to loose the King­dome; while he thought to be more seruiceable to God, in sacrifi­cing to him, then obeying of Samuel; incurring thereby the diuine [...]ffence in the selfe same thing, wherein he made full rekoning to gayne his fauour.

The defect of this knowledge, after that glorious triumph, [...]erswaded Achab, that mercy and clemency were better then seuc­ [...]ity, and the execution of that rigorous and cruell command, as it [...]eemed to him. Through which cōsidering, being mollifyed, whilst [...]e would needs seeme to be contemning with an act of piety, the [...]loudy victory, as he thought, through indiscreet compassion, be­ [...]ng himselfe likewise obscured in his whole person, was without [...]emission condemned to death. This is that Discretion, which is not only called by the Apostle, a Lampe, but a Sunne also, where he saith; [...]et not the sunne seeme to set vpon your anger. This in like manner is called [...]he Gouernment of our life, according to that saying: Such as haue [...]o gouernment with them, do fall like leaues. This is worthily termed Counsayle, without the which to do any thing, is by the holy Scrip­ture, so precisely forbidden vs, as neyther are we to take otherwise the spirituall wine it selfe, which is, that Gladnes that cheeres vp the [...]hart of man, while Salomon saith; Do you euery thing with Counsaile; and with Counsaile likewyse do you drinke your wyne. And elsewhere; Who workes without Counsayle, is like to a Citty, which is dismantled quite, and destroyed: as shewing with this similitude, how pernicious to the soule, is the lack of such a vertue. In this, knowledge, in this the vnderstanding, and iudgment consists, according to that aduertise­ment, which saith; with wisedome is the house built, & with vnder­stāding repayred; with iudgment is the Cellar replenished withall the best and most precious things. This I say, is that solid foode, that cannot be taken, but of strong, & perfect men. Whence the Apostle [Page 86] sayth: To the perfect belonges a solid foode, who through long experience, let t [...] senses be well exercised in the discretion of good and ill. What more? It is so profitable, and necessary, as it comes to be numbred among the o­ther diuine attributes, according to the sentence of the same S. pal: Quick and liuely is the word of God, and very efficacious, and more penetrate farre, then the sharpest knife, arriuing to the diuision of the soule & spirit, [...]ea euen to the ioynts & marrow, & is a discerner of the thoughts and intentions of the hart. Out of which authorityes, it is manifestly shewed, that with out the grace of Discretion, it is impossible, eyther perfectly to pur­chase, or long to conserue any vertue whatsoeuer.

This then in matter of Perfection, was the iudgment, this the Doctrine of S. Antony. The which, being first by that sacred Session of Fathers, without reluctatiō approued, & after, with good reason, by Cassian, as we said, inserted into his Collations, hath also seemed good to vs, for the publique vtility, to transferre into our present discourse.

The multitude of Monks increaseth. The Angelicall life of S. Antony: And of the persecution raysed by Maximinian against the Church. Chap. 9.

IN the meane season, the number of Monks did meruaylously in­crease, and throughout all those hills, could nothing els be seene but Cells and Monasteryes, like to Pauillions applyed to a sacred warfare, full of Psalmes, Conferences, Lessons, Prayers, Fasts, and vigils, accompanyed partly with a iubiley of hart, through expecta­tion of the future goods; partly also with the industry, and la­bour of the hands, to purchase almes for the poore. Who shall ex­presse then, the chast dilection, and streight concord amongst the [...] In such sort, as casting the eyes vpon those countryes, a Man verily seemed to behold, a Region as wholy dedicated to the worship & Iustice of God. Heere raigned not, eyther open, or hidden factions, not practices or designes of transitory, or terrene things, but only a multitude well ordered of men, all applyed to the study of the more eminent vertues. So as one beholding them, & the Orders withall, might truly breake forth, into that exclamation of Numbers the 23. chapter. Quam bona domus tuae Iacob, tabernacula tua Israel, tamquam nemor [...] obrumbrantia, tamquam Paradisus super flumina tamquam tabernacula, qua fix [...] sunt à Domino, tamquam cedri Libani circa aquas.

But yet in so vniuersall a feruour, did the Lampe of S. Anteny alwayes seeme farre to exceede, both in heate and splendour, the [Page 87] other lights: who neuer ceasing his angelicall customes, did alwaies [...]o his power keepe silence, and augment his pennances: aspiring day and night to the happy mansions of Heauen. Whereupon, as [...]ikewise the imitation of the more glorious Saints, he had so fixed [...]is mynd, that whensoeuer it was needfull for him to eate or sleep, [...]r in any other manner to serue the body, he beheld the noblenes [...]f the Soule, so miserably abased with so vile an exercise. And thus [...]hrough compulsion, he would take his refection, now alone, & [...]ow with others, not omitting through occasion thereof, to remē ­ [...]er his disciples, how much it behoued them very seriously to at­ [...]end to the soule, and to seeke after the profit thereof, in spending as [...]tle tyme, as might be in the care of the body, that the spirit be not [...]ulled downwards by sensuall delights, but the flesh to be reduced [...]ather into the seruitude, and power of the spirit; and this sayd he, [...]as the sense of those wordes of the Ghospell. Nolite soliciti esse animae [...]estrae, quid manducetis, neque corpori, quid induamini: haec enim omnia gen­ [...]s inquirunt: Scit enim Pater vester, quod his omnibus indigetis: Querite au­ [...]m regnum Dei, & haec omnia adijcientur vobis.

At the same tyme, while S. Antony was instructing, and gui­ [...]ing his Monkes in this manner; was raised in Egypt, that cruell per­ [...]cution of Maximinian, agaynst the Church of God. At the newes [...]hereof, the holy Abbot, being desirous to shed his bloud for Christ, [...]ent his way in hast to Alexandria, accompanyed with many, say­ [...]g: let vs be present by all meanes at the glorious combats of [...]e Champions of Christ: for that God will eyther make vs wor­ [...]y of that glorious Fellowship with them, or at least, if our Vo­ [...]ation extend not so high, their fayth and fortitude will affoard [...]s a noble spectacle, and of much edification. In the meane tyme, [...]e puts himselfe in publique to help and encourage them. First in [...]e mines, and in prisons, and afterwards much more, when they [...]rought them to the vniust Tribunall. And heere is the manifest [...]rouidence of God to be noted, that as he had destined him to the [...]ouernment, and example of Religious, (and in truth many be­ [...]g inuited only with the example, aspect, and manners of the man [...]f God, renounced the world) so he neuer suffered the Tyrant to lay [...]ands vpon him.

True it is, that hauing once vnderstood, he was in the Citty, [...]nd succoured the Christians, he made an Edict, that no Monke [...]ould approch to the prisons, and that all should depart from Ale­xandria. [Page 88] But yet the valourous Confessour, was not terrifyed with this, but rather on the day appointed for the wicked Execution, and at the publique Act of Matrtyrdome, while the other Monkes, were a hiding themselues, he alone, accompanyed the combatants to the scaffold, exhorting them alwayes to perseuere inuincible, and cou­ragious. From hence, to the end to be more easily seene, or rather to draw the eyes of the Prefect himselfe vpon him, being clothed with a garment, which was very conspicuous; he gets vp on a place of aduantage, somewhatneere vnto the scaffold, and there stood con­fidēt to the very end of al; with a holy Emulation for the Crownes, which the faithfull of Christ, seemed to purchase by their deaths: de­claring thereby the promptnes and fortitude, which in such occu­rences, they are to haue, who are truly Christians. In so much, as the Prefect descending from the Tribunall, & with all his Guard, pas­sing by S. Antony, remayned astonished at the grauity and fortitude of the Saint. Who since he saw himselfe, not without griefe, to b [...] thus deceiued of the hope, returned afresh to the prisons, and caues to serue, and comfort the Confessours of Christ, as he was wont; vn­till such tyme, as the blessed Bishop Peter being martyred, the rage of the Persecutours, came finally to cease.

Vpon occasion wherof, S. Antony retiring to his Monastery, there gaue himselfe to participate as well as he could, of the Palmes of the Martyrs, with bitter austerityes, abstinence, and voluntary punishments: not wearing any other within, but Cilices, and skins without; and neuer washing his body, nor so much as his feet, but when he chaunced on the way to wade ouer any water. And it is held most certayne, that vntill his buryall, he was neuer seene to be stript, or naked.

S. Antony dispossesseth one of the Deuill: and heares a voyce from hea [...] which directs him what to do. Chap. 10.

NOw S. Antony, being thus recollected, with purpose not to be seene of any, for a tyme; a certayne Captayne called Mar­tinianus, with a daughter of his, very shrewdly tormented by the deuill, and with a great troupe of people, approached to the Cel, & there stood knocking, and beseeching S. Antony with a lowd voyce, to come forth in publique, and to pray to God for the Mayden. To which cryes, hauing now stopped his eares for a pretty while, he [Page 89] came at last of meere compassion, to a litle chinck of the wall, and said. Hola, Who do you call for? I am yet mortall: If you belieue in that Lord [...]home I serue, go your waye [...], and pray to him, and according to your faith, [...]hall the grace be done you. The Captayne shewed not himselfe to be a­ny thing backe-ward to such aduises, but immediately conuerting himselfe from Paganisme, began to inuoke the name of Christ; and on a suddayne, the daughter of that Captayne was found to be safe and sound. After this, many other aswell Lunatique, as infirme per­sons, who could not come to haue any audience of the Saint, lay prostrate at the doore, and there recommended themselues, so long to his intercessions, as they came thence wholy cured.

At which meruayles, and at the concourse of new troupes of people, was S. Antony sore molested: fearing in his mynd, some motion of Pride, or at least, the world might come to frame too high a conceipt of him. Making then, mature deliberation herupon, [...]he determined to leaue that Cell, and to co [...]ueigh himselfe secretly into the vpper Thebais, in some part, where he might not be known of any liuing body.

To this effect, being departed, with some loaues of bread, to the shore of Nilus, while he was sitting there, expecting commodi­ty of passage, he heard a voyce from Heauen, which with a cleare tone pronounced these words: Antony, whither [...] thou going? and wher­fore? And he not being troubled thereat, as being already acquain­ted with such things, made answere: These people will not let my rest, whereupon I am resolued to passe into the vpper Thebais, as well to eschew the sayd disturbances, as principally also for not to be requested in things which exceed my power. The voyce adds: Although thou goest thy wayes hence to Thebais, and endeauourest to hide thy selfe (as thy designe is) among the sheapeards Cottages there: Yet know, thou shalt thence but purchase to thy selfe a double trauayle: Whereas if thou wilt find true rest indeed, thou must go into the hart of the Desert. And S. Antony replying: who shall shew mee the way thither to some place, to the purpose, since I my selfe was neuer there? when presently was shewed him a squadron, or to say rather a company of Saracens, who comming to Egypt for traffique sake, were now in their returne into Arabia, and were bound to trauaile iust that way.

Then S. Anthony approching to them, intreated them fayrely they would be pleased to take him along for a pretty way with thē, and so they did, as if they had had commandment from God: and [Page 90] at the end of three dayes, and three nights, they arriued at a very high mountayne, at the foote whereof, went gliding a fresh, and christall water, and nor farre from thence certayne trees were to be seene of sauage, and wild palmes. At the discouery of such a sight S. Antony did exceedingly reioyce, and sayd within himselfe, that same was surely the seate appointed for him. So as taking his leaue, with a thousand thankes, of the Saracens (who gaue him moreouer some of their bread) he remayned there alone in the Mountayne, & tooke it as his deere habitation, susteyning himselfe with wa [...], and the Dates thereby, and with the now supply, which the S [...] ­cen passengers, from tyme to tyme, admiring so great a vertue, di [...] afterwards affoard him: Vntill such tyme, as the Monkes at last, be­ing come to the knowledge of the place, tooke vpon them, the care to prouide for him; howbeit the holy, man, perceyuing by this [...] casion, they were like to be troubled much, and forced to take a great deale of paynes for his sake, was resolued to spare that labo [...] & causing some plough- [...]ons to be brought vnto him, with a litle seed corne, he beganne to till and sow a plot of ground, so as eue­ry yeare, he reaped sufficient to liue on: being much comforted the while, that he was heerby no whit offensiue or troublesome to any person of the world, being a thing, to his power, which he had e­uer auoyded. But seeing afterwards, for all this, that Ghests for­bore not to resort thither, he sowed there moreouer, some hearbes, for to be able to giue some manner of entertaynement, to passen­gers, we aryed with so long and difficult a iourney. And forasmuch as diuers sauage beasts, being inuited by the water there, came thi­ther to drinke, and did withall some hurt to his corne; he catching one of them, sayd very mildly to it, & the rest: Why do you wrong mee so, that offend nor you? Go your wayes, and come you hither no more, for our Lords sake. A very admirable thing; they being terrifyed, as it were, with such a commandement, durst neuer more seeme to returne thither.

S. Antony is much troubled with the assaults of the Diuell: He heares of S. Paul the great Hermit, and goes to seeke him out. Chap. 11.

A Midst such labours of body & mynd, the seruant of God being now growne old, yet continued his wonted discipline, and neuer left to afflict himselfe. Wherupon the Monks being moued to [Page 91] pitty, did bring him Oliues, with oyle, and pulse, for these were de­ [...]icacyes amongst thē. But in that place so remote, it cannot be told what combats the blessed S. Antony continually susteyned from Sa­ [...]han. Such as went thither, for their deuotion, were afterwards wont to relate, they had heard besides, great tumults, and noyses [...]here, with many cryes and clamours, and clashing of armes, and seene the mountaine all couered ouer with sparkles of fire, and the Saint vpon his knees, making his praier, against the fury of the outra­gious Enemyes. And surely it was an admirable thing, that a soli­tary man, in so great a vastnes of regions, should haue no feare, neyther of infernall spirits, nor of dragons, nor wild beasts: but truly, according to the Psalmist, confiding in our Lord, like to Mount Sion, had alwayes his mind very peaceable, and quiet: so as the deuills had occasion to feare him, and the beasts laying their poyson and cruelty aside, became very meeke and tractable to him.

But yet Lucifer ceased not to tempt him agayne, and to seeke alwayes to worke his annoyance, gnashing and grinding his teeth at him. And one night, among the rest while S. Antony was busy in prayer, he had leaue to set against him as many hurtfull beasts, as were to be found in those desert cliffs; who as forced to come forth of their dennes, were set on to encompasse the Seruant of Christ, making a proffer (as others heeretofore) to swallow and deuout him quite: but the vnderstanding the subtility of the Aduersary, told them, That if they had power from heauen, they might deuoure him, but if otherwise they came as sent by the deuill, without delay they should go their wayes, for he was the seruant of Christ. With which protestations, the brutish troupes, being affrighted & scour­ged, did suddainly fly away.

From thence within few dayes, while he was making baskets, as he was wont, to bestow on them that dealt very charitably with him; he perceiued one of the wickers of his worke to be drawne to the doore-wards, and raysing vp himselfe, sees a monster, from the head to the hips, which appeared like a man, & frō the hips downe wards, was like an Asse. And yet was S. Antony not astonished a whit at so new, and straunge a spectacle; but rather making the signe of the Crosse on himselfe, defyed it boldly, as he was wont: whereupon the beast being scared, togeather with the spirits that guided it, so imperuously ranne from thence as falling downe head­long, it dyed, representing in that fal the vnhappy aduenture of such [Page 92] as would go about to driue away S. Antony from the Desert.

Now after so many toyles of body and mynd, the Seruant of God was become Ninety yeares of age, & could no more without manifest daunger, endure austerites as before. Wherupon, with a pious violence, the Monkes enforced him to accept of two of them, to boare him company, and to haue care of him. The one called Amtli [...], and the other Macarius. About which tyme, the glorious doctour S. Ierom declares, how S. Antony bethinking himselfe, that hitherto neuer had any Monke gone further into the desart then he, it was reuealed to him, on the night following, that he was decei­ued, since there was another yet, more ancient and perfect then he that likewise inhabited therein, and that by all meanes, he should go to seek him. S. Antony was nothing flack to obey. For scarce had the Aurora put forth, when without any other companion, then a little staffe, he puts himselfe into the voyage: and now was it about high Noone, and the parching rayes of the sunne beganne to scorch the head of the holy Old man, and yet neuerthelesse, would he not seeme to desist from going forwards, saying within himselfe: I haue a firme confidence in God, that he will shew me him he hath promised me to see. And standing to muse thereupon, behold a Hippo-centaur appeares before him, to wit, halfe a man, and halfe a horse. At which sight, arming himselfe with the holsome signe, on his forhead: Hola, said he, where abouts I pray you, inhabits a cer­tayne man of God? To which demaund, the beast, with a confused voyce, made offer to answere, and withall stretching form the right hand, seemed to point him the way, and flying vanished, nor could it euer be knowne, whether the same were a feigned appari­tion, or some reall thing.

With such direction, did S. Antony follow on his way, deeply considering with himselfe on that strange figure, which he beheld a little before. He had not passed farre, thus musing with himselfe, but there appeared to him, in a craggy valley, a man of a little sta­ture, with a hawked nose, and horned countenance, who with a gratefull aspect, approaching to him, did offer him Dates, in signe of peace. Whereat S. Antony stood still, and laying hand on his won­ted armes, doubted not to aske him, who he was, and he answered so plainely as S. Antony was much astonished thereat. I am likewise mortall, said he, as you are, and one of the Inhabitants of the wil­dernes, adored by the blind Gentility, vnder the name of Fanus, Sa­tyrs, [Page 93] and Incubi. I come to thee now, as an Embassadour of my Companions, beseeching thee in the name of all, to make intercessiō for vs likewise, to the common God, for we haue now vnderstood he is come, for the saluation of the world. At which words, the holy Abbot beganne to sheed teares for ioy, in beholding how the glory of Christ was dilated, and the power of Sathan annihilated, and smiting the ground with his staffe, addes: Wo be to thee Alexandria who giues the honour due to God, vnto Monsters & Portents: Wo be to thee meretricious Citty, where haue all the superstitions of the world, built their neast now, wilt thou say? The beasts doe seeme to confesse Christ, and yet do you neuertheles, stand adoring of Idols.

S. Antony had not yet ended these wordes, when the Satyr as betaking himselfe to his wings in a moment, was quite vanished away. And to the end, that not any may hold it for a fabulous thing, it is to be vnderstood, that a like Monster to this, was brought a­liue to Alexandria, where after it had been wel seene, and reuiewed, by all the people, it came to dye. Whereupon being opened, and powdred with salt, it was lastly conueighed to Antioch, to satisfy the eyes also, of that Citty there, and of the Emperour himselfe.

S. Antony trauayling on his way, espies a wolfe comming forth of a Caue; where entring in, he finds S. Paul the Theban retired. Chap. 12.

TO returne to S. Antony, the good old man went on his way, and not discouering ought els, then the tract of beasts, and in­finite wasts of sand withall, there remayned now no other su­stenance to him, then a firme confidence of the Protection of Christ. By this tyme, two dayes were spent, and the night following, the seruāt of God did consume in prayer; when in the dawning of the day, he discouers a farre off, a thirsty she-wolfe, which panting and seeking for water, approched to the foote of the Hill. The wary trauayler looke after her, and as soone as she was departed from the denne, he likewise comming thither, began to looke in, though in vayne, because so great was the darknes there, as he could not discerne any thing. It was truly a horrible and dreadfull thing to behold, but Charity banished feare; he taking courage to himselfe, and going very softly and tenderly in, as he could, at last amidst those obscurities going forwards not farre off, there appeared a light [Page 94] wherewith being inuited, while greedily he makes hast thereunto, he stumbles on a stone, and with the noyse thereof, gaue occasion to him, that was within, on a sudden to shut & make fast the door vpon himselfe.

The caue lay open on the one side thereof, but well shadowed the while with a plan-tree, very great and full of leaues, and in the same playne arose a most cleere spring, from whence a litle brooke streaming along for a litle space, went creeping vnder the ground. The same place in tymes past, had beene the receptacle of those wicked Forgers, who in the tyme of Cleopatra, and Mark-Antony, in that place, had been coyning of false money; as do well testify the many anuils, & hammers there scattered vp & downe in those ta­uernes. And lastly for auoyding the persecution of Decius, & Valeri­anus, and to leade a holy lyfe, was the blessed Paul the Theban there shrowded from his youth, and had there perseuered with incredi­ble constancy to the age of 113. yeares. Now S. Antony perceiuing himselfe to be shut forth, in this māner, with exceeding great griefe lying prostrate at the doore, remayned there vntil the sixt hou [...]e, & vpwards, continually intreating to be admitted, & saying: You know well inough, who I am, and whence I come, and though vnworthy (I confesse) of your sight, yet without such a grace, I will not depart hence. Whereas you that affoard harbour to beasts, why banish you a Man? who according to the Ghospell, hauing sought and found already, doth now knock to be let in. Which if I attayne not, I shal dye heere in the very Entry, and when that hap­pens you shall be constrayned to bury mee. Which will be to trou­blesome to you.

The Pilgrime hauing thus continued a prety while, in this mā ­ner of intreaty, at last S. Paul smiling within himselfe, made an­swere: This same is a prety custome indeed, to beseech in brauing thus, to charge so, and calumniate with teares? And is it so straunge to you, that I receiue you not, if you seeme to come hither to leaue your life? In this manner of iesting, did S. Paul open the doore, & the straungers, howbeyt new, and as yet vnacquanted, very lou­ingly embracing ech other, did salute notwithstanding one ano­ther by name, giuing infinite thankes to the diuine Goodnes. And after the holy kisse of peace, being both set downe. S. Paul began to speake in this manner: You see heere, Antony, him, whome you haue sought for thus, with so much trauayle, rude, worne, frayle, & [Page 95] decrepit, & one in briefe, who within a very litle shall become dust. But in the meane while, for Charity sake, tell me, what is done in the world? Who rules? Go they about to reedify the cittyes agayne, already destroyed? And is the Deuill yet worshipped there, as he hath euer (almost generally) beene heere to fore?

Now while they fate thus sweetely discoursing together in lifting vp their eyes, they behold a Crow pearching on the bough of a tree thereby, which descending downe with a moderate flight; let fall betweene them, a whole loafe of bread, and so went its wayes. Wherupon said S. Paul: Go to, our Lord hath sent vs our dynne [...] heere, truly pious, truly mercifull. It is now full sixty yeares, that I haue hitherto receiued my halfe loafe euery day: Whereas now at your comming hither, he hath redoubled the allowance to his Ser­uants. After which, the Benediction giuen, they both sate down, by the side of a cristall fountaine: but yet before they fell to their meate, there was no litle ado betweene them which of the two, should breake the bread, in streyning courtesy the one with the other, with religious modesty, and with diuers reasons, in the point of prehe­minency before ech other. S. Paul did principally ground himselfe in the Lawes of hospitality, wherto S. Antony opposeth the maiority of yeares. The strife seemed to last a good while, and the day in the meane tyme passing away, at last, the duell ceased, vpon agree­ment made to take hold of the loafe between them, and to pull it, so as to ech might remayne his share in his hand; and so it iust fell out, and without more dispute, hauing taken the bread, and final­ly stooping, sipt a litle water, with thankes-giuing, they passed that night in Psalmes and Vigils.

S. Paul discouers to S. Antony his death approching. He dyes in S. Anto­nies absence, and is afterwards buryed by him. Chap. 13.

THe morning being come, S. Paul begins to speake to his Ghest in this so [...]: It is now a good while, my Brother, since I haue knowne that you haue dwelt in these parts, and your presence hath beene promised me heeretofore by our common Lord. But now in fine that I am arriued to my last passage, there remaynes me nought els, but to go my wa [...]es, vnto Christ, as I haue alwaies desired. Know then, you haue been sent hither by God to performe my Exequyes, & to couer myilymmes with Earth. S. Antony hearing this, beganne [Page 96] to weepe, and beseech him, not to leaue him behind, but to ad­mit him for companion on the way. When S. Paul replyed: You are not to reguard your owne cōtent, but the profit of others. He might seeme to fauour you indeed, hauing layd down the burthen of your flesh, to cause you to fly into Heauen; but he should not therby an­swere the expectation of the Brothers, that should remayne behind depriued of your guidance, and example. Wherefore I pray, be i [...] not troublesome to you, for Charityes sake, to returne your wayes home, to fetch hither the Cloke, which was once giuen you by Athanasius the Bishop, to fold vp my carkas in, and so to commit it to the Earth. Which request the Blessed Paul made, not that he cared much to be putrifyed, eyther naked, or clothed, especially not ha­uing for so long tyme, vsed to couer himselfe with other, then with the leaues of Palmes, being wouen together with his owne hands; but he did it, that he might not grieue him, by expiring in his sight.

S. Antony remayned amazed at the thing, which he heard, & particularly for the Cloke, and with veneration, acknowledging our Lord in the person of S. Paul, without reply, kissing the eyes and hands of the Saint, went his wayes in hast to his Hermitage: and at his approach, his two disciples demaunding of him, with great an­xiety, where he had been so long, he answered: Wo be to me Syn­ner, and false Monke: I haue seen Elias, I haue seen Iohn Baptist in the desart, or to say better, I haue seen Paul in Paradise. Then holding his peace, in knocking his breast, he tooke the Cloke of Athanasi [...] out of the Cell; when as his Companions importuned him yet to vouchsafe to speake more cleare, but he differing the same to its time without more delay, or affording any nourishment to his body so lōg fasting & wel nigh spent; went suddainly forth, with his mynd wholy fixed on his sweet Host, fearing (as it fell out) least in his ab­sence, he might giue vp the ghost. And now by this tyme, he had gone in great hast, as it were, half the way, when as lifting vp his eyes aloft, he sees among the happy troupes of elect spirits, the bles­sed soule of S. Paul, very glorious & radiant, to ascend vp to heauen. And suddenly casting himselfe on the ground, beganne to sprinckle his head with sand, and to weepe and lament, saying: Why leaue you me O Paul? Why go you away so before I had taken my leaue of you? So lately knowne; alas so soone parted!

S. Antony himselfe recounted afterwards, that he had passed the [...]est of the way, with the swiftnes of a Bird: and so it was knowne [Page 97] in the proofe, since entring into the Caue, he found the holy corps yet kneeling, and the necke vpright, and hands lifted vp; in­somuch as notwithstanding the triumph, which he had seen before, he was almost of the mind that he was yet aliue: but then not per­ceyuing any breath, or signe of life, he endeauoured with bitter playnts to kisse him; and [...]olding him vp in the sayd garment of S. Athanasius, he brought him forth with Hymnes, and Psalmes. But then not hauing any instrument to digg his graue with, and with great anxiety thinking, & bethinking himself what to do: Behold two Lyons, with their hayre layd open to the wind, to come run­ning at that tyme. Whence he at first being somewhat affrayd, and then taking courage in God, attended their comming, as so many Doues; and they being arriued to the corps, did humbly cast them­selues at the feete thereof, with fanning in their manner, and bit­terly roaring in signe of the sorrow they felt: and presently began with their feete to plough vp the sands, vntill such tyme, as there remayned sufficient roome for a man. Which being done, and as it were for their hire, receiuing the benediction of S. Antony, they quietly went their wayes: and he putting his shoulders to the sacred burthen, did bury it in the trench.

After this, surueying the Heritage of the dead, for not to go thence, altogether empty handed, he tooke hold of the Cassocke of Palmes; and being returned home agayne as long as he liued af­terwards in the solemnities of Easter and Pentecost, he would alwaies reuest himselfe therewith. After these workes of charity were ended he was intreated by a great number of Monkes, now comming in hast to him, where he was, to visit anew, & to recomfort the Cō ­uents. He went then along with them, and while they were on the way, there fell out another notable meruaile. That way was al very craggy and barren, & the heates excessiue, so as it was not long ere prouision of water fayled them, and the Monkes not knowing what to do, letting their Camell go loose, being scortched, and af­flicted, lay downe; When the holy old man, not a litle contristate at so great a perill of theirs, sequestred himselfe a little, and knee­ling on the ground, & lifting his hands to the starres, began to be­seech God, with so much fayth and feruour, as suddenly in the self same place of prayer, sprung forth the desired liquour. Whence all were reuiued, and others being satisfyed, as they anxiously sought for the Camell, did suddenly find him by the cord of the headstall, [Page 98] through a new miracle, entangled in a rocke. Loading him then, to their great contentment, they came very safe, and found to their Cells agayne.

S. Antony is very wellcome to all at his returne: and giues holsome Docu­ments to ech one, vpon good occasions. Chap. 14.

NOw it would be long, and superfluous heere, to explicate the ioy, which the Disciples shewed at the comming of their most sweest Father and Mayster, and he likewise reioyced as much to see them all, to be so seruent, with his presence and renewed in spirit. He had besides no small consolation, to find his Sister so per­seuering in the diuine seruice, being come to be Superiour of a most Noble, and numerous Conuent of Virgins. Now the arri­uall of the Saint being knowne throughout all those Parts, a great multitude of persons of all qualityes resorted thither, to salute him, and to visit him as they were wont, and especially of the Religi­ous: to whome he for entertaynement sake, insteed of presents, and gifts, would be giuing of precious aduertisements and aduises, say­ing: They should alwayes hold firme their fayth, and dilection to God, and the Neighbour: They should guard themselues from vn­cleane thoughts, and delights: They should not not suffer them­selues to be deceyued with Gluttony: and should fly Vayne glory: continue their prayers: lay vp the documents of the holy Scrip­ture in their breast: be allwayes reuoluing the actions, and man­ners of Saints, in mynd; endeauouring to reforme themselues, through the imitation of them.

And principally, he aduised them not to cease to meditate on those words of the Apostle S. Paul: Sol non occidat super iracundiam vestrā, and added therunto, nor yet vpon any other sinne whatsoeuer: it being a thing very fit and necessary, that neyther the Sunne accuse vs of our diurnall malice, nor the Moone of nocturnall sinnes. For which end (said he) shall the preceps of the Prophet himself, help you much: Iudge your selues, and examine your selues well. Let ech one, euery day, take accompt from his proper soule of his actions, words, and thoughts. And hauing erred, let him amend; hauing done wel, not exalt himselfe, but seeke to perseuere, and not become negligen [...] and let him beware, he iudge no man, nor iustify himselfe, (as S. Paul said another tyme) vntill such tyme as our Lord comes, who shal discouer the [Page 99] hidden things; in regard, that we in our actions, many tymes do de­ceaue our selues. But our Lord beholds euery thing very cleerely: and therefore we should seeme to haue the same reguard to others as to our selues, and to compassionate one another. It shall be also very profitable for vs to suruey with our Memory, the motions of our soule, and the workes which we dayly performe, and set them downe in writing, as if we were to giue accompt therof to others. Whence it shall come to passe, that for shame to be manifested to the world, we shall keepe our selues from falling into things which are worthy of reprehension. And with such a discipline refrayning the appetites, and subduing the flesh, we shall be able, very easily to conserue our selues in the grace of our Lord.

These, and such like instructions, he fayled not to giue to his Monks, vpon good occasions. And for as much as among the secular multitude, there was continually a great number of lame, & disea­sed people; he prayed afresh for them, but obteyned not equally forall: our Lord dispencing his graces, according to his good ple­asure. And S. Antony, euen as when he was heard seemed not to vaunt himselfe; so when he suffered repulses, murmured he not, but alwayes gaue thankes to our Lord; & exhorted the afflicted to haue Patience, and to be satisfyed, that their cure depended not on him, nor on men, but on God only, who affoardes health, when he wil, and to whome he lists. Wherupon, the languishing receiuing the words of the Old man, as from the mouth of God, learned to attēd, and suffer, and the cured came to acknowledge themselues bound not so much to S. Antony therefore, as purely to God. But what shall we say, besides al this, of the efficacy, which the Prayers of S. Antony had euen in persons, and places farre remote?

He being in the Monastery, and on this side of the mountayne, the Count Hercolaus came humbly to beseech him to vouchsafe to intercede for the health of Policratia virgin of the Citty of Laodicea, a great seruant of God, who through much abstinence, and macera­tiōs of the body, did feele most bitter dolours of the hips & stomack and was quite fallen away and come to nothing: which the holy Father did with a very good will, and the Count noted the while in a little scrole the very day of the prayer. And being afterwards returned to Laodicea, and finding the virgin to be now on foote, & free from all manner of paynes, to satisfy himselfe more fully, whe­ther it were to be attributed to the prayer of the Saints, or no; he de­maunded [Page 100] of her, on what day she began to feele her selfe well; and hauing heard it, he presently tooke out the scrole, & with the great astonishment of all, they found the Saints prayers, and recouery to haue happened on the selfe same day.

In like manner, a certaine Courtier, called Frontone, that being tormented with a raging infirmity would haue eaten his tongue, & pluckt out his eyes, had recourse to S. Antony. Who without any more ado, sayd to him: Go thy wayes, and thou shalt be healed. But Frō ­tone standing yet still for all that, and not departing thence for some dayes, the seruant of God replyed to him: Thou canst not be cured heere; Go thy wayes then into Egipt, & thou shalt see wonders. And so it fell out, for scarcely was he arriued in those confines there, but his vehement sicknesse quite for sooke him.

Many others likewise, whome it were too long to recount in this place, were by meanes of the Saint, deliuered from sundry, & daungerous maladyes. Though the miracle of Frontone it seemes, ap­perteynes not so much to the gift of Curing, as that of Prophecy. Which in S. Antony how eminent it was, though by diuers things aforesaid, may seeme in some manner to be comprehended: yet shall the same more clearely appeare, by that which we shall presently declare.

S. Antony relieues a Monke in distresse: and sees the soule of Ammon, in a vision, to ascend to Heauen. Chap. 15.

TWO Monkes on a tyme, being trauayling in the desert, came to fayle of water; in so much as the one of them dyed thereof, and the other seemed to lye in extremes. This, being reuealed to S. Antony, he commaunded the two which were in his company, to go their wayes, and runne presently with a vessell of water to the said place, being distant frō the Monastery, a dayes iourney at least, and tels them wherfore. And they diligently performing the same, found the one, as I said, departed, whome they buryed, & brought succour to the other in good tyme, and being so escaped they con­ducted him to the Saint. Now for what cause, the same was not she­wed him before, and why God would conserue the one, and not the other, seemes not to concerne me so curiously to seeke into. It sufficeth, that in so great a distance of place, was manifested to S. Antony what passed.

Another day, he sitting on a hill, in company of others, sees [Page 101] one ascending in the ayre, and many meeting of him, with very great ioy. Whereat S. Antony, remayning in admiration, and excee­dingly desirous to know who it was; it was reuealed to him, to be the soule of Ammon a Monke, who dwelling in the Desart of Nitria, about some 13. dayes iourney from the residence of S. Antony, was wont notwithstanding to come sometymes to visit him. He was a person of rare vertue, and many miracles are likewise reported of him: and this one among others, that being once to passe ouer the riuer Licus, which at that tyme, was very much ouerflowne, he prayed Theodore his companion for his sake, to follow some distance from him, to the end by wading together, they might not be seene to ech other naked. So did the other, and yet for all that was Am­mon afterwards abashed at his owne skinne. And while he stood vpon such points, and bethought him thereof, I know not how, without touching the water, he sees himselfe on the other shore, in the twinckling of an eye: where likewise the other, being after­wards arriued, and seeing Ammon to be all clothed, and without any signe of wet vpon him, demanded the manner how he pas­sed ouer, and seeing he refused to participate the same with him, he tooke hold of his feete, and wrong him, and coniured him so much, as in fine he vnfolded the quality of his passage to him, with this pact notwithstanding, that he should not discouer it to any, till his death.

Now the Monkes, as I sayd, seeing S. Antony with eyes so at­tentiue and suspended, very deerely intreated him, not to con­ceale from them, what he saw: when as he answered, that Ammon was departed from these miseries, and was was gone triumphant to Heauen. Whereupon the disciples noted the day, and after a month some Brothers coming from Nitria, making a diligent comparison of tymes, they found, that Ammon, on that very very day, had pas­sed to a better life.

Another tyme, S. Antony sayling with some Monkes and other Seculars, began to smell a very loath some sauour, and all affirming it to be the smell of salt fish, and of dryed figs, he replyed, he felt another sent. And while he was thus affiming, there was heard a horrible cry to come from a yong man possessed of the deuill, who lay hid vnder the vpper decke of the ship. Then S. Antony rebuked the Deuill, and on the behalfe of Christ constreynes him to depart, as he did, leauing the young man found, and the others astonished [Page 102] not so much at the miracle, as at the purity of a soule, so quicke of sent, as to fauour the neerenes of the vncleane spirit. Besides, he was wont also to perceyue before hand, the comming of such, as came to see him, and the occasion wherefore: and many tymes, would foretell the one, and other, some three or foure dayes, and somty­mes a month before they arriued at him. But that which happened to Eulogius of Alexandria, was a matter of particular edification, and caution to all.

The life of Eulogius briefely set downe, and especially a not able act of Cha­rity of his, concluded happily through S. Antonyes aduise. Chap. 16.

THis Eulogius, was a man, (as Palladius declares) of a good dis­position, and hauing distributed already the greater part of his substance for the loue of God, yet neuerthelesse had not the hart, ey­ther to lead a solitary life, or to liue vnder obedience. Wherupon finding by chaunce a miserable wretch, to lye in the streetes, forsa­ken of all, maymed, without his hands and feete, depriued of the vse of all his lymmes, except his tongue: he made choyce, for his Mortification, and for the Exercise of christian vertue, to take care of that poore wretch, to keep him at home, and to serue him til death: and to the end the worke might become more meritorious, being all in feruour, he made a votiue promise thereof to our Lord. Ha­uing taken him then to him, he attended to the gouernement of him, to prouide him of victuals, and cloathing, bathes, medicines, & phisitians; in fine to serue him, as he had been some good Bene­factour, or Patron of his.

In which ministery hauing now perseuered, at least for fif­teene yeares, with equall sollicitude of his, and gratitude of the o­ther, at last the Cripple was assayled with so strange and diaboli­call temptation, as he now beganne, not to suffer himselfe to be gouerned any longer, making very earnest instance to be exposed forth anew in publique; alleadging that he was now glutted with Eulogius his entertaynement, and could endure no longer so retyred a life, nor so much abstinence. Eulogius wonders at such a manner of mutation in him, and though he had no small occasion of iust indig­nation against him; notwithstanding ouercoming himselfe, he wet about to cherish the Wretch, more now then euer, in giuing him dainty meates, and procuring him some good and pleasant conuersa­tion, [Page 103] but all in vayne: The more he laboured therein, the more did the other perseuer, requiring the good Father with nothing els, but complayn [...]s, grumbling, & iniuryes. At last, the deuill had brought him into that rage, and desperation, as he was euen vpon the point as it were, to kill himselfe.

Now the matter hauing passed thus a prety while, the trouble on the one side was intollerable to Eulogius, and he was now euen ready to acquit himselfe therof: on the other it seemed to him a great folly to loose through impatience, the trauayles and toyles of so lōg a tyme. Moreouer he was stung with the offering, which he had made to our Lord God. Amidst these perplexityes and agitations of mynd, he resolues for a last dispatch to cōmunicate the whole with some neighbour Monks. Of whome he was counsayled, that since the great S. Antony was aliue, he should be contented to repayre to that Oracle, and seeke fit remedy at his hands. Wherupon Eulogius did thinke it best so to do, in regard he had heard much commendatiōs of the great Sanctity of that Holy man, and was glad to haue this opportunity to see him. To which end, Eulogius had prepared, though with great difficulty, a barke to put the Criple into, but not without much ado he got the miserable Wretch to be conueyed thereinto, with him: and so both of them went by water to the Monastery of the Saint, where being once arriued, Eulogius gladly attended his comming from the Hermitage, to visit the Brothers, and Ghests, as he was wont. Nor was it long; for on the night following the seruant of God, came into the publique view, inter­mitting for a tyme his diuine contemplations, and attending now to the good of his Brethren; & causing all the strangers to be assem­bled, according to custome, he suddāynely calls for Eulogius, very often by name, not known to him before: Who thinking there had been some other Eulogius present, held his peace for that tyme: But afterwards hearing himselfe to be called vpon a new, being halfe astonished, made answere; Behold I a [...]re.

S. Antony requires the cause of his voyage, ann Eulogius replyes: There is no need, Father, that I should tell it to you: He that hath so manifested my nam [...] vnto you, may as well like wise discouer my necessity. I know it very well, replyed the Saint; but yet for edifi­cation of the standers b [...], I would haue it declared from your own mouth. Eulogius obeyed: when he had ended the narration, the holy A [...]oot stood vp, and with be [...]ded bro [...]es, looking him in the face: [Page 104] Thou art ready to abandon (sayth he) this poore man, and le [...]st thy [...] selfe to be vanquished with perturbation and tediousnes: Know then, if thou leauest him so, that God will receiue him by the mea­nes of another, that is better then thee. With which words, Eulogius being much terrifyed, durst open his mouth no more. When S. An­tony turning himself to the infirme man, with a seuere countenance, and with a terrible voyce, beyond all expectation, sayd to him: Thou peruerse and abhominable Wretch, vn worthy both of Hea­uen, and earth: Thou neuer leauest fretting, & quarrelling, to the offence of God: knowest thou not, that he who serues thee is Christ? How darst thou then so to mutter agaynst the diuine Maiesty? Is it not cleere, that Eulogius, only for the Loue of Christ, hath vnder­taken to haue care of thee, & to do thee good? This sayd, he atten­ded to giue audience to the others, and after some space of tyme, re­turning to those two againe, with more benignity of speach, aduised them, saying: Beware my Children, you part not from ech other: but laying aside all rancour, & bitternes returne you home againe, where you haue liued together, for so long tyme, because our Lord will soone be calling for you: and know, that so cruell a tempta­tion, hath not befallen you for ought els, then for being now so neere your End, and the reward of your labours: and take heed, you do not otherwise, for that if the Angell find you not so, you are in great daunger of loosing your Crownes.

This manner of reprehension, with both, had the weight it ought to haue, and they departing without delay, by accord, went to their former habitation, and there passed not 24. dayes, but Eu­logius dyed: & after three dayes more the Leaper followed him, very well disposed in the inward man, & exceeding contrite. This suc­cesse was attentiuely obserued, not without a great deale of glory to our Lord, and much profit to soules.

S. Antony enioyeth sundry visions. And fortels diuers things of the Arrian Heretiques. Chap. 17.

TO this kind of visions, and Reuelations, may others be added, no lesse to the purpose of exciting the feare of God, and very worthy to be alwayes conserued in memory. Whereof one was, that S. Antony being one day in prayer, about the hower of Noone, be­fore meate, he felt himselfe sudenly to be rauished in spirit, and it [Page 105] seemed to him that he was carryed to Heauen, by some fauourable spirit. But in ascending some others of a proud and fierce aspect, op­posed themselues against him, who being repulsed by the Guard of S. Antony, beganne to quarrell, and alleadge the power they had frō aboue, to examine whosoeuer passed. With this denunciation, they preuayled to performe their office, but the wicked spirits being wil­ling to demaund an accompt of S. Antony from the day of his Nati­uity, it was not permitted them to do so, but only from the tyme he became a Religious person, in regard that all the transgressions behind, were now cancelled, and remitted by the diuine piety.

Then did the infernall Ministers dilate themselues against the seruant of Christ, in diuers accusations and calumnyes, but not being able to proue any, so ashamed, and confounded, in spight of them­selues they were feigne to let him passe. And at that very instant a­gayne, did S. Antony returne to himselfe, so strooke and astonished withall, as that forgetting his refection, he remayned all the rest of the day, and all the night, a sighing, and considering, with how many Enemyes vnhappy Man hath to deale withall. It came into his mind besides, how the Apostle not without good reason seemes to call the deuils, the Princes and Rulers of this ayre: exhorting the fay­thfull, to betake them to the armour of God, that they may be able to resist him in that dreadfull day, and the spightful accuser may not haue wherewith to conuince them at that houre.

Another tyme, after he had a while talked of the immortality of the Soule, with some that came to visit him; the next night, he heard himselfe called from aboue, with these words: Antony stand vp, go forth, and behold. Being gone out, he seees a foule and horrible Mō ­ster, who with the head seemed to reach to the clouds; and some others besides, with wings, which endeauoured to fly, but he stret­ching forth his vnmeasurable hands, strooke some of them downe to the Earth; others he could not hinder from mounting on high: and as for the one he fretted with rage, and gnashed his teeth; so he reioyced for the other, and made great triumph: When sudden­ly a voyce sayd to S. Antony: Marke well what thou seest: & so cōming a new light vpon him, he perceyued it to be the passage of soules, and that great Giant to be the diuell, who had power & authority vpon his Subiects only; but was wholy impotent against those, who in life had not been obedient to him.

Another day, he seemed to behold infinite snares, gins, and [Page 106] pit-falls, to be spread on the face of the Earth, saying with a lowd [...]igh: And who shall be able to come off safe, [...]midst so many nets, and traps? he heard this answere: Humility only. With these and other such like illustrations of the vnderstanding, came S. Antony continually to be more enflamed to the study of Perfection, and to vanquish him­selfe: and as vpon such accidents, he was euer wont to stand mu­sing, and be extraordinarily recollected; so the Disciples would be easily aware, that some such like extasies or abstractions, or other had happened to him: & they would be comming about him, with so m [...]ny prayers and coniurations, as he could not conceale them, especially considering the fruite they might gather from them.

Another tyme, after these, he approaching now towards the end of his life, and sitting in contemplation, he was rapt in like mā ­ner, & turning himselfe to the standers by, beganne to fetch a deep sig [...], and trembling all ouer, kneeles on the ground, and so remay­ning a good while in prayer, he arose agayne, all bathed in teares. Wherupon the disciples being affrayd, enforced him to manifest to thē, that which happened to him. Then the Saint, with many sobs, and with words interrupted, answered: O children, how much better were it to dye outright, then to behold the things to fall out, which haue now been declared to me. When they yet vrging him agayne, he addes, but with deepe sighs: The wrath of God hangs ouer the holy Church. Forlo, it is to be giuen vp into the power of bestiall persons. I haue seen the table of our Lord encompassed roūd with lasciuious and vnbrideled mules, that with many kicks of the heeles, oppresse the Priests, and turne euery thing vpside downe. At which sight, I sighing amayne, and desirous to know the mistery, this voyce seemed to land in myne eares: My Aultar shall be profaned, and full of abhominations. But yet together with this euill newes, I haue likewise learned, how the storme shall soone passe ouer, and fayre weather agayne shall returne to the Catholiques. Both which Prophesyes, were shortly fulfilled. First in the sacrilegious boldnes and insolency of the Arrians: and then with the demonstration of the diuine iustice, and with the punishments which in part, at least they payd for all.

These Ministers of the deuill, had sacked the Temple of Christ, and within sacred cloysters had violated the Virgins and Matrons there, made hauock of the pious people, and stayned the Yards, & Chappels with innocent bloud, brought in the rabble, and the vilest [Page 107] artizans, the worshippers of Idols, to contaminate the vessels, to trample the Baptisteryes, and Sacraments; and in summe, com­mitted such things, as without horrour and shame cānot be related. But so impious, and licentious prosperity of theirs, lasted notlong. For lo, the rauenous wolues now fallen into hatred with al Natiōs, for such impietyes; and chased away with the fury of the selfe same people, whome they had stirred vp, fled out of the Cittyes, & basely went lurking agayne in their wonted holes. Wherupon the true & ancient Religion, came agayne to dilate it selfe; and the saythfull saw to their great content and consolation, the predictions of S. An­tony to be verifyed. Whereof since we haue now treated sufficiently already; we will conclude this matter, with a notable case, which happened in the tyme of Nestorius the Gouernour of Alexandria, to a certaine man called Balatius, a Captayne in Egypt.

The Iudgement of God shewed vpon Balatius the Heretique: and how S. An­tony opposeth himselfe against the Arrians. Chap. 18.

THis Balatius was a great fauourer of the Arrians, & consequent­ly a most c [...]uell Persecutour of Catholiques, and particularly of the Religious: in so much, as he made the Monkes to be publi­quely whipt starke naked: nor was ashamed likewyse to scourge the sacred Virgins, and the Seruants of Christ. Where with S. Antony, being moued, resolued to write to him a briefe Letter, of the te­nour following. I see the wrath of Heauen to come vpon thee: Do thou cease then to deale with the Christians in this manner, that it may not come and ouertake thee. The Heretique laughed and scof­fed at these menaces of his, and casting the letter to the ground, & spitting vpon it, he bad the bearers thereof (after he had vilely in­treated them) to returne to S. Antony, with this message: Since you seeme to take such thought for the Monkes, it will be now tyme for mee to call you to accompt also. But there passed not ouer a full day, when the diuine vengeance appeared vpon that vnhap­py Wretch. Forasmuch, as he and Nestorius going to a place called Cherius, but a dayes iourney distant from the Citty, vpon two hor­ses, that of Balatius being the gentlest in his stable, the sayd horses began to play together, when as that, wheron Nestorius fate (being they stiller and quieter of the two) giuing suddenly a gripe to Bala­tius, pulled him downe, and leaping vpon him, most cruelly brake [Page 108] his hippe, whence being carryed to Alexandria, he dyed within three dayes, while all remayned astonished to see, how suddenly S. An­tonyes menaces were executed vpon him.

In whose soule, besides so noble a gift of Prophesy, was seene also a rich ornament of Wisedome; not sprung from the curiosity of vnderstanding, but from purity of affect: not founded in meerespe­culation or discourses, but in a sensible knowledge, and diuine Loue: not refined with the chayres, and scholasticall disputes, or written Bookes, but with liuely fayth, deuoute aspirations vpon the meruaylous volume of this great fabrique: Insomuch as the im­mensity, and most swift, and ordinate motions of the heauenly sphears, the generation & corruption of sublunary things, the dis­cording concord of simple bodyes, the formes and differences of the mixt, the variety of inuentions, arts, customes, and accidents of men: but aboue all the sweet disposition, and infallible gouerne­ment of the Eternall Prouidence, were to him, as well a glasse of verity, as an incentiue of Charity. And that which is more to be celebrated with these so great gifts, and treasures of profound know­ledg; he was so farre from being puffed vp with them; or once to thinke but vainely of himselfe, as how much more knowledge he got, so much the more he increased in true Modesty and Hu­mility. And especially he carryed a very singular respect, with an interiour and exteriour reuerence to the Interpreters & Deposita­rians of the diuine Scripture, such as are the Clarks, and Prelates of the holy Church, and as willingly demaunded, & learned of them all, as if he had been the most rude and ignorant of the world: albeit on the other side, when need was, he would not sticke to giue a good account of himself, and of the fayth he imbraced to any person of what quality soeuer.

The Arrians had spread throughout all Alexandria, with subtile lying, that S. Antony was of their opinion: which the Seruāt of God hearing, admiring so great impudency in them, by the iudgement of the Catholike Bishops, and of the Brothers withall, he descended from the hill, and being in the citty, in the presence of al the people, beganne to detest that peruerse Sect, calling it a pestilent heresy, & the Messenger of Antichrist; teaching, and aduertising all how the Sonne of God is no created thing, nor made of nothing, but is the selfe same substance, and wisedome of the eternall Father. Whence were it a great impiety to say, there was once a tyme, when he was [Page 109] not: for as much as he, the word of the Father, was eternal with him, wherupon he concluded: Wherfore, haue you no communication with those wicked followers of Arius, since the light hath nothing [...]o do with darkenes; and you that obserue the due Worship of God with reason do call your selues, and are truly Christians. But they in [...]earming the Sonne, and the Word of God the Father, a creature, are nothing different from Gentils; nay rather do you hold it most cer­taine, that the creatures themselues, are al incensed against such wi­cked persons, that dare to number and put among things created, the Creatour, and Lord of the Vniuerse, in whome, & through whome hath beene made, and hath being, whatsoeuer is therin.

From such like aduertisements and protestations of the Saint the hearers tooke a great deale of pleasure, in seeing that pestiferous o­pinion so anathematized by such a Man: and all the inhabitants of the Citty, as well the Laicks, as Ecclesiasticall, as well Gentils as Christians, did striue to be the first in the Temple, to see the Man of God, (for so was he called of all) and there likewise, in the sight of them all, would he worke many Miracles, partly in expelling deuils, partly in curing: in so much as the very Pagans themselues, made instance to be touching at least of the garment of S. Antony. Finally, in that short space of tyme, there were made more Christiās, then were in a whole yeare before: and he himself, besides the truth of the doctrin he deliuered, & the vertue of the miracles he wroght, and the Prudence which in his dayly actions he shewed; was of so attractiue, and gracious a countenance, as how beit of stature he were not different from others; neuerthelesse the strangers that ar­riued thither, hauing neuer seen him before, could easely distinguish him from the multitude, and point him out with the fingar to be such a one. To this serenity of countenance, were answerable his behauiours, so iudicious, and complete, as if he had alwayes liued notin Caues, or in the Forrests, but in populous lands, and in con­uersation with the Nobles.

S. Antony sends away two Philosophers well satisfyed, who came to proue, and tempt him; Besides others, that came to iest at him. Chap. 19.

THERE came on a tyme, as S. Antony was on this syde of the Mountayne, two Pagan Philosophers to him, to try him a­while, and to proue what was in him: and he knowing a farre off, [Page 110] what manner of men they were, went forth to meete them, & said to them by meanes of a good Interpreter: Wherfore haue you, being sage, and Philosophers as you are, taken such paynes, so to come to the house of a foole? When they answering, he was no foole, but prudent, and wise; S. Anthony replyed, and pressed them with this dilemma: If you would seeme to visit me, your labour were super­fluous: If you take me to be sensible, and wise, then do yee become Christians as I am, since conuenient it were, we should seeke to imitate the better: and, if I were to repayre to you, I would su­rely endeauour to follow your steps; so do you, that haue procu­red to see and know mee thus, not refuse to do that which I doe. With such like words as these, with some miracles, which they had seene him but lately worke, these eurious men, being amazed thereat, departed hence, not without some amendement in them­selues.

Others came afterwards of purpose to iest at him, as an Idiot, to whome he sayd: What thinke you? Which was the first, eyther wit or learning? Whereto the Philosophers answering, that with­out doubt, Wit was the first; and that by it, learning was found out. S. Antony did reply: if it be so then he that hath his wits sound, hath no need of learning. With this cōclusion, as well the Doctors themselues, as the standers by, with reason were astonished. After whome came in others in like manner to demand of S. Antony, ac­cōpt of the Christian Religion. These men also were very learned, & versed not only in Poets fables, but no lesse in the imaginations of Plato, and Pithagoras. Now then, they beginning to sophisticate with him, and gibe at the Gospell, the blessed S. Antony, stood a­while as it were in a study, and thence with great compassion of their blindnes, discoursed in manner following.

What is more honourable, thinke you Philosophers, eyther to confesse the Crosse, or to adore, as Gods, such as are announced for adulterous, and full of wicked carnality? The thing, which Chri­stians professe, at least, is the signe of Fortitude, and contempt of death: your glories are nothing els, but passions of intemperance, lasciuiousnes, and vnbridled desires: which is better to say, the E­ternall Word, without leauing his Diuinity, for the benefit of the world, hath taken human flesh, to make vs partakers of the diuine nature: or insteed of the great God, to worship (as you do) the bru­tish beasts, and dead men? And with what face then, dare you to [Page 111] scoffe at Christians for affirming Christ, the Sonne of God, for the Redemption of mortalls, without leauing what he was before, to become what he was not, and to be so abased, as the humility dero­gates not a whit from Maiesty; while you others, so vnworthily in­treate a substance so fayre, and noble, as are reasonable soules? For­asmuch, as on the one side, you would haue them to be streames, braunches, and semblances of a supreme Intelligence, [...]gendred of the highest God: & on the other, you do seeme to precipitate them from the top of Heauen, euen downe to Earth beneath: Whereas indeed a lesse euill it were for you, to shut them vp only in human bodyes, but you cloth them, or to say better, put on them, the shapes of Asses, Dogs, Wolues, and Serpents, and that which is worse, with shifting and thrusting them now into one body, now into another, you do make them perpetual erratiques & vagabonds. With which villany notwithstāding you perceiue not awhit, being so blind, how much you do iniure withall that soueraygne mynd whence they are deriued, and whome they seeme to resemble, since looke what the image is, the same by all likely hood, must the archi­type be, & yet that which is worse by this meanes do you come also to diminish the dignity of God himself, the father and origine of that most excellent Intelligence.

But come we to the mistery of the Crosse, which you so much vpbraid. Now tell me then, which of the two were fitter to be chosen, to suffer without default the snares of the wicked, and for defence of Honesty & Truth, to expose ones selfe to all bitternes of punishments: or els to giue credit to fables, and adore the errours of Osiris, & Is [...]s, and the deceipts of Tiphon, & the flight of Saturn, & the deuouring of children, and murdering of Parents, for such are your opinions, and your articles. Besides this, you that flout so, at the reproach of death, why seeme you not to admire the glory of the Re­surrection? And yet those that preach the one, proclayme the other: and how remember you the crosse, & passe ouer in silence, so many dead men raysed, blind restored, palsey men cured, leapers clean­sed, the walking vpon waters, & other infinite miracles? Al which seeme to shew very cleerely, that Christ was not purely Man, but true God and Man together. And surely it cannot be denyed, but you proceed very vniustly with vs, and deale not with our scriptures as you ought; forasmuch, as if you regarded them, with an equall eye, you should find, without doubt, how all the actions of Christ, [Page 112] do manifest and discouer him to be God.

And now produce you awhile your tryumphs against vs. Though indeed frō irrationall substances, what els can you bring forth, but crueltyes and bestialityes? And it forsooth (as I vnder­stand you would seeme to answere) that such things, are but all [...] ­gorically meant by you, and that they haue a good in terpretation with thē, while in Proserpina is vnderstood the earth: in Iuno, the ay [...] in Diana, the Moone; In Neptune, the Sea; and so of the other: y [...] for all that, you can not deny your selues to be seruants and wor­shippers of the creature, to the open disparagement and grieuous di­shon our of the Creatour himselfe. Whereas, if the beauty of the visible things, were it that moued you so much, such a motion were inough indeed to make you to admire them, and no more: but you insteed thereof, fall a deifying them, and the honour which is due to t [...] Artificer, do you giue to the masonry it self, the same of the Archi [...]ed to the house, and that of the Captayne to the Souldiour. What th [...] do you answere to all those things? Do but tell vs. I pray, that w [...] also may learne, if things so worthy of laughter, may seeme to be cō ­teyned in the Crosse.

S. Antony proceeds in his discourse: and what followed therupon. Chap. 20.

THe Philosophers now being brought into streights, & forced to shift heere and there, S. Antony smiling, proceeded forward. The truth of the things, which I haue told you, is euen to be seen with the very eyes; and yet neuerthelesse, whereas you, as Profes­sours of Logick, ground your selues vpon sillogismes, and without such instruments, allow not Religion: tell me first, The know­ledge of God, is it more exactly purchased by dialecticall demon­strations, or by operations of Fayth, occasioned through workes, o [...] demonstration founded in words? And they answering, that Fai [...] proceeding from workes, without doubt, was the more ancient of the two, and brought the greater certainety with it. You haue an­swered well, said S. Antony, because indeed Fayth consists in a cer­tayne interiour disposition of the Mynd; whereas Logique seemes to leane meerly vpon the artificiousnes of those, which put the words and the propositions together; in such wise, as when one, by the me [...]nes of Fayth, hath the vertue to worke, he hath no need of the art of argumentation at all; since the very same which Faith tea­teacheth [Page 113] vs, do you seeke to proue by reasons and discourses, and many tymes are you not able so much, as to expresse with wordes, that which we penetrate with the vnderstanding: and no mer­uayle, beause the Christian law, is not founded in specious & pom­pous reasons, but in that power and Vertue, which by Christ, is sub­ministred to vs, from the Eternall God.

And that this is true, behold vs heere, who neuer hauing lear­ned any letters, do belieue in God, acknowledging in his factu [...]e, the Prouidence, he hath of the Vniuerse. And this our habit of mynd, how operatiue, and efficacious it is, you may gather at least from hence: That whereas, the foolish Inuentions, Sects, Phan­tasyes, and I dols of you Grecians, in effect do vanish, and come to nothing: the Christian Verity extendes it selfe on all sides, [...] you with all your Sophistryes, conuert not the Christians to Gentilisme: but we, not proposing, nor teaching any other then the Fayth in Christ, go daily defacing your vnhappy superstitions, and diaboli­call ceremonyes, in making Christ manifest to all, to be truly God, and the Sonne of God: and you withall your smooth, and elegant speech, are not able to hinder the progresse of the Christian do­ctrine: wheras we only with the name of the Crosse, do suddaynly chase away those very deuils thēselues, which you dread, & adore for Gods. And where, but the signe of the Crosse is made, can no art Magique auayle, nor haue Sorceryes there any force at all. And if not, then tell me, I pray, where now are your Oracles? Where your Egiptian Enchaunters? When ceased, and vanished trow you these infernall arts, but since the coming of the crosse of Christ?

And do you now then thinke the Crosse, to be worthy of scorne; & not rather the things, by it conuinced, annihilated, & destroyed? And that so much the more, as your rites were neuer yet persecuted of any, but haue beene alwayes for the most part receiued, and ho­noured of the world: Whereas the Christian Fayth with al the per­secutions & tribulations, which it hath hitherto suffered frō Kings and Princes, continually flourisheth and multiplyes, now more thē euer. And when was there euer in the world, more light, & greater knowledge of God? When euer attended they so much to Sobriety, Continency, and Virginity? When was death so much euer contē ­ned, as since the holy Crosse hath beene knowne, and adored? & he that belieues it not, may behold so many squadrons of Martyrs, and such a number of Virgins, who for the loue of Christ, haue conser­ued [Page 114] their bodyes immaculate, and vntouched. And howbeyt the things already said, are most sufficient for the cleering of our Fayth: neuerthelesse since you yet stand requiring of demonstrations, be­hold the persons possessed with ill spirits (and by good hap some were present at that tyme,) and causing them to come forth in the midst, he said, as followes. Eyther do you with your sillogismes, or with any other art you, haue of Enchauntments, or inuocations of your I dols, deliuer this people; Or else if you cannot, leaue of to entercounter with vs, & acknowledge the Omnipotency of our Sauiour.

Heereupon S. Antony inuoking the name of Christ, he made two or three signes of the crosse vpon the possessed, who from the crye [...] they gaue, and from prancks they played, and from the torments, and violences they suffered, being suddaynely returned to full and perfect health, became now very still, and gaue infinite thanks to our Lord God. Whereat the Philosophers, with reason, remayning asto­nished, S. Antony spake to them in this sort. Why do you so wonder heereat? These are no workes of ours, but of Christ, by the meanes of such as belieue in him. Do you then belieue in him likewise, and become Christians, and you shall see, that ours are no bablings a­whit, but meerely the effects of a liuely Faith, which if you had, you should not neede, to go begging of arguments. These were the words of S. Antony, and they likewise admiring the same, wēt their wayes, shewing him great Reuerence, and confessing withall how much they had beene helped by him.

How the fame of S. Antony increased: And especially what credit he had with Princes. Chap. 21.

BY these and such like things, may euery one easily imagine, how much daily the fame and renowne of S. Antony, went dilating it selfe: insomuch as at last not only persons afflicted with infirmityes, and euill Spirits, or such as were desirous to be gui­ded in the way of our Lord; came to the mountayne to visit him, and to request help and counsayle at his hands: But euen likewise the very Magistrates, and Iudges of Alexandria themselues. Who for to haue more easy accesse vnto him, sent to entreate the same at his hands, by meanes of prisoners, and guilty persons, who were sub­iect to criminall sentences, as knowing well such cases and neces­sityes, [Page 115] would not be despised of the seruant of Christ. Nor were they deceiued, since being vanquished by their prayers and teares, he went forth of his Hermitage, and came to exhort the Gouernour in passing sentence vpon them, by any meanes to preferre the feare of God before any passion, or human respect: remembring them with­all of that saying in the Ghospell, What measure you affoard to others, shal be likewise giuen to you. And with such manner of aduises as these, ob­teyned he, very many dispatches of suites, and releases of Innocents.

For other personages, he forbare not with admirable modesty to remember them likewise of the vanity of the world, and the fe­licity of a solitary life: nor the same without fruite, for that many hauing left great riches, and honours, as well of warre, as of peace, haue conuerted themselues to a religious life. And in summe, in the person of S. Antony, Christ had affoarded a famous Phisitian to all E­gypt. What hart oppressed with sadnes which parted not cheerfull and content from him? What dolorous soule, for the death of their deerest friends, deposed not on a sudden their heauynes and mur­muring? What wrathfull person, was not presently reduced to con­cord? What beggar or Wretch, with his wordes and examples, that came not to make litle reckoning of money, and willingly to suffer the necessityes of life? What tepid Monke, resumed not againe new feruour? What young man, with the sight and discourses of S. An­tony, was not suddenly enamoured with chastity? What conscience afflicted and tempted of the Enemy, or molested with irksome thoughts, that was not immediately quietted. Because indeed a­mong the vertues of this holy man (as we haue said aboue) one was so acute a discretion of spirits, as in the twinckling of an eye, he would know their inclinations and motions; and would not only suffer himselfe to be deceyued, but likewise giue opportune and excellent remedy to others, according to the necessityes of euery one. Besides, How many Virgins; already destined to matrimony, that with the only beholding of S. Antony a far off, haue been con­secrated to Christ? And finally, as many as repayred to him, haue come their wayes from him much encouraged agaynst the Diuell, instructed against euill cogitations, comforted in tribulations, and full of vertuous, and holy purposes.

True it is, that such manner of conuersation with men, was very cautiously dispensed by him, nor did he so giue himselfe to the care of others, as to be any whit vnmindfull of himselfe, but rather [Page 116] assoone, as could be, in imtation of Christ, leauing the multitude, he would retire himself to prayer and solitude. Nor was the sweet­nes of friends, or power of Princes, able to withdraw him from such manner of obseruance. To which purpose, we are not to passe ouer in silence, how a certayne Captayne, after he had visited him, being willing to entertayne him further in discourse, he gently excused himselfe, with that similitude of Fishes (so renowned af­terwards, and brought into a Prouerbe) that euen as those, remai­ning on the land, giue ouer and dye, so Monkes abiding too much with Seculars, do loose the feruour of the spirit; with which com­parison, the Captayne was well satisfyed, though much grieued the while to be seuered from him. But what great matter may it seeme, that S. Antonyes friendship, should so be desired of Rulers or Prefects of some Prouinces only, since we see it sought for no lesse of very Monarkes themselues, and of the Emperours of the world?

It is a knowne thing, how Constantinus Augustus, and the Prin­ces his sonnes, Constans and Constantius, sent him letters, as to a Fa­ther, intreating him to vouchsafe to send them greeting, and good counsayle: but he was so alienate from worldly fauours, and so abhorred he euery least apparence of vanity, as he was vpon the point, not to accept the Epistles sent, saying to the Monkes, to whome it seemed to be some great honour to be so courteously greeted by the Caesars: Why meruayle you that a King should write to a man? Nay wonder rather, the immortall God, should write so his law to mortals, yea euen speake to them face to face by meanes of his only begotten Sonne. The magnanimous Abbot then (as we haue sayd) within a litle had refused to receiue the letters, at least he was resolued not to answere them at all, if through the prayers of his Monkes, and scruple which would arise of litle Edification, he had not been enforced in a manner to write backe, as he did: first with praysing those Lords, for the sayth they professed, & then exhorting thē to make no great reckoning of their present greatnes but to haue alwayes the future Iudgement in mynd, & to acknow­ledge Christ only, for the true, and eternall King; he concluded lastly in persuading them to be courteous and benigne, and to haue speciall care of the poore, and of Iustice. Which aduises, were re­ceyued of the Emperour and Princes with great ioy and confola­tion.

[Page 117] This was the credit and reputation, whereto the Seruant of Chist, euen in his tyme, was arriued, surmounting the Enuy, and detraction of the world; and the same not so much, through same of great learning, or of extraordinary Eloquence, or of Bookes [...]ut forth to light, or of any of those arts, which are in price with [...]he world, as through a sanctity of manners only, and by the grace of God, who is delighted to exalt the humble, to manifest such as are willing to hide themselues, and withall to giue the world to vnderstand, how the diuine precepts and counsayles, are not im­possible to those, that will disentangle themselus, and walke cou­ragiously in the way of vertues. But be this sufficiently sayd for the present of the glorious acts, and rare parts of S. Antony, rather as inti­mated to the faythfull only, then any wyse explicated as they de­serue. And now remaines it for vs to touch somewhat of his Death, that to him was a sweet, and blessed Birth-day.

S. Antony being now come to the end of his dayes, presageth his death. With his happy departure out of this life. Chap. 22.

THe holy Old man, was now arriued to the age of one hun­dred and fiue yeares old, with a great ability of body. He wā ­ted not a tooth, though his gumms indeed were somwhat fallē: He had his sight very excellent good; hauing his eyes yet sound, and quite without blemish: his feete, and armes he had still very actiue, and that which is more to be merueyled at, was this; that notwith­standing he was so giuen, from his childhood, to Fastings, Vigils, Solitudes, Cloysters, with other of the sharpest penances that are, without shifting (as we sayd aboue) his garments, or euer bathing himself; he had yet, so fresh, and fayre a skynne, as if he had beene alwayes trayned vp in feasts, and banquets, stoues, and baths, and other addresses of human delicacyes. In this state, had he an interi­our feeling in himselfe, of the speedy approach of his last dayes. Wherupon going forth againe from the in most part of the wilder­nes to reuisite and comfort the Conuents abroad, and causing the Brothers to be assembled together as to a Congregation, he cleerly spake to them in this sort.

This is the last visit, and surely is it much, that in this present life, we haue enioyed one another so long. But now it is tyme at last, that I goe my wayes. For I haue liued in the world my part [Page 118] already. The disciples in hearing this, beganne to weep, and to giue very deare imbraces, and holy kisses of peace to their Mayster, Who being now very glad to go forth of this exile, and to passe into his Countrey, in the meane while he went about, to put them in mynd, that they would not suffer the trauayles of Religion to seeme tedious to them, but dayly seeme to expect death: that they endeauour to keep, the soule from vncleane thoughts: that they purpose to imitate the manners of Saints, and wholy fly the cōmerce of Schismatiques, and Heretiques, not suffering themselues to bend this way, or that way; through feare of Magistrates, or Princes, whose forces are but little, and not durable.

With these, and other such like aduises, making an Epilogue as it were of the rest, he tooke leaue of his children, who vsing all violence to reteine him there, that they might be receiuing his last spirit, they could not procure the fauour, as well for many respects which he cōcealed, as principally, to auoyd a certayne abuse, which the Egiptians had, to conserue with some art or other, the bodyes of persons of quality, vpon certaine beds, in performing their wonted Exequies indeed, & en wrapping them after their manner in sheetes, but yet auoyding to put them vnder the ground, as a thing wholy vnworthy of them. Now was this abuse alwayes very much dis­pleasing to S. Antony, and he had been reprehending the people for it at sundry tymes, and intreated the Bishops, often to remedy the same: alleadging that euen from the auncient Prophets themselues, were seen to bee sepulchers extant, yea that the body of Christ our Lord himselfe, had beene put in to a Monument, and was couered with a great stone, who arose the third day With which examples, howbeyt already, he had reduced many persons, to bury their dead; yet neuerthelesse, knowing the custome, and inclination of that people, he would not trust the multitude with his spoyles, but re­tiring himselfe into his Cell, from whence had he departed, within few months after fell sicke: and calling his two disciples to him, who had now some fifteene yeares been present with him, he spake to them in manner following.

I am now (my deerest) vpon walking the way of my Fathers, and I feele my selfe to be called of our Lord. As for you be you wary and vigilant, and take heed, you loose not the labours of so long a tyme: but as if you had but now begunne, do you enforce yoursel­ [...]es to maynteynly out wonted feruour and study. Then know yo [...] [Page 119] the snares, and rages of the inuisible Enemies, and know you like­wise, how through diuine Iudgment, they haue lost their forces. Do you not feare them then, but alwayes aspire to Christ, and fixing a [...]iuely fayth in him, expect euery moment to be cited before him, & so attend to your selues, still remembring the rules, and documents, you haue had from me; especially to fly as fyre, the conuersation of Arrians, and Meletians, and whosoeuer shall haue seuered themsel­ues from the Fayth, and communion of the Catholique Church, since you know, how I no lesse haue alwayes abhorred them. But rather seeke to vnite your selues with Christ, and with his Saints; that after death, they may acknowledge you as Friends, and be re­ceyuing you into the Eternall tabernacles. Be this your opinion then, and this your discourse.

And if you haue any care of me also, as of a Father, doe not suffer my Corps, by any meanes, to be carryed to Egypt, with the hazard of being put vp in some house, according to the peruerse cu­stome of the Country there; but hide me rather in the earth, in a place, where no person of the world, may know besids your sel­ues, because if it be cōsumed for the present, it shall yet be restored agayne very glorious in the Resurrection. You shall distribute my Garments in such sort, as that Athanasius the Bishop may haue one of my Melots (which were only poore sheep skins sowed together) and the Mantle whereupon I was wont to lye. To the Bishop Sera­pion, you shall giue the other Melot: and you, in memory of mee shall keep the Cilice: and with this my Sonnes, remayne in peace, for Antony passeth, and shall be no more abiding with you.

These were his last words, and then with a cheerefull counte­nance, shewing the Angels and Saints to reioyce, who came to meete him, he gaue vp the Ghost. And the disciples, though sad for loosing such a Father on earth, neuerthelesse being recomforted, for hauing purchased such an Intercessour in Heauen, did bury him, according as he had ordyned. And to the Bishops, they gaue the garments, as welcome, and as much esteemed of them, as those who had gotten a very rich inheritance. And the great Athanasius, recounts of him­selfe, how he wore the same afterwards, very willingly: whereby it seemed to him, that he carryed about him, a perfect Memorial of the wholesome aduises, and documents of S. Antony. Such a course, and end, made the great Seruant of Christ: whose life (as we insinuated aboue) Athanasius himselfe first wrote, in the Greeke tongue; who [Page 120] though he were of another vocation, notwithstanding in fayth & will was he most vnited with him. The blessed Euagrius translated the same into latin, who liued very neere those tymes, and was the disciple of both the Macarius, enriching the same with some things receiued, as it is probable, of such as had much familiarity & conuer­sation with the Man of God. Moreouer, as many as haue framed the Ecclesiasticall History, and other most graue Authours besides, haue likewise touched his acts, and made very pious, and honourable mē ­tion of him: God vndoubtedly so disposing the same, not so much in recompence of the labours of S. Antony (who enioying eternall felicity in heauen, should seeme to care very little to be renowned in earth) as for the profit of all man kind. To the end, so perfect, and noble deeds, words, and manners, might not seeme to be shut vp within the termes of one people, or of one age only; but should dilate themselues into all parts, and serue for instruction, glasse, & incitement to all Nations, and to all posterity.

FINIS.

S. PACHOMIVS.
THE ARGVMENT.

I BORNE of misbelieuing Parents, gaind
Not by my selfe but Heau'n, the sauing light,
Quickned the grace which I had entertaind,
And left the world, that I more safe might fight
Against my foes: I victory obtaind,
Finding this way to countermand their spite:
And slighting what the world doth most commend
More easily I did my selfe defend.
What ere he be that striues to haue a share
Within the mansion of Eternity,
Let him in this bestow his greatest care
To shun th'indearements of Mortality.
Soules haue no parts, harts vndeuided are,
Heau'n and the world haue no affinity,
Like as of Sense, on seuerall obiects bent,
The strength is weakned, and is lesse intent.

THE LIFE OF S. PACHOMIVS ABBOT.

Of the Birth of S. Pachomius, and his miraculous Conuersion to the Christian Fayth. Chap. 1.

IN the same age (some few yeares after) the bles­sed Pachomius did flourish, a great Father likewise and an excellent Mayster of Monkes: whose vertue, and Religion, no doubt was so much the more memorable, as the helpe of Education, which he had was lesse, being borne of Gētiles both Father and Mother, & brought vp in The­bais, without any knowledge of our Sauiour Christ, vntill such tyme, as he arriued vnto military age. Some notable signes did fore­run his Vocation. One was, that when they gaue him to drinke any wine, or other liquour, which had been offered to the Idols, with a certaine hidden auersion of the stomacke, he would sudden­ly be vomiting it forth. And another signe also was there yet of [Page 123] more wonder: for that, he being once conducted to a Sacrifice, which was to be performed, by a riuers side, hard by, there could be nothing done; for that at his presence, the Priest could neyther finish his ceremonies, nor would the Diuels seeme to enter into the Statues, to giue forth answeres, from thence, as they were wont: so as their wicked Minister, hauing finally vnderstood the occasion thereof, with furious brawling, began to controule the Parents of Pachomius, as hauing brought thither, an enemy of the immortall Gods: and commaunded them, suddenly to thrust him forth, as fearing least some heauenly wrath, or vengeance might light on their Sonne.

Amidst so impious superstitions of his house, & the rudiments of Egiptian learning and doctrine, S. Bachomius being arriued to the twentith yeare of his life, was enrolled as a Souldiour in a new leuy of men, which in the name of Constantius, was then made in diuers parts, against the Tyrant Maxentius. And with this occasion, being conducted by water with others, to a certayne Citty, neare vnto Thebes, he fell into great necessity, together with the whole army, through the smal prouision that was made of victuals for thē. Which being vnderstood, by those of the Country there, who by good hap, were of the faythfull people of Christ, and very friendly to the Neighbour, they suddenly prouided for the afflicted Souldiours, what was needfull for them; and that with so great sollicitude and charity, as S. Pachomius was astonished thereat: & demaunding what nation they were of, that was so hospitable, and benigne; answere was made him they were Christians. When demaunding againe, of what manner of life & institute they were, he vnderstood, that they did belieue in Iesus Christ, the only Sonne of God, and did well to all sorts of persons, with firme confidence, to haue some large re­muneration for it, at the hands of the same God.

S. Pachomius, had scarcely heard these words, but that full, as well of interiour consolation, as of an vnusuall light, retyring him­selfe from the company, and being somwhat in a deepe study with himselfe, he lifted vp his hands to the starres, saying: Lord God, who framedst the Heauen and earth, if thou shalt vouchsafe to regard my basenes, and my trauayles, and giue me the knowledge of thy Diui­nity; I promise to serue thee, and obey thy precepts while I breath. With this prayer, and promise, the loue of vertue so increased in him, as he began, from that tyme forwards through the diuine Grace [Page 124] to resist all sensuality, and valiantly to suffer Tribulations; helping himselfe with the memory of his first purposes, vntill such tyme, as the Emperour, hauing gotten a glorious victory vpon the Tyrant, he was cashiered with others: and not seeing opportunity there to become a Christian, he immediately went his wayes to Chemosium, a Towne of the higher Thebais, where remayned some notable and venerable Seruants of God. Of whome, being instructed in the holy Fayth, he was baptized: and the very same night, that he receiued this wholsome Sacrament, he sees in his Sleepe his right hand to be filled with dew, which falling from heauen, did incorporate it selfe in forme of hony, and withall heard a voyce, which said: Open the eyes of thy vnderstanding Pachomius, and know, that this is a signe of the grace, which is affoarded thee by Christ. This vision was not in vayne or vnprofitable a whit, but rather Pachomius felt himselfe so compund therewith, and enflamed with diuine Loue, as he determined, with­out delay, to renounce the world, & to consecrate himselfe to a mo­nasticall life. And hauing heard of a famous Hermit, called Palemon, that dwelt in those desarts, he wēt his wayes to him, to submit him­selfe to his discipline.

S. Pachomius craues of Palemon to be receiued into his discipline, and is admitted: with the manner of their liues togeather. Chap. 2.

THis Palemon for yeares was very graue, seuere of countenance, & so rigid and mortifyed in his cōuersation, as by many he was iudged to be inimitable. So soone as he heard then, one knocking at his cell, opening the doore, he sayd to Pachomius. Who art thou? and what seekes thou? To whome the good young man answering: God sends me to you to be admitted into your estate of life. The old man re­plyed. This is no worke for you, not so easy as you thinke; for some three or foure others, haue come hither likewise that haue not been so well able to stand to it afterwards. Then Pachomius: All men are not made of the same mould. Do you receiue me, and in tyme (I trow) you shall be cleered in that point. I haue told you already (replyed the Hermit) that you cannot brooke the labour. Go your wayes then first to do pennance in some other place: and if you shall then thinke your selfe able to endure it, do you come to me, & then perhaps I shall accept of you. Because indeed my manner of liuing (for to tell it you) is very sharpe, and difficult. I susteyne my [Page 125] selfe (God be thanked) with no other thing, then bread and s [...]lt. Neither wine nor oyle euer enters into my mouth. Halfe of the night, or there abouts, do I spend, part in praier, part in reading, and ruminating the diuine Scripture.

These and the like words, though deliuered. with a harsh voi­ce, and a horride brow, were not sufficient to terrify the constant Pachomius, but rather, as a litle water spurted on a great fyre, en­kindled such a flame in his breast, as with much reuerence, he most cheerfully affirmed, that he felt in his mynd, a firme beliefe, that the diuine Goodnes, by meanes of the intercession of the same Pale­mon (whose life was a mirrour to all Mortalls) would make him a disciple not vnworthy of so noble a Mayster. From such perseue­rance, vnited with like piety, the Anchoret, now easily gathered, that Pachomius had an extraordinary feeling, and a manifest voca­tion of God. Whereupon, hauing now some confidence of a hap­py successe, without more ado, he admits him into his Cell, and giues him his habit. And from thence, they began to liue together, spending the greater part of the tyme in deuotions, and the [...]est, in twisting of Camels hayre, and making of sacks, and that not to pick out money for their owne profit, but to relieue the poore with, as the Apostle counsayles.

At night then, in tyme of prayer, and Psalmes, if Palemon perceiued the disciple to be somewhat pressed with sleep, taking him forth of his Cell, with a basket in hand, he would employ himselfe with him, in carrying of heapes of sand, to and fro, vn­till such tyme, as the superfluous vapours of the body being disper­sed by this meanes, he might come to be prompt, & nimble againe, and haue the spirit now throughly awaked; and would besides be admonishing him, saying: be you sober and attentiue O Pachomius, that you be not ouercaught by the Tempter, and all our labours proue not to be in vayne. But the seruent Nouice, gaue not much occasion vnto spurs and incitements, and the holy Father exulted in himselfe, and glorifyed the Diuine Clemency, to see him become euery day, more obedient then other, to see him more addicted to mortification, and abstinence, he not sparing in the meane while to go alwayes before him, with a liuely, and continuall example.

So as once vpon Easter day, Pachomius to solemnize that Feast, hauing dressed him a litle Oyle, seasoned with salt, when Palemon saw him to reach it to him, suddaynely striking his forhead, & ca­sting [Page 126] forth a deepe sigh, with teares he sayd: My Lord was put on the Crosse, he was loaden with iniuryēs, cuffs, and buffets, in his greatest thirst he was made to drinke both Vinegar and Gaule, and shall I be pampered heere, and be soothing my palate which oyled meates? Nor with all the instance, and intreatyes, that Pachomius could vse by any meanes, he would seeme to breake his Fast, vn [...]ll such tyme, as that seasoned Oyle being taken away, and some o­ther brought him which was pure, and simple (in blessing it first, with the signe of the Crosse, and rendering most humble thankes to the high Creatour for it) he finally fell to. In such like acts Pacho­mius continually beheld himselfe, as in a glasse: and as from the ex­cellency of the Mayster, he was hourely encouraged more to fol­low the good; so from others defects, became he alwayes more cau­tious to beware the euill.

The iudgement of God shewed vpon a Monke. S. Pachomius founds a Mo­nastery, and Palemon dyes. Chap. 3.

AN audacious Monke but ill founded in the knowledge of himselfe, and human frailty, came on a tyme to see Palemon and Pachomius, while they had made by chaunce a very good fyre: & after he had sate downe with them a pretty while, entertayning themselues with spirituall discourses, arising on a sudden, sayd to Palemon: if you, and your disciple haue true Fayth, shew me heere some Euangelicall experience thereof, and make your prayer, heere barefoote, vpon these burning coales. Palemon reprehending him for it, and aduising him, not to suffer himselfe to be deceyued so by the enemy; he puffed vp with greater pride, and presumption, went voluntarily vpon the Coales, and the Diuine Maiesty, per­mitting it so, the Diuell had power to preserue him without hurt at all. Whereupon that miserable Wretch, with malapert insolency, vpbrayding Palemon and Pachomius, with saying: where was their fayth? went his wayes very proud, from thence. But it was not long, ere he payd very soundly for it.

For first, being deluded by the ancient Aduersary with lasci­uious shapes, and therupon very grieuously strooke and afflicted, he repayred agayne, after some dayes to Palemon, with sighes confessing his errour, saying: Know that I am vndon, for not hauing obeyed you, and now I do pray you, to succour me, with your prayers, for [Page 127] that I stand in great daunger, to be slayne of the infernall Enemy. The wretch was yet a speaking, and Palemon and Pachomius a wee­ping for compassion; when lo, on a sudden, the deuill assaults him, takes him out of the Cell, and like a sauage beast, chàsing him a good while through the Crags, and Mountaynes, finally in the Citty, which is called Pun, tooke away his wits, so as he cast him­selfe headlong into a fornace of a bath, where suddaynely he dyed.

S. Pachomius being admonished with these so horrible, & straūge accidents, from thence learned to feare the Iudgment of God, and to re-enforce the guard vpon his hart, by resisting the appetites, bri­deling anger, and the other passions, and endeauouring to found himselfe, by all meanes, in true humility. Besides, when he read or recited any things of the sacred scripture, he posted not in hast, as many are wont, but tasting, and ruminating the sentences, & pre­cepts, one by one, he sought to deriue profit from them, and to serue the Highest with fit attention. Being often sent barfoote, to make wood, in a certayne forrest, very full of sharpe thornes, while he [...]elt his flesh to be torne, and wounded, he would be suffering all the dolours thereof with alacrity, in remembring the Nayles, which pierced the sacred feete and hands of our Lord and Sauiour Christ Iesus, & continually treating with God in those solitary places would he pray for himselfe, and for all human kind, that he might be preserued from the snares of the common Aduersary. In summe, with these manner of Exercises, was he arriued to such a point of perfection, as the Maister himselfe remayned much comforted, and astonished thereat.

It happened to him afterwards, on a tyme, by a certayne oc­casion, to arriue at the Iland, and Towne of Tabenna; where, being in a long, and profound Prayer, he heard a vovce to say to him: Pachomius, stay heere, and set vp a Monastery in this place, because many shall come vnto thee with desire to be saued whome thou shalt guide according to the instruction which I shall giue thee. And with this, an Angell appeared, and gaue him a Table, wherein the same Institute was conteyned, which for many ages afterwards, the Monks of Tabenna obserued. Then Pachomius, with the discretion of spirits which he had pur­chased, very cleerely perceiued, that as well the vision, as the Rule was a heauenly thing: and receiuing the same with great Reuerēce, he went to his Mayster, and communicated the whole with him: beseeching him to be pleased, to put to his helping hand, in the exe­cution [Page 128] of what, had beene ordeyned him, by the Angell. And though Palemon otherwise, would very vnwillingly haue left his auncient Cell, notwithstanding to comfort so good and vertuous a disciple, he was perswaded to go thither, and they both set vp there a poore habitation, in forme of a Monastery. But it was not long, ere Palemon, being now spent, partly with old age, and partly with maceration of the body, arriued to the end of his dayes; and Pa­chomius, as in life he had alwayes obeyed, and serued him, with ex­quisite diligence; so after death, with extraordinary feeling, buryed him, with his owne hands, with a great deale of Lamentation, but not without Canticles and Hymnes.

A Brother of S. Pachomius ioynes himselfe with him in his manner of lyfe; and what followed. Chap. 4.

AFter this, a naturall Brother of S. Pachomius, becomming a Christian, and called by the name of Iohn, being likewise tou­ched with a laudable desire of a perfect life, came to seeke him, and to inhabite with him. They remayned full fifteene yeares together continually exercising themselues, in acts of religion, & pennance. At the end wherof, while now it seemed to Pachomiuhs, it would not be long, ere that came to effect, which had been promised him of the multiplication of Monkes, he began anew, to enlarge the dwelling, to be able to receiue them all. This fact of his, was dis­pleasing to Iohn, and as he, who was the elder in yeares, and perhap­pes, knew not, or not fully belieued, what was signifyed to Pa­chomius from Heauen, esteemed such a building, to be against Po­uerty, and therfore reprehended his Brother, somewhat bitterly for it, saying, he should cease from committing such follyes, so to seeke to enlarge himselfe, more then needed. To which words, though he answered nothing, yet did he in wardly thinke vpon the and after hauing some remorse at such a thought, retyring himselfe at night in the new building, he puts himselfe into bitter Laments and turning himselfe to God, with great dolour cryed out in this manner.

Alas, that the prudence of the world, should be yet continually raigning in me! I am still a carnall man, and after so many yeares of Religious warfarre, doe I yet suffer my selfe to be vanquished by wrath, vnder a colourable pretext of good. Mercy Lord, least I vt­terly [Page 129] perish, because that if thou establish me nor, in thy patience, and that the Enemy come to find somewhat of his in me, I shall be subiect to him, since it is written: That if any one but fayle in one, he is made guilty of all. I belieue thy benignity is exceeding great, help me Lord, & I shall walke in the way of thy Elect; aduauncing my self alwaies forward, & forgetting quite what remaines behind. Euen as they likewise through thy grace, haue done, to their euer­lasting prayse, and crowne, but to the great affliction, and vt­ter confusion of the aduersary: otherwise, how shall I be able to in­struct those, whome thou saydst, thou wouldst giue me in charge, if first I shall not subdue the passions, which by meanes of the flesh, make warre against the spirit, and if I shall not haue learned to ob­serue thy Law inuiolable? But I hope Lord, through the help of thy high and mighty hand, I shall do that, which may like thee best, and thou pardon all my defects.

In such accusations of himselfe as these, ioyned with bitter playnts, with burning prayers, and with solid purposes, spent he all that night, & at the apearing of the day he found on the ground, a certaine durt which was there caused through the continuall tea­res, that streamed from his eyes; as also with the excessiue sweat, which tricked downe from all his body. Nor let any one seeme to attribute this, to an exaggeration of words: for that besides the hu­mour, which contrition wrong from him, and affliction of mynd; it was then likewise the season of Summer, and the place of its na­ture was exceeding hoat: nor was the seruant of God, then making his prayer in a carelesse kind of composition of body, but eyther on his knees, or prostrate, or bolt vpright, with the armes erected & distended in forme of a Crosse, without letting them once to fall, or leaning himselfe to any thing, vntill the tyme he had purposed to himselfe; and this, as well to suffer something with Christ, and for Christ, as by that meanes to keep his mynd more vigilant, and attentiue.

With this sacrifice of an humble and penitent hart, he obtey­ned so much fauour from heauen, as for the tyme to come, he per­seuered with his Brother, in meruaylous Peace, and Patience: and assoone as he passed into a better life, he interred him, with all due piety, & with the wonted Exequyes. Frō hence, remayning quite alone, as he had but then entred into the Wildernes, he gaue him­selfe with a fresh vigour to his accustomed spirituall exercises, not [Page 130] forbearing the while, like another No [...], to be building the Arke for those, that were to be saued therin, according to the Angelicall prediction, which howbeit slow in coming to passe, yet was he certayne, it would not fayle.

S. Pachomius is tempted by Deuils in sundry sorts. He sees a vision; & many repayre vnto him, to be admitted into his Institute. Chap. 5.

IN the meane tyme S. Pachomius was very grieuously molested by Hellish Monsters, being all enflamed with Enuy against him, & desirous to put any obstacle soeuer to so great a good; so as putting in practize whatsoeuer was permitted them, with diuers appariti­ons and strange phantasmes, they sought to affright the seruant of God. Among other on a time, being about to kneele to his Prayers, the earth on a sudden fell a gaping before him, in forme of a deepe Cesterne, to swallow him vp. At other times, returning from the more remote deserts, where sometymes through desire of greater solitude, he was accustomed to retire himselfe; vpon the sudden, the same peruerse spirits were before him, marching as it were in order of battaile, and saying with a loud voyce: Giue place to the Man of God. They endeauoured likewise to shatter the new buil­ding in such sort, as it seemed they would haue turned it topsy­turuy from the very foundations. Besides, sitting on a day at some handy worke, after he had made his prayer, there seemed a Cock to be represented to him of an vnmeasurable greatnes, which re­doubling very fierce, and horrible crowings, aduentured from tyme to tyme to fly in his face, and with the clawes, and spurs most cruelly scratched him.

These, and other affrights and iniuryes S. Pachomius, being full of a high confidence in God, very easely repelled, now with the signe of the most holy crosse, now with some verse of the sacred Psalter. Wherupon the malignant spirits, perceiuing the way of feare, succeeded not with them; turned themselues by agreement to tempt him, with laughter, in shewing themselues very busy & earnest to remoue certayne leaues of a tree therby, tying them with great ropes, and exhorting one another to pull hard, with voyces and vnited forces, much after the manner, as Carpenters are wont to do, when they lift some huge piece of tymber. But this trick of theirs, was not any whit sufficient to moue the grauity, and con­stancy [Page 131] of the Christian Philosopher; but rather sighing, insteed of [...]aughter, and setting his mynd on the Crucifix, he attended to pro­secute the exercise in hand, in such wise, as the powers of darknes, being thus scorned by a mortall man, and put to confusion, went their wayes.

But yet for all this, they ceased not afterwards, to renew the battaile agayne, by taking the habit and forme of beautifull women and endeauouring to sit downe at the Table with the Man of God in tyme of refection, and to be impudently putting their hands into that poore fare, which he had before him; when seeing themselues to be howerly vanquished and despised, chaunging their figures by diuine dispensation to the greater crowne of the Saint, they afflicted him more then once with sundry paynes & cruel torments. Wherin as he, through the help of Christ, remayned alwayes, victorious; so according to the saying of the Scripture, it often happened, that he walked, and that without hurt, vpon venemous beasts; and which is more, being to passe the Riuer of Nilus, when need was, the Cro­codils themselues, insteed of a bark, would securely be wasting him ouer.

With such proofes, and so glorious victoryes, S. Pachomius now being arriued to the highest degree of hope and charity, the Angell appeared to him anew, and sayd to him: God is pleased, O Pachomius, with thy seruice, and would haue thee reconcile the Gentils vnto him. When not many dayes after, some persons, desirous to saue their Soules, and glutted with the world, beganne to repayre vnto him from diuers places, who benignly receiued them all, but yet gaue thē not the Monasticall habit, till first he had proued euery one with a long and exact probation.

The manner he held in the instructing of all together, and ech one in particuler, consisted, in keeping them free, and farre off from all traffique, and transitory cares; and to vnite them, first from the world, then from the hauing of things proper, and lastly from thē ­selues. And forasmuch as to exhort others to the Crosse, examples do moue a great deale more, then words; he was the first in obser­uing of Silence, in Edification, Lessons, Fasts, Vigils, and other labours, and austerityes of the Monastery, to prepare the Table, to cultiuate the garden, to answere at the gate, to be seruing of the Sick both night and day, and hence with louing aduices, and remem­brances withall, would he afterwards very easely conduct others, to [Page 132] liue according to the obligation of such a vocation. It was not long ere the good odour, & same of this new Institute was spread euery where, in such sort as the multitude of Monks, came soone to ariue to the number of a hundred.

S. Pachomius highly regardeth the Clergy; and visits the great Athanasius. Chap. 6.

AMōg these Monkes, was not yet seene to be any Priest: wher­upon when they were to communicate, some Priest was cal­led for, of the neighbour Villages, so rare was Priesthood in those dayes, and held in the esteeme it ought to be. And as for S. Pachomi [...] he suffered not any of his disciples to [...]spire to such a dignity, or any other honours, or degres at all, affirming that from like desire, doe grow emulations, s [...]rifes, and contentions; and added, that as a least sparckle of fyre, falling in a barne, if not speedily oppressed, will vnluckily consume the whole yeares haruest: so Ambition, or the thought of a Clerkship, with what pretext soeuer it enter once int [...] Cloysters, and be not suddenly extinguished, will come to put all the Religion in tumult, or ruine rather and vtter destruction. Not­withstanding afterwards, if any one being a Priest already, should offer himselfe to follow the Rule, Pachomius would not refuse to ac­cept him, and with such quality of persons, so carryed himselfe, as how much more respectfull, he shewed himselfe towards them for the sacred Orders sake which they had taken; so much more hum­ble & meeke would they become through the Vertue, and example they saw in him.

Besides that, he was full of Piety to all, especially towards th [...] aged and infirme persons. To young men likewise, he would vse discretion, dexterity, and longanimity to saue their Soules, wher­of he was meruaylously zealous, & sollicitous. And because not fat from his Conuent, was a certayne Village without a Pastour, and consequently depriued of the word of God, and the holy Commu­nion, he dealt very charitably about the same with Aprion Bishop of Tentiri, in whose Diocesse the sayd place was; and with his con­sent, set vpon the building of a Church, where afterwards a Parish was appointed. And he in the meane time, not fayled to go thither with some companions, to instruct thē in the Christian doctrine, performing that exercise with such deuotiō, & with [...]o much grace, [Page 133] & composition of body and mynd, as to the Seculars it seemed they [...]eard, and saw an Angell, and no mortall man, nor were the [...]aythfull only confirmed, by this meanes, but many Infidels like­wise conuerted to the Fayth. And as S. Pachomius receyued those who belieued in the Ghospell with extraordinary ioy; so for the [...]osse of the obstinate and incredulous persons, he would seele ex­ [...]reme dolour, and for the same be sheding of continuall teares.

At that very tyme, the great Athanasius had taken possession of the Bishoprique of Alexandria; & being gone in progresse, as a good Pastour, in person to visit the Churches of Egipt, & especially of the [...]pper Thebais, and Siena, by that occasion he was likewise to passe by Tabenna, when S. Pachomius knowing some part of the trauailes, and persecutions which the holy Bishop had suffered for the Catho­lique sayth, went forth to meete him, in company of all his Monkes with iubiley and festiuity of Psalmes, of Hymnes, and Canticles. True it is, that hauing vnderstood before hand, how meanes was made by the Bishop of Tentiri to Athanasius, for his promotion to a higher state, for not to be seene nor knowne by him, he hid him­selfe of purpose, in the throng. Whether he spake with him after­wards, or no, is not found written any where. But as this Chan­pion of Christ, was a great friend, and much deuoted to the Catholi­que Prelates; so could he not suffer so much as the name of Arrius and Meletius, and the other Heretiques and Scismatiques to be men­tioned of any by name: and for their writings he could not endure them by any meanes to be had o [...] read of his Monkes. He was like­wise very cautious in forbidding them to murmur at all, especially against the Clerks and Prelates of the church, and if by chance they had fallen into such a default, he would suddenly oppose himselfe against them in ci [...]ing some verses & sentences out of the holy Scrip­ture to that purpose, together with the example of Mary the sister of Moyses, so seuerely punished by God, for hauing murmured against her Brother. And finally by how much more sweete and plyable he was to all, in that which lawfully he might; so much more ri­gid, and inflexible he shewed himselfe, where it stood not with the least point of the honour of God, or the Neighbour.

S. Pachomius is visited by his Sister, who afterwards retires herselfe in [...] Monastery. Chap. 7.

SAint Pachomius kept himselfe wholy from the conuersation & fa­miliarity of his Parents, except when he had good hope to help them in Spirit. And therfore lastly being visited by a Sister of his, [...] sent her answere by the porter in thes words. Behold thou hast heat I am yet aliue: Go thy wayes then, and take it not ill, that I let thee not see me. I will promise thee, that if thou wilt happily imita [...] this manner of life of myne, to obteyne together with me pardon & Mercy of our Lord, some fit dwelling or other shal be assigned thee in a conuenient place to liue in peace and silence, and by that occa­sion peraduenture, it may happen the diuine Goodnes will o [...] some other women likewise to do pennance with thee, since in [...] there is no other consolation on earth, then for one to do well, & to serue God.

With this answere, the good woman was so compunct, as s [...]e brake forth into plaints, and without more ado, determined to obey the counsayle of her Brother; who according to promise, caused cer tayne Lodgings to be built for her, not farre from the Monastery very apt for the end pretended: wherin she exercising her selfe, ac­cording to the directions and orders of S. Pachomius, it was not long ere there came many other women likewise to her for the same pur­pose, who increasing continually in number, she was elected to be the Mother & Abbesse of them. Whence he attended with more sollici­tude then euer to instruct them well, and to conduct them safely to a good Port.

A certayne venerable and discreet Father, called Peter, had the superintendency ouer that Conuent, by commission of S. Pachomius, who at his tymes would visit, and exhort them to Perfection; and if it happened now and then to any Monke, hauing some kinswo­men there to haue occasion to go to any such, he was accompanied thither, by some ancient, and graue person, or other, of approued vertue: nor could he speake with such a one, but in the presence of the Mother, and some of the principall of the Monastery. To giue, or take any thing with them, or els to eate, or drinke in that place, vnder any pretext whatsoeuer, was wholy prohibited. When any of the Sisters came to dye, the others very decently composing the [Page 134] corps, would depose it with Psalmes in a determinate place, neere [...]to the conuent, Whence after the Monkes wold conuey the same [...] manner of procession, and bury it with deuout prayers & accu­ [...]omed Canticles in the hill neer at hand. Through the fame of [...]ese things, a certayne yong youth (among others) of some four­ [...]ene yeares old, by name Theodore, a Christian of noble Bloud, be­ [...]ag moued, gaue himselfe likewise to the discipline of S. Pachomius, [...]y the occasion which I shall presently tell you.

The history of Theodore, and how he and his Mother entred into the discipline of S. Pachomius.

THeodore once on a festiuall day, beholding the riches, the de­lights, and the ornaments of his owne house, felt himselfe sud­ [...]enly to be interiourly moued by the diuine grace, & began to dis­ [...]ourse with himselfe in this manner, saying: What shall all these [...]ases, contentments, and momentary pleasures auayle me (Wretch [...]s I am) if I come to be depriued of the Eternall? Forasmuch as [...]one for the present can attend to these, and in the future enioy the [...]thers: and fetching suddenly a great sigh, retyred himselfe into a [...]ore secret place of the house, where prostrate in teares, he sayd: [...] Lord, who seest the secrets of harts, thou knowest, I prefer not [...]ny thing of this life before thy loue: vouchsafe then to illumine [...]e, so as I may be able to vnderstand thy will; and that perfectly [...]xecuting the same, I may glorify, and prayse thee foreuer.

After this, refusing the commodityes and the cherishments of [...]is Mother, he began to giue himselfe seriously to abstinence, and [...]astings, with other mortifications and asperityes, wherin hauing [...]xercised himself for some two yeares together, he recollected him­ [...]elfe in the company of some Seruants of God. One of which, (the [...]espers being ended) discoursing according to the custome amōgst [...]hem of spirituall things, he entred in, to speake of the Tabernacle, [...]nd of the Saencta Sanctorum, of the ancient Law; interpreting the exteriour Tabernacle (as that which was of the manner of manu­facture) to signify the first people of the Iewes; but that of the Sancta Sanctorum, should figure the vocation of the Gentils, as hauing a more sumptuous and mysticall entry with it; whence in the place of Sacrifices of beasts, and insteed of the Thurible, of the Table, of the Arke, of the Candlesticke, of the Propitiatory, and of all those o­ther [Page 136] ancient symbols, for our saluation, hath succeeded the diuine word it selfe: who assuming our human flesh, hath taken vs from the paynes of our sinnes, through the holy light of the Ghospell, and with the satisfaction of his infinite merits.

This said, he confessed he had heard this interpretation from the great Pachomius himselfe, who had lately gathered togeather good number of Monks in the Iland of Tabenna, and gouerned them with merueilous discipline; and I hope (added he) that the mentiō of this Man of God, now made by me, may impetrate for vs some indulgence of our sinnes. The good Monke had scarce finished his discourse, when Theodore was enflamed with the relation made, with an exceeding desire of knowing S. Pachomius by sight, and to giue himselfe wholy to be gouerned by him. In so much, as a ver­tuous and good Old man, called Pecusius, being come thither from Tabenna, for to visit that Congregation there, was by Theodor intre­ated at his returne, with great affectiō, he would be pleased to con­duct him with him to the blessed Pachomius, as he did with a very good will, and being arriued at the holy place, the youth, not being able to conteyne himselfe from teares of Ioy, was receiued by him with a great deale of charity, and numbred with the others; when in a short tyme, he profited so much in all manner of vertues, as S. Pachomius himselfe, did wonder at it.

There was afterwards an occasion presented to make the con­stancy and feruour of this Nouice more renowned. In reguard the Mother, being now become a widow, and not brooking the ab­sence of her sonne; came to Tabenna in person, bringing letters frō the Bishops with expresse order to haue him restored her agayne. Heere now, she being receiued by the Nuns, as a guest, she speedily sent the letters to S. Pachomius, vrging the execution therof. When the seruant of Christ, hauing called Theodore to him, said to him in this sort: I vnderstand thy Mother is come to see thee, behold the Letters of the Bishops, which she hath brought me, for that end. Go thy wayes then, and comfort her, especially for the Prelates sakes who haue recommended it to me. Theodore answered. Do you giue me security then, Reuerend Father, that this little edification, which I shall giue vnto others, with such an enteruiew, be not imputed to me, at the day of Iudgment? Forasmuch as if in the tymes before grace, the children of Leui, did quite forsake their Parents, howbeyt most deere vnto them, for to serue the Lord God wholy: how much [Page 137] rather should I, that haue receyued so great mercy and light from the [...]ame Lord God, keep my selfe from preferring in any wise the affe­ction to flesh, before the loue, and seruice of his diuine Maiesty? see­ing our Sauiour hath sayd openly to vs: He that loues his Father, or Mo­ther more then me, is not worthy of me. Then S. Pachomius declared him­selfe better vnto him, with saying: If it seeme not expedient to thee my Sonne, I will not vrge thee to it, but rather confesse the other to be of more perfection; because indeed the Monke is to fly al world­ly commerce, and be louing, with an ordinate affection, & without passion, all those who through fayth, are members of Christ. And if any would seeme to oppose, that he may not desist from wishing well to his owne bloud, let him note that saying of the Scripture, That euery one becomes the slaue of him, that vanquitheth him.

By this manner of speach, the good Youth, being now con­firmed more, and more, would by no meanes, shew himselfe to his Mother. And it pleased our Lord, through this austerity of his, that she remained so astonished and moued to deuotion as she deter­mined likewise herselfe to leaue the world, and with the approba­tion of S. Pachomius, was receiued into the number of the Seruants of Christ. Whence may be gathered, that things being done to the greater glory of God, howbeit in the beginning sometymes, they may seeme perilous and bitter: yet neuerthelesse through diuine dis­position, do they produce many tymes most sweet fruites.

The Griefe which S. Pachomius tooke for the lapsed: Togeather with this Discretion, and Patience in all occasions. Chap. 9.

FRom these, and other such like successes, looke how much con­solation S. Pachomius tooke in our Lord; so much griefe and sorrow felt he for the ill proceeding of some, who tyred with la­bour, & to much giuen to carnall prudence, would neuer throughly renounce themselues, nor be desployed of the old man. The holy Man would seeke to help such by all meanes possible, but in vayne. Because they, partly not knowing how to deny their proper will; partly affrighted with the difficulty of vertue, and with the exam­ples of the pennances and Mortifications which they saw in others; finally being vanquished by the spirit of pusillanimity, and vayne feare, did suffer themselues to be caryed from the port, into the dā ­gerous tempests of the world: Yet this departure of theirs was not [Page 138] altogether vnprofitable to others, since the field of our Lord hee [...] ­pon, being purged from weeds and cockle, became continually more pleasant and fruitfull. And besides, from thence might be ga­thered, how that euen as the austerity of the Monasticall life do [...] not hurt Seculars, if they wil but help themselues with it, in some part; so neyther the aduice, good carriage, nor the Prayers of o­thers do benefit Monkes, if they resolue not to shake of quite, very manfully all manner of Slouth and Cowardise.

But to conserue, and to promote Men of good disposition, one of the principall industryes of this great Louer of the Crosse, was, not to permit, that in the treating of his person, should be vsed par­ticularityes with him, of any sort whatsoeuer, as we shall see by the ensuing acts. He being gone on a tyme, in company of some Mon [...] to reaping in an Iland called Threa (where euery one had built him a houell to retyre himselfe to, in due tymes) the good Father, whe­ther it were, through age, or with ouermuch worke, fell sick of a feuer, and Theodore, in his cold fit, being ready to couer him with▪ Shepheards mantle wouen with hayre, S. Pachomius would by n [...] meanes suffer it, but willed him to take it away sudenly, and to co­uer him only with a Mat, as the custome was to do with others; which done, Theodore brings him a handful of dates, exhorting him to refresh himselfe with them: Whereat the good Father, with teares in his eyes, replyed.

Why, Theodore, because we haue power ouer the labours of our Brethren, and to vs the care belonges to prouide and distribute the portions among them; should we therefore at our pleasure, and without any regard be treating of our selues in this sort, or be ta­king of any thing superfluous, or out of tyme, and comon custome? And where should our holy Feare be then, if we should do so? For tell me; Brother, haue you runne through al the houels, & certifyed yourselfe, that there is no other sick body, more necessitous then I▪ deceiue not your self so, Theodore, iniquity is abominable in the sight of God, not only in great, but euen also in smaller matters. If others then, with diuine help, can patiently suffer afflictions, and dis­commodityes; why should not I seeme to suffer the same? And with this answere, he sent the Disciple a way exceedingly edifyed and instructed. S. Pachomius likewise had obteyned of our Lord, together with the discretion of spirits, that same likewise of the Infirmityes, so as he could very well distinguish, which proceeded from natural [Page 139] causes, and which from the operation of the Enemy; who many [...]ymes, for to [...]hinder the diuine seruice, is wont to alter the humours of human bodyes, and to cause indispositions in them. Wherupon S. Pachomius being assayled on a tyme in the Monastery with a most grieuous feuer; it seemed to him very requisit, to cause him thereby increase his abstinence (since by this meanes for fiue [...]ontinuall dayes, he remayned without eating and drinking) but [...]et slackt not a whit to rise in the meane tyme vnto Prayer. Wher­with, being cured, he went with the rest into the Refectory, giuing [...]hankes to the Eternall Goodnes.

But yet with all this rigour, which he vsed with him selfe, let [...]o man thinke, he was hard or mercyles towards others, but rather (as hath been sayd aboue) was he wonderfull tender, and compas­ [...]ionate to all, and afforded all possible succours to relieue their ne­ [...]essityes. Besides that, as farre as reason of gouernement would per­mit, setting all arrogancy a part, he would be shewing himselfe e­quall, or rather inferiour to all. In so much, as being weauing on a [...]yme, and controuled by a child with saying, Father, you worke not [...]ight, for lo, our maister weaues not in that manner; he arose vp sudenly from his seate, and whereas another would eyther haue see­med, as if he had not heard him, or haue chastised his little modesty: The holy Old Man with a cheerefull countenance, approching to the Maister, and quietly taking instruction from him, went sudenly to execute the same, with singular humility, and with the great edi­fication of as many as were present. With these and such like things not only particular and profane men; being now inuited at last, but euen whole congregations likewise of other Monks, came to ioyne, and submit themselues to S. Pachomius, to whome with equall cha­rity, he afforded Rules, and Superiours.

The History of Ionas the Monke in the desart there. And S. Pachomius his solution of a doubt. Chap. 10.

IN one of those Monasteryes, called Muchosa, there was a Reli­gious man whose name was Ionas a man of so great perfection & fame as we cannot choose but step a little from our purpose, to say something of him. This Religious person had continued in the di­uine Seruice, and in the cloyster, some 85. yeares, with very good example: and it is a memorable thing, that he hauing alone had al­wayes [Page 140] care of the garden, and therin had planted diuers trees, ye [...] he neuer had tasted to his death, so much as one fruite of them, being notwithstanding very francke therof to the Brothers, and to the Ghests, and to all the Neighbours about, who at their pleasure we [...] satisfied with them. His clothing as well for sommer, as winter, was of three sheepe skins, sowed together, saue only, to go to the holy Communion, he would put ouer a coate, somewhat more decent, but being then risen from the sacred table, he would presently des­poyle himselfe therof; and so had he conserued it neare and cleane, for all that space of 85. yeares.

He was so great a friend of Labour, as he knew not, as it were what Rest was, nor yet the Infirmary. He neuer eate any boyled thing: he liued vpon hearbs chopt in vinegar: He neuer lay stretcht forth in length, but laboured by day in the garden, & at the setting of the Sunne, taking his refection, he would retire himselfe into his cell, and sitting on a stoole in the midst of the roome, attend to the knitting of bull-rushes, and to make ropes, vntill the ringing to Of­fice; shutting his eyes sometymes, scarcely as much as necessity re­quired. And this his worke he performed, not by the light of a Lampe, or of fire, but through much practice and dexterity, wholy by darke, for to be able in the meane tyme, the better to attend to the Meditation of holy Scripture, wherof he had cōmitted a good part to memory.

We let passe besids, many other meruaylous things of this holy Man, for breuityes sake, but yet we may not seeme to passe ouer in silence, the manner of his last act. Because he was foūd by the Mō [...] starke dead to sit in his Cell, with rushes in his hands (according to his wont) & with his feete and armes stretcht forth, & stiffe withal in such sort, as they would not seeme to change that composition of his, nor to pull off his furrd coate frō his back, but were feigne so to sold him, as in a trusse; and in that manner were they glad to carry him to be buryed.

But now let vs returne agayne to S. Pachomius, who neuer ceased with words and deeds to enflame and guide his disciples to Perfection: exhorting them sometymes, and sometyme agayne re­soluing their doubts, with a great deale of wisedome, and no lesse charity. He was demanded once (among other things) by one of hi [...] Monks; What was the cause, that while a man, is in peace before temptation, he discourseth so well of Temperance, Humility, and [Page 141] other Vertues; and when the time of execution comes afterwards [...] put that in practise which was in discourse, we find our selues so [...]ayle and feeble to performe the same? As for example, in the tyme [...] Anger, to shew acts of Patience; in bitternes and rancour, to be [...]rgetfull of iniuries receyued; when we are paysed of others, to be [...]ary of vayneglory; in these (I say) and other the like occurren­ [...]es? Then the Saint: The reason is (answered he) for that, we [...]now not how to prepare ourselues, nor to meditate as we ought, [...]or to keepe the spirit prompt and vigilant in the tyme of battayle. Whence it behoues vs euery day, and euery houre, with a fresh re­ [...]olution to renew our good purposes, and to power into the con­ [...]ēplatiue part of the Soule, the oyle of holy feare, which may serue [...]s well to re-enforce it to do good, as to illumine the same to dis­ [...]erne, and distinguish the Obiects, which are represented to it by [...]he wily and subtile Aduersary. In such wise, as standing cōtinually vpon its guard, it suffer not it selfe to be easily moued to disdayne, [...]orrancour, nor to other disordinate passions: and besides that, ray­sing it selfe aloft, and thinking of inuisible, and eternall things, it may come to assume great courage, and consequently to contemne all diabolicall suggestions, and finally to walke (as the Scripture sayth) vpon Serpents, and Scorpious, and aboue all the powers of the Enemy.

With such aduertisements, and counsayles went S. Pachomius opportunely encouraging, and instructing his Subiects. And how­beit in amending their defects, he would more willingly be vsing of sweet remedyes and lenitiues, as more conformable to his pro­per genius, and to Christian clemency; notwithstanding, when it was expedient for him, he knew well also, how to apply more bit­ter and biting medicines; as by reading this ensuing discourse the iu­dicious Reader may easily perceiue.

The life of Siluanus the Monke: And what a blessed end he made, through the help of S. Pachomius. Chap. 11.

SAINT Pachomius had in his Conuent, a certayne Monke cal­led Siluanus. This man in the world had been a Comediant, and of a lyfe (as commonly such persons are) very wild and dissolute. Whereupon, at his entrance into Religion, S. Pachomius had parti­culerly exhorted him to stand vpon his guard, and to mainteyne himselfe sober, and vigilant, that he might not be carryed away with sensuality, and the diuell, to vices, and leuityes past. And so [Page 142] had he promised to do: then he tooke the habit, and indeed so wal­ked he, as long as the feruour of deuotion lasted; but afterwards, through wearines of combating, and subtraction of grace (as it hap­pens, for one to be tepid without being, as it were, aware of it) so began he by litle and litle to grow looser in his conuersation, and to returne to his secular iests, and scoffs, as before. S. Pachomius ga [...] him many wholesome admonitions, which being not inough, [...] likewise added sundry seuere chastisements: and at last, while [...] seemed to him to be incorrigible, some twenty yeares after he had receyued him, he ordeyned in the presence of all the Monkes, that he should be stript of his habit, and thrust our of the Congregation.

Whereat Siluanus being wholy confounded and contrite, did cas [...] himselfe at the feete of the Saint, with saying: Pardon me, Father, ye [...] for this tyme, for I hope in our Sauiour, that he will graunt me tru [...] Penance, and to your Paternity much consolation in my action [...] To whome S. Pachomius answered: Thou knowest, how I haue borne with thee all this while, how many chasticemēts haue I both against my wil and custome inflicted vpon thee? since then neyther with fayre meanes, nor yet with foule, thou wilt amend thy selfe, how can I, or how should I permit so contagious and infected a mē ­ber, should go wasting thus, and consuming the whole body of Religion? To this so bitter an answere, Siluanus replyed, with new humiliations and promises. And yet S. Pachomius stood firme in his purpose, till being conuinced with the perseuerant submission of the other, he required pledges, which might giue security of his chaunge of manners. When immediatly a venerable man, by name Petronius, being moued out of Charity, tooke the Obligation vpon him; and full of diuine confidence, gaue his word, that Silua [...] should be renewed in spirit, and should giue himselfe seriously to the exercise of vertue. With this intercession was S. Pachomius con­tent to prolong his tearme. Nor was the grace afforded in vayne, or the promise any way temerariously made, since from that tyme, Siluanus began to wage a sharpe warre with himselfe, and to go for­ward in such sort, as in a short tyme, he became a mirrour of per­fection to all the Cōuent, hauing got (among other things) so great a gift of teares, as they streamed from his eyes, like a perpetual riuer: so as, neyther in the presence of strangers, nor at the Table, could he possibly conteyne himselfe from them: While that saying of the Psalme agreed with him; Cinerem tamquam pa [...] manducabam, & po [...] [Page 143] meum cum fletu miscebam.

He was instanced by some, that if he could not absteyne alto­ [...]ather, yet by all meanes at least, he would forbeare in the pre­ [...]nce of the Ghests. When he affirmed, he had endeauoured the [...]me many tymes, but not by any meanes could he refrayne; they [...]swered, that a deuout soule may well abide allwayes with in­ [...]rnall compunction, without breaking into open demonstration [...]erof; and in summe, they brought him to represse them in tyme [...] refection, because many being confounded, & moued with such [...]spectacle, refrayned from taking their necessary nourishment: whē [...]luanus not being angry with any other then himselfe only, with [...]reat feeling, brake forth into those words; Would you haue me to [...]int my teares (I pray) in seeing so many Saints, with whome I [...] not worthy to be numbred, to attend vpō me, most vile wretch [...]ith so much diligence, hauing been accustomed heeretofore to [...]ayne my liuing on the Stage? Whereas rather, I deserue not to [...]sse the very place, where they set their feet. I weepe indeed, as [...]aring euery houre, least the earth should swallow me vp, as once [...] happened to the profane Dathan and Abiron: since I hauing had [...]om Heauen, both light and grace, more then inough, should haue [...] them so ill, & haue reaped so litle fruit. Then am I not through [...]ame to forbeare from discoueting my selfe to be a sinner, since for [...]uch indeed do I acknowledge my selfe to be. Whereas truly if I [...]hould lay downe my life in doing pennance for the same, yet were [...]t nothing in comparison of my demerits.

With such like answeres, Siluanus stopt the mouths of such, as [...]ealt with him about this matter: nor was it contrition of words [...]nly, as often it happens, but his sayings and workes accorded in [...]uch manner, as S. Pachomius himselfe being full of meruayle there­ [...]t, for true humility preferred him before all in the Monastery; and within eight yeares afterward, was certifyed, how be was nothing deceiued, when he beheld that Soule going forth of the body, to [...]ly vnto Heauen, with a great troupe of glorious Angells in com­pany with it. This then was the fruite, which sprung from the sea­sonable rigour of S. Pachomius: and no lesse worthy of memory li­kewise, was another act of seuerity of his, which we will put down in the Chapter following.

How a Monks was penanced by S. Pachomius for Vayne glory, and anoth [...] for Disobedience. Chap. 12.

IT happened on a tyme, while S. Pachomius was sitting in com­pany with other graue Fathers, that a Brother who had made tha [...] day two mats, with double the labour he was obliged to do by th [...] Rule, being ouercome with vayne glory would by no meanes cō ­teyne himselfe, but needs must he set them forth to view, at his cell, right ouer agaynst the place, where S. Pachomius was, as thinking verily to haue been much praysed and esteemed of him for his dili­gence therein: whereof the wise Pastour being aware, fetching a deep sigh, said to the standers by: behold I pray, this Brother hee [...] who hath been labouring all this while from the Morning hither to, to dedicate afterwards all his sweats to the Diuell, without lea­uing any merit or fruite thereof for his owne soule, since he hat [...] had for end, the satisfaction of men, rather then the pleasure of God.

Heerupon, causing him to come before him, he gaue him a sound reprehension for it; and to the end, he might learne to rectify the intention, in whatsoeuer he should worke heerafter, enioyned him in pennance, that while the Brothers were in prayer, he holding both those mats in his hands, should cry vnto them, with a lowe voyce: I beseech you Brothers, to pray for this miserable soule of myne, which hath preferred two small mats before the Kingdome of Heauen. And in the same manner, caused him to stand in the Refectory, till the Table was ended: and for addition shut him vp in his Cell, for fiue moneths space, with order that no man sho [...] visit him the while, & that he should eate nothing, but bread and salt. Such accompt was made in those dayes of purity of hart, and to fly those sinnes, which in our age, peraduenture, are accompted very veniall and light. And if yet this chastisement, perhaps, shal seeme to any to be too disproportionate to the fault, let him know, that to the Man of God, there wanted no sufficient motiues for the same.

The holy Abbot, made great accompt also of sincere Obedience, which especially consists in simply executing what is commāded, without curiously examining the designes of the Superiours, nor putting into controuersy the quality of the thing commaunded. Now, he hauing committed to some Officers, that while he went [Page 145] on a certayne Pilgrimage they should haue some respect to the ten­der age of certayne Nouices, who were not able to performe so much abstinence, as the other: It happened, the same Officers, perceyuing the Community had not eaten the herbes, and Oliues, which were boyled, had giuen ouer to prouide any more of them, contenting themselues with distributing of dry bread onely, to [...]ll the Refectory. S. Pachomius returned, and all the Monkes, be­ing gone forth to meete with him, and to receyue him; one of the [...]nnocents, began to say with a lowd voyce. Verily Father, since [...]he tyme, that you went from hence, to this day, hath there beene [...]o herbes boyled for vs. To whome the Saint answered, with a cheerfull countenance. Trouble not your selfe (my Sonne) for I will prouide for you. Entring then into the kitchin, and the Cooke being busy in knitting of rushes, he sayd to him, in this manner: Tell me Brother, how long since is it, that you boyled any her­bes? It is now some two Monthes ago (answered he;) and be­ing demaunded the reason, he alleadgeth, that scarce any of them had eate thereof, when they were before him, but only the youths: whereupon, he had a scruple to bestow so in vayne, both the la­bour, and the cost: And to the end, this same might not be impu­ted as Slouth vnto him, he had employed himself in the meane time with his fellowes, to worke the Mats. And how many haue you made of them, demaunded S. Pachomius? Some 500. answered he. Now bring them hither then to me (sayd the Father.) Which be­ing brought, he caused them suddaynely to be all cast into the fi [...]e: giuing cleerly to vnderstand by that act of his, and with the words he spake to that purpose, that as it is the proper office and prayse of the Superiour, to moderate and discerne: so from the subiect, is not required so much prudence, and circumspection, as a prompt exe­cution, and perfect Obedience. To this example, the same also was not much vnlike, which followes in the next Chapter.

How two Stewards of S. Pachomius, were checked by him, for doing against Obedience. Chap. 13.

THere hapned so great a dearth of corne, as scarcely was any to be found, throughout all the Land of Egipt. Which S. Pachomius wel knowing, sent one of the Brothers, to make his prouision therof as much as an hundred peeces of gold, of a certaine coyne, was able [Page 146] to procure him, being taken out of cōmon stock of the Labours of the Monastery. The Procuratour or Steward went his wayes ther with, into diuers forren parts, without finding the desired cōmerce, till lastly arriuing at the citty of Hermothen, it pleased our Lord, that he should meete by chaunce with an honest Gentleman, who had the whole corne of the countrey in his custody. This man, being required of the Monke, so much corne, as might amount to the said summe, answered: Truly Father, I haue not any of myne owne, but if I had, I would take it from my childrens mouthes, to spa [...]e it for you, whose vertue, and holy life, hath now a good while since, beene notifyed to me. But harke you Father, I haue yet now the publique grayne vnder my charge, which hitherto the Magi­strates haue not seemed to require at my hands, nor do I thinke, they will demaund it, till the new be gotten in. If you suppose by that tyme, you can restore it me agayne, do you take therof, as much as you please. When the Monke told him, how he durst not vnder­take to returne it so soone; but if it seemed to him, that he might well dispose thereof, as he had said, he would willingly take a quā ­tity to the valew of the price aforesaid of a hundred peeces.

I shall not only afford you so much (replyed the Commissary) but euen likewise as much more, if it please you to accept the same. Do me but only the fauour the while to pray for me. Whereto the buyer made answere, that for the present, he had no more money to bestow. When the other very courteously affirmed, that it impor­ted nothing, but he might take the grayne with a good will, and yeild him the price therof at his commodity, so liberall an offer see­med now to the Monk, not fit to be refused. Wherefore he suddai­nely freightes a great bark therwith of some thirteen Tun, so great indeed, as one half thereof, was not to be found else where in all those countryes therabout, & with great ioy went his wayes ther­with to the Monastery, as thinking he had done some great peece of seruice to the whole company, and especially to S. Pachomius. But he was very much deceiued in his accompt.

Because the Saint had no sooner vnderstood of the arriuall of the barke, so laden, & knowne the manner how it came to be so freigh­ted, but he sent a man to the wharfè in post, with expresse order, they should not vnlade any whit therof, saying: Let the Steward assuredly know, that not a gayne of that corne of his, shall seeme to enter into our howse; nor shall his person appeare before me, vntill [Page 147] he haue satisfyed the errour committed, in so gouerning himselfe to [...]e led with auarice, in taking the same vpon Credit, and abusing withall the goodnes of him, that sold him the corne. Now there­ [...]re since he hath so exceeded the precepts giuen, let him go suddai­ [...]ely to all these neighbour-places, and sell the same according to [...]he price set him downe by the seller; and hauing carryed him the [...]mme, let him buy according to the price, so much, and no more [...]s he may haue with the money which he receiued of vs, for that [...]ffect. Which being executed, and no more then fiue measures & a [...]alf, conueyed to the house, the Monke was depriued of his Ste­ [...]ard-ship, and restrayned in the Monastery. Nor had the Procura­ [...]ur yet much better successe. Who was appointed to sell some of [...]e labours of the Monkes, at a slinted rate how much he was to [...]ke for them. He went then to the inhabitants with those mer­ [...]handize, and finding them to amount to thrice so much, as he was prescribed to take, it seemed to him a folly to put them away [...]or lesse, and so returned he his wayes home, with his purse fuller, [...]hen was pretended. Which being vnderstood, S. Pachomius made [...]im immediatly to returne into the Market, and to restore to the [...]uyers, all that, which exceeded the rate set downe. Whereupon, [...]e like wise being depriued of his office, was shut vp, and had a good pennance enioyned him. With thes demonstrations the Saint, [...]t seemes, besides the purity which he required in Obedience, would [...]ikewise manifest, how far off they are to be from all manner of [...]ouetousnes, who seeme to manage the temporals affayres in Reli­gion. But as this man of good; was an Enemy of tepidity, and of [...]usillanimity; so on the other side, approued he not immoderate fer­ [...]ours, which ordinarily succeed but ill, and such was the euent we shall presently tell you.

An Example of the indiscreet [...]eale of a Monke of S. Pachomius; and the happy Life he led afterwards. Chap. 14.

A Person there was of a good disposition, rather then of any great reach, who after he had attended a while to a spirituall [...]ife, of himselfe, came at last of his owne accord (as others did) to submit himselfe, to S. Pachomius; nor was it [...]ere being prickt for­ward with excessiue feruour, and youthfull heat, he began very ear­nestly to instance the said holy Father to obteyne him from heauen, [Page 148] some commodity, & occasion to spend his bloud, for the Catholik [...] fayth. The world, at that tyme, was all in peace, and the Church of God enioyed an vnwonted tranquility, through the deuotion, & by the vertue of the most Christiā Emperour Constantine. In so much as the importunity of the Monke, besides his being too bold in [...] certaine manner, came likewise to be vnreasonable, and foolish withall. S. Pachomius then answered him, that forbearing for the present to thinke of Martyrdome, he might do well to conuert his thoughts, to the taming of his Passions, & to combat with himselfe, alleadging that in a sort he was depriued of the glory of Martyrs, who perseuered to the end, in Cloysters, without reprehension.

But that other, not satisfyed heerewith: and renewing oft the same request, S. Pachomius at last said to him. Since you wil not ceas [...] to prouoke me so, I will pray for this thy intention, and I hope I shal be heard. But thou on the other side, beware that cōming after­wards to the Triall, insteed of confessing our Lord Christ, thou cō ­mest not to renounce him quite. Because in truth, thou dost bu [...] delude thy selfe, so to tempt thy God, and thus to seeke, those pe­rils, which our Maister and Sauiour himselfe, hath taught vs to shun. So sayd the expert Captayne: But neyther authority nor reasons, were of power to bridle the confidence, or to say better, the pre­sumption of the Monke.

From hence, within two yeares after, it chaunced to S. Pachom [...], to send certayne Brothers to a place, not far from thence, to prouid [...] some marish rushes for mats and cottages, and a litle after he sent the audacious Wretch thither also: & presaging, as it were, the encoun­ter he was to meete withall on the way, vpon his departure adui­sed him to stand vpon his guard; and in manner of an Enigma, ad­ded those words of S. Paul: Ecce nunc tempus acceptabile, ecce nunc di [...] salutis: nullam in aliquo demus offensionem, vt non vituperetur ministerium nostrum. These marishes where the Monkes were working, were scituate at the feete of certayne mountaynes, inhabited by sauage & barbarous people, and continually drowned in Paganisme: some of which, at that tyme being descended into the playne, to fetch water, found in those deserts, the poore Trauayler alone; when causing him to a light on a sudden, they bind his hands, and lead him together with his Asse into the Mountaine: at whose approch, the other Gentils, who as then were ready to offer their sacrifice, and had killed many beasts for that purpose, began with great [Page 149] laughters to scorne him, saying: Come thy wayes hither, O Monke, and [...]ore our Gods: and leading him before their Aultar, they forced him [...]o do, as they did. At the first, he refused to do it, and shewed them [...]ome resistance thereunto; but when the Pagans being angry, layd [...]ands on their weapons, and that he saw the ponyard at his bosom, [...]nd the swords which glittered round about him, being now for­ [...]etfull, in an instant of al the stout purposes made, the poore wretch [...]elded, and being terrifyed, stuck not to tast of the wyne & flesh dedicated to Diuels, being a thing which (as for the essentiall of I­dolatry) was as much, as if he had offered incense with them.

Heereupon, being licenced to depart by that wicked people while on the way, he had leysure inough, to enter into himself, loo­king back into the fowle enormous and impious cryme commit­ [...]ed, the vnhappy wretch beganne to fill the ayre with laments & [...]ighes, and to lay on most furiously on his cheekes with his fist, & to curse his temerity, which had brought him into those tearmes. With this disaster, & with vncertayne, and wandering paces, being now come home in this piteous plight, and beholding the sayd Pachomius to meet him on the way, who had the reuelation of the whole euent, falling downe prostrate on the Earth, and weeping a mayne, he cryed out alowd: I haue sinned before God, and you, holy Father, with following my owne will, and not obeying your counsayles. Then replyed S. Pachomius: Get vp, poore Wretch, thou hast indeed depriued thy selfe of the chiefest good. Assuredly, the crowne was already prepared for thee. Thou wast euen ready to en­ter into the Catalogue of the glorious Martyrs of Christ, and thou willingly hast made thy selfe vnworthy of that blessed fellowship. Our Lord was prepared with his Angels, to haue enuironed thy head with an immortal Diademe, and thou hast renounced the Di­uine Maiesty for a moment of life. And while thou fearedst the first death (which by no meanes shalt thou euer be able to auoyd) art thou fallen into the second, which shall neuer haue end. Where are the words now which thou vtteredst once? Where the enflamed desire of suffering? Where those so many, and so great promises made?

To this, the Wretch could not answere a word, nor open his mouth, any otherwise, then to detest his crime, and to confesse himselfe, wholy vnworthy of pardon; yea now was his afflicti­on, passed so farre, as he held himselfe altogether vncapable of pen­nance: [Page 150] whereof S. Pachomius being suddaynely aware, least [...] might cast himself head long into the gulfe of dispayre added: tho [...] for thy part, hast not fayled to become the enemy of thy Creatour & Lord; yet neuertheles, so great is that diuine goodnes of his, as it i [...] able to drowne in the Abysses all our sinnes whatsoeuer, so that [...] our part, we dispose our selues with true sorrow, and due con [...] ­tion to be partakers of his mercies: wherefore be thou not dismai [...] for yet is there left thee some hope of saluation, since the tree, though pruned, yet springs agayne. Go thy wayes then into thy Cell, & stay there recluded in watching, and making thy prayer, & bewayling bitterly thy great offence. For a whole day thou shalt eate nothing, after that, shalt thou feed of nought els but bread sal [...] and water: & not to eate of other mens labours, thou shalt mak [...] thy two matts a day; & if thou shalt perseuer in this manner during life, I trust in the merits of Christ, thou shalt not be excluded from the diuine Clemency.

From these words, it cannot be explicated, what comfor [...] this poore soule felt. He shuts vp himself then sudēly, & redoubling the labours, fasts, and macerations of the body, gaue himselfe to satisfy what he ought, with all the power he was able. It is tru [...] indeed, that for his spirituall help, it was permitted him by the holy Abbot, to go forth sometymes to comfort him with Theodore, & with some other Old men of the perfectest. And thus hauing perseue­red for the space of ten yeares, being surprized at last by a most grie­uous infirmity, he chaunged the temporall miseryes for the Eter­nall felicity, as S. Pachomius was afterward certifyed from Heauen. With whome God was wont to communicate things very far off, and hidden, and by his meanes to worke other wonderfull effects: as by the following Examples, we shall see in some part.

A Woman cured of the bloudy Flux, with other Miracles wrought by S. Pa­chomius. Chap. 15.

THere was in Tentiri, a woman that suffered an incurable flux of bloud: She hauing heard the renowne of S. Pachomius his sanctity, and not hauing the audacity to deale with such a Father, she instantly prayed the Bishop Dionysius, that vnder the pretext of some other busines of importance, he would procure him to come into [Page 151] the Citty. Hauing called him then, & after prayer, being set downe [...]n the Church with him, while there they were discoursing with [...]ch other of diuine things, the woman by little and little stealing [...]ehind them, touched his hood, with so much fayth, as she suddenly [...]ecouered, and feeling her selfe to be wholy deliuered, did prostrate [...]er selfe on the ground, giuing thankes to the diuine Mercy. S. Pa­ [...]homius was aware of the practice had with him by the Bishop, & giuing his benediction to the woman without more ado, returned [...]ack agayne to his Connent.

There hath beene already mention made of a certaine Monke, of great fame, whose name was Ionas, being the Gardiner of the Mo­ [...]astery of Muchosa. Now S. Pachomius being gone to visit the same Monastery, at his entry thither, espyed some young Nouices, that [...]ecretly had climbed vp a fig-tree, which was very high, for to ga­ [...]her of the fruit, & to eate them without any leaue. When the Saint [...]pproching nearer, perceiuing a deuil sitting on the top of the tree; [...]he expert Phisitian of soules, knew it presently to be the vncleane [...]pirit of Gluttony, the familiar enemy, & impostour of that greener [...]ge; & calling for Ionas without delay, appointed him to cut downe [...]hat tree, since it stood not well within the cloysters, and did afford [...]ut matter of temptation to those, who were not yet so well roo­ [...]ed in vertue. Ionas was sad thereat, and answered; Noe, for Gods sake Father, since euery yeare it brings vs forth no little fruite.

Then S. Pachomius not to seeme to disgust the good Old man (whose goodnes otherwise he well knew) held his peace. But the day after, behold, how the Tree was withered; so as there was [...]eyther fruite, nor leafe, which was not dead thereupon: a thing so much more admirable, as the fig-tree of its nature, is more humid, [...]nd more repugnant to aridity. Whereupon, Ionas comprehending [...]he vertue, and heauenly grace of the Saint, was very sory, for not hauing obeyed him with all dexterity. On a day, as he was making an exhortation to his Monks, according to custome, he was suddai­nely eleuated in spirit, and being a while in that manner, he after­wards whispered in the eares of the vicar. Go your wayes into that next cell, and see what such a Monke is doing, since insteed of atten­ding to the word of God, he lyes sleeping the while, exposed to the [...]ares of the Enemy, who seekes nothing else, but to draw him into [...]erdition, and the world. The vicar went thither, and found him [...]ery drowzy indeed. And a little after, notwithstanding they adui­ses [Page 152] of the blessed Pachomius, though his negligence, the miser [...] Wretch, forsooke the Religion.

Another, being now brought into the extremity of sicknesse i [...] the Monaf [...]ery of Cheneboscus, and desiring before he closed his ey [...] to comfort himselfe with the sight of S. Pachomius, and to haue [...] holy Benediction; he sent to him, to beseech him that he would [...] pleased to come vnto him. At the newes whereof, the amouro [...] Father, very suddenly puts himselfe on the way thither, with so [...] companions: and while with diligence they went walking toge­ther, some two or three myles before their arriuall to the sayd place, S. Pachomius stopping on a sudden, stood looking vp into the Hea­uens, and beheld the soule of the Brother, enuironed with Angel [...] with a sweet harmony to mount vp into Paradise. In the mean [...] while, the companions, not hearing the Musique, nor seeing [...] triumphe, sayd to the Father, who had his eyes still fixed on the Stars: Why stayes your Paternity thus? let vs make hast to find the Brother aliue. Whereto he answered: Nay rather let vs hast to ar­riue, whither he is now conducted, that is, to eternall beatitude. Whereupon they vnderstood, he had a Vision of the Saluation [...] the Soule, to represent it to them as well as he could. And dilig [...] inquisition being afterwards made, it was found, the sayd sickm [...] expired, euen iust at that houre, wherein S. Pachomius stood still i [...] that manner.

S. Pachomius procures through prayer, the gift of tongues. He falleth si [...]k, & appoints his Successour, and so dieth. Chap. 16.

SAint Pachomius on a tyme, visiting (as he was wont) his subiect [...] to see how they carryed themselues, and to demaund particu­lar accompt of profit, and conscience of euery one, found himsel [...] to be much perplexed with a certaine straung Monke, of great repu­tation: who being come from the parts of Rome, by how much [...] was more skillfull in the Latin and Greeke tongues, so muc [...] more raw and ignorant was he in the Egyptian tongue. In such [...] S. Pachomius, not hauing other language, then his owne, it was im­possible for him to declare himselfe to him, or to vnderstand hi [...] well. To which was added another impediment, that the Rom [...] Monke, being desirous to discouer to the holy Pastour, his ancie [...] miseries, and to confesse his sinnes committed, would not admit [...] [Page 153] other meanes, nor communicate his secrets to a third person. Wher­upon S. Pachomius with great sorrow, seeing himselfe to be exclu­ded from the meanes of being able to help that soule, causing the [...]nterpreter to go his wayes, and hauing beckned to the Roman to expect a while; he retired himselfe into a place apart, and there [...]tretching forth his hands to Heauen, made this deuout prayer.

Almighty Lord, if I through defect of language, be not able to help such men, as come vnto me from countryes so remote, to what purpose were it so send them hither? And if yet thou wouldst haue me to be an instrument of the saluation of others; Graunt, Lord, (to whome nothing is impossible) that I be not ignorant of that, which they would say vnto me. Hauing thus perseuered in this prayer, for full three howers continually together, with ex­traordinary feruour; he espyed a sheete of paper, in a hand writ­ten in forme of an Epistle, to fall from heauen. Which as soone as he read (a wonderfull thing) he suddenly felt within himselfe the gift of all Tongues: for which, giuing thankes to the diuine Good­nes, he returned very cheerefull to the stranger, and began to talke to him in the Greeke and Latin tongues, with so much propriety and variey of words, as to the other, it seemed the Abbot in elo­quence out stript all the learned men of the world. Hauing heard his confession then, and with holsome aduices enioyned him due penance, he proceeded to deale with the rest.

These, and the like demonstrations, which the diuine Maiesty gaue, from tyme to tyme, in fauour of S. Pachomius, especially ioy­ned (as hath beene said) with a perpetual tenour of a most holy life, it cannot easely be explicated, how much reputation and reuerēce they won him, not with Religious only, but euen Seculars also. Through which meanes, this great Gardiner of Christ, after he had sent to the table of his Lord, many fruites very seasonable and ripe, himselfe also being called to the rewards of so great labours, fell sick; when perceiuing the deposition of his Tabernacle to draw neare, causing the Monks to be assembled together, & brought before him, with a louing and gratefull countenance, he said to them, in this sort: I, Brothers, now at last, am entring into the passage, which al the children of Eue are to make, and do feele, how our Lord now cals me to him. Do you then, reteyning in memory, the fatherly aduices, which I haue giuen you, endeauour to stand continually on the guard of your soules. Eschew all things, that may any wayes [Page 154] coole fraternall charity in you, and bring in factions or discords a­mongst you. Attending to the marke, which our Sauiour gaue vs to know his disciples withall, which truly is no other, then a mutu­all loue, & sincere coniunction of mynds. Wherfore, I do exho [...] you, aboue all things, to abhor the commerce, & dealing, not only with Meletius, and Arrius, but euen likewise with any other, who shall but step an inch from the Apostolicall Traditions, and from the holy vniuersall Church. And since I am to depart, as I haue said, endeauour you to choose in my place, a person, that may be a spiri­tuall help vnto you, and conduct you at last, to the end you haue all proposed. To which enterprize I do see none more sufficient, them our most beloued Petronius.

This said, the brothers sent sudenly to the Monastery of Chen [...] ­boscus, to call for him. And S. Pachomius in the meane tyme, compo­sing his body, and recommending himselfe to our Lord with due preparations, very happily expired, betweene the armes, and sighe [...] of his deere Congregation, on the 14. day of the month of May. As for the yeare, and other circumstances of tymes and places, there is no memory to be found. The sacred corps, with much veneration and solemne offices, was committed to the Sepulcher, & the blessed spirit, with singular feasting, receiued into the heauenly countrey, leauing on earth an exact modell of perfect exercitation to al those, who being aware of the false flatteryes of the flesh, of the vayne hopes of the world, and of the pernicious subtilityes of the deuill; aspire to the durable goods, & to the blessed vision of the most holy Trinity. To which be all glory & benediction, and yeilding of thāks for euer and euer.

Amen.

FINIS.

S. MARTIN.
THE ARGVMENT.

IN warfare bred, I chose a nobler foe
By nature, then the worlds vast realme doth yield,
My selfe; I first then him did ouerthrow:
Subdu'de, I gaind the glory of the field.
Conquerd, and Conqueror in one fight, I show
Our owne depression is our strongest shield,
To check his fierce assaults, and soules to free
From Sathans rage, and hellish slauery.
Dead to the world, like Nigers streames I rose,
That in the earth his buried floud enwombes,
And hauing made a naturall bridge, he goes
Farre vnder ground, but vp farre greater comes;
Whē the dead world to quicken Heau'n me chose,
And in a Bishops Chaire, to shew his doomes:
Who cloathd himselfe for man, in flesh of Man,
He cloathes receiues from me, his
Expo­liauit so Ionathā tunica qua erat indutus, & dedit eam Da­uid. 1 Reg. c. 18.
Ionathan.

THE LIFE OF S. MARTIN BISHOP OF TOVVERS.
Taken out Seuerus Sulpicius, and others.

S. Martin being the Sonne of a Gentill, becomes a Christian, and is enrolled a Souldiour of the Emperour. Chap. 1.

SAINT MARTYN a great Seruant of Christ, and an excellent maintayner of the Apostoli­call dignity, and discipline; was borne in Saba­ria, a Citty of Pannonia in Hungary, of Patents in repute of the world, very honourable, and noble, but yet Gentils, and farre from Christ. The Father being enrolled in the Roman war­fare, in processe of tyme, came to be a Tribune of Souldiours, or as we say, a Coronell of a Regiment, by whome S. Martin, being lead into Italy, yet a child, was trayned vp in Pauia, in feates of ar­mes; howbeit, though naturall instinct, he was enclined a great deale more to the acts of peace, or rather to Christian Religion. In so much, as being yet but ten yeares old, agaynst the will of his friends, he went secretly to the Church, and with instance de­manded [Page 157] to be made a Catechumen. Within two yeares after, he de­sired likewise to retire himselfe into the desert: & he had done it in effect, if his tender age had not been an impediment to him. To w ch disturbance of his holy designes, was further added a new leuy, which then was made of military men, with expresse order, that all the sonnes of old Souldiers, should be put into the roule, and conducted to the war. Whereupon S. Martin, being now some fif­teene yeares old, being discouered by his owne Father, was against his will, enforced to repayre to the Ensignes of Constantius the Em­perour. He would haue no other in his company, then a slaue only, whome yet he would be seruing rather, then be serued by him, to wit, in often pulling off his shoes, and brushing his clothes, & fur­nishing the table with what was needfull.

With this disposition of mind, being come to the field, some three yeares before his baptisme, he allwayes preserued himselfe wonderous pure, and vntouched of those vices and debauchements, [...]n which Souldiours are for the most part wont to be inuolued. First for his person, he would seeme to content himselfe with fare so moderate and simple, as from that tyme he seemed to be rather a Monke, then a Souldiour: besids he would seeme to content him­selfe with those kind of meates, which others vtterly refused to eate off: moreouer he would shew himself very benigne and courteous, to his Camerades, and to all others, bearing with their defects, and supplying the necessity of euery one, with extraordinary charity, patience, and humility. He would comfort the afflicted with loue and dexterity, and be very helpfull to the sicke: and without thin­king of the morrow, he would feed most liberally the hungry, but with particular tendernes cloth the naked; in which worke of piety, was a certayne act of his very memorable, which we shall tell you in the next Chapter.

The singular Charity of S. Martyn to a poore man. And how he leaues the warres, and betakes him to another Course. Chap. 2.

THe Roman Army, at this tyme, was lodged in France, in ex­ceeding cold places, and in the hart of a winter much more cruell, then vsed to be in that place; in so much as many men, euen dyed frozen in the streetes. Now it happened, in the Gate of Amiens, that a poore man, quaking with his naked body exposed to the shar­penes [Page 158] of the ayre, very pittifully craued some succour of the soul­diours, that passed then along, in the company of S. Martyn; and the wretch being not heeded by any of them, M. Martyn apprehended straight, how that merit by the diuine prouidence, was reserued for him. But what could he do, in such a case? He had not a penny of mony about him, hauing now already spent all, in other Almes: And in fyne, had nothing els but his armes, and a short cloake on his back. What resolution tooke then the Man of God? Taking out his sword, of a sudden, he diuided the same into halfes, and giues the one part therof, to the wretch, and the other keepes to himselfe to couer him the best he could. At the sight of such a strang habit, & remnant of cloath, as some of the more youthfull of them, could hardly conteyne themselues from laughing, so others more stayed then they, were worthily touched ther with, as knowing how wel they might haue cloathed him, without despoyling of themselues.

Now in truth, how much God was pleased with this charity of S. Martyn, he seemed to demonstrate the night following, appea­ring before him, with that piece of garment, on his owne person, and bidding him to looke and marke well, whether it were not the Garment he had giuen to the poore man, the day before. Wherup [...] with a sweet countenance turning himself to a multitude of Angels which attended him, he added with a lowd voyce: Martyn, b [...]g but yet a Catechumen, hath clothed me with this mantle. Words surely well worthy of the bowels of Christ, and agreeable to those other, which he sayd, conuersing with men, and which he will repeate agayne, at the Iudgement day: Quamdiu vni de minimis meis fecistis, mihi [...] cistis.

From this so noble a vision S. Martyn tooke not a whit of vayne glory, but acknowledging and magnifying in all, and through all the heauenly grace; he tooke rather a motiue thence of greater hu­mility and diligence, in the diuine seruice. So as without more de­lay, he hyed him to Baptisme, being then about eighteen yeares of age, and withall to giue himselfe more freely to a perfect life, he was euen ready to bid adieu to the military state, but being constreyned through the importunity of his Tribune (who hauing finished his office, promised to follow him,) he differed yet the execution of his holy purpose, for the space of two yeares: in all which [...], remayning in person in the field, he had his thoughts in the Cell, and Quire, so as well he may be sayd a Souldiour, by name, rather [Page 159] then exercise.

In the meane tyme, a huge Army of Almans, being entred into [...]ance, which did nothing but wast the Roman Empire, Iulianus [...]sar, being sent by Constantius, to that seruice, made the leuy of his [...]en, in the territory of the Vangion, which at this day is called Spire, [...] as others would haue it, to be that of Wormes, where before his cō ­ [...]ing to encounter with the Enemy, he would needs haue giuen a [...]rgesse to the Souldiours. They began then, according to custome [...] be called one by one, before the Maister of the Campe. Where­upon S. Martyn, esteming this, to be a good occasion for him to take [...]is leaue, when it came to his turne, with Christian liberty, said to [...]esar. Hitherto, haue I beene at your pay, now then do but graunt [...]e leaue to become a souldiour of Christ: as for my part of the do­ [...]ation, be it giuen to others, since it is not lawfull for me any more [...] embrew my selfe in bloud.

At these words, the Fyrant being angry, lookt sowrely vpon [...]im, and said, that Martin had craued licence, not so much for deuo­ [...]on sake, as for feare of the battaile, which was to be on the day fol­ [...]owing: Then the seruant of God, so much more bold and vndaun­ed, as the feare was greater they obiected to him: Behold answered [...]e, O Caesar, whether my refusing mony, do seeme rather to spring of feare, then piety. Tomorrow, am I ready, on the point of ioy­ [...]ing battayle, to present my selfe, before the first ranckes, with­out Target, or Helmet, or other armes, but only with the signe of the holy Crosse, and with this confidence alone, to thrust my selfe [...]o the thickest squadrons of those barbarous people. With this so couragious an answere, Iulian being in censed much the more, cau­ [...]d him suddenly to be put in prison, to come to the proofe, and [...]o expose him vnarmed, to the face of the enemy.

This thing gaue much matter of talke to the whole Army, and with diuers affects of mynd, they were all expecting the yssue; when betymes in the morning, behold, beyond all ectpectation, [...]e Embassadour of that fierce Nation, came in with Heralds, and [...]nterpreters, not only to craue peace, but also to submit themsel­ [...]es humbly to the obedience of Caesar. This matter was held of all, [...]o proceed from Heauen, and such as were priuy to the sanctity of S. Martin, in particular, attributed without doubt, so suddayne a [...]utation, and so greet as Victory so easily gotten to nothing els, [...]en to his merits, because there wanted not meanes, to the diuine [Page 160] power, to saue him amidst a thousand swords & launces, and to d [...] comfite, and put to flight, as many as should attempt to offend him: notwithstanding it seemed to be more conformable to th [...] sweet disposition of the eternall prouidence, and more agreable t [...] the peacefull nature, and manners of S. Martin, to free him rather by the way of such an accord, then by the meanes of death, and slaughter.

S. Martyn repayres to S. Hilary Bishop. And departing homewards mee [...] with a Diuell, whome he stoutly foyles; and what followed. Chap. 3.

DVring the common ioy aboue mentioned, S. Martyn being de­liuered, and the warre now wholy concluded, repayred [...] S. Hilary Bishop of Poytiers, a person in those tymes of rare and emi­nent Goodnes. Heere did he giue forth such demonstrations of him­selfe, as S. Hilary to retayne such a labourer in that vineyard, attemp­ted often to make him Deacon, but S. Martyn alwayes resisting, an [...] still affirming, & crying out, that he was not worthy of that degree, the discreet Pastour was aduised, there was no other way to con­streyne this man therto, then to giue him some kind of office, which in a certayne manner might rather be held a disparagement to him, then any dignity at all: nor was he herein deceiued awhit, finc [...] offering him vp the charge of an Exorcist, which was held to be the meanest and lowest of all, S. Martin at last, not to seeme to haue [...] in scorne or disdayne, was persuaded to accept thereof.

Not long after, being admonished by God, in sleepe, to go his wayes to reuisite his countrey, and help his friends, who as yet were not out of their Pagauisme, he demaunded leaue for this end, of the holy Bishop, to go thither: Who graunted it, indeed, though with a very ill will; intreating & coniuring him, not with­out teares, to returne backe againe, as soone as he could. And so likewise S. Martyn (as it is said) departed with no great good will himselfe, foreseeing the difficultyes of the enterprize, and prote­sting to his Brothers, that therein he was like to suffer great [...]auay­les and aduersityes, as it fell out afterwards in effect. For that first, in his passage ouer the Alpes, he fell into the hands of the Bandits, one of which lifting vp his axe now ouer his head, was stayed by the arme of another lesse cruell then he, who notwithstanding binding his hands behind him, gaue him to the custody and spoyle [Page 161] of another who for that end, leading him to a place more remote began to demaund of him, who he was? and S. Martin answered, he was a Christian. Art thou not affrayd, replyed the Thiefe? And he with an incredible constancy affirmed, that he was neuer lesse a­frayd in his life, since he knew very well, the diuine Mercy, to be then most present, with such as trusted therin, when they found themselues in the greatest perils of all: but I am sory for thee (quoth he) that makest thy selfe wholy vncapable, & vnworthy therof, by the life thou leadest. And with this ouerture very dextrously falling into the Ghospell, with holsome and efficacious words, so moued that soule, as he was conuerted to Christ, and with a full deliberatiō of changing his manners, did secretly put the Pilgrime in his way, beseeching his Charity to vouchsafe to recōmend him to our Lord: which he did, and not without fruite, forasmuch as this very Thiefe afterwards came to be a Religious man, who euen told vs this par­ticular himselfe.

S. Martyn then pursuing his voyage, hauing passed Milan, was met by the Deuill, in forme of a man, who would needs know, whither he went: and being told by S. Martyn, that he was going whither God had called him, the Enemy replyed: Go whither thou wilt, or whatsoeuer thou takest in hand, Know, that the Deuil wil be alwayes contrary to thee. Then S. Martyn answered with the Prophet: Dominus mihi adiutor, non timebo quid faciat mihi homo. At which words, the Impostour immediately vanished: and S. Martyn after some dayes, being arriued in his Country, attended the first thing he did, with all endeauour to procure the saluation of his Parents, but not with like successe; since the Mother came to be a Christian while the Father could not be stirred from the impious worship of the Idols. Yet there wanted not in his place many others, who through the example, and with the exhortation of S. Martyn, were brought into the right way of eternall life.

Besides this, there was another occasion for him, to employ wel the talents which he had receiued, and to shew forth the zeale he had of the holy Fayth. Because the Arrian Heresy, at that tyme, with particular successe hauing extended it selfe into the parts of Sclauonia, and all those confines there, S. Martyn with all his might opposed himselfe to the Rebels of Christ, with so much more toyles and difficulty, as the fauour and succour was lesse, which he had from the Catholique Priests. Whence, taking the whole shock, and [Page 162] enuy on himselfe, being iniured and rackt with diuerse to [...]ments, and (among other things) hauing beene publiquely scourged, he was constrayned at last to turne back agayne into France.

S. Martin is banished from Milsan, and after escaping poyson, mee [...] [...] S. Hilary agayne. Chap. 4.

SAint Martin hauing now vnderstood, on the the way as he went to France, that things were there turned vp-side downe, and that euen S. Hilary himselfe was by Heretiques, sent into banish­ment; he determined till better tymes, to entertayne himselfe in Milan, and there to set vp a litle Monastery: but neyther was he suf­fered so to do, by Auxentius the Head of the Arrians, who aftermany outrages, and persecutions, finally expelled him the Citty.

Whereupon S. Martin, being thus molested on euery side, falling into the company of a certayne Priest, a great seruant of God, de­termined for that tyme to hide themselues. To this end, they reti­red into a litle desert Iland, in the Tyrrhen sea, called by the name of Gallinara. Heer while the Man of God, liued in great abstinence of rootes and herbes, it chaunced vnawares, that he eate some Helle­bore, which is a medicinable herbe: yet such notwithstanding, a [...] that if the quantity be not moderate, and the simple well prepared, and corrected, through the great purgatiue it hath with it, it comes to be poysonous, and pestiferous, as de facto it had beene to S. Mar­tyn, if being brought to extreames therewith he had not made his recourse to prayer, and with this remedy had not suddenly expel­led all dolour and daunger.

After this, it was not long ere he knew, how S. Hilary hauing soūd grace with the Emperour Constantius, returned into France. At which newes being exceeding ioyfull, he trauayled towards Rome, to meete with him there, and to accompany him to his Church. But S. Hi­lary being now past by already, he met him neerer, and with great iubiley, being receyued by him, erected, out of the Citty of Poytiers, a poore Monastery for him, and as many as followed him. Among these, there was a certaine Catechumen, who falling sick of a vio­lent feuer, while S. Martin was farre off (for three dayes only) a­bout certaine affayres of the diuine seruice, beyond all expectation, departed this lyfe, and that which was worse, without Baptisme. The Conuent was sensible of this case: and S. Martin at his returne, [Page 163] finding now the Exequies prepared, very sorowful and sad thereat approched his body. Heere now conceiuing in his pure mind new feruour of spirit, he makes them all go forth of the chamber; and the doores being shut stretches himselfe, like another Elizaeus, vpon the cold bones of the deare Brother, and so hauing made a feruent prayer, and very soone perceiuing already, through diuine vertue, how the vitall spirits were vpon returne, standing something vp­right agayne, with his eyes fixed on the face of the dead man, he stood couragiously expecting the effect of his prayers, and of the di­uine clemency. There were not yet two houres of tyme past, when he saw the dead to moue his lymmes, by litle and litle, and panting to open the eyes, and to recouer the vse of his senses. Then S. Martin giuing thankes to our Lord, cryed out so lowd, as they who expected without, being moued with the noise therof, came rushing in, and all perceiued, to their infinite astonishment, the corps to res­pire, and take vigour agayne, which euen now they were ready to carry to buriall.

After so great a benefit had, the Cathecumen delayed not a whit to receiue the holy Baptisme, whereunto he suruiued many yeares after, and was wont sincerly to recount of himselfe, how being de­parted from the body, he was presented before a Tribunall, and by sentence confined to darkesome place, among the baser sort; but how at the same instant, two Angels relating to the Iudge, how it was he for whome S. Martyn had besought, to them was then Cō ­mission giuen, to restore him to life agayne, and to make a present of him to the seruant of God. This was the first wonder S. Martyn shewed forth in those parts; whence it followed, that being now held for holy, he begā afterwards to be esteemed also as a man very powerfull with God, and a person truly Apostolicall. Not long af­ter this, passing through the fields of one Lupicinus an honourable & rich man, there met him a troupe of people all full of laments, and teares, telling him, how one of the seruants of Lupicinus, had hanged himselfe, & so miserably had ended his dayes. S. Martin heere with being moued to compassion, without delay intred into the chāber, where the vnhappy Wretch was deposed, and so from thence also dismissing the people, distending himselfe in like manner on the corps, made he his prayer: which was no lesse efficacious then the other, since that his hart now cold, already resuming the naturall heate, began by litle and little to yield to the arteryes, & their pulse [Page 164] agayne, and motion to the nerues: so as the dead, with stretch [...] forth armes, taking S. Martin by the right hand, arose on his feete▪ and accompanyed him to the gate of the house, in the presence of all that multitude; who replenished both with wonder and ioy, ceased not to glorify in S. Martin, the immense goodnes, and om­nipotency of the Creatour.

S. Martyn not without great contradiction of many, is chosen Bishop of Towers. Chap. 5.

AT the very same tyme, the Church of Towers, being vacant, [...] Martyn, by the vniuersall consent of the people there, was destined to that dignity. But he not being so easily to be taken fort [...] from his Monastery; a certayne Citizen, being called Ruritius, his wife faygning to be grieuously sick, cast himselfe at the feere of the Saint, and coniured him so much, as he made him to come forth, to blesse her. With that pretext, a number of persons being couert­ly set in opportune places, S. Martyn was taken by them, and with a good guard brought into the Citty, where was already assē ­bled togeather, a great concourse of people of all sorts, being met, according to the vse of those tymes, to passe their suffrages, for the election of a new Prelate: nor was there any person, great or li [...]e that desired not to see S. Martyn installed in that seate, esteeming the country happy, vnder the care of such a Pastour.

Some Bishops only of the Neighbour-diocesses being called [...]o the consecration, and some other principall persons stood earnestly against it; alleadging him to be a Person meane, of no Presence▪ with ill clothes, worse put on, and in summe, vnworthy to be nū ­bred among Bishops. With such oppositions, did these men seeke to alienate the people from the deuotion and sauour of S. Mar [...]. But the matter fell out quite contrary with them, because the same obiections, as they were held of the people (who had the sounder iudgment) for the prayse and reputation of the Seruant of Christ; so on the other side, they came with litle edification to discouer the enuy and malignity of the Prelats. Whence they began also, by litle and little, to relent, one only excepted, more blind and obsti [...]e then the rest, who cōtinued in vesistance, till such time, as by diuine prouidence, a notable Iudgement was shewed vpon him, as we shall now declare.

[Page 165] This Prelate, in the Church of Towers, had the tytle of Defender, & [...]y reason of that dignity was known of all. Now he being one day with the people in the Church, at the hower of diuine office; it hap­pened, that the Lectourer, being not able to presse through the great [...]rung of people which was there, to approach the Quire, one of the Standers by, in the meane while, laying hold of the Psalter, [...]egan to read the first verse, as it lay before him, being iust that same of the 8. psalme, which saith, Ex ore infantium & lactentium perfecisti [...]udē, propter inimicos tuos, vt destruas inimicum, & defensorē, the last word [...] that Text being so translated, insteed of vlt [...]rem. At which word [...]o pronounced was lifted immediately a cry of the people vnto [...]eauen, to the extreme confusion & shame of the aduersary: and S. Martin with out more resistance of any besides himselfe, was elected, [...]r rather forcibly constrayned to the Bishopricke. In which admi­nistration, it may not easily be explicated, how fully, or rather su­ [...]er aboundantly, he gaue correspondency, to the full expectation, which was had of him: forasmuch as being disposed to that degree, with the exquisite addresses of a most chast mynd, in the sacred Vn­ [...]ion besids, he receyued so great aboundance of new graces, and gifts of Heauen, as continually outstripping himselfe, he reteyned [...]oth the vertue of a priuate person, & further added to his singular prayse, all the good qualtyes of a publique man.

S. Martin retires himselfe out of the Towne, with his Monkes: and their manner of liuing there. Chap. 6.

SAint Martin, in the treating of his owne person would change nothing of his wonted manner; his fare, and apparell, was still the same as before, for habitation only he betooke himselfe into a litle Cell, hard by the Cathedrall Church: but euen likewise from thence, through too much importunity of frequent Visits, he sud­denly retyred himselfe out of the Citty, into a maruey lous com­modious place, to distribute his tymes vnto Martha and Mary, since it was about two miles distant from the Towne. On the one side, it was girt in with a high in accessable rock, on the other enuironed with the riuer Loyre: in so much, as there could be no entrance ther­into, but by a narrow path. Within that enclosure S. Mar [...] had built him a litle Cell of boards, & a part of his Monkes, who were some eighty in number, had done the like▪ and some agayne with [Page 166] instruments had digged them in the rocky hill, certayne receptacles, but narrow, and more fit to medicate vpon Death, then to co [...] life withall.

Heere no man held any thing proper to himselfe, all thing [...] were in common. To buy or sel, was not there permitted. To no manner of art, applyed they themselues; but to writing, and to the only, were the yo [...]ger deputed. Those of the more [...] attended as it were, to nothing els, then to things diuine. Very r [...] ­rely went any out of his Cell, but when they all assembled tog [...] ­ther in the Oratory to pacify God: besides, they did eate all tog [...] ­ther in the Euening. Wine was not affoarded to any, except to [...] sicke. The grea [...] part would be wearing of cilices: clothes whi [...] had any fine [...] [...]sse in them were abhorred of [...]ch one [...] manifest scandall: A thing so much more admirable, as many [...] them were Noble of bloud, and dainetily bred. But for the lou [...]d Christ, and the Crosse they did all very voluntarily, submit them [...] ­ues to such a pe [...]ance. Of which number afterwards were many of them seen to be Bishops; while Ci [...]ties striued to be gouerned [...] spirit by the Children of such a discipline. Nor could it be o [...] wise, but need [...] must succeed very excellent men vnder S. M [...] because not only: with aduises and words, went he alwayes [...] them; but euen with workes and liuely incitements also of all p [...] ­fection, and especially sincere humility, togeather with an ardent [...]oue of the Neighbour.

Sulpitius Seueras declared (who liued in those tymes, & know­ing the Saint domestically as he did, very diligently wrote his life) how that going sometimes to visit him from countryes somewh [...] remote, he could neuer hinder him from washing his feet, and [...] ­ing to sit downe at table, from reaching him water, as well [...]t his hands▪ as for those of his fellowes. The same man adds, how after he had fed the bodyes of his ghests with moderate vict [...] [...] would be afterwards affoarding them a most sweet food of [...] ­tuall discourses for their soules, exhorting them with like modesty and efficacy to nothing more then to fly the sensualityes of the pre­sent life, and to leaue the perilous trash of the world, to be able t [...] more [...]imbly and free, to follow Iesus.

And to this purpose, he would set before them the fresh exam­ple of S. P [...] Bishop of N [...]a, who after he had distributed very [...]mple [...] [...]or the loue of God, and help of the poore, did final­ly [Page 167] with an example of Christian piety, neuer heard of before, sell himselfe into a most cruell bondage, for the ransome of his subiects, who were held in Affricke slaues to the Saracens. With such manner [...]f comparisons as this, and moreouer with precepts taken out of the [...]red Writ, went S. Martin exciting in spirit, as many as came be­ [...]re him. Nor was it any great matter for him, that he should haue [...] much to giue to others, who so continually treasured vp for him­self, remayning euen amidst exteriour actiōs alwayes with the hart [...] vnited with God, as neyther in words nor deeds, he would euer [...]o forth of his presence. And as Smithes, without other matter to worke on, through vse, & for their pleasure only, will sometymes [...]e laying on the anuile: so S. Martyn, not only in the tymes depu­ [...]d to the Sacrifice, and diuine worship, but likewise at all houres [...]sides, would eyther read or write, or be dealing with men: and [...]hrough the great habit he had gotten, he would be continually [...]collected in the interious man, conuersing sweetly with the hea­ [...]enly Spouse, and with the giuer of all Graces.

He would neuer loose tyme in the day, and whole nights he would often passe ouer in labours, and watchings. To the body [...]e gaue that refection, and that repose, which extreme necessity re­ [...]uired, lying on the bare ground, couered only with a sharp cilice. He tooke heed with all caution from iudging the intentions of o­ [...]ers, interpreting what he could ech thing to the better part, and [...]wayes very highly esteeming the reputation & fame of the neigh­ [...]our: the iniuryes, detractions, & the enuyes of Persecutours, which [...] the whole course of his life were not wanting to him, he would [...]compence with weeping bitterly for their offences, and also (as [...]ccasion serued) with affording them benefits, & seruing them; not [...]xcluding any, what lay in him, from his holy freindship. He was [...]euer seen to laugh vainely, or to be contristate at any thing, con­ [...]ruing alwayes the same tranquility of hart, and serenity of counte­ [...]ance, amidst al the varietyes of human accidents, eyther prosperous [...]nd cheerefull, or how straung, and aduerse soeuer they were: Wherof, those few actions, which we shall tell you anon, shall giue [...]rth, a very euident testimony, though in ech one of these preci­ [...]s examples, do shine withall (as often it happens) many other ver­ [...]es besides.

S. Martyn is much honoured by a miracle from God, for a charitable act of [...] Chap. 7.

SAint Martin going one morning to the cathedrall Church, to [...] lebrate in the winter tyme, was on the way demaunded an al­mes of a poore ragged wretch, that was ready to dy for cold. No [...] he, who in compassion, was still the same, calling his Archdeac [...] before him, commaunded him sudenly to be clothed; from the [...] he pursued his way, and hauing adored our Lord, entred into [...] Sacristy to vest himself. There were in those dayes, certaine roo [...] adioyning to the Church, somewhat sequestred from the vulg [...] which were called Oratoryes: In one of these (while the Cha [...] els where, were passing the tyme in Conuersation) S. Martyn ac­cording to vse, was alone in his Pontificalibus, sitting on a play [...] and simple seate, (for he would neuer vse any better) for that [...] the Church, he would neuer be seen, but on his knees, or standi [...] vpright. Now while he was expecting there, amidst his holy me­ditations, at the houre of the Sacrifice, the very same Beggar, w [...] seene agayne to appeare before him, who as it seemed (as necess [...] makes one ingenious) could tel how to cōtriue it so, as the Cle [...] vnwitting therof, finding the Bishop retyred, presses in to him, & with a lamentable voyce, complaynes for that he was not proui­ded by the Archdeacon. Then S. Martyn without more ado, cau­sing him to step aside, tooke off his owne Cassocke, not witho [...] some trouble, from vnder his vestments, and gaue it to the Wretc [...] who as for solliciting his sute had entred in without noyse, so no [...] obteyning what he would, he went quietly away. A litle after, t [...] Archdeacon enters to aduertise the Bishop, that now it was tym [...] for him to come forth, for the people were al expecting his cōming when he answered: It were fit the while the poore (meaning hi [...] selfe) should first be clothed, or otherwise, he could not appe [...] in publique: but the Archdeacon (for that S. Martyn was outward [...] clothed with the vestment, & could not penetrate the Enigma,) [...] ter many excuses finally added, how the poore man could not [...] foūd. Bring hither (said S. Martyn) the Garment prepared, for th [...] shall not want one to put it on. With these words, the vnper [...] man came to be troubled in himself, & being constreyned throug [...] necessity, went his wayes suddenly to a shop at hand, where ha­stily [Page 169] hauing bought a poore coate, for some halfe a Crowne, being course, [...]cant, and illfauourdly made, casts it downe with a disdain­full gesture, at the feete of S. Martyn, saying: behold the garment, but for the beggar now where is he? When the Venerable Bishop, with­out loosing awhit his holy peace, causing the others to stand forth somewhat without the portall, procuring to be secret as much as he could, did reuest himself with it; howbeit at last through the diuers circumstances of the matter, the thing could not be concealed.

And besides that, it pleased the diuine goodnes, to illustrate such a fact, with an euident signe, because the admirable Priest, going forth in that habit, while acording to the vse, he blesseth the Aul­tar; behold a ball of fire to shine from his head, in māner of a comet, which blazing towards Heauen, sent vp a fyery streame. True it is, that howbeit the same fell out on a solemne day, and in a great cō ­course of people, yet did not any other see it, then one of the Vir­gins, one Priest, and three Monkes only: as for the other, why they had not the fauour to behold it, appertaynes not to vs, to exa­mine heere: it suffiseth, that the testimonies, as well for number, as quality, are sufficient to take away all doubt.

S. Martin trauailing alone, was hardly vsed by Souldiours, not knowing who he was. Chap. 8.

THE diuine Man, going in a visit of his Diocesse (which he performed with singular care, and edification of all) his Companions by some accident or other remayned behind, while he going on his wayes, met with a Ca [...]och of Souldiours trauay­ling vpon busines; but the horses starting at the sight of S. Martyn, in a cassocke of hayry cloth, and a darke mantle which hung downe on one side, and affrighted therewith, were troubled in such sort, as the harnesse being on a sudden entangled together, could not easily be freed. Heerupon the cruell Souldiours being enraged alighted, and with stripes, and cudgells set vpon S. Martin: Who as he was very amorous of the Crosse, as holding euery occasion very deere, to be ill intreated, without once opening his mouth, stood to the blowes, vntill such tyme, as being torne and halfe dead, he fell to [...]he ground, when those spightfull fellowes, hauing now atchie­ued so goodly an exploit, returned agayne to their Ca [...]och.

This done, the companions of the Saint, being now arriued, [Page 170] and seeing him in that manner, to [...], all [...], being sad and heauy [...] vp and lay [...] him [...], and with all the hast that might [...] go [...] a way out of that [...]ursed pla­ce. But now, th [...]se impious fellowes (though they had th [...] aduan­tage to [...] the harnesse, & to set them in order agayne) [...] [...]ad they not the power to go forwards one foote further, but rath [...] through diuine iustice; the horses stood still, immoueable like sta­tues, in the [...] same place, nor with [...]yes, threats, [...] strookes, could they be made to go on a step. Finally, [...] they had spent in vayne, their whips; and Cudgells, which they [...] out of the next wood, these wicked fellowes began now to reflect, how this accident could not be human, but by diuine iustice; & ha­uing remorse of conscience, for the grieuous outrage they had cō ­mitted on the poore passenger right now, they went to enquire of some, that passed that way, who he was that went before in such a habit, and with such marks; and hauing vnderstood to be S. Mar­tin (whose name was a great deale mo [...] famous then his person) they acknowledged the Sacriledge committed, and the vengea [...] of God vpon them, and fearing yet worse, they all striued to fol­low the Seruants of God; and hauing ouertaken him, with deep sighes and lamentable voyces, casting themselues prostrate on th [...] ground before him, sprinckling their heads with dust, and knoc­king their breasts, they humbly besought pardon of him, and licen­ce to be gone.

The Saint, by diuine reuelation, had foreseene the successe al­ready, and also acquainted his companions with it. Whence such pennance was not awhit new to them, nor did he vpbrayd any of them, for the iniury done him: but receyued them all, with [...] be­nigne countenance; and with seruent prayers, hauing obteyned their dispatch, he sent them a way confounded, and astonished [...] great a Clemency.

A notable Example of a dissolute Monke, conuerted by S. Martyn to a better life. Chap. 9.

VVE may not seeme to conceale heere the Patience, and Meekenes, which S. Martyn shewed to a Priest of his Church, by name Britius. This man, being trayned vp in a Religi­ous life, with the Obseruance of Pouerty, and Modesty, as he was [Page 171] assumpted to the Clergy and Benefices, so suffered he himselfe to be drawne away, with the concupiscence of the Eyes, as without re­gard, eyther of his Life past, or present Degree, or the speach of people, he began to giue himselfe wholy to pleasures; to maintayne horses, and to buy very costly Slaues. These things now pierced the very hart of the holy Pastour, who after he had prayed to our Lord for him, stuck not with much sweetnes, and grauity, both of words and countenance, to set before him the enormous scandall that fol­lowed of so great a mutation of manners in him, intreating him withall to be thinke himselfe of the ancient purposes, and to con­sider, how the state of the Clergy, did not acquit him at all of the perfection of a Monke, but that rather the name did seeme to oblige him; to haue in horrour and contempt all the delights and pleasures of the world, since thereby was vnderstood, he had left to others their transitory things, and with the Prophet had chosen, for portion and inheritance, God only.

With such aduises, S. Martyn went about, to awake that vn­happy mā from this deadly sleepe: but as he was giuen ouer already in prey to sense, & found himselfe to be but little disposed to admo­nishments, for the present he held his peace; but feeling himselfe afterwards to be gauled with the truth, and with this occasion also more enflamed by the Diuell, he was so incensed therewith as that on the very next day turning the medicine into poyson, with great fury, he came to the Monastery, where the Man of God was sitting neare vnto his litle Cell. Heere Britius, full of anger, or full of phrensy rather, with sparkling eyes, and trembling lips, & chan­ging often colour, vents forth his rage conceyued agaynst S. Martyn in presence of many, loading him with infinite contumlies and in­iuries, and hardly also abstayning from laying violent hands v­pon him. Nor yet was the sacrilegious temerity of this man, any thing new, or sudden, to the Seruant of Christ, hauing first before his arriuall, seen on the top of the hanging cliffe, two wicked Spi­rits, who triumphing, and ioyfull, calling Britius by name, with voyce, and gestures, stood egging him on, to reuenge the affront, and to handle the Bishop in that sort, as he might not dare heerafter to molest him any more.

Whence S. Martin, composing himselfe to all manner of Patience, endeauoured, with admirable dexterity and sweetnes, to mitigate the Wretch, the whilest he, letting wholy the reynes loose to his [Page 172] Tongue ceased not to abuse him with extreme insolency, and [...]. And now hauing suffered his tongue to range a liberty [...] euery side, with the [...] fury he entred in, he went forth [...] when by the prayers, no doubt of S. Martin, the darknes expelled he began to be aware of his grieuous offence, and was so comppunct for the same, as that suddenly turning his steps backe agayne, with blushing and shame; prostrating himselfe at the feete of the holy Man, besought him benignely to remit his fault. No [...] was it any thing hard to obtayne this grace of him, who was sory, not for h [...] owne abasement, but rather for the precipice of the other, yea, and to help him more, playnely expressed to him, how he had seene th [...] two infernall furyes, that set him on.

In summe, with all affection he receiued him into his friend­ship agayne▪ Wherein he was [...]ound so constant▪ that howbe [...] he had afterwards many, and grieuous complaints of him yet not­withstanding, he could neuer be brought to depriue him, of hi [...] Priesthood▪ least vnder the shadow of publique chastisement, the priuate offence might seeme in some māner to be punished by him. And to persons of quality, who seemed to wonder much at him▪ & not to like very well so much indulgence of his▪ S. Marty [...] would answere, among other things: [...] was tollerated by Christ, and shall not I beare with a Briti [...]s? In this manner, went he still [...] seuering in these most intense acts of Charity. But who would say e­uer, that so ob [...]inate, and vnbridled a man as Britius was, should come afterwards▪ to be so gracious in the eyes of God, as to be­come a Bishop, and a Saint?

And yet so fell it out, thankes be [...]o the diuine Goodnes for [...] & to the intercessions of S. Martin: who on a tyme, holding his ey [...] fixed on Heauen for a pretty while, and being therefore of [...] taxed of madnes: Know (sayd he to him) Sonne, that I haue ob­teyned of our Lord, that thou mayst come to be Bishop afte [...] me▪ Though thou must vnderstand, that in the Bishopricque it selfe, thou shalt want no aduersities. Then Britius sayd: Lo you now▪ did not I affirme the truth, how this man was meerely out of his wits? But howsoeuer, in tyme he vnderstood, he was deceyued. Because that S. Martin, being once departed this life, it pleased the diuine prouidence, that Britius, though vayne and proud before, yet notwithstanding being held in high esteeme for Chastity, [...] without opposition, elected by the people▪ and Clergy, to the su­preme [Page 173] gouernement of soules. In which office, acknowledging, [...]d amending the errours of his youth, he most notably demean [...]d [...]mselfe. And to the end, the Prophecy of his Predecessour, might [...] verifyed, with his great glory, he suffered, from the impious, [...]d slaunderers, most grieuous persecutions.

[...]ow a certayne Virgin refused to be visited by S. Martyn: and how patiently he tooke it. Chap. 10.

TO returne now from whence we were digressed; a like forti­tude to this, shewed S. Martin of an equall courage, and serene [...]ind in another case, though light in esteeme perhaps▪ yet very dif­ [...]cult in practise: there was in the Diocesse of Towers, a Virgin, a­ [...]ong others, of excellent fame, and ver [...]uous behauiour; who now [...] these many yeares, of her owne accord, had made her abode in [...]ertayne farme of hers, very streightly reclused, and onely at­ [...]ending to God, did fly the conuersation, & sight of men. S. Martin [...]ow, being inuited with such an odour (who otherwise was ex­ [...]eeding precise from spending any tyme with women) yet chan­ [...]ing to passe by those parts, determined to honour with his presen­ [...] so rare a vertue, being a fauour so much more notable, as known [...]o be more vnusuall with him: but the matter succeeded not accor­dingly, because the Spouse of Christ, would not giue way to remit a­whit of her rigour, so much, as at the request of such a Prelate to be [...]isited at all. So as S. Martin, with many of his company, being [...]ow arriued where she was, not doubting awhit of being admit­ [...]ed to her presence, hauing sent in a messenger to her, and that in [...]ayne, so repulsed he departed thence.

Now what would an ordinary Priest haue done in this case? If [...]ot happily, taken it at least in ill part, and perhaps haue iudged [...]he Virgin to be taynted with heresy, and worthy of excommuni­ [...]ation? But the diuine man, was so farre from being offended ther­ [...], as reioycing at such a repulse receyued; began with magnificall words, to extoll the constancy and chastity of her, who had so re­ [...]yred herselfe from him. Nor with words only shewed he forth, the high opinion he had framed of her, but with facts also: foras­much as she afterward, in the Euening hauing sent him certayne presents of refection, and refreshment, S. Martin, who in his whole visit, till that tyme, had neuer accepted of any thing which was [Page 174] offered him, yet of what the Virgin sent him, he refused i [...] not▪ [...] ledging, it was not [...]itting for a Priest, to refuse the benedict [...] [...] her, who deserued to be preferred before many Priests.

With such like words, and workes, from tyme to tyme, g [...] S. Martin euident signes of a full victory gotten ouer his passions▪ & of the peacefull possession he maintayned in himselfe. But in re­gard, some will say perhaps, how these manner of prayses, are [...] mon also with priuate persons; let vs come, to the proper [...] of a true Prelate, and Apostolicall Guardian. Among which, it see­mes that the zeale of the holy, and orthodoxe fayth, and of [...] sincere worship of God, doth ho [...]d the first place. For whose con­seruation, S. Martyn was alwayes wonderfully sollicitous, and vigilant, keeping himselfe, and all all his flocke, from euery le [...] contagion o [...] Heretiques, or of others seuered from the Roman S [...] Heer with did burne in his breast, an inextinguishable thirst to [...] ­state, and propagate the Christian verity, on euery side, and p [...] ticularly in the neighbour parts; where it seemed to him an in [...] ­lerable thing, that any relique of Paganisme, should yet be exta [...] ▪ He endeauoured then maynly to extinguish the same; and Almig [...] ­ty God most commonly for his part, with a powerfull hand, [...] stupendious workes, concurred thereunto.

S. Martin restores a Womans sonne from Death to life: with other [...] thinges. Chap. 11.

SAint Martin on a tyme going, by occasion of the diuine ser [...] to the Citty of Cha [...]es, chanced to passe through a Village [...] Gentils, who at the fame of the Saint, going forth of the Tow [...] ▪ put themselues in the high way to behold him; and at the same [...] ­mour, concurred so great a multitude of the neighbour countries, [...] all that playne was seene to be couered with an infinite people. [...] the fight of which sheep, for that the most were led astray, the [...] Bishop sighing, and eleuated in spirit, beginnes to preach to the [...] [...] word of God, and to inuite them to eternall saluation, and that wi [...] such a feeling, and with such a voyce, & action, as doubtles seem [...] to them some what more then humane.

Now while he thus discoursed, it pleased our Lord, that a Wo­man, whose only Sonne was dead at that tyme, comming be [...] him, with hands lifted vp, presented him to the blessed S. [...], [Page 175] saying: we vnderstand, that thou art the friend of God, restore me [...]y Sonne, which is the only Child I haue. To the prayers of the [...]us Mother, were added the fighes, and intercessions of the [...]tanders by. So as S. Martyn perceyuing, how for the conuersion of that people, some miracle were fit, lifting vp his eyes and mind [...]o Heauen, and conceiuing therice an vndoubted certaynty of the [...]iuine ayde, he tooke the body in his armes, and in the presence [...]f all, put himselfe on his knees: and after a little space the party [...]rose vp, and so restored the child reuiued to the Mother, astoni­ [...]hed, and almost besides herselfe for ioy: whereupon a cry was lif­ [...]ed vp to the starres, and all these people confessing Christ for true God, began in troupes with great vehemency to runne after S. Mar­ [...]in, most instantly intreating him to make them Christians. And he [...]ull of iubiley, lifting vp his hands ouer them, made them Cathe­ [...]mens all at once, giuing order besids, that they might be instru­ [...]ted; affirming it, not vnfit to make Cathecumens, in the open [...]ields, since in fields in like manner haue Martyrs beene consecrated.

With this manner of purchase, our S. Martin reioyced much more then with the increase of rents, or tytles: and not onely from manners, and minds of persons, but euen from their memo­ [...]y also, and eyes, endeauoured he to take away all apparence of [...]rofane, & Centill worship: nor were the difficulties of the enter­ [...]rise, nor magnificence of Antiquityes, able to diuert him from it. In the Castle of Ambatia, was a Tower of pollished stones, heerto­ [...]ore dedicated to a false God; which from the solid, and spacious [...]oundations, a [...]sing more and more, came at the top, to finish in [...]me of a Pine-aple, a worke both of art, and cost alike, and not [...]nly curious to behold, but also very firme and durable.

Now the holy Bishop, hauing appointed Marcellu [...] a Priest [...]here dwelling, by all meanes to destroy such an abhomination, & [...]ter some tyme finding the same, as yet on foote, rep [...]ded his [...]cknes. But Marcellu [...], excusing himselfe with the difficulty therof, [...]or that the making was such, as hardly would an Army be able to demolish it, much lesse a small number of Clerks, or feeble Monks which liued with him▪ S. Martin, without more reply, hauing re­ [...]ourse to his wonted tacklings, spent all that night and morning [...]n prayer: When behold on a suden a vehement tempest of winds, [...]ightning, and thunder, impetuously smiting the building, fetcht [...] vp by the ground, and layd it flat on the Earth▪

[Page 176] In another place, stood a pillar of an vnmeasurable great [...], on the top whereof, was an Idoll. And S. Martyn, being not able to endure so great an offence of the true God, determined by [...] meanes to leuell it with the ground, but not finding commodity, eyther of Masons, or instruments to affect it, he craued likewise the diuine succour, with so much ardour, and such efficacy withall, [...] the prayer being ended, the effect very sudenly followed: because that in the sight-of-all the standers by, these appeared from Heauen another Pillar no lesse then that, which descended with such a force vpon it, as reduced it into dust, together with the Idol.

How S. Martyn by the signe of the Crosse, escaped Death: And how the peop [...] were conuerted thereupon, to the Fayth of Christ. Chap. 12.

SAINT Martin, in a certaine Bourge of the Infidels, hauing [...] stroyed their Temple, would needs presently vpon it, cōmaund a tall Pine-tree there, that was consecrated to the Deuill, to be felled to the ground. But the Country-people, who through the diuine will had beene quiet at the one, very tumultuously afterwards op­posed themselues to the other. S. Martin endeauoured to pacify th [...] blind people what he could, & to make them capable of the Tru [...] shewing by diuers reasons, how one sole God was the Maker of euery thing, and that to him was due from the rationall creature, all honour, oblation, and Sacrifice, and not to the Angels thurst o [...] of Paradise, deceiptfull, and proud, whome hitherto they had mi­serably serued; and went prouing withall, how in that Tru [...] could be no matter worthy of veneration at all. Now while he w [...] preaching in this sort with great charity, one of those Pagans, more impudent and more saucy then the rest, lifting vp his voyce, sayd to him: If thou hast such a confidence in this thy God, we ourselues will cut downe this tree for thee, and do thou but set thy shoulders thereunto, and be propping it vp; and if thy Lord stand for thee, [...] thou sayest, thou shalt not suffer a whit. The magnanimous Bishop accepted the Condition, and all that barbarous company accorded likewise, exchanging very willingly the losse of such a plant, with the death of one, that was so great a Persecutour of the Idols.

That Pine, of its nature, was bending in such sort, as it clee [...]ly appeared, in cutting it downe, wherabout of necessity it must light. On that very side, did S. Martin suffer himselfe to be placed, with his [Page 177] legs tyed, by those rude rustiques, where he stood as a statue. And [...]e people presently vpon this, diuided themselues, very glad and [...]oyfull the while at so new a spectable, and some with axes, in hast began to cut downe the Pine-tree. The man of God, from thence [...]ad made his Monks to sequester thēselues, who laboured in vayne [...]o hinder such a proofe, and being pale, and full of sadnes, with tē ­der eyes ech momēt stood expecting the losse of their deere Maister, [...]nd the tree now ready to to [...]er with redoubled stroakes, seemed to threaten the [...]al. And yet stood S. Martin very firme and vndaunted; when finally the ruine, with a terrible noyse, directly bended to­wards him, & now was euē ready to oppresse him, when he with­out being troubled a whit, lifting vp his arme, opposed thereto the signe of the Crosse, and nothing els besides. A thing truly very ad­mirable, that euen at the holsome signe so made, was sudenly that great trunck, as it were beate back with a violent Engine, & went with such a fury to the contrary side, as it almost had crushed the ve­ry Infidels thēselues, who were hewing it downe.

What effect now this so sudden euent might cause in their minds may more easely be imagined, then written. The Monkes behol­ding now beyond all hope, S. Martin to be safe, and sound, with consolation and iubiley giuing thankes to our Lord for it, wept out right, and the rude people being conuinced with so great a mi­racle, holding vp their hands and voyces to Heauen, did finally yield, and acknowledge the errour of their life past, and were wil­lingly conuerred to Christ; insomuch as where before, there were no faythfull, as it were, to be seen thereabouts, within a litle tyme, by meanes of the vertue, and diligence, and the exemplar manner of the holy Bishop, there remayned not a place, that was not very full of Christians, of Churches, and Monasteryes: Because the seruant of God was wont, as soone as he had demolished any house of the Idols, to erect in the same scituation, some deuout Oratory, or Re­ligious Conuent, or other.

S. Martin stayes the flames of fire from doing any harme. With other won­ders which he wrought. Chap. 13.

VVE may not seeme to let passe in silence, a thing, which if it had not happened in publique, might perhaps haue seemed incredibie to some. S. Martin, hauing in those countries ther­about, [Page 178] set [...]ire to a very noble, & most ancient Temple of the Idols, it happened, that a wind arising, did carry the flame to a house hard by, not without manifest danger of dilating it selfe further, and of stirring vp, with the sense of their priuat losses, the tender minds of that Community. S. Martyn then being aware of the danger, with the wonted courage of a liuely fayth, mounted vp speedily to the roofe, & puts himself against the flames; and it is certaine, that at the only appearing of the Man of God, the flames, as timerous to of­fend him, in a moment seemed to fetch about, & to be retorted, and gathered within themselues, & in the sight of all, in striuing against the violence of the wind, to retire in such sort, as the priuate buil­dings remayned very safe; and S. Martyn with his only presence, effected that which al the people, with their instruments, & water, could not so easily haue brought to passe.

In the Leapers Bourge (as they called it) likewise, hauing at­tempted to ruin a temple, very famous, no lesse for the great riche [...] therof, then for the much superstition vsed about it; he was repelled by the Gentils, not without much outrage, and iniuryes d [...] him. Wherupon, retiring himselfe in to some place thereby, he remayned in fasting for three whole dayes togeather, and praying in [...] and ashes: and at last appeared two champions vnto him of the hea­uenly warfare, being armed with speares & shields, saying how they came, as sent from our Lord to succour him, against that multitude of swaynes. That therfore, he might returne bouldly to the enter­prize agayne, and not feare any impediment whatsoeuer. So S. Martin did, and in the presence of all those Pagans, who through diuine power, stood the while immoueable, he ruined the profane bulke from the very foundations, destroyed the Aultars, & reduced the images vnto dust. Whence succeeded another great benefit, that the Gentils, perceiuing themselues so bound and stupifyed, with­out being able to rise against the Bishop, knew the effect to be cau­sed by a supreme power, and they all, as it were, came to belieue in Christ, exclayming with one voyce, and confessing, that the on­ly God of S. Martin, was to be adored, and that, for the Idols, they were to make no reckoning of them, since in such a necessity of theirs, they were not able to helpe themselues.

Two other stupendious things, are recounted in this matter: one was, that in the country of Burgundy, there being a great num­ber of country swaynes risen agaynst S. Martin, in defence of a Tē ­ple, [Page 179] one of them drawing out his sword, set vpon him; when the holy man, suddenly laying his cloake aside, offered him his naked necke, nor was that impious fellow any whit slack, to haue giuen the stroake: but lifting vp his arme, in the presence of all, fell flat backwards himselfe, and cryed for peace, and pardon. The other was, that from a like disdayne, another wicked fellow, being min­ded to kill him, the very sword fell out of his hand, in such wise, as it was neuer seene more. True it is, that he rarely came into such termes, because for the most part, S. Martyn with meekenes, and with preaching, would be tempring and persuading the people, in such sort, as themselues vnderstanding the truth once, would con­demne their owne madnes, & destroying the Idols with their pro­per hands, be conuerted to Christ. To which effect of conuersion of soules, S. Martyn was wont very industriously to make vse of the great gift he had, in curing the sicke, and deliuering possessed per­sons of euill spirits; as among others, he did heere with a person of great quality, by name Tetradius.

This man, being moued to compassion, for a deere seruant of his, very cruelly oppressed and tormented by the infernall enemy, with great instance intreated S. Martyn to vouchsafe so much as to cure him. The holy man then, willed him to be brought before him: but the maligne spirit would not endure, to be led from home resisting the same very obstinately, euer with biting, and scrat­ching. Whereupon Tetradius, repayring to the holy Bishop, puts him­self on his knees to beseech him, he would be pleased to come to the lodging himselfe. And with this occasion, S. Martyn began very dexterously to help this soule, with shewing himselfe somewhat backward therein; and with saying, that it was not lawfull for him to enter into the house of a Gentile, and profane man; & could [...]ell how to discourse so well, as Tetradius promised him to become a Christian, if he could see but his seruant deliuered once of his paine, and malady. Vpon this pact, S. Martin was content to go thither, [...]nd so holding his hand ouer him, on a sudden expelled the Diuell. Nor did Tetradius fayle of his word, being made a Cathecumen [...]ut of hand, and a litle after baptized, and while he liued thence­forth, did alwayes beare very great reuerence, and loue to S. Martin.

The gifts, and naturall talents of S. Martin: with a certayne miracle that he wrought. Chap. 14.

THus did this great Captaine by all meanes continually wage warre against the Prince of this world, and went dispossessing him apace from his ancient tiranny. Nor let any esteeme this zeale of his, to be awhit deuoyd of prudence, or discretion: forasmuch as S. Martin being assisted with diuine grace, and profound humili­ty, could very well distinguish of inspirations, good or euill, as of the Angels themselues, of light or darknes, (which in diuers figu­res, and with sundry intentions, would visit him often.) Moreo­uer howbeyt, through many impediments, he was not able to at­tend to the schooles; yet with a viuacity of wit, and with sobriety and vigilancy, together with such reading, as his businesses would permit, and much more through an excellent purity of hart, and by keeping the mind euer fixed in God; he arriued to so high a de­gree of true science, & of a solid, and masculine eloquence, that he was able to expound very difficult places of diuine Scripture, with incredible cleerenes. And in answering to cases of conscience could alwayes touch the very point of matters; as also in discourses, as well publique, as priuate, teach and moue the Auditours, with so much more fruite, as he sought euer more, the only glory of God, and abhorred his owne.

But aboue all, he would giue a very singular accompt of the Christian fayth, and was sufficient to refute with very pregnan [...] reasons, whomesoeuer should seeme to haue the impious boldnes to assayle the same, He was wont also, to gather very profitable, and spirituall conceipts, from things which dayly would occurre vnto him. As once when he saw a sheep newly shorne, he pleasant­ly sayd to the standers by: This sheep heere, hath already fulfilled the precept of the Ghospell, because of two coates, he hath parted with one, to such as had need; and so should you likewise doe. Be­holding one, that was keeping of swine, very cold, and but halfe couered with a poore, and curtayle coate of skinnes, he sayd: Be­hold Adam, chased out of Paradise; but let vs, leauing the old Adam, cloth our selues with the new.

There was a great and goodly meadow, where in one part the oxen fed; another fouly rooted vp by swyne; the third as yet [Page 181] vntouched, and diapred with pleasant colours, gaue wonderfull de­ [...]ight to human eyes. Now S. Martyn, turning to his cōpanions, said: That peece which you see so fed on, may seeme to demonstrate the [...]tate of Matrimony, because that howbeit, it haue not wholy lost the [...]onour of its greenesse, yet is it depriued of the grace, and ornament [...]f the Howers therof: that other so grubd, and turned vp, as you see [...]y those vncleane beasts, resembles the filthy vice of Fornication: but [...]he remaynder, which hath not hitherto, suffered any manner of [...]iury, represents the glory of Virginity, since being clothed with [...]ery frequent and fresh hearbs, rich of fruites, & distinguished with [...]leasant flowers, in manner of fine pearls, emeralds, and rubyes, [...]hynes aboue all the beauty of art, and workmanship of hand. O [...]lessed semblance, and right worthy of God, forasmuch, as there is [...]othing in the world, that may seeme to compare with the gift of [...]oly Virginity!

In the visit of his diocesse, arriuing once at a certayne riuer, in [...]ompany of many other seruants of God; he saw a great shole of [...]oule, very busy a fishing, and greedily attending to gorge themsel­ [...]es. Then sayd [...]e to such, as were about him: these reuenous birds, [...]esemble much the infernall enemyes, that lye alwayes in wayte, to [...]atch the vnwary soules, to take them on a sudden, and to deuour [...]hem vp, without end of satiating themselues. To these words, he [...]dded, a notable miracle, which was, to commaund the foule, with [...]he powerfull vertue of words, to leaue the waters, wherin they were floating, & to go their wayes to the vplands, & desert places. At which voyce, being suddenly assembled togeather, leauing the waters, they flew to the woods and mountaynes; while the multi­tude of Spectatours with reason remayned astonished to behold, that S. Martin should haue likewise power to commaund the birds.

In this manner then, ech creature serued the purifyed eyes of the Saint, as a liuely glasse of truth, and without labour, or rather with delight, gathering, as I said, the best documents from euery thing, he came alwayes to maynteyne his hart, and of those he dealt with, in chast thoughts, procuring with all possible industryes, that rationall soules, should dispose themselues, to afford a cleane and gratefull lodging to the diuine Goodnes. To which effect, likewise he sought to keep his subiects exercised in prayer, to be prompt in pardoning iniuryes & offences, and lastly to exchange the delights of the Sense, with the pleasures of the Spirit.

S. Martyn through fasts, and prayers to Almighty God, appeaseth the [...] Valentinian the Emperour. Chap. 15.

THe charity of S. Martyn was not conteyned within those [...] high and Noble workes of Mercy alone, but extended it selfe very tenderly also to the Corporall workes, and exterious necessi­tyes, in curing of the sicke, in visiting, and defending of the Or­phans and widowes, succouring the afflicted, and oppressed with vniust power, or by any other human accident, shewing no lesse promptnes in vndertaking such like enterprizes, then greatnes of courage, in susteyning them, and setting them forwards by al mea­nes possible. To which purpose, we may not conceale, how [...] being gone vpon such occasions, to the Court of Valentinian th [...] Emperour, a man very proud, and haughty by nature, and besides by his Arrian Wife, much prouoked against the Catholiques; he had heere a large field likewise, to shew his constancy in. In regard, that the Emperour, hauing heard before hand of the comming of the Man of God, and of the affayres he was to treat of, suddenly gaue order, he should not be admitted into the Pallace. So as S. Martin, af­ter he had once, or twice, endeuoured in vayne to get audience, no [...] loosing awhit of his courage the while, nor yet troubled for the re­pulses had, with his wonted fayth, and fortitude, layd hold of his ancient remedyes. He puts on a course Cilice, sprinckles himselfe with ashes, takes leaue of all sorts of meate, & drinke. From thence entring into sighes, and prayers, he perseuered so long, till on the seauenth day, an Angell from Heauen appeared to him, & bad him boldly go to the Pallace, for the gates, though of purpose shut a­gainst him, should now stand open to him, & the pride of the mer­cylesse Prince, should fall by one meanes, or other.

With this confidence, S. Martyn going thither, found his en­try so easy, as without any impedimēt, he came to the roome, where Valentinian himselfe was, who seeing him a farre off, was exceeding angry therewith at the first, and with frowning lookes, cryed [...]ut vpon his Guards for admitting him in; and thereupon stood im­moueable, without saying any more, or giuing any manner of en­tertaynement to the blessed Bishop: When behold on a sudden, the Royall Throne was enuironed with flames, which approaching to that part of his body, wherewith he sate, enforced him against [Page 183] his will to stand on his feete; and was affrighted therat in such sort [...]s being humbled, with many imbraces, and courtesyes, he now [...]ceiued him, whome a little before he could not endure to see: & [...]mmediately, without expecting supplications from him did fauour [...]im with whatsoeuer he desired. After which, he would inuite him [...]ery often to familiar discours, yea, and to banquets also: & lastly [...]t his parting, offered him diuers rich presents. But the faythfull [...]iend of Pouerty, with much edification of all the Court, without [...]ccepting of any one, repayred to his cure, and diocesse, as soone as [...]ight be. In this manner, the Seruant of Christ, with patience, and [...]ith prayer ouercoming all obstacles, guided his busynesses to a [...]yre port: & as he suffered not himselfe, to be deiected a whit with [...]dignityes, and affronts; so kept he himselfe amidst fauours, and [...]rosperityes, perpetually immu [...]uable.

[...]ow S. Martin was honoured, and esteemed by the Emperour Maximus, t [...] the great honour of the Clergy. Chap 16.

IF euer any Prelate were welcome and made much of, by great Princes, this holy man had as much respect of them as any: for [...] the number of his most rare gifts, shined no lesse Apostolicall Maiesty, then Religious modesty. Whereof Maximus the Emperour [...]mong others, hath giuen vs a very good testimony: who within a [...]hile after the Death of Valentinian, being assumpted by the soul­ [...]iours to the Empire, though on the one side, he were very tenaci­ [...]us, and committed many extorsions; yet on the other, shewed he [...]imselfe, to be desirous of eternall saluation, and a man of time­ [...]ous conscience, being much furthered therein by the Empresse his [...]ife, a woman of great vertue, and no lesse ready to fauour, for her [...]art, the Catholike Prelates, then that Arrian was sollicitous, to [...]inder them.

By these two personages now, it cannot be expressed, how [...]. Martyn was reuerenced, and esteemed. So as going at those times [...]ikewise to the Court, by occasion of deliuering of certayne priso­ [...]ers, releasing of Bandits, and recouering from the Treasury some goods confiscated, and of other such workes of paternall charity; Maximus did receiue him with singular veneration, and after he had [...]ispatched with him the aforesayd businesses, he would call him a­ [...]de, and very willingly heare him discourse, of the vncertaynty of [Page 184] present things, of the Eternity of the future world, of the glory [...] the Blessed, and of the vnspeakable greatnesse of God. At which discourses, the deuout Queene was alwayes present, being his de [...] consort no lesse in Religion, then in the Empire, sitting humbly [...] the ground, still hanging in suspence, with all recollecton, and si­lence, on the words, and gestures of the man of God; wherewith now being warmed, she was soone enflamed with so great a fer­uour, as acknowledging with a liuely, and most chast fayth in th [...] person of her Ghest, the same of Christ, she determined to repre­sent in her selfe both the Sisters of Lazarus: and as in sitting at th [...] feete of the Saint, and hearing of the diuine word, she had imi­tated Mary; so in seruing, and feeding him she would not be a whi [...] inferiour to Martha.

With this purpose, she intreated him, very earnestly to daign [...] to receiue a sober refection particularly from her: which S. Mar [...] precisely denying her, as he, who abhorred all vanity, and such li [...] familiarity with women, yet she very firme in her deliberation had recourse to her husband, and with him togeather, began afresh to importune the Bishop; in so much, as partly not to contristate such Princes, and partly not to preiudice the cause of the poore, which then he handled, at last suffered himselfe to be ouercome. Where [...] ­pon the good Empresse, without other wayters as all, hauing [...] him at the table, began to put before him the meate which she had dressed and seasoned with her owne hands, and likewise presen [...] him his drinke, and in summe, during the dinner, like an humble handmayd, stood attending with her eyes modestly fixed on the Table, & with her whole person attentiue and prompt to the serui­ce. And finally, the cloth being reuerently taken away, and the re­mainder, with the crums, with diligence voyded, she tooke th [...] with her, most triumphant, and glad, with infinite thanks to God, as one laden with many exceeding rich spoyles▪

Surely, not without a great confusion, and shame to some wo­men of our tymes, who not bearing respect, eyther to the Decre [...] of Councells, or euen to the dreadfull Mistery of the Aultar, are won [...] themselues no lesse impious, then impudently, to be serued by the Priests of the Highest, insteed of Wayters, and Pages. Though in­deed the Clerks themselues for their parts, are not wholy witho [...] fault, since they for the vile interests of ambition, or gayne, perm [...] that degree to be trampled on by men, which euen the Angels thē ­selues [Page 185] do reuerence. From which adulation and basenes of theyrs, how far off S. Martyn euer was, and with what decorum, especially in publique, he conserued the Episcopall dignity, may be easily ga­thered by that which we shall set downe in the next Chapter.

How S. Martyn was feasted by the Emperour: & how he bare himselfe therin. Chap. 17.

THe aforesaid Maximus had very oftentymes inuited S. Martin to dyne with him, but alwayes in vayne; yet notwithstanding he so perseuered with intreatyes, as finally he yeilded thereunto, with no lesse gladnes of the Emperour, then if he had conquered a kingdome. There were thither inuited withall, as to a great feast, three principall Lords of the Court, the Consull Euodius, and two Counts, the one the Brother, the other the vncle to the Emperour: be­tween these two, was placed the Priest, who was S. Martins compa­nion. The holy Bishops Chayr, was put besides Maximus himselfe. The Feast was now by this tyme, prety forwards, when according to custome, there was a Cup of wine presented to the Emperour, who commaunded it sudenly to be commended to S. Martyn, expecting with a kind of ambition, to receiue it afterwards from his hand. But the great Prelat, hauing tasted therof, drank to his Priest, giuing to vnderstand therby, in that assembly was none more worthy then he to pledge him; esteeming he had done ill, if eyther the Empe­rour himselfe, or his chiefest Fauourits, or neerest to him, had beene preferred by him before that poore Seruant of God.

They receiued all much edification heerat: & being slighted in that case, tooke it so much the better, as the most of the other Bishops in Court were subiect to base flattery, and with much indignity sought the grace and fauour of the Officers, and Ministers of Cesar. True it is, that this liberty, and confidence of S. Martin, had not been so conuenient and fit for all, not hauing equal splendour of life, nor such diuinity of miracles, as he. Wherof, though we haue mentio­ned some already, notwithstanding of an infinite number of others yet remayning, we shall not spare to set downe some few, which without preiudice to the Reader, and in some manner without in­iury of the Saint himselfe, may not well be let passed.

How S. Martin miraculously escaped burning. Chap. 18.

SAINT Martyn being gone, in the midst of winter, to visit a place of his diocesse, a lodging was prepared him by his Clerks, in the precincts of the Church, and to ayre the chamber there w [...] a great fire made vnderneath, and insteed of a bed, was strewed a good quantity of dry litter and straw; whereon S. Martin at night reposing, and setling himselfe to sleepe, and being accustomed (as we haue said) to lye on the hard ground, could not away with such softnes, and as it were displeased therewith, immediately putting the straw aside, returned to his ordinary manner of lodging: but a [...] the flore was broken, and full of cle [...]s, it happened, that the force of the fire piercing through them, by little, and little, it came to en­kindle the straw, and furiously to burne. Whereupon, S. Martyn awaking, and seeing himselfe sudenly in so great a danger, without hauing tyme, or to say better, aduertence to call vpon the diuine ayde, with a naturall motion which he had, got vp on his feete, & ran in hast to open the doore, but it pleased God he found it so b [...] ­red, as that while he laboured and toyled himselfe, to put back the bolt, the fire approaching had now taken hold of his Cassock.

Then finally S. Martin returning to himselfe, and perceiuing that his remedy consisted not in flying away, but in crauing ayde from heauen, taking hold of the sheild of fayth, and prayer; [...] himselfe on his knees in the midst of the flames, which euen hee [...] likewise sudenly, as it were affrighted thereat, withdrew themsel­ues, while he stood immoueable still pursuing his prayers. In the meane tyme, the Monks, who were companions to the Saint, [...]e­mayning in the next Chamber, being awaked with the noyse, and terrifyed at the chance, by force, and not without some delay & dif­ficulty, brake open the doore, and thinking by that tyme to haue found the blessed Father consumed and dead, they saw him, beyond all hope, amidst the flames both aliue, and entire; and comming boldly vnto him, tooke out his body from thence. The blessed man confessed afterwards, not without sighs, his owne fault. For that he hauing among other his spirituall employments, an ancient cu­stome, in awaking alwayes, before any other thing, to lift vp his mind to God, and to sanctify with the perfume of prayer, the Aul­tar of his hart, and so to shut vp the Temple of his soule, that no [Page 187] vncleane, or hurtfull beast of euill thoughts, might seeme to put [...]heir foote therinto; yet howsoeuer at that tyme, eyther out of hu­man feare, or subtility of the enemy, being quite, as it were, besides himselfe, and wholy vnmindfull of his good custome, he had first made his recourse to visible remedyes, then to the inuisible: affir­ming for certayne, that he was in extreme danger of burning, being alone, while he laboured, with a troubled mind to open the bolt. But that after he had betaken himselfe to the armes of the holy Crosse, and prayer, the flames were on a sudden (as he sayd) so contracted within themselues, as they left him vntouched, through diuine power.

How Euantius was cured of a grieuous sicknes by S. Martin: and what other notable things he wrought besides. Chap. 19.

ABout this tyme, a certayne honourable person, and a man of much piety, by name Euantius, fell mortally sicke, and be­ing now as it were despaired of by the Phisitians, with a great deale of fayth called for S. Martyn, who without all delay, went his waies thither. An admirable thing: he was not yet gone halfe way, when the sicke man felt the benefit thereof, and hauing suddenly receiued health, came in person to meete with him, and to entertayne him as a Ghest. And S. Martin being willing to depart the next day, with humble intreatyes and much importunity, he was enforced at last to remayne a while with him. In that interim, a Page of the house, was stung with a venemous Serpent, so pestiferous indeed, as he was now euen ready to giue vp the last breath. When lo, the same Euantius, taking him on his shoulders, with great confidence, car­ryed him to the feete of the Saint. And now was the euill already spread through all his lymmes; when you might haue seene the skinne to swell in euery veyne, and the vitall parts to stretch like a bladder, till S. Martyn which his blessed hand feeling them heere & there, at last with his finger touched the wound it selfe. At the point whereof, might cleerely be seen, the poyson retyring it selfe, to runne to the fingars end, and thence by the narrow mouth of the wound, with long spinning to gush forth mingled with bloud, like the milke which sprinkles from the tea [...], being hardly wrung. Wherewith the youth arose vp [...]ound, and the standers by remay­ned astonished, confessing vnder Heaue [...] nothing to be any a­whit [Page 188] comparable to S. Martin. Nor was the worke lesse famous, that followes after.

There was in the Citty of Chartres, a young girle of twelue yeare old, so dumbe, as till that time, she could neuer frame a wor [...] Now S. Martin being in the company of other two Bishops, V [...] tinian and Vi [...]us by name, the sayd little girle, was presented to him by her sad Father, that by his meanes, her tongue might be loosed: when as S. Martin, with much modesty began to put of that office to those two Prelates; alledging, that to their fayth, and vertue, nothing would be impossible. But they on the other side, vniting their intreatyes with the Suppliant, began to vrge him much to vouchsafe to comfort him. Whereupon S. Martin, without more delay, shewing no lesse piety, in the prompt execution, then humility in the first refusall, gaue order, that the multitude of peo­ple, should stand off, and he remayning only, with the Bishops, and with the Father of the child, according to his custome puts him­selfe into prayer: then blessing a litle oyle, with the preface of the Exorcisme, and taking hold of the tongue of the dumbe Creature with his fingar, he dropped a litle of that holy liquour vpon it, not without present effect. Because the Girle, being demaunded what was her Fathers name, suddenly answered thereunto very readily▪ Whereat, the sayd Father, lifting vp his voyce with ioy, & teares at once, very deerly imbraced the knees of the Man of God, affir­ming this to be the first word, that he had euer heard his daughter speake; who afterwards, with the vniuersall wonder of all, retey­ned still the vse of her speach. And this truly was vpon one alone▪ but that which now we shall tell you, concerned many together.

For there being entred into the family of a principall man, by name Licontius, a kind of disease, so grieuous and contagious with­all, as that throughout the whole howse, there was nothing to be seen, heere and there, but the sick to lye, vp and downe, without hope or strength: Licontius for a last refuge, craued succour of S. Mar­tyn, by letters; to whome the blessed man answered, it would be a very difficult thing to do, forseeing in spirit, that the scourge of God, was ouer that howse: and yet notwithstanding for compas­sion, he disposed himself to pacify by all meanes the heauēly wrath, and retiring himselfe, he continued in fasting, and cilices for seauē whole nights and dayes together, with so feruent prayer, as finally he obteined what he would. Wherupon Licontius, being exceeding­ly [Page 189] comforted, went flying in hast, with a thousand thanks, to bring [...]e good newes to S. Martyn. And offered him moreouer, a hundred [...]unds of siluer: Which the holy Bishop, neyther refused, nor alto­ [...]ether accepted, but with a meane betweene both, & not suffering [...]e same to enter into the gates of his Monastery, applied it sudainly [...] the ransome of Captiues; When it being suggested to him by the [...]ōks, to retayne some part therof, for the necessityes of the house, which at that tyme, was in some distresse, he answered, that the or­ [...]nary assignement of his Church, was sufficient for that purpose.

This cure wrought S. Martin, and many others of sundry infir­ [...]ityes, as we [...] in presence, as in absence. But what wonder is it, [...]at he should haue power vpon humane bodyes, who had so much [...]ower ouer spirits? This is certaine, the possessed being brought to [...]e Cathedrall Church to be deliuered by him, assoone as he put but [...]s foote forth of his Cell, to come to the Citty, they would begin to [...]hreech with horrid gestures, and houlings, full of dreadfulnes to [...]ehold: insomuch as the Clerks, with this signe only, were wont to [...]nderstand before hand of the Bishops comming thither. And he be­ [...]des, not as other Exorcists are wont, who through force of threats, [...]nd cryes, vse to cast out Deuils; but being sprinckled with ashes, with wearing sharpe cilices, with prostrating himselfe on the groūd [...]nd with the armes of holy prayer withall, would mayster them. Nor yet let any thinke the while, that among so many graces from Heauen, that S. Martin was wholy without the Gift of Prophecy [...]lso. Forasmuch as diuers accidents being farre remote in tyme, & [...]lace, were manifested to him, partly immediately from God, part­ [...]y also through the ministery (as hath beene sayd) of the Angels. Of which, and of many other meruayles besides (for breuity sake vntouched by vs) whosoeuer would seeme to haue a more distinct [...]otice, let him read Sulpitius Seuerus in his Dialogues: howbeyt, he also, not to be tedious, confesseth, that of purpose, he had concealed [...] great part of them. But now, it is tyme, in fine, for vs to come to the last act of this representation, certainely no lesse notable, or lesse perfect, then the others; but so much more worthy of applause, as it more assures vs of the reward.

The Death of S. Martin, with the Lamentation made by all, & the great [...] for his Body. Chap. 20.

THE blessed Man, was now arriued to the 81. yeare, or as others will haue it, to the 87. of his age, when through di­uine reuelation, he himselfe knew, that his end approached, and cleerely foretold it to his disciples. But yet for all that, continued he his wonted deuotions and abstinences, and diligently attended to his pastorall office. And because, in those dayes, there fell out a scandalous discord, among the Clerks of a certayne place, which is called Candacum, he determined in person to go thither, to quiet them; esteeming he could not more happily end his life, then by leauing all his Churches in good peace and concord. Being gone then thither, and with diuine grace, hauing setled matters, he was now ready to turne backe to his Monastery agayne, when he be­gan to feele in himselfe, some notable defect of forces: and there­fore gathering his disciples togeather, he told them how his Ta­bernacle was now ready to be dissolued, whence of necessity he must needs leaue them.

When lo, amidst very dolefull sighes and teares, there was ray­sed this common voyce amongst them, saying: And why do you leaue vs so, holy Father? To whome do you recommend vs so dis­consolate, and afflicted? The rauenous wolues will assayle your flocke, and the Shepheard being lost, who is he that can defend vs? We know very well, you desire to go to Christ, but your re­wards are safe inough, and guerdons which differred a while, are not lessened a whit: then take you pitty on vs rather, who remayne in such manifest danger. The Seruant of Christ, being mollifyed at these words, could not conteyne himselfe from weeping, but with great affect, turning himselfe to Heauen, sayd: O Lord, if I yet be necessary to this people, I fly no labour, thy most holy will be done. Wherein, being as it were put in ballance, he shewed, [...] knew not, which of the two was deerest to him, eyther to remaine on earth for Christ, or to leaue the earth for Christ. Wherein he gaue example to the faythfull, how in such prayers, they are not to en­cline with desire, eyther to the one, or other side; but a with reall, and simple indifferency, to remit themselues in all, and through all, to the diuine arbitrement.

[Page 191] The good Bishop, for some dayes now, was tormented with a [...]uell feuer, and yet neuerthelesse continued he night and day in [...]editation and vigils, susteyning with the vehemency of his spirit▪ [...]e weakenes of his body, lying so, in that his soft and delicate bed [...] ashes, and hayrecloth; when being with much instance intrea­ [...]d by his Monkes, to suffer at least some vile [...]ackloth to lye vnder [...]im: It is not fit, sayd he, O children, that a Christian should seeme [...] dye otherwise, then vpon ashes: and if I giue you not example [...]ereof, the fault is mine. This sayd, he turned with his face vp­wards, to cast vp his eyes and hands to the starres. In which posi­ [...]on now immoueable, lying as drawing to his end, he was v [...]ry [...]rnestly intreated by the Priests (who in great number were [...]ome to visit him) to turne himself at least on one side, to take some [...]st, but he replyed: Let me alone Brothers, and suffer me rather to [...]oke to heauen-wards, then to the earth, and to put my soule into [...]to the right way, being euen now ready to passe to the Creatour.

After this, seing the Deuil to appeare before him: What dost [...]ou heere (sayd he) thou bloudy beast? Thou shalt find nothing [...] me. O Thiefe! Arahams bosome lyes open, and ready for me. And with these words, he yeilded vp his spirit, vpon Saturday about [...]idnight, in the tyme of Honorius, and Arcadius Emperours, in the [...]eare of our Lord 397. or as others will haue it 402. hauing his [...]ce so resplendant, and all those members and fle [...]h of his, so ill in­ [...]eated before, and mortifyed, now so white, fresh, and sweete to [...]ehold, as they seemed already to be transformed into the state of [...]ory. At the very same tyme, were heard most sweet ha [...]onyes [...]boue, of Angelicall Quires; and this not only in those parts, but [...]uen likewise in the Citty of Colen, where the blessed Se [...]erinus Bi­ [...]op, together with his Archdeacon, was pa [...] of so gratefull ac­ [...]ents also: and the same Bishop, had reue [...] besides, how in that [...]und, so continued in his eares, the seuere ministers of the eternall [...]ustice, were, at his passage, though in vayne, withholding and [...]xamining S. Martyn. Whence euery one may consider with what [...]gour, sinners are there handled, since so without respect, the very [...]st are so strictly dealt with.

The newes being spread abroad of his des [...]e, who were [...]le to expresse the mourning of all, and the solemnity of the Exe­ [...]uyes there made? When not only of Towers, and all the Countrey [...]ereabous, but euen from sundry other neighbour Cittyes likewise [Page 192] all the Inhabitants came forth to honour the body, while the co [...] trary affects at once then combated in their soules, both of ioy & [...] nes: notwithstanding the number of those was much greater, [...] moued with the losse of such a Father, Pastour, and Maister, and [...] their only refuge, went sighing and lamenting bitterly amidst [...] hymnes & canticles. But especially the assembly of two tho [...] Monkes, all trayned vp by the S [...]int; and partly a chast and [...] Quire of Virgins, all eleuated in spirit, & diuine praises, gaue fo [...] pious, and noble spectacle to behold.

With such a trayne then, a great deale more glorious, th [...]n [...] triumphes of Emperours, and of Caesars, were the sacred spoyle [...] [...] posed, in [...] certaine place of that Countrey, vntill it was thro [...] determined, where it should be placed, in a proper and stable [...] pulcher. Now there being in those dayes, a great controuersy [...] thereabouts, betweene the inhabitants of Towers, and those of [...] tiers; in the one of which places, S. Martin had led a good while [...] priuate life; and in the other had gouerned the Church to his dyi [...] day: And they being not able, in so great diuersity of minds, by [...] mane wayes▪ to come vnto accord therin; and both the one and [...] ther people cōtending with ech other about the same, in strict [...] and custody of the sacred treasure: It pleased our Lord, that [...] of Poytiers, about midnight should remayne all oppressed, with [...] profound a sleepe, as that their aduersaries being aware therof, [...] the space to let downe the body quietly by a window, into a Ba [...] there ready in the riuer. Whereupon looke with how much ioy & triumph for so great a purchase, they went conducting it home: [...] the others, became as sorowfull & perplexed for the losse, the next day morning.

There was afterwards, by the Bishops, successours to S. Ma [...] built to his honour in Towers, a sumptuous & magnificent Church, where with great veneration was kept, that noble instrument [...] diuine wisedome, vntill this vnhappy age, in which the Sunne ha [...] not seen a worse deed, then the impious scattering of those blessed Reliques in the riuer of Lu [...]ra, by the hands of sacrilegious Here­tiques. But howbeyt, through diuine permission, they had the for­ce, to disperse the bones, and ashes of the Saint: Yet were they no [...] able, nor euer shall be, to extinguish the memory of his manifold miracles, nor the good odour of his excellent Vertues.

FINIS.

S. FVLGENTIVS.
THE ARGVMENT.

NAture and Art, behold conioyn'd in one,
A Genius, void of affectation,
Most affable; Victorious grace to fight
Agaynst rebellious sense, and appetite:
The world orecome by [...]lighting it, a Crowne
Of glory got, and by contempt Renowne.
See how, although a thousand crosses band
Agaynst the good, in spite of all they stand
Firme in their godly purpose; mou'd no more
Then rocks by waters, forced on the shore.
Happy Selfe-will, when Will it selfe subdues,
And for a guide, and sternes-man Heauen doth vse.

THE LIFE OF S. FVLGENTIVS BISHOP OF RVSPA.

The Parentage, Birth, and Education of S. Fulgentius: & his Vocation to Religion. Chap. I.

AT such tyme as Hunnericus King of the Vandals tooke Carthage, Cordianus Senatour of that Cit­ty, with all the others of the same Order, being spoyled of his goods, and driuen into Italy, dyed there, leauing Sonnes behind him, wher­of two of them, with hope of recouering their Fathers estate, returning into Affrick found their house to be giuen away already to an Arrian Priest, so as they had no commodity to recouer the same, and to inhabit in Carthage, though they had the fauour to enter into some part of their substance, with which they got themselues into the Citty of Leste; where one of them, by name Claudius, hauing taken to wife, a pious & honoura­ble Woman called Mariana, by her had the blessed Fulgentius, whose life we take in hand to write.

[Page 195] This woman hauing in her fi [...] yeares lost her husband, tooke [...]o small care to set her sonne to schoole. And forasmuch as in those tymes, was made great accompt of the Greeke tongue, the suf­fered him not to attend to the Latin, vntill such tyme, as he had the workes of Homer by hart, and was also well vers [...]d in the Poet Me­ [...]ander: and as the youth was of a noble wit, and of a happy me­mory, he so profited in that study, as in the Greeke pronunciation and accent, he seemed, as it were, a naturall Grecian. After this, he gaue himselfe to the Latin, wherein likewise he made a happy pro­gresse: but as it chanceth in like cases, very suddenly he was forced to leaue them both, while the gouernement of the whole family fel vpon him; but yet so, as in that manag [...] of his estate he would neuer subtr [...]ct himselfe frō the obedience of his Mother. Who in her widdow-hood, tooke meru [...]ilous consolation from the good de­portements of her prudent sonne, perceyuing how dexterous he was, in entertayning friends, reasonable in opposing enemies, how meeke towards seruants and seuere withal, how diligent in the care of his patrimony, and discreet in purchasing the grace of Princes, whereby he came very soone to such reputation, as he was made [...] chiefe Magistrate of the Common wealth.

Now while in this Office, he endeauours to proceed with all sweetnes, and to gather the Imposts without exaction, o [...] the offēce of any; it was not long, ere the weight of secular businesses appea­red very grieuous, and the vanity of pompe & vayne felicity, came to be tedious to him. Wherwith he began to giue himselfe to prayer more then ordinary, to the vse of d [...]out bookes, and to conuerse with Religious: through whose conuersation he was well aduised that as transitory pleasures and delights, are not there among them, so are neither the disgusts, nor molestations of the world: he perc [...]i­ued them secure, and free from calumnye [...], and with holy l [...]e to be most conioyned within themselues: he considered many yong men amongst them, who with a glorious victory ouer their appetits, cō ­ [...]erued perfect, and perpetu [...]l chastity. With whose examples being moued, he did finally breake forth with himself, into these words.

Alas! we wretches of the world to what end is all [...]his toyling, without hope of eternall goods! What shall the world be euer able [...]o afford vs! If we like [...]oy (though indeed better it were to mourne with safety, then to laugh with danger) how much more [...]cond [...]e these men that haue the [...] setled & quiet in God! Who [Page 196] haue nothing to do with these Sergeants, or Prouost-Marshals! h [...] feare, but of sinne: who attend to nothing but to obserue the diuine Precepts; nor are anxious a whit to loose their possessiōs, in gayning their lyuing with their proper hands, day by day. Let vs imitate so vertuous a people: Let vs likewise vndertake so commendable a a manner of life; and let not the light be in vayne which God hath giuen vs: Change we, our former customes, and alter we our em­ployments, so farre forth, as whereas hither to we haue contended with our friends about points of Nobility, we may now striue no lesse in pouerty with the seruants of God. If heeretofore, we apply­ed our selues to sollicite debtours, we may now attend to conue [...] Synners. Our Lord Christ, is wont to frame holy Doctours, eue [...] of the profan [...]st exactors. Frō Custome-house it selfe was S. Ma [...] called to the Apostle ship: Which is not yet spoken to make compa­rison betweene him and vs, but only that if he hauing left the mini­stery of the Tole-howse, haue receiued the office of preaching, why may it not be lawful for me, laying downe my Procuratour-ship, [...] take penance in hand? Our refuge is God: whence I am not to feare at the age I am of, since he himselfe, who affoarded the gift of con­tinence to so many yong men that liue in the Monastery, may like­wise afford it me a Synner. With such thoughts as these reuolued in mind, at last he resolued to leaue wholy the delights of the world and to giue himselfe to a Monasticall life.

S. Fulgentius presents himselfe to Bishop Faustus, to be his Disciple▪ [...] the difficultyes he had with his Mother Mariana. Chap▪ 2.

TRue it is, that not to passe with hazard from one extrem [...] [...] another, S. Fulgentius began first to [...]ast secretly, then to shu [...] by little and little, his ancient acquaintance, and now more [...] euer to attend to his deuotions. To which effect, being re [...]yred [...] the country, through diuine grace, he went so farre, as that being yet a Layman, he seemed to be a perfect Monke. His familiars in the meane tyme, were astonished therea [...]; nor wanted there some▪ ac­cording to custome, who attributed such abstinence, & retirement of the yong man, vnto basenes of mynd, or to some other sinister ac­cident. But he being enflamed euery day more & more, in the [...] of perfection, while it seemed to him▪ he had made sufficient [...] of himselfe, being touched with a discourse of S. Augustin▪ vpon [...] [Page 197] [...]. Psalme, he determined to put off no longer the change of his ha­ [...]t, to discouer his vocation, and to quit himselfe wholy of the dan­ [...]r of those secular commer [...]es, with further hope besides, to be able [...] helpe others with his example: and not without reason. For [...]hat man how meane a condition soeuer he were of, would once [...] ashamed, or affrayd to become a Monke, in beholding such a one [...] S. Fulgentius was, with so notable a contempt of all sensuality, and [...] greatnes, so to walke by the way of abstinence, and humility? [...]d thus hauing great familiarity with the Bishop Faustus, who for [...] Catholique Fayth, being put forth of his Church, by the wic­ [...]d King, had built him a monastery in those confines, and there [...]ued very holyly with others; where it pleased Fulgentius, to linck [...]imselfe with him, and vnder his obedience to dedicate himselfe to [...]e diuine worship.

But he well vnderstanding the Parentage of the yong man, & [...]w deliciously he had beene bred, began to suspect some manner [...]f fiction in the matter, and said to him: Wherfore, my Sonne, do [...]u iest so with the Seruants of God? For a [...] thou likely to be a [...]onke, and to relinquish so on a sudden all thy delicacyes▪ and ex­ [...]ange thy banquets into grosse fare, and those sumptuous [...] of [...]pparell, into course and abiect clothing? Thou hadst first need to [...]e a lesse dainety Lay-man, and so perhaps we shall belieue thou wilt, and mayst forsake the world. But the yong man, heerewith being more enflamed, taking, and reuerently kissing the hand of [...], with his eyes fixed on the Earth, replyed: He is well able, O Father, to giue me power▪ who hath affoarded [...] the will; do you but only giue me leaue to follow you: Open me the doore, ad­mit me as one of your disciples, and God shall, I trust, find wayes [...]ough to deliuer me from my iniquityes. The blessed old man hea­ [...]ing this, had a scruple to resist the diuin [...] inspiration, and without [...]ore adoe, consented to the yong man, saying: Remayne thē with vs, my Sonne, as thou wilt thy selfe. Let vs try for some dayes, if deeds, will accord: with words, or no: God graunt my feare may proue to be in vayne, and thy desire stable. And thus S. Fulgentius, being receiued into probation, the matter was sudenly diuulged, to the ioy of the good, & confusion of the wicked: no [...] was there wā ­ting some of his deerest companions, that being prickt therewith­al, euen spurned like wise at the world, and no lesse then he, became religious.

[Page 198] But the forlorne Mariana, as soone, as she had vnderstood [...] had passed, as if she had presently lost her Sonne, wholy anxi [...] and troubled, being full of teares and laments, flew immedi [...] to the Conuent: Where being halfe besides her [...], with a [...] of Outrages, she began to exclayme agaynst Faustus, to render [...] Sonne agayne to his Mother, the Maister to his Seruants; and how it was no office of a good Priest; so to ruine the howse of a [...] widow. Such words as these, notwithstanding were not of [...] inough to sting the prudent old mā; but rather with a fayre & se [...] countenance, compassionating the motherly affects, h [...]l so [...] to appease her, as he suffered her not yet to see her sonne. Then [...] riana, as knowing well, how much otherwise that swee [...] Chi [...] [...]ers esteemed and reuerenced her, and how great loue he ba [...]e [...] thought it expedient to plant her selfe at the gate of the Monaste [...] and there to fix herselfe, as [...]he did, lamenting outright, and wi [...] great exclamations exaggerating much her sad misfortune, in [...] ling againe and agayne vpon her deer Fulgentius by name.

This first temptation, gaue a great shake to the good yo [...] man, while the sighes and groa [...]es of his so deere & louing Mo [...] euen pierced him to the hart; but yet neuerthelesse, lifting vp [...] mind vnto heauen, with a pious cruelty enforced himselfe not [...] heare them; vntill such tyme, as being assisted by diuine grace, [...] remayned triumphant ouer flesh and bloud. Wherupon the blessed [...]austus, not without cause framing a great conceipt of such a vo [...] tion, turning himselfe to the Monks, & with a cheerfulnes wi [...] said to them: This yong man heere▪ shall well be able to suffer any paynes of religion whatsoeuer, since for Christ he hath beene ab [...] so to neglect the dolour of a Mother. Who going and comming to and fro more then once, after in vayne she had giuen many mol [...] lestations to the Bishop, and layd many snares before her Sonne being now quite tyred withall, she finally gaue ouer.

S. Fulgentius makes a donation of all to his Mother: and was after [...] terribly persecuted by an Arrian Priest. Chap. 3.

IN the meane while, S. Fulgentius giuing himselfe to the ma [...] tion of the body, among other voluntary afflictions, & [...] tyes, did whol [...] [...], not o [...]ly from wine, but euen from [...] also, being th [...] common cates of those places. Whereupo [...] in short [Page 199] tyme he became to be spent, in such sort, as the withered skinne [...]s [...]left on all sides, and by litle & litle all filled ouer with a [...]. [...]ence truly, whereas some thought he should be faigne to cool [...] [...]anguish in diuine seruice, he endeauoured notwithstāding to go [...]ayes forward, and to attend to the health of his soule, remitting [...]t same of the body, to the prouidence of the Creatour; & was not [...]hit deceiued of his trust the while, since without other help, his [...]alth was very soone restored him agayne to the great consolatiō [...]f all. And now the tyme of renunciation being come, he thought [...]xpedient to make a free donation of all his goods vnto his Mo­ [...]er, as well to solace therewith the sad desolation of the afflicted [...]iddow, and likewise to bridle a certaine obstinate and stiff-neckt [...]nger Brother of his, making accompt, that the [...] at least of [...]osing hi [...] goods, would force him so to be very tractable, and o­ [...]dient to his Mother.

After this, there arising a new persecution agaynst the Catholi­ [...]ue Bishops, Faustus was enforced to fly away, and to hide him­selfe [...]eer and there, to the great domage & preiudice of his Monks. [...]hereupon Fulgentius, with his leaue retyred himselfe into ano­ [...]er Monastery thereby, where a great friend of his, by name Felix [...]as Superiour, who knowing the wo [...] and sanctity of Fulgen­ [...]us, receiued him not only with great content, but further vse [...] all [...]dustry, to substitute him in the gouernement: which being not [...]le to gayne of Fulgentius; after a long contention and stri [...]e be­tweene them about [...] of subiection, he obtayned at last, [...] would accept of part of the [...] [...]nd so was [...] car [...] deuided betwee [...] them both▪ in such [...], a [...] [...] [...], and had the care of the spirituall matters, and Felix of th [...] [...]porall affayres. In which offices they both d [...]meaning them­selues with great concord, and much edification▪ there happened a [...] of the Moor [...]s: whereupon▪ the holy Family was [...]onstrayned with theyr Pastours to forsake that coun [...]y, & to [...]eeke [...]m a securer mansion in p [...]rts more [...].

Now then, after a long voyage, and sundry aduentures had▪ [...]eing arriued at last, at the fruitfull territory of Sic [...]a, they were in­ [...]ed, as well through the quality of the soyle, a [...] the g [...]ntlenes of [...]he inhabitants to remayne there, as they did, attending ech one [...] office, and especially [...], to [...] the Heretiques vn­ [...]o the true fayth, and [...]o help [...]ose soul [...] both with wordes [...] [Page 200] examples in all vertues. There preached at that tyme in the vill [...] of Babardilla, an Arrian priest, very rich in substance, in be [...] barbarous, and a most cruell persecutour of the Catholiques. Th [...] man, vnderstanding of the life, and goodly workes of S. Fulgen [...], and suspecting he was come, vnder the false habit of a Monke [...]o alienate men from Arianisme, laying some wayt and ambu [...] [...] diuers places, caused him, and his Collegue Felix, to be taken [...] brought before him, and with fierce eyes, and a wry countena [...] sayd to them: Wherefore are you come hither from your house [...] peruert the Christians? And without otherwise attending an an­swere, commaunded them to be cruelly beaten.

When the good Felix, being moued with compassion, fo [...] [...] Fulgentius: Be not (sayd he) so cruell against this my Brother, [...] companion heere, being so tender of complexion, as he is like [...] dye in your hands; but do you wreake your selues rather on [...] lone, for all the fault is in me only. With which words, the Minister of the Deuill being astonished, made Fulgentius awhile to sta [...] aside, and more seuerely appoynted Felix to be sm [...]ten then befo [...] who amidst the blowes of the hangmen, tempered his sorrow s [...] what with the ioy he had to behold Fulgentius exempted. But [...] contentment of his, lasted not long: forasmuch as that wicked [...] rian, being pushed thereunto of his natiue fiercenes, after he had [...] ill intreated the one, began to handle the other worse; nor suffi [...] the example of so rare a charity, nor the noble and venerable [...] of S. Fulgentius, to moue his obdurate hart to compassion.

But S. Fulgentius rather amidst the smart of the blowes, ( [...] to him was as it were intolerable,) hauing with humble voy [...] demaunded so much fauour, as to speake some three or foure wor [...] he gaue him truce and respit the while, as thinking him enclined [...] confesse the Arrian opinions, and to renounce the ancient religio [...] but noting him to enter into a formall discourse, about giuing [...] compt of their life and pilgrimage had; being fraught with rage▪ [...] caused him to be more, cruelly intreated then euer; & lastly [...] & stripping them both, bad them be gon: and they reioycing with­in themselues, for hauing suffered for Christ, so dispoyled of th [...] rayments, but inuested with glory, returned home to their Cells [...] gayne.

The [...]ame, and rumour of this accident. S. Fulgentius himse [...] being a person age so illustrious as he was, dilated it selfe to the Ge­nerall [Page 201] discontent of all, euen to the Citty of Carthage. So farre forth as the Bishop of the Arrians himselfe, resented it much, & was ready to make demonstration therof, if the offended had made but any complaint therof, at all. Whereunto many exhorting S. Fulgentius, he suffered not himselfe to be induced; neyther withal their persuasions nor yet with the grieuousnes of the iniury receiued to seeke reuēge, saying, that besides that such things are to be remitted to God, it would be also a scandall to see a religious Catholique man, to re­curre to the tribunall of an Arrian. Howbeit, to mitigate the fury & persecutiō of that peruerse sect, he determined to go into some place where it ruled not. Wherfore withall his Monks, he passed to his former dwelling, as choosing rather, to haue the Moores his Neigh­bours, then the Heretiques.

S. Fulgentius leaues Carthage, and goes to Alexandria, where he met with Eulalius Bishop: and returnes back againe by Rome. Chap. 4.

NOt farre from the Citty of Loda, began S. Fulgentius and Felix to found them a new Monestery: Where while they attended to their accustomed offices of piety, S. Fulgentius lighted on a booke of the Liues and spirituall Conferences o [...] the Monks, and Hermits of Egipt. Through this reading and meditation, he became so en­flamed to the greater study of al perfect vertue, as without more ado he resolued to go his wayes secretly into those parts, as wel to lay off the name, and charge of Abbot; as also to ty [...] himselfe to a more ri­gorous and streight Rule. Which mutation of place, was in those dayes tolerated, in certaine Religious, as then not hauing made any expresse vow of any particular congregation.

So as S. Fulgentius, vnder the pretext of dispatch of some affayres in Carthage, being arriued to the wals of that Citty, with only one companion, by name Redemptus, insteed of entring into the Towne tooke shipping for Alexandria, without other viatique with him, thē a firme confidence in God, through whose disposition being cary­ed by the winds to Siracusa of Sicily, he there met with the holy Bi­shop Eulalius, a person of great sanctity, and much affected to Reli­gious persons, as hauing moreouer a proper Monastery of his owne where he would recollect himselfe sometymes from his other Ec­clesiasticall occupations. S. Fulgentius with other Pilgrims being courteously receiued by this good Prelate, while at table they dis­coursed [Page 202] of spirit and learning, it could not be, but the [...] dent Bishop, must needs be aw [...]re of [...] doctrine and [...] After dynner then calling him aside, he sayd to him: Th [...]u [...] mention at table of certayne Institutes, and Collations of the Fa­thers, I pray thee now, bring me the Booke if thou hast it: which S. Fulgentius did without delay, and withall at the earnest instan [...] of the Bishop, declared the whole argument therof, in a few and very apt words.

The Bishop admiting the yong mans wit and erudition, and so­lacing himselfe, with hauing such a Ghest in his howse, began fa­miliarly to request of him an accompt of his trauayle. And S. Fulgen­tius, to couer with humility his designe, said he went to seeke his [...], whome he vnderstood to liue in the parts o [...] Egipt; & he [...] but truth in saying so, since he held all thē for his parents, that might further him in spirit. The Bishop perceyued the answere was ambi­guous, & easily gathered by discourse from the other cōpanion, who was a man of much simplicity, what passed in effect: When the blessed Fulgentius, now finding hims [...] besides expectation to be be discouered, confessed of himselfe, how the matter stood with him; to wit, that he had left his home, with the mynd to enter in­to the inmost solitude of Thebais, to be able there, being altoge [...] ­ther vnknowne, and dead to the world, to lead his life more per­fectly, with hauing euery day new examples of vertue and pe [...] ­nance from so great a number of the s [...]ruants of God. Thou [...] well answer [...] [...]ulalius, to desire continually a greater perfection but know on the other side, it is impossible for any to pl [...] God▪ without the [...]iue [...]ayth. The land wherto thou [...]endest, is separated now long since from the Sea Apostolique. Al those Monkes, who [...] rigour and abstinence is growne [...]o renowned, will be ware of com­unicating with thee. And then what shall it auayle thee, with fa­stings to afflict the flesh, while the soule shall want its nourish­ment? Wherefore returne my Son▪ whence thou camest, least whi [...] thou desirest a more holy conuersation, thou sufferest shipwrack [...] of a sound Religion. I likewise, for my part in my youth, before vnworthy as I am I was assumpted to this degree, haue had the se [...] same thought, which now thou hast, but the respect which I no [...] told thee of, did quit me of it.

The blessed Fulgentius, yielded to the counsayles of the holy Bi­shop: yet neuerthelesse, for the more perspicuity in that point, [...]d­ged [Page 203] it expedient, to seeke also thereupon the iudgment of the Bishop R [...]nianus; who being fled out of Affricke for the persecution of the Vandals, as hath been sayd, hid himselfe vnder amonasticall life, in a certayne litle I land neer vnto Sicily. From whome hauing like­wise receiued the same answere without seeking any further, he de­termined by all meanes to returne backe agayne; yet so as he fayled not by the way, to repayre, of meere deuotion, to the Citty of Rome. Where after he had liumbly visited those holy places; it chanced besides, beyond expectation, that he was present there, at a spectacle of the greatest pompe & magnificence of that Court; there ariuing at the same tyme. Theodoricke King of the Gathes, where in a place called the Golden Palme, [...]e made a speach to the whole Nobility, distinguished according to the degrees, and the honour of ech one: and where like wise were heard the acclamations and applauses▪ which the people vniuersally gaue.

Through which sight notwithstanding S. Fulgentius being no­thing caught with those transitory things, but lifting rather vp the mind and affect to the celestiall glory, sayd to his Friends: How [...]e [...] you, must the heauenly Hierusalem needs be, since Rome so glitters heere beneath? And if heere in this world, so great a pompe and splendour be affoarded to the friends of vanity; what glory [...]ow you, and triumph, is due in the other to such as con­template the truth? And after he had spoken many things to this purpose, with the profit and consolation of the hearers; taking his iourney againe, with diligence, he passed into Sardinia, and from thence into Affrick▪ where he was receiued with extreme ioy, not only of the Monks, but euen of thelay men also, & strangers there; among which, a wealthy gentleman, noting with how much pe­till and incommodity, the seruants of God there inhabited in those confines; being moued of piety, offered them a good and secure sci­ [...]uation in the Prouince of Bizacco. Which proffer Fulgentius accep­ting, with great thanks, heere founded a new howse, with a notable increase of Monks, and extraordinary helpe of soules in those coun­tryes.

S. Fulgentius to shun the title of Abbot, hides himselfe in vayne: & [...] afterwards a Bishopricke, is made Bishop of Ruspa. Chap. 5.

NOtwithstanding the great pleasure and contentment, which S. Fulgentius tooke on the one side, for the great fruit of soul [...] which was made, yet on the other he felt exceeding sorrow, in p [...] ­ceiuing himselfe by such occupations much hindred from his vnion with God, and sweet contemplation of inuisible things. Besides the which, the tytle of Abbot and charge of commaunding others, was of small contentment to him, while he called to mynd that Christ our Lord himselfe, had sayd, that he came to serue, and not to be serued, and to performe not his proper will, but that of the eter­nall Father. With such kind of thoughts as these, being newly pushed on to abase, and hide himselfe by all meanes; after a long consideration, atlast he tooke the resolution, which we will shew you now.

There washes the banckes of Vinci, and Bennese, an arme of the Sea, full of shelfs and rockes. In the one of which, being so dry [...] day by day, they were fayne to procure fresh water to be brought them with litle boates, was found to be a Conuent of Monks, who vnder the care of two Reuerend Prelats there, perseuered in extre­me pennance, and pouerty. To this Monastery now the blessed Ful­gentius being retired, he began to relish agayne the desired fruits of a priuate life, and of holy humility, mortifying through obedience all proper will, in taming continually the flesh with fastings, pray­ers, and vigils, and diuing at pleasure in to the profound mysteryes of the Eternity: and yet interupting withall, at tymes, his mentall exercises, in copying forth, with his owne hand, [...]ome good booke or other, which he could do very excellently well; or els in weauing, for sundry vses, the leaues of Palmes, wherin likewise he had beene very dexterous heertofore; so as it seemed to him h [...] was now in that state he wished for so much: but yet was it not affoarded him, to remayne therein, as long as he would.

Because that Felix his Collegue, and the other his Monkes, ha­uing notice thereof, first of all, vsed all the meanes possible they could themselues, to haue him agayne: but while their prayers and persuasions, were not of force thereunto, they finally interpo­sed the authority of the Venerable Faustus the Bishop, by whome [Page 205] S. Fulgentius was constrayned at last, to returne backe agayne; and [...] the end, he might be engaged to remayne there with a new obli­ [...]ation, he was forthwith ordayned both Priest and Abbot: with [...]hich chaynes being now tyed, he began to set his hart at rest, and [...] attend with all study and care, to that which God had commen­ [...]ed vnto him: whereupon in short tyme was spread so good an o­ [...]our, as the Abbot: Fulgentius, in all that territory was held to be [...] common Father and Pastour of all, with a vniuersall desire to [...]hoose him, and no other for Bishop, when tyme should serue: of [...]hich conceipt S. Fulgentius was aware, but in regard that as then, [...]y Edicts of King Trasamond, the ordinations of Bishops were pro­ [...]ibited, he was acquit of all doubt thereof, esteeming it in vayne to [...]y the dignities, which could neyther be giuen, or taken.

But after that, the holy Colledge of Bishops yet remayning, [...]rough zeale of the diuine glory, and the common good, with pu­blike Decree had freely defined, that notwithstanding the Kings [...]rohibition, ordination of Bishops should be made in euery Dio­ [...]esse, and heerupon that holy decree was begun to be executed [...]n all sides: & the people, the while striuing to appeare no lesse [...]ious and diligent then others, heere it was, that the blessed Ful­ [...]entius, went about to preuent their designes, and to hide him­ [...]elfe in such wise, as there was no possible meanes to find him out. [...]o as the inhabitants were fayne to resolue to expect till such time, [...]s he might appeare in sight; but fearing in the meane while, some [...]ew inhibition should proceed from Court, they were enforced a­gaynst their wills to make one of their Clerks, a Bishop: and so in [...] very short space, were almost all the Churches furnished with Pastours, and that with so great dislike of the King, as he tooke or­der to banish the Bishops, and caused the Archbishop S. Victor him­selfe to be cast into prison at Carthage, to the great lamentation, and disturbance of the Catholique part.

The which as soone as S. Fulgentius vnderstood, as thinking him­selfe to be now out of all daunger of any such honour, he stayd not [...] whit from returning agayne to the custody of his litle flocke. But it pleased the diuine prouidence, that the humble Seruant of God should be deceyued of this purpose. Forasmuch indeed, as among [...]hose people which as yet now were destitute of a Bishop, was [...]hat of Ruspa, a famous Citty and very full of rich and noble inha­bitants. Which delay of theirs, had sprung from the ambition of a [Page 206] certayne Deacon there, one Felix by name, who the more [...] he pretended to the Chayre, was the more maynely resi [...] by good men: and though himselfe, through fauour of his kindred and friends, had a faction sufficient to hinder others from the di­gnity, yet not inough it seemed to procure it to himselfe.

Among those discords, and ciuill broyls, it was sudainely vn­derstood, that S. Fulgentius, who could neuer be discouered before, at the tyme of the creation past, did now appeare at last. In the me­ane while, the Arch-Bishop, happening to passe by Ruspa, in his conduction to Carthage, the Gentleman of the Citty, with some Ca­tholique Bishops there, had accesse vnto him, and easely obteyned full licence, to create S. Fulgentius the Pastour of Ruspa. Heereupo [...] many Cittizens with great hast presented themselues to the Serua [...] of God, who remayned in his Cell infirme of his eyes, & so [...]king him vp as it were, on their shoulders, with mayne force they [...] him into their countrey, and then consecrating him with d [...]e [...], placed him in the Pontifical seate. But in conducting hi [...] thither, there happened a notable thing which followes.

A Deacon layes an ambush to assayle S. Fulgentius, but missed of his purpose▪ He is confined afterwards with other Prelats into the land of Sardini [...] Chap. 6.

THE foresaid Deacon, hauing taken vp the way with a strong guard, to hinder the passage of S. Fulgentius, his company [...] while through the secret instinct of heauen, tooke another way [...] so was the aduersary illuded, and the new Bishop, with commo [...] iubiley, & with solemne preparation, hauing publiquely said Ma [...] communicated the faythfull with his owne hands; and then after [...] vanquish euill, according to Christian perfection, endeauoured [...] honour his enemy Felix, in making him Priest: the which dignity in those dayes, was esteemed according to the merit and greatnes of the degree. But howbeit S. Fulgentius, so benignly remitted the of­fence; yet so passed not the malice without due punishment: since Felix dyed within a yeare, and the publique Procuratour of Ruspa, who had beene his principall Fautour, being so pot [...]nt as he was, came sudenly to loose his riches, and to fall into great streights, and necessityes. Whence the others, were brought to dread the diui [...] iudgments, and for euer after to haue the blessed Fulgentius in gr [...] ­ater veneration.

[Page 207] Whose vocation, as it [...]ad beene wholy sincere and celestiall, [...]t affoarded a large [...] [...]o the holy man, to manifest himselfe to [...] alike inuincible in prosperity, and aduersity: which he was to [...]efull, while in such a mutation of estate, with so moderate a de­ [...]rum of his personage, he alwayes reteyned, not only the same [...]eekenes and affability, but euen likewise the monasticall habit, & [...]othing as before: nor so much as in his diet he made any alterati­ [...]n at all, saue only for age he was constrayned to vse the seasoning [...]oyle, and when he fell [...]ick, to mingle his water with a little [...]ine, so as qualifying only the rawnes therof, he felt no whit of [...]e sent, or sauour of that precious liquour. In the night, rising al­ [...]ayes before others, he endeauoured to restore vnto study and [...]ayer, those howers, which the occupations of the day, for the [...]ublique necessity; had wrested from him. He was neuer seen to [...]habit in any place, without the company of his Monks. But ra­ [...]er the first fauour, which he demaunded of the Cittizens of Ruspa, [...]as, the commodity of building there, a conuenient Monastery for [...] rule. In which many striuing to haue the merit therof, it plea­ [...]d him to [...]ke vse of the charity of one Posthumianus, a most prin­cipall Gentleman of vertue, and of bloud, from whome hauing a [...]yre scituation affoarded him some what neere to the Church, with [...] pleasant groue of Pynes, which serued likewise very fit for the [...], he conuayed the Abbot Felix thither with almost all his con­gregation, leauing only some few Monkes in the other, vnder the [...]are of one Vitalis; yet in such sort he did it, as both the Conuents [...]id liue with the same discipline, and communicated together, not [...]s guests and strangers, but as Brothers and members of the same [...]ody. And the blessed S. Fulgentius, howbeyt most seriously busyed [...]n his Diocesse, [...]ayled not the while to haue still a paternall care & [...]ouidence of the one and other.

In the meane while the King of the Vandals, hauing already [...]onfined the Catholique Bishops to Sar [...]ia, ordayned likewise [...]hat S. Fulgentius should be carryed thither. Which succeeded to the great comfort of those inn [...]ent Prelates, since they reaped not only [...] notable help from the learning, and conuersation of the holy man, [...] likewise in the publique acts of that sacred Colledge, and in the [...]rticular occurences of their Churches, they did greatly auayle thē ­selues, of the succour and charity of S. Fulgentius, as being very elo­quent in tongue and pen: so as all the letters they had to send, for [Page 208] matters of importance, were dictated by him, and if any were [...] be reprehended, or admonished, or els to be reconciled vnto [...] Church, the charge therof, was most commonly recommended [...] him.

And for asmuch, as according to custome, S. Fulgentius had d [...] ­parted from Affricke exceeding poore, and without prouision, and accompanyed only with a few Monks, he perswaded two of the number of those Bishops, to wit, Illustris and Felix, with their [...] mestiques to lead with him, in the Citty of Calari, a religious and common life: so as they being assembled togeather, and swee [...] lincked with the band of charity, both the Clerks and the Mon [...] had the same table, and the selfe same prayers, lessons, and spiritual exhortations. Whereby not only, those of the Conuent, but [...] also, the others of the Citty were greatly assisted. There was [...] person distressed and afflicted, who in that holy place, found not [...] ­fuge, none desirous of the word of God, who there might not freely heare the same; to the doubts of Scripture, and Cases of conscien [...] continually answere and resolution was giuen; Peace and conc [...] put betweene playntifes, and enemyes; Almes dealt to the needy [...] necessitous. And particularly besides, S. Fulgentius would be euer [...] ­ding them, not only by absoluing them of their sinnes, but also [...] lowing the Counsayles of Christ, in not reguarding therin, the [...] or much substance they had to leaue, but the affect they shewed [...] voluntary and full renunciation.

King Trasamond seeks to entrappe S. Fulgentius with curious questi [...] and the Arrian Ministers do exasperate him agaynst him. Chap. 7.

AT the same tyme, King Trasamond had found out another more subtile way to subuert the faythfull in Affricke, in preten­ding openly that he sought nothing els, but truth in all things, and sometymes proposing sundry demaunds and questions to simple Catholikes: and howbeyt, now and then neuerthelesse, there w [...] ­ted not men sufficient inough, to cōuince their heresies; yet would the King seeme to make but light accompt of them, still vaunting himselfe to haue had the vpper hand in the disputes, and con [...] ­uersies of fayth. Wherin, while he labored now with this man, now with that, he was put in mind of the blessed Fulgentius, as of a per­son of rare learning, and very able to solue all the knots and diffi­cultyes [Page 209] occurring in such matters. So as sending a Messenger with diligence for him, he was conducted to Carthage: where in a poore lodging, the first thing he attended to (and not without fruite) was to confirme the Catholikes, and to informe the Heretiques of their blindnes, in prouing with liuely and pregnant reasons, that one only substance in persons distinct, was truly to be adored in the most holy Trinity. There being afterwards a writing presented vnto him, on the behalfe of the King, full of [...]allacyes, & cunning quircks and demands; he, inserting there withall the words of the scripture it selfe, answered from point to point, with so much acu­men, perspicuity, and breuity, as the King himself, though obstinate in his perfidiousnes, remayned astonished at the doctrine: and the people of Carthage, diuulging the said answere, continued more and more, well affected to the Catholique faith.

After this, the King not contented with the former demaunds, proposed yet some others a new, but without giuing leaue, or scope to S. Fulgentius, to answere with commodity, that he might not quote his words, as formerly he did, and giue the world to vnder­stand the impertinency of them; but constreyned him rather, hauing read the paper, to help himselfe, what he might, with his memory, and to answere out of hand without more adoe. The which con­dition, seeming, as in truth it was, full of iniustice, the holy man for a while, differred to make his reply: but the King imperiously pressing him to it, and attributing the caution to diffidence, least the Arrian Ministers might likewise seeme to do the same, & diuulge with their accustomed vanity, they had stopped his mouth; Fulgen­tius disposeth himselfe to answere vnto it the best he could, reducing to his mynd, what was but once permitted him to read, & in three little admirable Treatises of the Incarnation of our Lord (for the que­stion of the King, was of that subiect) he apparantly shewed, how the same Sonne of God, equall in all and throughout, to the eter­nall Father, in clothing himselfe with our mortality, tooke truly and really a reasonable soule.

With which wisedome and subtility of his, King Trasamond be­ing much astonished, durst question him no more; howbeyt a false Bishop of his, called Pin [...], rather through intemperance of tongue, then sufficiency of learning, would needes be replying, I know [...]ot what thereunto, giuing heere with occasion to S. Fulgentius, to frame another worke therupon, to conuince anew the temerity▪ & [Page 210] ignorance of the enemyes of Christ. There was likewise moued [...] to him, a certayne controuersy, about the holy Ghost, by a Priest called Abrazilla, which further gaue a fit occasion to S. Fulgentius, to let it appeare, with many and cleare demonstrations, how the Holy Ghost, with the Father, & the Sonne, ought simply to be confessed one God. Which things, by how much they brought more honour and esteeme to the seruant of God, so much the more, the Ministers of the Deuill, conspired in one, to aduise the King, not to let the mat­ter proceed any further, protesting withall the harbouring of such an aduersary in Carthage, would be the ruine of the Arrian religion, and that if he remedyed not the fame in tyme, he would come short­ly to haue so many Followers, as that with al the forces of the king­dome, they could hardly be resisted.

The King being terrifyed with these, and such like suggestiōs, though in a manner against his will, commaunded, without more delay, that S. Fulgentius should returne to his former confines, and for auoyding of all popular tumult, he should be embarqued in the night. Whereto he obediently yielded for his part; but the diuine Goodnes, being not willing, with such a departure, the faythfull should seeme to be depriued of the sight & comfort of such a Father▪ deteyned the ship so long, with contrary winds, in the Hauen, as well nigh all the Citty had space to salute him, and to receiue the most holy Sacrament at his hands: When behold a faire gale of wind now comming about, and a certaine religious man, one Ginliatus by name, among others bewayling his departure, the holy Bishop being moued to compassion vpon him, and full of a propheticall spirit, sayd cleerely to him: Trouble not your selfe my Son, for soone shall this whole persecution cease, and we shall returne to you agayne: but I pray thee, keepe this secret, for I could not choose but discouer it to thee, being moued so with tendernes, and Charity towards thee. And this S. Fulgentius added, for the great care he had to conceale his gifts, and to eschew all hu­man glory, contenting himselfe the while with the testimony of a good conscience, and with the inward grace affoarded him; so as likely he did not, nor euer would worke Myracles: and if now, & then perhaps he did any, he would still rather attribute the same, to the fayth of another, then his owne vertue.

But for the most part, whensoeuer he was sought vnto, to pray to our Lord for the sick, and affl [...]cted; he would frame his prayers, with these words, or the like: Thou knowest, O Lord, what is fit for the [Page 211] health of our soules, while thou succourest our corporal necessities, in such sort, as they hinder not the spirituall profit. He was wont to say, that the Gift of miracles serued not to make a man more iust, but to cause him rather to be renowned in the world: A thing tru­ly, which auayles, but litle to eternall beatitude, where vertuous and hood men, howbeit obscure and vnknowne, are not hindred awhit from getting into Heauen. Though if we speake of superna­turall effects, those workes, which others performe in curing of bo­dyes, seeme vnto me not to be so admirable, as those, which he wrought, in curing of Soules, in conuerting with his fayre exhor­tations, and good example, so many Heretiques to the Church, and so man sinners vnto pennance.

S. Fulgentius builds him a new Conuent in Calari. The persecution cea­seth. Prelates are recalled from banishment. Chap. 8.

VVIth these, and other the like exercises, which accompa­nyed S. Fulgentius still in ech tyme and place, being now brought backe to the Iland of Sardinia; he was agayne no small cō ­solation, to the afflicted Bishops. And hauing led with him from Af­fricke, a good number of Monkes, with the leaue of Brumas [...]us Bi­shop of Calari, he built him there a new Conuent without the Cit­ty neare to the Church of S. Saturninus, attending with all care and sollicitude to conseue religious discipline most pure; hauing princi­pally an eye, that none of the Monkes (who were about some 50. in number) should seeme to haue any thing proper. And for to take away all occasion thereof, he would himselfe distribute with great discretion, the necessary things appertayning to them, according to the forces and infirmity of ech one. True it is, that such, as enioyed any particular thing at his hands, he would require to be notable in humility: protesting vnto them, that in Congregations, who­soeuer receiues of the publique substance, more then others, becoms a debtour to each one of them, to whome the goods do belong; and how he cannot satisfy the debt, as iustice requires, without shewing himselfe very obedient, lowly, meeke, and tractable to all. By these waies, the Saint would seeme to remedy the scandals from such inequalityes.

And as he was exceeding sollicitous in preuenting the suites, re­quests, & importunityes of the Monkes, in giuing them before hād [Page 212] what reason or necessity required: so towards the importunate, & not resigned, he would shew himselfe to be very seuere, in deny­ing them sometimes, euen that which they had otherwise deser­ued; affirming, that they should otherwise incurre the displeasure of the Highest, if they should desire things superfluous; and that it playnely denoted a weake spirit, and of litle vertue. Forasmuch as such as they, through a former renunciation now seeing themselu [...] to be shut of all manner of trafficque, and gayne of the world, with such kind of demaunds, do seeme to supply the vse of trading. He added moreouer, that such only are worthy of the name of religi­ous, who mortifying quite their proper wills, are ready to will, and not to wil that only, which is insinuated to them by the Superiour. Nor made he any reckoning of those handy workes, not well con­ioyned with interiour acts: as wishing, that the spirit of deuotion▪ should be the season of ech operation. Besids, he would shew him­selfe to be sweet and affable to all, without any arrogancy or impe­riousnes a whit (though in his tyme, he knew also to vse due gra­uity;) and the subiect how simple and ignorant he were, had full freedome to make any request vnto him, and that as often as he would; & the good Father would likewise heare him with all pa­tience, or without shewing himselfe weary, with reasons & exam­ples, vntill such tyme as the party himselfe had freely confessed, he was throughly satisfyed and contented.

In this tyme of banishment, he wrote to those of Carthage, an Epistle of high Counsails, and Aduertisements, discouering among other things, with great cleerenes, the deceipts, & flatteryes wher­with miserable soules are conducted to Hell. And at the instance of one Monimus, a religious person, he cōposed two bookes, Of there­mission of sinnes, and instructed him besides, in the matter of Predesti [...] ­tion, and of the differences of Grace. Moreouer, he sent often lette [...] of edification into diuers places of Sardinia, and Affrick, & likewise to Rome, especially to the principall Senatours there, vnto Ladyes, & Widowes of good name. To Proba, the Virgin of Christ, he wrote two little bookes of Fasting, and Prayer. Furthermore with seaues bookes, he partly interpreted the doctrine of Faustus, a Frēch Bishop in the best sense, and partly also openly con [...]uted some opinions of the same man, inclining to the Arrian sect. Which worke of his, well appeares, how gratefull it was vnto God, since scarcely had he [...]nished the same, but the whole persecution ceased, by the death [Page 213] King Trasamond, and the succession of Hilderick, a person of mer­ueilous goodnes, by whome the Catholike Religion was sudenly [...]tored, and the Bishops recalled from banishment, according to [...]e prophesy of the blessed S. Fulgentius.

That glorious troupe then of Confessours returned back agayne [...] Affrick to the great consolation of the people there, being desolate [...]d disconsolate so long, and was met with, and receiued, euen at [...]e very sea side, by an infinite multitude of people, most especi­ally for the loue of S. Fulgentius; at whose appearing in fight, were [...]finite cryes and shouts lifted vp to heauen, while euery one made [...]ast to behold and salute him, and to receiue his benediction, and [...]uen to touch at least, but the hemne of his garments. And so great was the concourse and presse of people, in conducting him with the [...]thers, to the Church of S. Agileus, that some Deuotes of his were [...]ayne to make a ring, or circle about him, for to passe without perill.

S. Fulgentius at his arriuall puts himselfe into a Monastery agayne: and af­ter reconciles himselfe to Bishop Quod-vult-deus. And so makes ablessed End. Chap. 19.

THere happened likewise another notable thing in the same procession, which was, that the heauens being darkened on a suddayne, and a great shower of rayne powring downe, there was yet not a Man to be seen, that left the company, to retire himselfe to some shelter: but many rather, as in imitation of Christ our Lord in Hierusalem, in taking off their proper [...]oakes, made very ready­ly a Pent-house therof, for to shelter the Blessed E [...]lgentius. Who were able to explicate the welcomes, with the honours, and festiui­ [...]yes, which were made him, fir [...] in the Citty of Carthage, and after in all the countryes, and lands where he happened to passe through in returning to his Diocesse? With all which things notwithstan­ding, that noble Follower of Christ, was not only not proud a­whit, but euē as soone as he arriued at his Church, put himself a new into his Monastery, very freely deposing all superiority of the Con­uent; in so much as the publique gouernment of the Church, depen­ding wholy on him, yet in the domesticall and dayly discipline, he would humbly depend on the Abbot Felix.

In the rule of the Clergy moreouer, he had a singular care, to prohibite all wanton and costly apparell, and to prouide, that for [Page 214] secular busynesses, none should be absent from home, or exempt [...] the Quire; for which cause he would haue all to inhabite close [...] the Church, and for the tyme they had to spare, they should spend partly in cultiuating some litle garden, with their hands, partly [...] exercising themselues in singing of psalmes, and pronouncing the words very wel. He ordeyned besides, that all the Clerks, and all the widdowes, and likewise all the other Laymen, who had no [...] impediment, should fast on the Wednesdayes & frydayes through­out the yeare, and that all should be present euery day at the diui­ne Offices. He would chastize the vnquiet, as need required, now with priuate and publike reprehensions, now with pennanc [...], & scourges, to the end, that with the penalty of one, all the other might take example. Through which proceeding, and perpet [...]all innocency of his manners, he was now in such veneration, as not only his subiects, but euen very strangers also that were well dispo­sed, would remit their contentions and strifes, though neuer so spleenfull and inueterated, to the arbitrement and decision of the Saint: and among others, the people of Massimiana who by no mea­nes would accept the Bishop that was ordayned them, were final­ly with the authority and admonishments of S. Fulgentius, well pa­cifyed with him, putting an end to that so contumacious, and se [...] ­dalous a contention between them.

Notwithstanding all this, the Saint wanted not his contradi­ctours, and emulous, as is wont to happen; whome he striued to ouercome which patience, and submission. Among others, a cer­taine Bishop by name Quod-vule-deus seemed to take it very grieuou­sly, to haue S. Fulgentius preferred before him, in the Councell [...] Vinci. Whereof the Seruant of God being aware, expected the occa­sion of the Suffetan Councel: And at the commencing therof, sought and obteyned with an excellent example, there to haue the lower place of the aforesayd Bishop; endeauouring with such an act of humility to reconcile vnto him, and to gayne that soule, though without any fault of his so disgusted and alienated from him. Now heere what will they say, who are euery foote striuing for prece­dence? Let them learne heere of the blessed Fulgentius, to execute the precepts of Christ, and to seeke alwayes the lowest place.

In Sermons moreouer (wherof he made, and wrote many) he was wont to haue reguard not to the applause a whit, but rather to the motion and compunction of the people. Wheerin he had so [Page 215] great a grace, as that (among other [...]ymes) preaching once two [...]yes together one after the other, at the dedication of the Church Burni, euen Boniface himselfe Bishop of Carthage being there present, [...]uld by no meanes hold from weeping out-right, in giuing God [...]anks, for that of his infinite mercy, there were alwayes found very [...]cellent Doctours in the Catholique Church. After his returne frō [...]nishment, besides the Sermons and Bookes already written, he [...]rote a new ten others, against the lyes and falshods of Fabianus; & [...]ree of Predestination, and Grace. Amidst such manner of exercises as [...]ese, S. Fulgentius approaching to the end of his life, as presaging what was shortly to follow, with a few Brothers for a yeare before [...]tyred himselfe a fresh, to do pennance, and bewayle himselfe, in [...]ittle rock of the Iland of Cercinna, vntill such tyme, as through th [...] [...]ayers and lamentations of such, as he had left behind him, he was [...]nstreyned to returne to his Diocesse againe, and to resume the [...]ouerment.

But long it was not, ere he fell into a grieuous infirmity, which for 70. dayes afflicted him sorely, with most bitter paynes; wherein looking vp to heauen, he was wont to vtter no other words, then these: Lord, do thou giue me now patience, and afterwards in­ [...]ulgence. Finally feeling the houre of his passage to approach, and [...]alling all the Clerks and Monks vnto him, he humbly besought [...]ardon of them, if perhaps he had disgusted any, praying withall [...]ur Lord God, to prouide them a good Pastour. After this he dispo­ [...]ed of the monyes, which as yet were left him, as a most faythfull Steward, as he had alwayes beene of the Ecclesiasticall rents: and [...]ecounting by name, all the widowes, Orphans, Pilgrims, & other [...]f the poore, as well of the Lay, as Clerks, one by one, he orday­ [...]ed what he had to be giuen by poul, without leauing so much a [...] [...] farthing vnbequeathed.

Heereupon, turning himselfe to prayer, and tenderly blessing [...]s many as entred vnto him, he remayned in his senses and iudg­ [...]ent vnto the last breath, which he rendered vp to our Lord, to­wards the Euening, in the yeare of our Lord 461. on the first day of Ianuary, in the 65. yeare of his age, which was the 25. of his Bishoprike. In the meane space, while the prouince of Bizac [...]na, was [...]acked, and harrowed with fires and assaults of Moores, the country [...]nd Citty of Ruspa (through the merits doubtles of the holy Pastour) [...]ad alwayes enioyed a secure and quiet peace. His body was wat­ched [Page 216] all the night, with psalmes, and spirituall Canticles. Th [...]n [...] morning being come, with an infinite concourse of people, [...] carryed, and layd by the hands of Priests, in the Church which [...] called Secunda: where himselfe had deuoutly placed the ve [...] Reliques of the Apostles; and where for the reuerence of the pla [...] till that tyme, no man had beene buryed.

FINIS.

S. THEODOSIVS.
THE ARGVMENT.

DEare Saint: The ancient Ages did esteeme
Thy Country-men
The Cap­padocians vvere estee­med Pig­myes, as the Chaldean [...] Ezech. 27. interpre teth the Hebrevv vvord.
as Pigmyes; so they seeme
Compard to others: yet thy Towring mynd
Did ouerlooke the world, which thou didst find
A painted Harlot, whose discoloured face
Did ma [...]ke in faygned beauty, borrowed grace.
Her thou discouering with a piercing eye,
Such base indearments quickly didst descrye,
And taughtst to others: thousāds didst thou free
When her impostures blazond were by thee.
Both friend and foe one action doth auerre,
Thee to the world no friend, no foe to her.
Might tyme, but like the billowes of the maine
Reduce it selfe into its spring agayne;
O [...] Eagle-like could once it selfe renew,
That we its ancient ofspring might reuievv;
We should confesse, past Ages hardly saw
One from the world, the world more to withdraw.

THE LIFE OF S. THEODOSIVS ABBOT.

The Parents, Country; and Education of S. Theodosi [...]: His Vocation, and how he met with Stelites. With his a [...] [...] af­terwards at Hierusalem. Chap. I.

THE great Father and Maister of Monks S. [...] ­dosius, was one of the number of those, who not receiuing from their Natiue Countrey, eyther splendour or renowne, haue yet through [...] proper actions, and eminent vertues, enobled the same. The blessed Mān, was borne in M [...] ­assus of Cappadocia, a place obscure, and vnknown before, but after by so happy a pla [...]t, deseruedly famous and illustri­ous. His Parents were [...] & [...]gia, both Christians, & accor­ding to the quality of the land there, very honourable, & wealthy. By these, the Child being nurtured with great care, both in the feare of God, and in some knowledge of good literature; assoone as he arriued to yeares of discretion, (as he was among other his gifts, of a prompt and ready wit, and of a cleare voyce, and distinct pro [...] ­ciation) he was [...] to recite the [...]ine scriptures to the people as­sembled in the Temple, on determinate dayes. In which exercise, [Page 219] while many examples, & precepts of sanc [...]y, were presented [...] him; and while he notes in the old Testa [...]nt, [...] obedien [...] of Abraham, in going forth of his Country; and [...]ing h [...] only begotten sonne; and in the sacred Ghospell considers the rewards proposed to such as leaue their Parēets, or goods for the loue of God; [...]his doctrine anon [...]unck very deepe into the hart of the pr [...]dent youth: so as now generously contemning the delights of that age, & reiecting with a sterne brow, the [...] flatteryes of the Sens [...], he determined to walke by the narrow, and vnbeaten way, vnto the glorious confines of the true Beatitude.

To which effect, knowing what need there was of the celesti­all grace, to obtayne it more easily, and in greater aboundance; the first thing he did, was, that recommending himselfe to God, he ap­plyed his thoughts, vnto the pilgrimage [...] Palestine, to see & ador [...] the Land, so dyed with the bloud, and printed with the steps of our Sauiour; and through the liuely memory of his cruell torments, to gather from thence aboundant fruite of spirit, and perseuerance. Such in summe, was the Vocation of S. Thedosius, while the Coun­cell of Calcedon was then assembling. And forasmuch, as at that time, the same of Simeon Stelites the Greater, was very illustrious, who [...]eare vnto Antioch; standing day and night on the top of a pilla [...], wholy exposed to the iniury of the elements, to the great admira­tion of the world, performed very sha [...]pe pennance; it seemed good to the deuout Pilgrime to go that way, to take thereby the bene­diction and spirituall precepts of so worthy, and admirable a perso­nage. T [...]yling th [...] towards the same: Countrey, he no sooner approched to that strange habitation, but that before he opened his mouth, he heard himselfe with a lowd voyce to be called vpon, and saluted by the holy old man, by his proper name; who hauing [...]otice from Heauen of the quality and intention of this new. Tra­ [...]aylour, th [...] began to cry out a [...] the first sight of him: Thou art well­come, Thou man of God, O Theodosius. At which very sound, the fresh Disciple of the eternall Wisedome, being stooke with [...], as it were, and prostrating himselfe on the ground, most humbly saluted him agayne, and then recollecting himselfe from the feare he was in, and with a set ladder getting vp the Pillar; he was not only most deerely imbraced by Simeon but also fully certifyed of all his foture euents and aduentures, of the numerous ra [...]nall stocke, which in processe of tyme, he was to assemble togeather, and to [Page 220] seed, and of the great multitude of soules, which he through [...] help, was in time to take forth of the iawes of the internall [...]; & as much also in summe, as in the whole course of his present [...], through diuine disposition, were like to betyde him.

To this prophesy were adioyned counsayles, and exhortation [...] full of wisedome and truth; where with S. Theodosius being much comforted, very cheerfully proceeded in his way, and safely [...] at Hierusalem, while the Blessed Inuenall did gouerne that Me [...] Heere hauing visited with great cōsolation those most holy place, he began to thinke with himselfe, what manner of life, he might choose to discharge himselfe of all terrene affects, and to be vnited more easily with the eternall goodnes. A consultation by how much more necessary, so much the more dubious and perplexed it was vnto him, as appeares in the Chapter following.

The conflict S. Theodosius had in himselfe about his vocation; with his resolution thereupon. And how searing Prelacy, he flyes into a Caue. Chap. 2.

THeodosius heereupon, on the one side, felt himselfe to be [...] with a vehement desire vnto solitude; while to him it [...] that therein, without al impediment, he might giue himselfe wholy to Prayer; and on the other he was not ignorant, how dangero [...] it was, with a mind not fully purged, to depriue ones selfe of all human direction, and succour: since that in the desart, the di [...] ­nate passions, like fire raked vp in the ashes, or as wild beasts in the woods, do lurke, & awayt occasion, to wreake their natiue cruel­ty: Whereas amidst human Society, they being discouered through dayly encounters, and thrust out of their dens, are more ea [...]ly de­stroyed; insomuch, as the Soule victorious of it selfe, and dissolued from the bands of corrupt nature, mounts vp very lightly [...] high thoughts, and to the free contemplation of celestiall things. The [...] and other such like reasons, on the one and other side, this new Phi­losopher puts into the ballance, and hauing poysed them ma [...] ­rely, in the diuine sight, at last takes himselfe to the securer side, with resolution to become, not a Doctour before a Scholler, & [...] enter on the stage, before he had learned the art of fencing. So as being [...], that in Dauids Tower (a place so called in th [...] parts) was an old souldiour of Christliuing, by name Longinus, grow­ing [Page 221] into friendship with him, he easily obteyned to be admitted [...]to his howse, to be guided and instructed by him, in all, and [...]oughout. Whereunto he disposed himselfe, with so great submis­ [...]n of the vnderstanding, and with so much seruour of the will, as [...]at through meanes of the dayly exercise of vertues, and diligent [...]struction of the Maister, with the noble strife of his fellow-pupils, [...] became very sudenly perfect in the rules of profitably taming the [...]esh, of knowing and readily discerning of spirits, of restrayning with a hard hand the motions of pride; and finally to walke in the [...]resence of God, with perpetuall recollection of the bodily senses, [...]nd of the powers of the soule.

S. Theodosius in this wise, hauing made, in monasticall profession, [...] notable a conquest of himselfe, as in the iudgement of all, he [...]ight well be a Guide, and Maister to others; notwithstanding see­ [...]ed to himselfe only, to be still, but as it were, in the beginning. He had perseuered yet more yeares in the same schoole, if an impe­ [...]iment had not happened, which heere we shall speake of. A cer­ [...]ine pious, and honourable Matron, by name Iulia, hauing at her [...]ost built a magnificent Temple, to the honour of the Queene of An­gels, not farre off from the habitatiō of Longinus, obtayned with great [...]stance of him, that he would appoint Theodosius by name, to the [...]ustody of that sacred place, while things were preparing about the [...]ll exercise of Religion, with the choyce of Quiristers, & Clerks, & of all things els belonging to the splendour of diuine seruice ther­ [...]. Theodosius was but vnwillingly drawne from his deere conuer­ [...]tion, and going thereupon to the said Church, remayned there vn­till such tyme, as he thought he might well stay there without [...]rill; but in processe of tyme, being aware how busines went, a­ [...]out preferring him to the formall Rectorship of that Colledge, he [...]ayed not till the matter might be concluded, when he could not [...]e able to make resistance; but in imitation of the Sauiour of the World, who in the like occasion, preuented before hand the in­clinatiō of the people, he fled away secretly vnto the top of a moū ­ [...]ayne, and got himselfe into a great caue, where by ancient Tra­dition, it is held the three Magi had lodged, when as they, hauing [...]dored the King of Heauen, and illuded that King of the Earth, they returned from Iudea, into their country by stealth.

Heere now, S. Theodosius being quite rid of all disturbance, be­gan that manner of life, which a good while since he had designed; [Page 222] where Prayer, and Psalmes, with order and deuotion seemed [...] hold their turns; the vigils often endured throughout the [...] night, and the eyes were become aperpetuall fountaine of [...] the habit, which was a grosse, and course Cassocke, his food [...] very well, as being the rootes of hearbes, windfall acorns, the [...] of palmes, some pulse; or when these fayled, the shells of [...] soaked in water. In this manner, the seruant of God, spent [...] dayes, with so much the more consolation, as he was further [...] ued from al testimony of men, that might put him into vayne glory and consequently diminish a good part of the merit. With this [...] rinesse, concealed he himselfe to his power. But the diuine clem [...] enclining alwayes to the vniuersall good, could not brooke so great a light, should be shut vp, & enclosed so in that horrid rock. Where assoone as some ray had appeared in those countryes thereabo [...] there wanted not Louers of the chiefest good, & contemners of the world to shew themselues; who to be guided securely to the [...] proposed, with all affection, craued to be admitted, and to [...] the instruction of S. Theodosius. To whome, though he to mainta [...] himselfe in his secret intention, would willingly haue giuen a con­stant repulse; yet remembring himselfe, of the prophesy of [...] Stelites, & weighing the great seruice, which is done to the highest wisedome, in cooperating with it, to the saluation of soules; after [...] had excused himselfe, to those suiters some while, at last he per [...] ­ted himselfe to be vanquished, & won, to accept them for his disci­pline, with reteyning alwayes in himselfe the interiour humility [...] before, and a vigilant care of himselfe.

Two notable signes of the Prouidence of God, towards his Seruants in their [...] ter necessities, through the prayers and merits of Saint Theodosius, Chap. 4.

IT followed hence, that S. Theodosius, shewing himselfe such a [...] ­uely mirrour of all laudable actions, increased day by day the co­ceipt was had of the sanctity of the Superiour, being a thing of ine­stimable moment for the quietnes, cheerfullnes, and incitement of the subiects. And God cherished this opinion of others with [...] ­uaylous signes now and then. Among which was one, that the Feast of Easter being come, & the Monkes hauing a desire to keep that day sacred, and also very festiuall, with some recreation of the [Page 223] body and spirit; there was in that Hermitage, no [...]yle or bread, or [...]ny manner of food, to be had, for the purpose of such a Solem­nity. Whereupon being sad and disconsolate, they stood, as it were, [...]eflecting thereon and exaggerating their great misfortune. Theo­dosius heerwith, notes their countenances to be changed, and vnder­standing the occasion of their sadnes, commaunds on the Saturday ouer night, that an Aultar should be set vp, and some forme of a Re­ [...]ectory be put in order for the next day. Which thing, seeming ve­ry absurd to those, who knew the want there was of all manner of [...]ictuals: Do you make ready notwithstanding, sayd Theodosius, what I bid to be done, and for the rest, take you no care. He that flourished so many thousands of Israelites in the desart, and after sa­tisfyed fiue thousand persons, with fiue loaues of bread, will surely likewise haue compassion of vs, being now no lesse prouident, nor [...]whit lesse potent, then he was.

The venerable Father, had fearce made an end to speake, when behold, two Mules appeared, well loaden with all those nourish­ments, which were fit for the present solemnity, and monasticall professiō. Whereat they yeilding endles thankes to the diuine mercy and acknowledging the truth of the promisses, and efficacy of the prayers of the Saint, the sacrifice being finished the next morning, and the prouision disposed in order, they all very cheerefully re­freshed themselues, in eyther kinds. And after some tyme, that poore family, falling into streights agayne, and euen ready to murmur [...]hereat, not so firme and assured of the former succour, as deiected and oppressed with the present necessity; S. Theodosius encouraged them the while, with saying among other things: Who euer trusted in our Lord, and hath beene abandoned by him? Who hath euer faythfully depended on him, & hath not beene comforted? Let Ie­remy the Prophet answere for me: he hath replenished [...] soule, that was a hungry. Let Iob, and Dauid answere likewise: He prepares [...]ood for the crowes, and their yong ones. So as [...]ence we may le­arne at last, how much the diuine Prouidence, excells any human [...]ndustry, which euen of set purpose many tymes, lets things be brought to extremes, that the remedy may proue more gratefull, and be held more worthy of acknowledgement. And we plainely [...] the while, euen in this life also, how largely he required all those things, which for his sake, we haue left in the world.

In this manner, went S. Theodosius, comforting those saynt [Page 224] minds; when it pleased God, that a rich distributer of almes, [...] along those craggy mountaines, to relieue certayne others in neces­sity, as soone as he approached to the side of S. Theodosius his [...], perceiued on a sudden, his beast first of all to stand still, and th [...] after to bend very violently that way; whereat the rider merueyling much, who as yet had no notice of the retirement of S. Theodo [...], after he had a good while beene spurring and kicking the beast on­wards in vayne, at last resolues to let the reynes go loose, and [...] see whither the secret instinct would seeme to lead him: and the beast therupō went directly to the vnknown caue, where the good man perceiuing with his owne eyes, the distresses of those religious there, did blesse the diuine Maiesty for the occasion affoarded him, to merit so, and redoubling the almes he intended to haue [...] vnto others, he left those soules, though feeble otherwise, & vnex­pert Nouices, so prouided and contented withall, as they had and occasion, to rely euer after on the heauenly protection, & ne [...] more to make any doubt thereof.

The number of S. Theodosius his disciples increaseth. He builds a [...] Conuent, according to the miraculous direction of God. Chap. 4

IN the meane tyme, with the [...]ame of S. Theodosius increased the number of his Disciples, and Conuictours; insomuch as now th [...] first habitation not sufficing, with all the cottages adioyning ther­unto; it was needfull for him, to apply himselfe to a formall buil­ding, that were capable of an extraordinary multitude; nor was it any difficult matter for him, to take such an enterprize in hand, while the wealthy and deuout persons of all those countryes thera­bout, so readily concurred thereunto. He stood yet a good while [...] suspence, abou [...] the election of the seate therof: in which consulta­tion, hauing more then once considered many places, both [...] and further off, he finally resolued to be certifyed of the best, and more gratefull to God, in the manner following▪

He tooke then a Thurible in his hand, full of [...]oles, and put­ting incense thereon, but without any fire, went his wayes through all the desart, deuoutly singing of prayers very apt for the purpose as these: O God, who by the meanes of many, and stupendio [...] proofes, perswadedst Moyses, to take the gouernment of the Israel [...] in hand, and with them likewise, with affects aboue nature, pro­ [...]uredst [Page 225] him credit, who changedst the rod into a serpent, the sound [...]to a leprous hand▪ and in a moment restoredst the same from le­ [...]rous, as cleane and sound as euer; who conuertedst water into [...]loud, and the bloud agayne into water. Thou who with shew­ [...]ng the fleece, madst Gedeon secure of the victory. Thou who hast [...]ramed all things, and still conseruest the same. Thou who decla­ [...]edst to Ezechias, with Sunne-dyall reuerst, the addition of his yea­ [...]es. Thou who at the prayer of Elias, for the conuersion of Idola­ [...]ours, didst send downe fire from Heauen, which in a moment, [...]onsumed both the victime, the moist wood, and the water there­ [...]bout, togeather with the stones of the Aultar themselues. Thou I [...]ay say, O Lord, who art now the same thou wast then; heare [...]e also, thy poore Seruant, and vouchsafe to intimate to me, where it pleaseth thee, I should now erect a Temple to thy diuine Maiesty, and a dwelling for my children. And I shall vnderstand that plot, to like thee best, where thou shalt cause these coles to en­kindle of themselues.

With these inuocations, went he circling about all those moun­ [...]aynes, no [...] euer left, till he arriued at Cu [...]illa, and the bankes of the [...]ake Assaltite. But seeing the coales in the Thurible to be yet cold, [...]nd dead, laying the default on his demerits, he returned against his will; when not farre from the Caue, he suddenly sees a smoke to [...]ise vp from the coles, through diuine power, as it were, enkind­ [...]ed of themselues. Wherewith, being fully satisfyed of the diuine will, while the large contributions of the faythfull fayled him not; first of all, he began to erect a Church, with diuers Chappells, & Quires, distinguished in such sort, as without hindering one ano­ther, the sacred Offices, might there be sung at the same tyme, in [...]undry languages, by seuerall nations. Whence it was afterwards, [...] thing of great consolation to heare Psalmes, and Hymmes sunge [...]t once with order, and sweetnes, by Palestines, Bess [...]ans, Greeks, and [...]rmenians.

The house of God being finished, he passed to that of Men, with such distinction, and so much scope and amplenes, as that the first Cloyster was for the vse of the Monkes, with all the Offices re­quisi [...]e, and with a partition, which is called in the Greeke tongue, [...], for the commodity of such, as being toyled out with [...]abours, and worne with yeares, were not able, to wield themsel­ [...]es, or keep them to the obseruance of the order. Next to the same, [Page 226] the Ghestory, or roomes for secular strangers; yet deuided into two parts, the one for persons of quality, the other for the [...]. Then followed the Hospitall of the poore, and sicke of euery [...] and in the last the lodgings of persons possessed with spirits. Because that among other workes of mercy, S. Theodosius gaue himself, with particular diligence most benignly to receiue a number of Her [...] who without first purging their soule with due remedies, through false apparence of good, and proud presumption of their owne knowledge, hiding themselues, some in this & some in that ca [...]; were thereby, through the iust iudgement of God, most miserably abused and oppressed by the Diuell. To these, besids corporall su [...] ­stenance, he would also giue wholesome aduises, and seeke to take away the false opinions from their mynds: and a good part of th [...] tyme, which they had free from torments, he would cause them to spend in prayers, and psalmes. He would enter moreouer by day & night into the sickmens chambers; and with particular tendernes, comfort the lame, the wounded, and leaprous, feeding them with his owne hands, washing the stincking and noysome vlcers now of this, and then of that man, and lastly with frequent kisses, and amourous armes, be deerly imbracing them.

The great Hospitality of S. Theodosius in the tyme of a Dearth, and [...] God concurred therwithall: with his great zeale for the Catholike Church▪ Chap. 5.

AT the same of so great charity of S. Theodosius, were a great [...] of persons of all qualityes, assembled together at the said place, to all which, with much patience, and with very good or­der, was both diet, and lodging affoarded: and it would fall out now, and then, especially at some principall Feasts of the Mot [...] of God, that at diuers houres of the day, they were fayne to furnish [...] hundred tables. And there happening afterwards an vniuersal dea [...] almost through all the prouinces of the East, there came such a mul­titude to that noble Monastery, as that the Officers, fearing some disorder, resolued to keep them out of the Cloysters, and with exist measure to deale them victuals by weight. The which, as soone [...]t S. Theodosius once vnderstood; confiding now more then euer in the diuine Goodnes causing the gates to be set open, in the sight of all most cheerefully admitted the presse of people; and in vertue of his [Page 227] firme fayth, and enflamed prayers, the prou [...]on in creased of it selfe in the Cellars and Pantryes, in such sort, as that all being satisfied at table, there was plenty inough yet left for such as wayted.

Among which occupations of theirs, by how much fuller of distractions, they are of themselues, so much the more vigilantly watched the good Pastour for the spirituall conseruation, and the [...] piety of his Monks, endeauouring by all meanes, that at certaine houres, they might be recollected in necessary meditation of vertues, and of the [...] acknowledgment of their owne defects; and to the end, the ordinary meanes vnto purity of hart, might not turne into ceremonyes, and their frequent victoryes oc­ [...]asion security, (to which perils, religious are commonly exposed) [...]esides his owne example, as we sayd, with workes, he would likewise excite the Family frō tyme to tyme, with enflamed words, [...] thus: I beseech you, would he say, my brothers, by that Lord who [...]ath giuen himselfe for our sinnes, let vs once apply our selues in earnest, and truly indeed, to the care of our soules. Let vs bitterly bewayle our dayes vnprofitably spent, and endeauour not to loose those same which remayne. Let vs not suffer our selues to be slou­ [...]full in sensuality; nor the occasions of this present day escape out of our hands, through the foolish hopes of the morrow, least death surprizing vs voyd of merits with the foolish virgins, we come to [...]e excluded from the blessed nuptials, whence we shall afterwards bewayle, when it will be too late to repent. Behold now is the [...]cceptable tyme, behold the day of saluation. This is the course of [...]abours, that same shall be the ioy of rewards. This the sowing of teares, and that the fruite of consolation. For the present, God is very fauourable to such as conuert themselues to him: then shall [...]e be a terrible Iudge, and a strict examiner of ech worke, word, & [...]hought of ours. We now do enioy his Longanimity, then shall we experience his Iustice, when we come to arise agayne, some to e­ [...]ernall felicity, and others to the qualityes, and deme [...]nours of ech one. How long then shal it be, ere were fully obey the counsayls of Christ, who with so especiall a vocation inuites vs to the hea­uenly kingdome? Shall we not awake from the sleepe of slouthful­nes? Shall we not rayse our selues from base [...] thoughts, to Euangeli­ [...]all perfection? And yet, forsooth, we professe to aspire to the coū ­ [...]ry of the blessed, and on the other side, we [...] the meanes that [...]ades vs to it. And surely this is a great vanity of ours, that flying [Page 228] the labours of the warfare, we should promise to our selues [...] crownes of the victory.

With such like reasons, S. Theodosius awaked his subiects, and confirmed them, as need required, not only with ancient and mo­derne examples, but also with diuers authorityes of the sacred w [...] explayning the difficult places thereof, with such clarity, and im­pressing them strongly with such an energy withal, as the Audi [...] remayned therewith much illumined in the vnderstanding, & en­flamed in the will. He was more ouer exceedingly versed in the a [...] ­cient Traditions, and in the Orthodox, and sincere doctrine of the Fathers, and especially of the Great Basil, whose writings, & princi­pally those of monastical constitutions, he held in great veneration▪ Nor was this great zeale of his, restrained a whit within the boun [...] of that house, or among the inhabitants of that Prouince only; b [...] nobly dilated it selfe vnto the common benefit of the Catholique Church, and to the conseruation of the right fayth, against the sub­tilityes, and lewd machinations of perfidious people, ambitious, & friends of nouelty, as appeares in the chapter following.

The ancient Heresies arising, are maynly resisted by S. Theodosius; [...] that cause he is banished by the Emperour: who dying shortly after, [...] Church flourished agayne. Chap. 6.

THere arose agayne in those dayes, through the secret iudge [...] of God, reuiued by diuers Sectaries, worthily called [...] the pestiferous opinions of Nestorius, Eutiches, Dioscoru [...], and Seu [...] already condemned by foure Generall Councels, the Nicen, [...] Cōstantinople, & Calcedon; and among the other multitude, was [...] Emperour Anastasius very miserably seduced by them, insomuch as [...] laboured to amplify his Sect, by all meanes possible. But the pr [...] ­cipall assault he vsed, was to gayne the holyer Prelates to him, o [...] to take them away, by disquietting, and assayling now this, now that, by himselfe and his Ministers; now with prayers, and th [...] with perswasions, now with monyes and titles, and then wi [...] menaces, depressions, and banishments.

In this manner, hauing tempted, and preuayled with diuers, he finally resolued to s [...]t vpon S. Theodosius, as seeming to himselfe▪ that he should make a great conquest, if he could but reduce an [...] of so great a [...]ame, and reputation vnto his part. To this in [...] [Page 229] by men for the purpose, he sent him letters, full of feygned friend­ship, peruerse counsayles, and deep malice, and for the greater ef­ficacy, vnder the shew of piety, adioyned therunto a rich present, of thirty pounds of gold, for the holy man to bestow at his pleasure in workes of mercy. With this deuise the Emperour thought to bat­ter the fortresse of S. Theodosius; but he found himself to be much de­ceyued of his presumption. For the Seruant of Christ indeed, accep­ted the gift, and faythfully shared it amongst the poore; but for the particular of Religion, most freely answered the Emperour, and his Messengers, that he would please not to enter into such practise with him, since he was fully resolued to loose not one life only, but a hundred liues, rather then once to mooue an inch from the do­ctrine of the vniuersall Church, and from the articles, and Decrees of the Sacred Councells.

To this effect was the answere of the glorious Abbot: which made such impression in the Emperour at first, as he being touched therewith, and acknowledging the errour, returned him fresh letters agayne, protesting those motions and troubles, wherein the Christians were then embroyled, were not caused, or occasioned by him, but through the pride, and vnquiet nature of some Priests, from whome particularly he should rather haue expected all care, to maintayne the people of God in peace, and concord. Wherefore now the more earnestly, he exhorted the Blessed Father, to continue still in his good purposes, and to renforce, togeather with the o­ther Monks, the vsuall prayers for the quiet of the common wealth. Such demonstrations as these, for that time Anastasius shewed being of a better mynd; but (as he was of a nature exceeding vnconstant and mutable) it was not long ere that suffering himselfe [...]o be [...]r­ned agayne, and deceyued through perfdious Couns [...]ilours, he en­tred into rage more then euer. And besides the placing in diuers Coūtryes of false ministers of the Ghospell; he sent withall, a great company of Souldiours, to hinder by force and Preachings, Con­sults, and assemblies of the maintayners, and fauourers of the truth. Which commaund was immediately put into execution.

But S. Theodosius for all this, ceased not to prosecute his generous actions: but rather with redoubled feruour hauing made choyce of exemplar, learned, and zealous labourers, began with them to [...]it and make his progresse through the villages, astles, and Cit­tyes thereabout, and to present with fit antidotes, and holsome me­decins, [Page 230] the hellish poyson of heresy; in catechi [...]ing the [...] reclayming the strayed, encouraging the wauering, confirming [...] stable: and in summe, not [...] slowing any meanes, which [...] to the help of [...]; and to the glory of Christ, wherby [...] he came to promote things so farre, as that notwithstanding [...] frownes of [...] souldiours, and subtilityes of the aduersary, moun­ting the pulpit, with a most extraordinary concourse of people, [...] publiquely declared, all those to be excommunicated, who depar­ted from the authority, and constitution [...] of the foresayd [...] nerall Councels. Which as soone as Anastasius the E [...]perour hea [...] [...] forgetting quite the veneration he had shewed before to the persō [...] S. Theodosius, and together without conscience, hauing wholy [...] all shame, without [...]spect disgracefully [...] stery, and condemned him, with opprobrious and ini [...] [...], to perpetuall banishment. Which notwithstanding, through diuine Goodnes, continued not long. For that the Emperour, within a [...] months, being with a heauenly mace sommoned before that [...] bunall which cannot erre, [...]ad for his Successour the famous [...] through whose valour [...]nd prudence [...]he clouds of [...] dispe [...]d, the furi [...]s [...] o [...] [...]cutions ceased, and [...] tranquility returned to the [...] of Christ againe.

S. Theodosius being returned agayne to his Charge, cured a woman of [...] Canker. And works other myracles besides. Chap. 7.

NOw S. Theodosi [...]s, with the i [...]y and [...]ubiley of al the [...]ay [...], being remitted agayne into his former) ch [...]rge, be tooke him­selfe with fresh courage to his wonted exercises; the which [...] acceptable and gratefull they were to the diuine Maiesty, besi [...] [...] aforesaid signes, may likewise appeare by the merueilous th [...] that follow. The [...] of the holy Crosse, was kept [...] there, in a [...]ayne Temple built by Constan [...] for that purpose, i [...] those countryes. And to this Solemnity went S. Theodosiu [...] wi [...] many of his Monks. Wherof a certaine woman hauing got some [...] ­tice, that had beene cruelly tormented a long while with a ho [...]i­ble canker in one of her breasts, and who had proued diuers med [...] ­cins in vayne; resolued at last vpon diuine remedyes, and [...] bring her selfe of the generous resolution of that famous▪ [...] with like [...]ayth & greatnes of courage, [...] entered into the Church [Page 231] while the Office was celebrated. And being she [...] the Man of [...]od (whome she knew not by [...]ace) with [...]ealing paces, & with­ [...] noyse, approached behind him, and dexterously applying the [...]greiued part, to the [...]ood of the Saint, most certayne i [...] is at the first [...]uch of the sacred cloth, all payne on a sudden abādoned the breast [...]nd left no scarre of the vlcer.

This sudden, and so perfect a cur [...], to the great glory of God, [...]as proclamed through the East. Besides which, that other which [...]cceeded in his returne from Bethle [...], gaue great matter of ac­ [...]nowledging, and praysing the diuine power in the person of S. [...]eodosius; when as he being lodged in the Conuent of the Abbot [...]artian, caused through this benediction, from one sole grayne of [...]orne, in a few houres, so great a quātity to be multiplied, as that [...]e granary being not able to hold the same, in the sight of all men, [...]e corne brake forth at the doore.

Elswhere agayne, a child being fallen into a deep well, through [...]he same intercession, being held past all human succour, in the [...]sence of many, to the inestimable ioy of the afflicted and [...] Mother, came forth agayne, very safe and [...]ound. Through [...] [...]me of these, and other such like meruaylous things, a certaine [...] of the East, whose name was [...], being to pass [...] with his [...], agaynst the Persians, first visiting the holy Citty of Hierusalem; [...]payred also to the Monastery of S. Thedosius, by whome being ex­ [...]ted, with liuely reasons, not to place his hopes of the Victory, [...] the multitude, or fo [...]ce of his souldio [...]s, but in the ayde of him▪ who as well can worke won [...]rs with [...], as with infinite [...], he became so enflamed with the admonitions, & māner of [...]he [...]lessed Man; as that to enter into battaile, he esteemed he could not [...]ake vse of armour of better proofe, then of the Cilice that S. Theo­ [...]s was wont to weare on his naked ski [...]. Wherewith, being ar­med, together with the benediction of the sayd Father, going his wayes, with his army, towards the enemy, he came very sudden­ [...]y to handy blowes, and that with so much the greater confidence; [...]s he had besides the foresayd coate of male, the person of S. Theo­ [...]osius also euer in his eyes; who in the heate of the battayle, with [...]ointing, and signes of the hand, went sh [...]wing him still, what [...] to enforce, what aduantages to take, where the ensignes should [...] aduanced, and where couragiously he should spur his horse. By which apparition, the deu [...] Champion, being greatly encoura­ged [Page 232] on euery side where he seemed but to cast his eyes, as that [...] the Pagans to flight, and terrour; it was not long, [...] [...]e re­turned backefull of ioy and glory, to giue S. Theodosius a distinct ac­compt of all that dayes worke, with immortall thankes.

Many other apparitions, are recompted of this diuine Man, [...] heertofore of S. Nicolas. By meanes wherof, heere one at sea very happily escapes out of cruell tempe [...]s; and heere another in the land from sauage beasts; and some from this perill, and some from that: There are likewise told diuers predictions of his▪ whence [...] appeares, how eminent he was in the spirit of Prophesy. But setting apart such like graces, being common with men, sometymes [...] no good life, my pen more willingly conuerts it selfe, to the [...] discourse of his religious Vertue.

The Humility, and Patience of the Man of God, especially in his extremity [...] sicknes. And how sweetly he gaue vp the Ghost. Chap. 8.

AMong the vertues of this Venerable man, the sollicitude [...] had of manteyning continuall peace, and true concord be­tween his Subiects, not deserued the least place. And this [...]are [...] his, so boyled in his breast, as that when any of them, by so [...] accident had broken any friendship betweene them, if by no other meanes, he could not peece, and reunite them agayne, he would not stick to cast himselfe downe at their fee [...]e, and to pray and con­iure ech part so long, as that being mollifyed with tendernes, and confounded with shame, deposing all rancour, they became recon­ciled to ech other. From whence, may likewise be gathered, how great was the humility of the holy man, most worthy of admiratiō, were it only for this, that by such acts he lost no reputation, but rather how much greater contempt he shewed of himselfe, he wa [...] so much the more esteemed, and reuerenced by othes.

With this submission of his, was the vertue of Patience seene [...] march hand in hand with him, being a safe buckler, and secure [...] of the souldiours of Christ, against the hoat and furious assaul [...] of the ancient aduersary. Of which kind of aimes, how [...] the Man of God would be helping himselfe, he notably [...] in his extreme age. Because, that being oppressed, through [...] most grieuous infirmity, which made him more then a yeare to keep his bed, with most sharpe dolours; yet for all that, he fayled not of [Page 233] his in ward peace, nor yet for s [...]ew his accustomed prayer, and fami­liarity with God. And they affirmed who assisted him day & night, [...]hat in the greatest extremity of all, and fury of his fits, he did no­thing, or sayd any word vn worthy of Christian magnanimity, or of his former behauiour.

But euen rather the said assistants auerre: That a certaine vene­rable old man, being come to visit him, and through compassion, bidding him pray to God, to deliuer him of so great affliction, and he should easily be heard; with no pleasing countenance, contrary [...]o custome, he answered thus: Of charity, Father, speake not to me [...]ny more in this manner, for as often as such thoughts haue come [...]nto my mind, I euer held them, as suggestions of the enemy, & with all endeauour haue expelled them from me, discoursing in this manner with my selfe; that to abate the pride that may arise in me from the credit, which God hath plesed to giue me on earth, these [...]gonyes, and humiliations are to very good purpose. And what share, trow you, are we like to haue in the consolations of the E­ [...]ernity, if in this short space, or rather moment of tyme, we suffer [...]ot some manner of affliction? In truth, Father, we needs must re­solue to suffer at this present, if we would not worthily be vp­ [...]rayded with these words herafter, Recepisti bona tua in vita tua. Thus S. Theodosius spake: and the Monke admiring, and touched withal, went his wayes.

In the meane tyme, the Man of God, feeling himselfe to decay more and more, & calling at last his sad disciples to his Cell, with his owne and their great feeling, he exhorted them to perseuere in their vocation, and stoutly to resist all temptations; and aboue all, to maynteyne faythfull and prompt Obedience, to whome soeuer with lawful election should come to succed him in the gouerment. Moreouer, very humbly calling for three of the Bishops of those countryes, and communicating with them, some things of impor­tance for the publique seruice; in the presence of them, and of all the Monkes in teares, he alone being ioyfull, and glad, hauing with diligence procured already all things necessary for such a presage, did lift vp his eyes and hands to heauen, and then decently [...]sting them on his breast, without any difficulty, yeilded vp his spirit, being now of 105. yeares old.

And it pleased our Lord, that a man possessed of an ill spirit, who till that tyme could neuer be deliuered from so great a calami­ty; [Page 234] now finally casting himselfe downe, with many teares, and bitter sighes, on the couch of the Saint, at the first touch of the vene­rable Reliques (but yet more tormented then euer) in the presence of as many as were there, was freed, and secure from that [...] tyranny.

The blessed Pope Hormisda, had the care of the Vniuersall Church at that tyme (though others according to S. Cyrill, would haue him to haue arriued to the tymes of Pope Agapitus, that is, to the yeare 536▪) and in particular of Hierusalem, in the tyme of the Pa­triarch Peter; who at the first aduertisement of the departure of S. Theodosius, came in hast to the Monastery, while an infinite num­ber of people, of all parts, came likewise in to obtayne some sh [...]ed of the Garment, or Capuch of the blessed man, or at least to com [...] neare him, and contemplate more freely on those chast lymmes of his, which had beene such efficacious instruments of the high Cr [...] ­tour. Whereupon to satisfy the pious desire of the multitude, the sa­cred corps of force remayned vnburyed, vntill such tyme, as the throng being somewhat ceased, he was, by his deerest, & most de­noted friends, with teares and sighes, deposed in the bosome of the cōmon Mother, from thence to arise agayne, at the sound of the last trumpet, with the other Elect, most glorious, and resplendant for all Eternity.

FINIS.

S. BENET ABBOT.
THE ARGVMENT.

LOoke how the Rosy Daughter of the morne,
The Starre that glads ech mortall with its sight,
Leauing at first old Titans bed forlorne,
About the Spheres doth cast her Crimsom light;
Roses and Lillyes hurling through the skye,
Quenching the starres with rayes from thence that fly.
So glorious was thy morning, so bright rayes
Thy tender yeares did lighten, and foretold
The heauenly Sunshine of thy riper dayes,
Dispelling darkenesse, and inflaming cold
And senselesse hearts with fire of holy loue,
And drawing all to seeke the ioyes aboue.
Thou taughtst the way, remouing obstacles,
That as they rise depresse our mounting soules:
Thy doctrine thou confirmdst with miracles,
And heau'n by thee both Death and Hell controules.
If Starre, or Angell bring Heau'ns influence,
Thou art that Starre, thou that Intelligence.

THE LIFE OF S. BENET ABBOT. Taken out of the Dialogues of S. Gregory.

The Infancy, and more tender yeares of S. Benet; with his incli­nation to piety and religion: And how Romanus a Monke assisted him therein. Chap. 1.

SAINT Benet, Founder of the most noble Con­gregation of Mount Casin; gaue with his birth, no litle glory to Nursia, though otherwise, a notable and famous Citty, in the Confines of Marca, and Vmbria, It was in the yeare of our Lord 482. when Gelasius the first, gouerned the Catholique Church, and Anastasius the Empire. The Father of S, Benet was called Proprius, the Mother Abundantia, of the family of Riguardati, at that tyme, not only Honourable, but potent and Illustrious. The Child of a rare to wardnes, in wit fa [...]re outstripping his yeares, in shewing himselfe to be aliened from all manner of pleasures and sports, was sent to Rome, to study, vnder the tutelage of one, that had a good care of him. Heere now be­ing entred into profane schooles, he was soone aware of the perils, [Page 237] that hung ouer him, through vayne sciences, ill companyes, and [...]he snares and intrications of the world. So as, fearing some preci­pice, he made hast to pluck out his foote betymes; with firme deli­ [...]eration to repayre vnto the desart, and with all endeauour to at­ [...]end to the diuine worship, and to the saluation of his Soule.

With this deliberation, the Saint and Elect of God first retyred himselfe from the concourse of Rome, into the castle of Offida, with­out other company, then only of his Nurse, that deerely loued him, from whome (as yet) he could not conueniently quit himselfe. Nor was it long, erre the Diuine Goodnes with euident signes, began to shew forth how gratefully he accepted the religious purposes of S. Benet. For that a Scry wherwith they winnow corne, being bro­ken by chance in two peeces, which the Nurse had borrowed of her neighbours, and she poore woman most pittifully lamenting for it, the pious youth could by no meanes endure to see her so distressed. Whereupon putting himselfe into prayer, with the two peeces thereof by his side, as soone as he had ended the same, he found thē suddenly vnited, and the Vessell as whole, and sound, as if it had neuer beene broken or hurt at all. The miracle was great, & could not be concealed, whence all the inhabitants there-about, came running in to behold the same, blessing our Lord, and magnifying the Child, with the words that had been spoken heertofore of the holy Precursour of Christ: and further for memory of the fact, they did hang vp the sayd Scry publikely, at the entrance of the Church, where it remayed, till such tyme, as the Country was sackt by the Lombards.

These fauours & acclamations were a great spur vnto S. Benet, to fly away thence, and to hide himselfe, as soone as he could. So that abandoning his Nurse, and as many as knew him; he secretly got him to the Mountaynes of Sublacum, about some 40. miles di­stant from Rome; a territory but obscure in those dayes, though illu­strious afterwards, through the abode and long conuersation of S. Benet. And it pleased God, that before his arriuall thither, he should hap to meete which a certayne Monke, by name Romanus, who courteously examining him of his life, and vnderstanding his hea­uenly Vocation, gaue him besids good counsayls, the habit more­ouer of an Hermit, with promise withall to keep it secret, and to be assisting vnto him, in what he might. With such direction, the new Champion of Christ being come to Sublacum, puts himselfe into a most [Page 238] strayt ca [...]e, and therein remayned shut vp, for three yea [...] co [...] ­nually together, without the knowledge of any person, in the world, except Romanus; who liuing not farre off, in a monastery vnder the Obedience of S. Theodosius Abbot, fayled not to steale some part of his leasure, and reserue also some pittance of the food allo­wed him, to visit from tyme to tyme, and to susteyne his deere dis­ciple. And forasmuch as from the Conuent to the caue, no path way was to be found, there hanging a very high cliff iust ouer the same; Romanus was wont to tye to a long cord, that little bread he could get, with a bell vnto it, by sound wherof S. Benet might conuenien­tly vnderstand, when his refection was brought him.

Our Lord appeares to a Priest, and sends him with victuals to S. Benet. He [...] assayled with a cruell temptation, which he strangely puts away. And after­wards escapes poysoning. Chap. 2.

NOw the auncient Aduersary, not brooking well the charity of Romanus, and the life of S. Benet; in letting downe the cord a­bouesayd, threw downe a stone vpon the bell, & burst it to peeces, which notwithstanding Romanus fayled not to supply, and still to perseuer in that worke of mercy, vntill such tyme, as our Lord, be­ing willing to giue him rest of such labours, and to others the ex­ample of so high and sublime vertue, appeared in vision to a cer­tayne Priest of those countryes, who to feast himselfe on the day of Pascha, had made ready a good dynner to that end, and sayd to him; Thou standst heere preparing thee banquets, when loe, my Seruant the [...], lyes staruing yonder for hunger. At which admonishment the good Pri [...] arising sudenly, on the same day of Easter, with his victuals, pu [...] himselfe on the way, and after he had fetcht some compasse about those mountaynes and valleyes, a prety while, he found S. Be [...] at last, in the Caue. When saluting him fayrely, and making so [...] prayer together with him: Let vs now, sayd he, afford some little nourishment to the body, & reioyce in our Lord, for this is the Feast of the Pascha. It is truly a Pasch to me, answered S. Benet (who in so great a solitude, vntill this tyme, haue not knowne the course of the yeare) and you haue afforded me a Feast sufficient already with your presence. Nay truly, not so (replyed the Priest) to day is celebrated the Resurrection of our Lord, not is it any wayes fit for you to fast on this day, and that especially so much the rather, as I [Page 239] am sent hither of purpose, to communicate in charity with you on this day.

Then without more strife or contention they both blessing our [...]rd, fell to eating, and after a sweete, and spirituall discourse had betweene them, the Priest went his wayes. And now, as it were, at the same tyme, some shepheards also lighted on the said place: Who beholding amidst those brakes, the holy yōg man to be clothed with [...]kyns, at first they tooke him for a beast that might lurke there, but after approching neere vnto him, and illumined with his admirable aduises, & christian doctrine; they knew anone themselues, who till that tyme, had beene but as brute beasts. Wherupon being tou­ched with true Contrition, they gaue themselues from thenceforth [...]o a more reasonable life. From whence, the fame of S. Benet began to spread it selfe, & the poore Caue to be frequented of many; who bringing him corporall food, returned from thence, well refreshed with spirituall nourishment.

On those dayes, he being once all alone, was assayled by the Deuill, in forme of a blacke Bird, being called a Moore-hen, which for a good space, did neuer giue ouer from flying in his face, with such importunity, and so neare withall, as he might easely haue ta­ken her in his hand, if he had listed. But he chose rather to defend himselfe, with the signe of the holy crosse. Wherupon the bird flew away, leauing notwithstanding a cruell temptation with an into­lerable passion, enkindled in the members of the yong man. In such wise, as the souldiour of Christ, stood now vpon staggering, & de­liberating, as it were, to returne back into the world agayne; when being sudenly fortifyed with diuine Grace, he reentred into himself agayne, and beholding a bush of sharpe thornes, and stinging net [...]les at hand, with a generous force pulling off his clothes, on a sudden casts he himselfe therinto, & so long rouled his naked body theron, as that being full of wounds, and bloud all ouer, with the external heate he extinguished the internall, and through such a noble act remayned so victorious ouer the rebellions flesh, as that from thence forth (as himselfe reported to his Disciples) he neuer felt any more trouble therof.

After this, it pleased God, that diuers persons of sundry places should repayre to S. Benet, desirous not only of saluation, but euen likewise of perfection. And it was but iust, that he now possessing so peacefully the kingdome of his proper mynd, should be applyed [Page 240] to the care & gouerment of others. For that we see also in the wri [...] ­ten Law, how the Leuits, in the seruour of their youth, were tyed to labour, & to serue in the Temple; nor before they were [...]ull 50. yeares old (at which tyme, it is supposed their passions, are in quiet, and the heart at rest) were they made the Guardians, and Sacristans of the holy Vessels, which are interpreted the reasonable soules. But among others, who approched to S. Benet the seruant of God for his help, were some religious of a neighbour Monaste­ry thereby, who in those dayes being destitute of an Abbot, besought him to take the charge vpon him.

These men, were accustomed to a large, and more liberall life, and litle disposed to conforme themselues with the manners of [...]. Benet. And he being aware thereof, for a while made a strong resi­stance to their request. But being constrayned through the praye [...] and coniurations of the whole Family, he accepted the gouerment at last; and first with example, and after with words, endeauou­red he to take away the abuses, and then to bring in a forme of li­uing, worthy of the profession they made. But soone it appeared, how the good inspirations and desires they had, had taken but litle roote in their soules; because that shortly they were all aggrieued with the Rule, and reformation made; and the diabolicall insti­gations had gotten such power in some, as that not being able to endure in their sight, such a liuely and continuall example of ex­treme abstinence, & perfect manners, they determined to take him away, out of hand, with poyson. But the diuine iustice, suffered not their wicked designe to take affect: because that at the tyme of the refection, while one of them, was presenting the holy Father with a cup of poysoned wine, it pleased God, with the signe of the Crosse which S. Benet, according to custome, vsed to make thereu­pon, the glasse, as with the blow of a stone, fell suddenly into peeces, and the wine from the brothers hand, dropt downe to the ground. Whence the Man of God, knew presently, that drinke without doubt to be the potion of Death which could not endu [...] the signe of life. And thereupon with a mind composed, and a fa [...] serene. turning himselfe to the Monkes; God forgiue you (sayd he) what a plot was this amongst you? Did I not tell you at first, my manners would neuer seeme to agree with yours? Then rest you in peace, and seeke you out some other, that may gouerne you bet­ter, And heerwith, leauing them quite confounded and astonished [Page 241] he retired to his desired Caue agayne, and there attended seriously to himselfe.

How two principall Senatours of Rome offer vp, and dedicate their children to S. Benet: and how a Monke was led away by a Deuill, which S. Be­net discouers, and remedies. Chap. 3.

TRue it is, that S. Benet was not suffered to enioy that estate any tyme, because that the odour of such a sanctity, continually spreading it selfe more and more; there repayred to him a new cō ­curse of people, much touched with the holy Ghost, and cloyed with the world. With which multitude after a sufficient instruction had, he founded in those countryes, about a dozen Monasteryes, appoin­ting Lawes, offices, and an Abbot to ech. So as diuers personages, and Senatours of Rome, began now to hold it a great felicity to haue any Children at such a tyme, to send to S. Benet, and to dedicate thē vnder the care of such a Father, to the seruice of the diuine Maiesty. Among which, were two principall, Eutitius and Tertullus. Wher­of one offered Maurus, a yong man of so rare a wit and of such a spi­rit withall, as in short tyme, he became an assistant of the Maister himselfe. The other greatly addicted to the same discipline, with much veneration, offered in person his eldest sonne Placidus to him yet a Child, & then after made likewise, a free donation of a great masse of riches, farmes, manners, and Castles to the Saint, with cit­tyes both maritime, and in land, wherof the Catalogue would be heere too long: surely to the great confusion of our tymes, in which as the entring into Religion is ordinarily held desperatiō, shame & madnes; so the taking away of subiects reputation and goods frō them, is reputed, and that euen of those who call themselues Chri­stians, to be good prudence, valour, and Iustice.

But to returne to S. Benet, vnto whome as well in the begin­ning, as in the progresse of his administration, there happened ma­ny notable things. The vigilant Pastour, with the greatest sollici­tude that might be, was wont to apply his subiects to the study of prayer, as knowing well, how necessary the succour of Heauen must needs be, for the cutting off of disordinate affects, and repres­sing of passions withall, which euen from the mould whereof we are framed, do continually spring, For which cause, besids the par­ticular deuotions of ech one, at certayne houres, he would assem­ble [Page 242] them all togeather, in a certayne place deputed for holy exerci­ses. Now it happened, that in one of those assemblies, while di­uine office being ended the Monks were meditating, & conuersing with God; one of them, being vanquished with rediousnes, we [...] forth of the Quire, and partly went idly vp and downe heere and there, and partly busyed himselfe in some temporall matter of litle moment. Which being known to his Abbot Pompeanus, after he had admonished him thereof diuers tymes, but all in vayne, he brought him at last to S. Benet himselfe, who with a good reprehension sent him backe againe.

But yet this auayled not much, because after two dayes, the Monke returned to his old custome: and Pompeanus anew had re­course to the Saint, who being moued with compassiō for the sheep nigh lost, determined immediately to go in person himselfe to ap­ply by all possible meanes, some present remedy thereunto. Taking then Maurus, for his companion, and Pompeanus withall, he went his wayes thither: and setting himselfe to espy, in a fit place, what happened in tyme of prayer, he saw how a litle blacke boy, tooke the Monke by the hemme of his Cassocke, and went leading him forth of the Oratory. Then the vigilant Prelate sayd secrely to Mau­rus and Pompeanus. Do you not see therewho it is, that leades him thus away? and they answering, no: Let vs pray then, sayd he, that you may be li­kewise made partakers of the spectacle. And so they did all for two daies togeather, at the end whereof, Maurus did deserue to see the reuela­tion, while the other found not the grace. Which done, yet S. Be­net expected another day, and suddenly after prayer agayne, fin­ding the Monke to be yet gadding as before, he gaue him a blow, which had so much efficacy with it, as that the diuell, as it himselfe had been lashed, had not the hart to returne any more to the same a­gayne. This acccident surely, was very memorable, but yet this other which followes, is no lesse glorious then it, though in a diffe­rent kind.

S. Benet causeth a spring to arise out on the top of a mountayne: With other accidents besides. Chap. 4.

AMong the Monasteryes, whereof we haue made some menti­on aboue, three were seated on a high and craggy rocke, and so dry with all, as the Monkes were enforced, through those cliffs & steepy places, to fetch their water from the Lake, which as then the [Page 243] riuer of Teneron caused, and that not only with extraordinary tra­uayle and paynes, but euen also with the manifest danger, & con­tinuall feare of precipices. Whereupon the Monkes certifyed S. Be­net of the greatnes of the difficulty they felt, and besought him hū ­bly, that he would be pleased to place them somewhere els. The benigne Father, was touched with tendernes at the request, and gi­uing them good hope, dismissed them anone, bidding them to re­turne to him on the next day. In the meane while, the night being come, without taking any other then the innocent Placidus with him, he went secretly to the top of those cliffs, where he made his prayer, and in the very fame place, putting downe three stones, as a signe, with like secrecy as before, he returned home to his Cell a­gaine. When day was come, behold the Monkes returne; to whome S. Benet, without more ado: Go your wayes, sayd he, towards such a place, & where you shall find three stones layd one vpon another, there dig, for God is able to produce water on the tops of moun­taines to ease you of the paines of so tedious a iourney. And they go­ing with great confidēce to the sayd place, found it already to wax moyst, & to spring vp water, increasing at last in so great abōdance, as vnto this present day, without diminishing awhit, it stil runs from that top, to the foote of the hill. With this remedy the Saint refre­shed and eased his disciples of their trauayle and thirst: & with this other that followes gaue peace to a timorous, and anxious soule.

A certayne poore man in those dayes, was conuerted to the fayth, a Goth by nation, who putting himselfe into the hands of S. Benet, by whome being exercised in his tyme, as well in spirit as in bodyly labour, he was appointed after prayer, to fell downe a peece of wood, vpon the banck of the Lake there, to make a garden plot of. Now it happened, while the prompt Neophit attended with all his forces, to cut downe the bushes and bryers, that the head of his axe, flying off suddenly from the helue, f [...]ll into the deepe wa­ter, without hope of euer recouering it agayne. Whereupon, being afflicted for the losse, which it seemed to him, he had caused to the Conuent, he went trembling to accuse himselfe vnto Maurus, and to do penance for the same, in case he had committed any fault therin. Maurus was much edified at so tender a conscience; nor was he slack the while to acquaint the common Parent, & Maister therwith. Thē S. Benet being moued to compassion, went his wayes to the Lake, and taking the helue of the hatchet out of the Gothes hand, threw it [Page 244] into the water, and the head of the hatchet of it selfe immediately floating, tooke hold of the helue agayne, and came to the land: at which sight, the Goth being astonished, and quite as it were, besids himselfe, S. Benet puts the hatchet into his hand, saying: My sonne, Goe to worke agayne, and trouble not your selfe any further in the matter. There followes yet another act, no lesse admirable then this, and perhaps from the tyme of S. Peter the Apostle hitherto, not heard of before.

Placidus on a tyme, being gone to the said Lake for water, while he stoopes with his vessell, fell vnfortunately thereinto, and being snatcht by the streame, in a moment was caryed away, the distance for space of a bowes shot from the land. This in spirit S. Benet did behold, being shut vp in his Cell, and calling Maurus very sud­denly vnto him: Go thy wayes, said he, in all hast, for the Child is drow­ned. The good subiect, was accustomed to hold the Superiours becks as Oracles. Wherfore, without other reply, he demaunds only his benediction of him: and hauing taken the same, ranne violently to the danger, and that with so much speed, as that going on the wa­ters dry foote, he tooke Placidus by the hayre of his head, not being aware the while of the nature of the way he went on, vntill such tyme, as he had pulled him safe to the land. When returning into himselfe, and reflecting on what was past, his hayre stood an end, and giuing thankes to the highest God, led Placidus to the presence of S. Benet. Heere arose a noble contention of profound humility betweene the Mayster and disciple; while S. Benet ascribes the gre­atnes of such a miracle vnto the fayth and promptnes of Maurus, and Maurus attributes all to the merits and intercession of S. Benet. The youth himselfe, in part decides the controuersy, affirming, that in arising aloft, it seemed to him, that he saw the habit of Father Abbot ouer him; whereby, he tooke it that he was deliuered by him. But howsoeuer it passed, it is euident, the obedience of Maurus was wor­thy of eternall memory.

Florentius a Priest, seekes to poyson S. Benet, but is preuented. He practi­seth also to corrupt his Disciples; and is lastly punished by the hand of God. Chap. 5.

IN the meane tyme, the Followers and Deuotes of S. Benet, do continually multiply and increase, esteeming themselues amidst [Page 254] the snares of this pilgrimage, very happy and secure, vnder the gui­ [...]ing of such a Leader. But as Enuy alwayes spurnes at vertue; a [...]ertaine Priest of that countrey, called Florentius, being of the number [...]f those who couet the fruites of human prayses, and fly the pur­ [...]hase of solid vertues, could by no meanes endure so much reputa­ [...]ion, & so prosperous successes of S. Benet. This vnfortunate wretch [...]eing stirred vp and excited through blind passion, began first, with [...]uill words to detract from the merits, and actions of S. Benet, and [...]hen to hinder by all meanes possible, the concourse of people that went vnto him. After which perceiuing how he trauailed in vayne, [...]nd that, by how much he endeauoured to vilify, and depresse him, [...]e was the more exalted by God, and reuerenced of men; he suffered [...]imselfe at last to be led into the same very deuilish plot, whereinto [...]hose former traytours of the Saint had beene caryed. True it is that whereas they hid the fraud vnder a cup of wine, this vnder a loafe [...]f bread. But as that was not able to deceiue the eyes of the Man of God, so was this also reuealed vnto him. Because Florentius vnder [...]he shew of charity hauing sent him in almes, a Loafe of bread cō ­ [...]empered with deadly poyson, the holy man stuck not to receiue it with thanks giuing. But being soone certifyed, through diuine po­wer, of the wicked deceipt, at the houre of refection, he threw it [...]owne to a Crow, which at that tyme was wont to come to him [...]o take her meate at his hands, & said to her: On behalfe of our Lord [...]sus Christ, take you heere this loafe of bread, & cary i [...]to some place where it may not be touched of any person lyuing. At which words [...]he Crow spreading her wings, and opening the mouth, began to [...]oure, with croaking, and shewing a will and feare alike to touch [...]hat pestilent food: but the Man of God vrging her to obey, with [...]onfidence tooke it vp with her clawes, and flew away with it, and [...]hen after some three houres space, returned agayne to her wonted [...]eate.

At such ill demeanours as these, S. Benet was exceedingly sory, [...]ot so much for his owne sake, as for compassion of his aduersary. [...]ut Florentius the while, being full of gaul and obstinate in malice [...]nce he could not murder the body of the Maister, endeuoured to [...]estroy the disciples soules. And among other things, he had the im­ [...]udence to contriue in the very garden of the Monastery, and in the [...]ght of the Monkes themselues, a lasciuious daunce of naked womē. [...]t which spectacle, the Abbot, with reason fearing some notable [Page 246] disorder, determined to giue wholy place to the fury of the [...] and to abandon the Country and mansion there built vp by hi [...] selfe, with so great expences. Setting then the affayres of the Co [...] ­uents in order, and exhorting the Monks to perseuere in the st [...] of perfection, with some of his companions, he puts himselfe [...] his iourney, and through diuine instinct, or rather through a cle [...] voyce which came to him from heauen, he trauayled toward [...] Castle, about some two dayes iourney from thence, by name C [...] with ful purpose to announce the true light of the Ghospel vnto t [...] Country people that in habited there, which miserably lay yet b [...] in the darknes of Gentilisme, and the shadow of death.

Hardly was the seruant of God, departed from Sublacum, wh [...] as vengeance from heauen, appeared vpon Florentius: because [...] howse, being otherwise safe and sound, the roofe only of the roo [...] where he then remayned, falling downe on a sudden, with a re [...] ­dyles ruine, burst all the bones of his body, and for his soule, [...] went to the tribunall of the eternall iustice. The accident was [...] denly diuulged, and one of the Monks, ran immediately in hast a [...] the holy Abbot, to carry him the newes, as he thought, very gl [...] and welcome to him: but S. Benet, insteed of reioycing thereat s [...] forth sighes vnto heauen for that soule, & with seuere words ga [...] a sharpe rebuke to the Monke, who therein had shewed in himsel [...] not so Christian a mynd, as he ought. From thence, proceeding o [...] his way, he arriued at last at the foresaid Castle, scituated on the s [...] of a steepy and high hill, in the top wherof, was a Temple seene amid the thickest of the woods, being dedicated to Apollo. Where S. Benet wanted not matter to worke on, or what to encounter.

But before he would enter into battayle, he would seeme [...] prepare himselfe for that purpose, with especiall care, by retyring him into some remote place: and there for fourty dayes continually together, remaynes he in prayer, fastings, and vigils. After whi [...] with the odour of so good a life, and with the efficacy of his prea­ching, being the fittest batteryes to Fayth; he sets himselfe, through diuine fauour, couragiously to destroy paganisme, and so brake the Idol, demolisheth the Aultar, hewes downe the woodes; & where before was the Oracle of the false God, he erects an Oratory to S. Martin, and in place of an Aultar builds a Chapell vnto S. Iohn B [...] ­tist, through whose intercession, obteyning alwayes new graces, & offering vp most pure and acceptable sacrifices to the Creatour, he ne­uer [Page 247] left labouring to acquit, and discharge poore mortalls from the [...]ruell seruitude of the Deuill.

The Diuell appeares to S. Benet; He throwes downe a wall new built vp, and kills one of [...]he Monkes in the ruines thereof, who is restored to lyfe agayne: with other illusions of the Diuell. Chap. 6.

THe ancient Tyrant, no longer able to endure to foresayd en­terprises of S. Benet, besides the diuers difficultyes and impe­ [...]iments which in vayne he stirred against the messenger of Christ; [...]egan also to appeare vnto him, not through in imagination, or [...]reame, but with open vision, and with dreadfull figures, casting [...]rth, by the mouth and eyes, infernall smoake, and flames of sul­ [...]hure, and with a raging voyce, howling, and lamenting in such [...]anner, as that the disciples, though they were not permitted to [...]ehold him, yet playnely might heare him to say, among other [...]ings; Benedicte, Benedicte: and while the Man of God, vouchsafed [...]ot to answere him, outragiously he added: Maledicte, and not Be­ [...]dicte, what hast thou to do with me? Wherefore dost thou persecute me thus? [...]nd heere with, fell a vomiting of most horrible blaspemies, and [...]enaces; whereof, though the Saint seemed to make but light ac­ [...]ompt, yet the standers by euen the while feared grieuously.

That which increased his fury, was a certayne building begun [...]y the Monkes for their habitation, which in processe of tyme, [...]om meane beginnings, amounted after to the magnificence we [...]e at this present. Whereupon being incensed more and more [...]ith anger, he appeared one day to S. Benet, in his Cell, while [...]e Monkes were a labouring, and fretting sayd openly to him, that [...]e was then going to worke what mischiefe he could, both to the [...]bourers, & to the worke in hand. Whereat the holy Father, sends [...]ddenly to aduertise his disciples thereof, and to admonish them, [...] retire thēselues without delay: but the messenger arriued not so [...]one, but that the diuell had already throwne downe to ground, a [...]ery high wall, which they had built, and thereby crushed to pee­ [...]a Monke vnderneath the ruines: in so much, as to shew him to [...] Benet, it was needfull to gather the peeces, and to put them vp [...] a sacke together: When the man of God, causing them to be layd [...]rth, where he was wont to make his prayer, and dismissing the [...]onkes, shut himselfe in the Cell, & prayed with such feruour [Page 248] vnto God, as euen at that houre he restored the yong man all whole and sound agayne, and as able as the rest, to continue and go for­ward with the worke interrupted.

Nor did the malignant spirit only in weighty matters, th [...] vent his choler; but euen sometymes also in things, that were halfe ridiculous in themselues: as was that of a stone, of no great bignes, which being to be placed in the wall, he sets himselfe vpon it, in­somuch, as they did but labour in vayne, to place it aright, being not able to stirre it awhit, vntill such tyme, as the Man of God, in person, had giuen his benediction thereon. Whereat the deuill, a [...] he is wont, goes his wayes, and the stone was suddenly lifted, & lightned, as it had beene of wax only. After which, it seemed good vnto all, to dig somwhat deep, & they found out an Idoll of brasse, which after some houres casting by chāce into the kitchin, it seemed to send forth fire on all sides, as it would doubtlesse haue burned vp the roome. This sight, put the Conuent into a hurly-burly, all stri­uing to runne in with their buckets of water, and calling for help. At which noyse of theirs, the admirable Abbot arriuing, with one only cast of the eye, was presently aware of the illusion; and th [...] bowing the head prayes awhile, and bids the Monkes, to make the signe of the Crosse vpon their eyes: which done, the flames im­mediatly vanished, and so euery one vnderstood it to haue been on­ly a fantasticall flame, and not true fire.

Through these persecutions, and troubles, Lucifer did in fine ef­fect no more, then to affoard new occasions to S. Benet, to illustr [...] the name of Christ, and to purchase to himselfe credit continually more and more, as well with the faythfull, as Gentills; and that so much the more, as to this so rare a grace of miracles, was added an extraordinary Gift of Prophesy, as by the following examples, may cleerely be gathered.

A secular man, but exceeding pious withall, was wont euery yeare, to go from home, a good way off, to the Monastery; as w [...] to take the benediction of the holy Father, as also to visit a Brother of his, whome there he had in religion. And to the end the voyage might be the more meritorious, he would make it on foote, and re­mayne fasting, vntill his arriuall vnto the presence of S. B [...]. Now it hapened on a tyme, that another trauayler kept him cōpany on the way, who had brought along with him, good prouision of victuals; and after they had gone thus a pretty way togeather [Page 249] while it grew somwhat late, the trauayler inuited him very frien­dly to eate a bit with him, and to refresh themselues, as well as they might. God forbid, Brother, said he, since my custome is, for to ar­riue fasting vnto Father Abbot. With this answere as then, the inui­ter was quiet, but yet after a space agayne, he vrged him afresh, that now it was ful tyme of dynner. But the Man being resolued to keep abstinence, still denyed him againe a second tyme; so as the other was feigne to comply with him.

But not long after, behold a goodly meadow, with a limpid spring, presents it selfe to them, which opportunely inuited them to recreate themselues; when he that caryed the victuals, sayd: O what water! O what a pasture is this! O what a place to repose in awhile, and to take some repast, rest, and breath of our trauaile! The sunne by this tyme was growne very forward on its way, the mē ­bers weary, the sound of the Byrds very sweete to the Eares, the flowers and hearbs, as seeming to flatter the eyes; besides which many fayre pretences fayled not the sensuality, to excuse withall. What more? The deuout pilgrim at last was ouercome. But then at the euening, being come into the presence of the Man of God, & crauing his benediction, as he was wont, the Saint stucke not very dexterously to vpbrayd him, with what had passed with him on the way, saying. How goes the matter brother? The wicked enemy who spake to thee so, by the meanes of that Trauayler there on the way, neyther at the first, nor second tyme could moue thee away whit, till at last, at the third he brought thee to his bent. The poore man hearing this, and acknowledging his great vnconstancy, casts himselfe at his feere, full of teares, and confusion. A fayre reuelation surely: but yet is this that followes, no lesse prety, and admirable, then it.

The Gift of Prophecy, which S. Benet discouers by occasion of Totila, endea­uouring to abuse him by a tricke. And how he discouers, and chastizeth his Monkes, through the same Gift. Chap. 7.

TOtila the King of the Gotes, hauing heard of the wonders of S. Benet, and measuring others manners by his owne perfidi­ous mynd; determined with a subtile inuention to informe himselfe better of the truth thereof. Trauayling therefore to Mount Cassin, he stayd a little way off, & sent to certify the worthy Abbet, that he was [Page 250] now come to visit him: and being answered, he might come when he pleased, he caused a Fauourite of his, by name Rigone, to be deck­ed vp with his Princely robes, and commaunded him to be accom­panyed by his whole Court, and attended by three principall Ba­rons, vnto the presence of S. Benet, as if it had beene the person of Totila himselfe; and gaue good order besides, that no inckling of the fiction, might come to the conuent. Rigone trauayling with such Maiesty, and so great a pompe, was hardly arriued at the Cell, but the Saint, began a farre off to call vnto him, with a lowd voyce: Lay away, my sonne, put off those things thou wearest so, for they are none of thyne. At which words, the Barbarian, as strucken with thunder, fell suddenly downe to the ground, and feared worse, for his great presumption, in abusing and mocking so great a Man. At which terrour likewise, all fell humbly prostrate before him, & not daring to approach neerer, returned to the King, with pale counte­nances, and with faltering speech, related vnto him how sodainely the deceipt was discouered by the Man of God.

Then Totila himselfe, went thither in person, with so much submission, and reuerence withall, as that being come in the sight of S. Benet, who was sitting a farre off, he casts himselfe presently on the ground; and howbeyt the Man of God, some twice, or thrice, said to him, Get vp I pray; yet durst he not do it, vntill such tyme as S. Benet, with his owne hands, went and lifted him vp. And after this, in few words in priuate, he reprehended him shrewdly of his euill manners, and acquainted him besides, with what was like to succeed with him, saying: Thou dost much mischiefe, & many euil [...] thou hast hitherto wrought, but now refrayne frō thy iniquityes at last, & know thou shalt enter heereafter into Rome, thou shalt crosse the Seas, nine yeares thou shalt raigne, and dye on the tenth. With these newes, Totila being exceedingly terrifyed, most humbly cra­uing the intercession of the Seruant of Christ, departed thence: and from that tyme afterwards, began to be lesse cru [...]l and fierce. Not long after the same, he entred into Rome: from thence he sayled into Sicily, and being arriued vnto the tenth yeare of his raigne, through diuine Iustice, came to loose both life and kingdome at once.

The foresayd reuelations of the Saint, and other the like, which for breuity sake we let passe, haue happened with strangers only: While these others haue succeeded, partly for amendement, & part [...] for the consolation of his Monkes.

[Page 251] Two whereof, being once goneforth, about some worke of Charity, the businesse held them so long, as the poore Monkes were persuaded to eate in the house of a certayne deuout woman. Wher­upon returning late to the Monastery, and crauing the wonted be­nediction of the Venerable Father; he suddaynely demaunded, where they had dyned, and they answering confidently, in no place; he replyed, why tell you me a lye in this manner? For you did enter into the house of such a woman; and did you not eate of such and such meates? And haue not ech of you drunke so often? They be­ing conuinced with these circumstances, and with ech particular thereof, being full of confusion withall, cast themselues at his feet confessing the fault, and demaunding pardon at his hands. And the good Father shewed mercy to them, as knowing they would run no more into the like default.

There was not farre from the Monastery, a village inhabited by many, conuerted by S. Benet, among whome; were found some Women, consecrated to the diuine worship, and the sollicitous Pa­stour, being carefull to conserue that flocke, was wont often to send some one of his disciples thither, to make some spirituall exhorta­tions to them. One of which, hauing ended his discourse with them, was persuaded through the intreaty of those deuout Women, to ac­cept a small present of lynnen cloth, at their hands, and so he puts it vp in his bosome; but the Gift cost him full deare, because returning to the Monastery, he had of S. Benet a most bitter reprehension for it: for among other things, it was demaunded of him, how crept that iniquity into his breast? when as he halfe besides himselfe, had quite forgot his fault, nor could well tell, wherfore he was so ac­cused; when lo, the holy Abbot replyes: Belike then, I was present with thee, when thou receiuedst so that lynnen cloth of the Ser­uants of God, and didst put in thy bosome? With this, at last the Monke came to acknowledge his fault, and with a great deale of contrition, taking it forth of his Cassocke, threw it away to the ground.

S. Benet discouers a temptation of Pride in the hart of one of his Monks: with a briefe Relation of the life of S. Scholastica his Sister. Chap. 8.

ON a tyme, in the euening, the man of God taking some litle repast, a certayne Monke stood holding him a candle, who [Page 252] in the world had beene the Sonne of a certaine Protectour, which in those dayes was an Office of great dignity. Now while he way­ted in that manner vpon him, he was halfe vanquished with a grie­uous temptation of Pride, saying within himselfe: Who is this heere, that sitting at the Table, I should not only not sit besides him, but stand holding him the candle, and serue him as a Page? He had hardly giuen place in his soule to these suggestions, but that the Saint, with great vehemency of spirit, began to rouse him vp, saying; Make the signe of the Crosse on thy hart, Brother: what is that thou thinkst on? Make the signe of the Crosse I say: and sudenly calling in others, he made them to take the candle out of his hand, and willed him to sit downe at the table himselfe. He being afterwards demaunded of the Monks apart, what was that which he was thin­king of at that tyme, he ingenuously confessed, the assault of pride which he then had, and the formall words, he was then framing in himselfe. They all wondered the while, and were much astoni­shed thereat. Nor can it easily be expressed, what a spurre to per­fection were these kind of discoueryes, and fatherly admonitions of his, vnto them. And thus S. Benet of purpose, vsed some acerbi­ty with them, as knowing that medicines for the most, are the more holsome, as they haue more bitternes in them: whereupon the disciples of necessity must needs stand the more on their guard, & become more vigilant vpon their defects, in beholding the may­sters eyes still so vpon them, and alwayes intentiue, not onely to what they did, but euen likewise to what they thought.

But as the diuine Prelate, with such oracles as these, vsed to cause a great feare and sollicitude in his subiects: so with others in its turn he would deale as sweetly, and giue as much security and comfort. At such tyme then as Mount Cassin, and all the arable Land there­about was oppressed with a great and extraordinary dearth, that sa­cred Conuent also, what with the nourishments of those of the howse, as with the almes which were distributed to strangers, was brought to such straits, as there remayned no more, then fiue loa­ues of bread in the Monastery, & the Granary quite empty. Wheru­pon the Monkes, but litle acquainted with such manner of extre­mityes, were now so sad and constristate with it, as they could not choose but in words, & countenance, bewray their pusillanimity. The man of God then being aware therof, very modestly reprehē ­ded such diffidence in them; & after that afforded them great hopes [Page 253] notwithstāding, affirming that though they had but small prouisi­ [...]n for that day, yet should they haue the next day following a great [...]oundance. Nor fayled he in his promises, since on the very next day were found at the Gate 100. bushells of meale in sacks, without knowing euer by what way or meanes Almighty God had sent them thither: whereby, the Seruant of Christ, besides the help and consolation they felt therein, had likewise occasion to di­ [...]ate their harts, and to trust in the diuine Goodnesse, and in their greater scarcity not to doubt of reliefe any more.

The newes also of the happy passage of S. Scholastica out of this [...]yfe, gaue them extraordinary contentment. This same was the na­ [...]ural Sister of S. Benet, & wholy dedicated to the diuine seruice from [...] child. Who being of riper age was wont euery yeare to visit her Brother, and to receiue spirituall instructions from him, who in cō ­ [...]any of some disciples of his, would go forth to meete with her som­ [...]ymes, at a certayne Grange of the Conuent. Now in their last vi­ [...]it, there happened a thing of great astonishment; which was this, [...]hat they hauing passed ouer a whole day togeather in sweet and deuout discourses, and then after, in the euening, hauing giuen [...]ome refection to their body, S. Benet being about to take his leaue of [...]er to returne to his Cell agayne; the holy Virgin, being then more taken with his sweet conceypts, and discourses then euer; be­gan to intreate him, with the greatest instance that might be, he would please to stay with her, and there passe away that night in such discourses, and particularly in treating of the future life, and of the glory of Paradise. At which request, S. Benet being angry, as it were, seuerely answered: What say you Sister? And know you not, that by no meanes, it is lawfull for me to lye out of the Mo­nastery? And thereupon being ready to arise, and go his wayes, Scholastica obtayning yet some delay, and grasping her hands vpon the table, put her head thereon, & powring forth a floud of teares, made secretly her prayer to God. A strange thing! the Heauens be­fore being so cleere, as no cloud appeared in the skies, on the sud­den, in the lifting vp of her head, there followed such thunder, & hideous noyse thereupon in the ayre, & such a floud of rayne with­all, as it was impossible for S. Benet, and his companions, to put forth of doores that night.

Then the venerable Abbot, perceiuing himselfe to be thus layd vp as it were, being ful of sorrow for it: God forgiue thee Sister (said [Page 254] he) what hast thou done? When she answered; I intreated you, Syr, and you would not heare me, and I prayed to my God, and he hath vouchsafed to heare me: now then go forth if you can, and leauing me, returne to your Cell. In the meane while, the storme s [...] increased, as the holy old man was enforced to remayne there, a­gainst his will, for to satisfy the desire of the thirsty virgin to hea [...] the word of God. The morning being come, she vrged no more, but taking her leaue of S. Benet, he returned to the Conuent, & aft [...] three dayes, remayning in a closet of his chamber, and lifting vp [...] eyes, beholds the blessed spirit of his said Sister, to go forth of her body, in forme of a doue, & thence to fly vnto heauen. For which, he first gaue due thankes to God, with psalmes, and hymnes, and thē like wise acquainted the Monks therwith, to their extreme ioy, & so sent them without delay to fetch the sacred corps, & to carry i [...] into the Church, where he caused it to be layd in the Sepulcher, which already he had prepared for himselfe, to the end that as their mynds had beene alwayes vnited in life; so their spoyles after death might not seeme to be seuered and disioyned. This same was surely a notable vision, and full both of iubily and wonder. But yet w [...] that other, more straunge and admirable, which he had in the Mo­nastery of the Abbot Seruandus, not farre from Mount Cassin.

A Notable vision of S. Benet, together with Seruandus Abbot: with di [...] other admirable things. Chap. 9.

SEruandus was a person of a great spirit, and very learned withal, and as he often visited S. Benet, to conferre with him about mat­ters of the diuine seruice; so S. Benet mutually, from tyme to tyme, would repayre to him: & one day among others, after they had tal­ked a prety while together of God, thirsting after the heauenly coū ­trey, whither as yet they could not arriue; the houre of rest being come, S. Benet retires himselfe vnto the vpper Chambers in a tower where he then lodged, and Seruandus rested in another beneath; & right ouer against the said tower the Monkes lodged in a great howse. Now S. Benet arising by night, according to his manner, some while before the others to contemplate, and treate with God, standing at the window, and looking vp to Heauen-wards, espyes a sudden light to illuminate the ayre, with so great a splendour, [...] it farre surpassed the brightnes of the day it selfe. In which specula­tion [Page 255] of his, happened an incredible thing, if the Saint himsellfe had [...]ot reported the same, which was this: That the whole world was [...]epresented to his sight, as gathered together through, diuine power, [...]der a beame, as it were of the Sunne, And while he fixeth his eyes [...] the purest light; he sees also, by an inexplicable way, the soule [...]f the blessed Germanus Bishop of Capua, to be conueyed to Hea­ [...]en, by the Angels, in a Globe of fire.

Then S. Benet, that he might haue some companion of so glo­ [...]ous, and adnirable a spectacle, with a voyce, as lowd as he could [...]alled the Abbot Seruandus to him, some twice or thrice: who being waked, and troubled with the noyse, made extraordinary hast to [...]et vp to him; but yet came but to a peece only of that great light. Howsoeuer, he was much astonished thereat, & so much the more [...]hen he vnderstood, what first his holy Ghest had seen. And how­ [...]eyt, the matter was such, as there could be no doubt made of any [...]se imagination therein, yet for the greater euidence, it seemed not [...]isse to send that night, a graue and pious Monke, by name The­ [...]dosius, vnto the Citty of Capua it selfe, to vnderstand what was be­ [...]ome of the holy Bishop. And in effect it was found, that he was [...]ead indeed; and informing himselfe more punctually of the matter [...]e was certifyed, his passage was iust at that houre, or rather in [...]at very moment, wherein the man of God, had seene him to as­ [...]end to eternall glory.

The blessed Gregory the Great, relates other visions, and pro­ [...]hesyes of him; which to declare at length, would seeme a super­ [...]uous thing, and farre from our purpose: and much longer would [...] be, to vnfold one by one, all the other merueylous works, which [...] diuers subiects are recounted of him. While once he lamented & [...]oretold a long tyme before, the destruction of Mount Cassin, which [...]llowed through the incursion of the Lombards, and agayne of the [...]ine of Rome, not by the hand of the armed Barbarians, but through Earthquakes, winds, thunders, & horrible tempests from Heauen; [...] appeared to some Monks in sleepe, who were sent to Terracina, [...]o set vp a Conuent there, and gaue them the whole modell, and [...]rder of the building. He threatned excommunication to two Re­ [...]igious women of a naughty and slaunderous tongue, if they amen­ [...]ed not the same, and after the menace giuen, without more adoe [...]e effect followed, since dying in that vice, and buryed in the Church, they were seene to go forth, as often as Masse was celebra­ted [Page 256] there: nor euer found any rest vntill such tyme, as the Man of God, with his owne hand, had giuen an host to the Priest to of­fer for them.

A certayne yong Monke, going forth of the Monastery, witho [...] leaue, to see his Father and Mother, was suddenly at his arriuall thither fallen dead in the house; and there was no meanes to keep the body in the Sepulcher, vntill such tyme, as S. Benet, had cau­sed a consecrated host, to be put on his breast; when the earth be­ing so pacifyed, as it were, with the same, reteyned him still still, With another Monke being fickle and vnconstant, and who with great importunity had obtayned leaue to go forth of Religion, [...]e so wrought with his prayers, as that going forth of the Monastery, he was assayled by a dragon with open mouth; with which ter­rour he calling for help, had the grace to returne into his Cell agay­ne, where gathering his wits togeather, he persisted allwayes af­ter very found in his Vocation.

A child being couered all ouer with leprosy, insomuch as the hayre fell off his head, and his skinne all swolne and puffed vp, be­ing brought into the presence of the Saint, was suddenly cured. Through prayer he got likewise a good summe of money for a ma [...] that was shrewedly vexed by his Creditour; and that inough, not only to satisfy and defray the debt, but euen also to liue, and ma [...] ­tayne himselfe withall afterwad.

In the tyme of the dearth aforesayd, he ordayned that a litle oyle which remayned in the Dispense, should bee giuen to Agapitus, [...] subdeacon, who had demaunded some of him: and knowing the Dispensier had not executed his order, he comaunded the vessell which was of glasse, should be throwne out of the window, which was done; and howbeyt the place beneath was all very rugged, and full of the sharpest stones, yet remayned the vessell as entire, as it had fallen vpon soft feathers. When causing it to be presently giuen to Agapitus, he puts himselfe with the Monks in to prayer ouer another vessell which was empty, & couered; and it was not long ere it was full of oyle, insomuch as it heaued vp the couer withal, & tan ouer on the ground. Heere with the Saint made an end of his prayer, and the flowing liquor ceased. Whereby the disobedience, & infidelity of that Monke, became iustly reprehended.

Another old Monke, in whome the deuill was entred, and whome he cruelly tormented; a secular man being poysoned by his [Page 257] enemy; a Country swayn, being miserably beaten, and tyed with cords by a Souldiour of Totila, were all quite deliuered. The first, with a light stroke; the second with a simple touch, the third only with a glaunce of S. Benets eye.

Another country man, with much fayth, and a great deale of teares, laying his dead child at the gates of the Monastery, had him agayne restored by the Saint aliue and lusty. The like effects aboue nature wrought, through diuine power, by meanes of S. Benet, are worthily celebrated by Writers. But I for my part, do make a farre greater reckoning of the burning zeale, which he had of the glory of God, and of the eternall saluation of Men, then of all these: in reguard that the vertue of miracles, and other such like gifts of Hea­uen, are seene also sometymes to be found in the reprobate; while Charity is it that makes vs gratefull, and acceptacle to the diuine Maiesty.

S. Benet hauing founded many Conuents, and giuen a Rule to his Monk [...], knowing the tyme of his death before hand, made a most blessed End. Chap. 10.

SAint Benet, as we haue said aboue, was no sooner taken out of the caue, through diuine prouidence (where for three yeares con­tinually together, so exposed to the iniuryes of the ayre, incom­modityes of the body, and temptations of the enemy, he had exer­cised a very sharp and strict penance) but that with all his power he attended to the reducing of mortals, according to the capacity of ech one, partly to the precepts, and partly to the counsayles of Christ. Nor being content with the founding of many howses of Monks well ordered in the same Country, he went in person, with a few souldiours of his, to assayle the Idolatry of Mount Cassin, and to chase away the deuill from those old lodgings & ancient holds of his. Nor there only by himselfe, and others, did he fortify & esta­blish whatsoeuer he had gayned to God: but likewise sent very choyce Captaynes into diuers and remote prouinces, to promote & conserue the Catholique Faith. Moreouer, though he left good or­ders & rules of life to the Conuents there which from tyme to tyme he had founded: yet neuerthelesse he wrote afterwards of purpose rules full of wisedome and equity for the whole vniuersal Religiō, which being published to the world, were, and are continually of [...]

THE LIFE OF S. STEPHEN THE first King of Hungary.

Ghiesa Prince of Hungary, endeauouring the conuersion of that Country, sees a comfortable vision to that purpose; and enter­taynes S. Adalbert comming thither to that end. Chap. 1.

OF all all the barbarous nations, which at diuers tymes, haue through diuine iustice, concurred to the ruine of the Roman greatnes, were (as it is well knowne) the Huns: who hauing left the in most parts of Scythia, or Tartary rather; haue more then once, gone forth, and finally entred into Pannonia, and thence driuing out the Lom­bards (for what occasion, it is not certaynly knowne) haue been called by the new name of Hungars. From which tyme, with a na­tiue fiercenes and rapacity, they haue not ceased, to molest the Church of God; being giuen wholy to the impure worship of I­dols, and rather guiding themselues, with vnbridled wills, then with lawes or decrees, vnder the heads which sucessiuely they made choyce of. Of these heads, Gheisa was the fourth, who though cruel and seuere by nature; yet neuer the lesse, eyther by instinct of rea­son, or through the noyse which ran euery where of Christian Re­ligion, [Page 261] becomming more temperate, & [...] ou [...] to haue a distinctes knowledge of the same Religion; prooured of purpose to make peace with all the neighbour Prouinces about him, and with pu­blique Proclamation, gaue not onely, secu [...]e passage to as many Christians, as would enter into Hungary, but ordeyned further that they might all euery where be cheerfully receyued, and benignely intreated: & particularly extending humanity towards the Clerks. and Religious, he began to admit them into his sight without dif­ficulty, & with attention to listen to what they seemed to propose. In so much as what with the example of their life, and the effica­cy of the diuine word, and the power of the heauenly rayes, and the excellent disposition of Gheisa himselfe; came the holesome seed of the ghospell, by litle and litle to take roote, and to bud in his breast. And in short tyme, the matter went so faire, as that he, not only with a good part of hi [...] familiars, tooke the water of holy Ba­ptisme, but likewise made a full purpose, to bring as many as were vnder his gouernment, to the same fayth.

To which effect, according to the instructions of the feruants of God; he designed missions of preachers, building of Churches, foundations of Parishes and Bishoprickes: when on a night, there appeared to him sleep, a yong man of more then human beauty who sayd to him: God saue thee, O elect of Christ; Leaue of these plots of thine, for they are not to be perfected by thee, who hast thy hands too much embrued in bloud; but thou shalt haue a Son, who through the diuine will, shall put the things in execution which now thou proiectst in mynd; and he shall be a King, and be of the number of those, whome God hath predestinated, first to a temporall crowne, and then likewise to an eternall. In the meane while, shall come to thee a perfonage, with spirituall embassies. See thou receiue him honourably, and haue him in much veneration, and giue thou full credit, and perfect obedience to his aduises, and exhortations.

Gheisa, being astonished at this vision, and considering the same with himselfe, made his Domestiques acquainted therewith, and being humbly prostrate, with infinite thankes, and abondan­ce of teares, recommended himselfe and his states, togeather with the sonne he was to haue, to the care and protection of him, that neuer sleeps, nor shuts his eyes. After which, remayning in much suspense of mynd, about the aforesayd Embassadour; behold the [Page 262] newes, that S. Adalbert, Bishop as then of Prage (which came after­wards to be the Metropolis of Bohemia) was coming to him, to proc [...] the conuersion, & saluation of soules. This newes was of great con­solation to those Neophites; when without delay, the Prince, with all the Court, went to meete with the Man of God, and receyuing him with al honour, shewed himselfe most prompt and ready to an entire and fillall obedience.

This Prelate, was of great fame, & of the illustrious bloud of Bohe­mia, & of science no lesse then zeale, & as one who hauing twice in person, visited the Mother of all Churches, and humbly adored the Bishop of Rome, had among other emprouements from thence suckt sorth the pure milke of Apostolicall doctrine, and further obteyned a most ample leaue, in case his Bohemians should obstinately resist the Ghospell, to passe into any country of the Infidels, to announce the kingdome of Heauen. It cannot be then explicated, while he saw through the goodnes of God, so great a gate set open to him, vnto the Hungars, with how much feruour, and with what industry, he suddenly applyed himselfe to all the ordinary meanes, requisite to the eternall saluation of his Neighbours; the secular Power for in part, concurring likewise to the same, as hath beene sayd; the which euery one sees, of what moment it is, for the happy progresse of the Ecclesiasticall.

S. Stephen appeares in sleepe to Saroltha the Princesse, deliuered afterwards of a Sonne, by name Stephen; to whome his Father in his life ty [...] surrenders his Kingdome. Chap. 2.

IN those dayes, Saroltha the wife of Geisa, being now somewhat neere to her childbirth, for the greater confirmation of the hea­uenly promises; there appeared to her in sleepe, euen he, who had the glory to be the first that shed his bloud for Iesus Christ, in the habit of a Leuit, & called to her with a sweet countenance, saying: Be of good cheere, Saroltha, and know for certaine, thou shalt haue a Sonne, who shall bring into thy howse, the title and crowne of a King, and as soone as he is borne, see thou impose my name vpon him at the sacred Font. At these words, full of wonder and conso­lation, the Woman demaunds of the Saint, who he was, and how he was called? whereto hauing answered, that he was S. Step [...] the Protomartyr, without any more, he vanished away. This happe­ned [Page 263] about the yeare of our Lord 969. in the Citty of Strigonium, where within a few dayes after, the child was very happily borne: & being baptized, with due rites in the lauer of water, by the hands of S. Adalbert, according to the precept of the vision & Crowne that attē ­ded him, had the glorious name of Stephen imposed on him.

There liued as then, in those parts, an Italian Knight, thurst out of his Coūtrey by Ciuil warres, by name Theodatus San-seuerinus, who by nobility of bloud, and much more, through his valour, & dexterity, was risen to a high degree, both of reputation, & fauour with Geisa. This was a wise, & discreet Baron, and the Princes God­father at his entrance into the Christian warfare, and then after, his Mayster and Tutour in behauiour: and therefore after the Italian manner, with a childish simplicity holding him to be his Father, he would salute him by the name of Tara; & Theodatus in memory of so pleasant a word, founded a towne & Monastery of Religious men hard by Danubius, which being afterwards increased by the great Matthias Coruinus, with stately buildings, gardens, lakes, & fishpōds, euen to this present day, is called still by the name of Tara.

And as the pious child, was very diligently brought vp by San­ [...]euerinus in princely manners; so in the elements of the Christiā faith and in those vertues, which are most gratefull to the eyes of God, he was instructed, with great care by S. Adalbert, in such sort, as that hardly was he weaned frō the beast, but he brought forth the name of Iesus before that of bread; and in his childhood, together with the Grāmar, he became very expert in the Catechisme; and being now entred into his adolescency, with his acts, gaue not only a noble example of Christian piery, but euen also in publique meetings, he would euer speake with merueilous efficacy, of the deformity of vice, of the beauty of vertue, of the feare of God, of humility, of charity, and of all iustice: seeking by all meanes possible, to mollify the natiue fiercenes of the Hungars, and to reduce them, through di­ [...]ine assistance, vnto a feeling of humanity; and to the vse of right reason. And was so enflamed with the loue of equity, and amend­ment of the people, that as occasions happened, he would not stick [...]o accuse, and sometymes also to reprehend, in conuenient manner his very Father himselfe, yea and to supply now and then at his re­quest, with the singular approbation of al, the principall cares, in gi­ [...]ing audience, dispatching of publique and priuate businesses, in [...]dmitting of the Embassadours of Princes, & giuing them answers, [Page 264] with all satisfaction, that might be.

So that Geisa, being now weary with trauailes, and worne out with yeares, acknowledging, with his infinit contentment, very able & sufficient qualityes in the yong man, for an ample gouerne­mēt, wished nothing more, then to discharge himself of the weight and to lay the burden on his shoulders, and forth with to behold him with his eyes, inuested in the throne, which he well deserued. And to that end hauing called a generall diet, he had no great diffi­culty, to perswade the States, to dispose themselues to honour his sonne before hand, by substituting him in his place, being now al­ready spent, and wholy vnable, admitting him to be their lawfull Prince and Lord, and affording him all prompt subiection, and as­sured oath of fidelity. At so earnest exhortations, and iust request of Geisa, the mind of the multitude, remayned so enflamed, as that without delay, in the eyes of the old man (which euen for joy were powring forth teares) Stephen was with great applause, pro­claymed not Duke, or Vayuod, but lawfull King & on the shoulders of the great men, lifted vp to the highest throne, and thence con­ueighed, with the same applause, to the Souldiours tents.

Heere had he likewise, the title of King afforded him, with the greatest veneration, and consent of all, that possible might be. For which benefit, Geisa shewing himself to be no whit vngratful, with ample donaryes, with taking away the old aggreeuances, with seat­tering of mony to the people, and words of much courtesy, conti­nually obliged to him, & his sonne more & more the harts of men, and (that which more imports) was not behind to acknowledge the diuine goodnes, with solemne sacrifice, & extraordinary yiel­ding of thankes. Through which, in the space of a few dayes being oppressed with age, & with a great Catarh, he dyed in the yeare of our Lord 997. and the new King, as he had alwayes borne due re­uerence in life to so worthy & well deseruing a Father, so ceased he not to performe the same, after his death, with deuout prayers, and most sumptuous exequyes.

King Stephen makes peace with his Neighbours, and seeks to pacify all at home, but is resisted by one Cupa a Rebell, whome he labours to suppresse. Chap. 3.

IN the meane tyme, Saint Stephen applying himselfe with more liberty, and exacter diligence to the gouerment, the first thing he sought for, was to haue the glory of God for his finall end, in all his actions, esteeming him euer to be no lesse a Censour and seuere Iudge, then a benigne Father, and bountifull rewarder. And that by so much the more, as he vnderstood of what importance, the Ex­ample of a Prince was, as well to the good direction, as the ill go­uerment, and totall ruyne of his people. And not to be at the same tyme distracted with internall and external cares and molestations, and with the thoughts both of peace & warre at once, he earnestly laboured in the reestablishing of friendship, and the Capitulations already concluded by his Father with his neighbours, as well by Embassies, as letters, cutting off by this meanes likewise all hope of forraine succours to any male-content with the present State, or who should othe [...]ise be any wayes desirous of nouelty. And for­asmuch, as he well vnderstood, how the nerues, and sinewes of em­pire and rule do principally consist in iustice, as well towards God as to mortalls, he trusting but litle in his owne knowledge, would ordinarily recurre partly to the documēts of diuine scriptures, wher­in day and night, he made himselfe very conuersant, and partly to the counsayle of prudent and learned men, & such as feared God, but especially of S. Adalbert; who now perceiuing, through diuine clemency, and the valour of S. Stephen, how well matters had pro­ceeded in Hungary, determined to passe ouer into other countryes more remote, and which seemed to stand in more need of the light.

Taking then his leaue of the King, though giuen with a very ill will; he went his wayes with two choyce companions, and no more, towards Prussia, where till that tyme had arriued no know­ledge of the Ghospell. Heere while he trauayles, to deliuer the Pa­gans from the seruitude of the diuell, & from their ancient warlique exercises, fierce customes of Barriers, Tourneaments, and the like, vnto the knowledge of the true God, and loue of Christian mee­kenes; being taken by that wicked nation, and tyed to a stake on the top of a high and steepy hill, & so transfixed with seauen laun­ces, [Page 266] was added to the merit of his preaching, the palme of a glori­ous martyrdome. In this interim, S. Stephen ceased not also to how downe the woods, and to cultiuate the deserts of that Gentility; being resolued, eyther to reduce all his subiects, vnto the know­ledge of the Creatour, or in the enterprize, to part with his King­dome, and life at once.

And for that a good part of that people being brought to be Christians, rather to please the Prince, and for terren ends and de­signes of theirs, then through any deliberate consent, & stable will; and many others, by no meanes would seeme to admit of such mā ­ner of doctrine, S. Stephen was enforced against his will, to vse now & then, somewhat bitter, and biting remedyes, wherby he came to exasperate some Nobles in such sort, as that shaking off the yo [...]e of subiection, partly despising the simplicity, and partly hating the se­uerity of the Euangelicall discipline, they rose vp in armes agaynst him, and in the lower Hungary began to wast, rob, and destroy the deuout places, and persons there, and such as were found to be most obedient to the name of Christ, and of S. Stephen.

The Baron of Singia, by name Cupa, was the head and Captay­ne of the Seditious; a man of exceeding power, and greatly fol­lowed of many, who a good while since, hauing by indirect waies, aspired to the Kingdome, now taking occasion from these no­ueltyes, went raysing vp the people in such sort, as that what with large promises, what with subtile calumnyes agaynst the persons of S. Stephen, and Gheisa the Father, and with horrible blasphemies agaynst the Religion brought in of new, as enemy to the Gods, and of their auncient ceremonies and institutes, as also of the glory of the Hungarian name, so alwayes mayntayned and augmented, not by the way of bookes, or of slouthlull ease, but with hardy enter­prises, and expeditions of armes, being not content with harrying the Champ̄enys, boroughs, and villages; with in a few dayes he lifts vp his thorns, to the assaulting euen of the walled townes, nor doubts he awhit to the greater despite, and contempt of the holy King, to besiege the towne of Vesprinio it selfe, being a Citty very especially beloued, and fauoured of him. Who at the first tydings of the rebellion, hauing tryed with all possible meanes, to tem­per the mynd of Cupa, to winne the people, and to quiet the tu­mults, at last after many, and earnest intreatyes, gathering a full and competent army, vnder the ensig [...]es of S. Martin, the glory of [Page 267] the Hungars, and of S. George that renowned Martyr, and marching along towards his Enemy, he entrenches himselfe in Cupa his sight, along the riuer of Gara.

Saint Stephen makes Vencellinus his Lieutenant Generall, and giues battell to Cupa, who is stayne. And the Rebells being defeated, the King ordaynes Bishoprickes, Parishes, and Monasteryes. Chap. 4.

SAint Stephen, among other personages of quality, had three no­ble Alman Lords with him, very zealous Christians, and excee­ding expert in feates of Armes, who from the first newes of the pi­ous inclination of Ghiesa, had volunta [...]ily put themselues into his seruice, to help and promote the holy Ghospell, to their vtmost po­wer. One of these, by name Vencellinus, was by S. Stephen declared Lieutenant Generall of his forces; & between the other two Hun [...]e and Pasna, was the Cauallery, or horse deuided; while the charge of the Fantery, or foote, were distributed to excellent Collonells and Captaynes: and as soone as the Souldiours had taken a little breath, and repose, S. Stephen was not slacke, with great courage, and good order, to offer battayle to the perfidious Enemy. Nor was Cupa himselfe awhit behind to go forth to meete him, with great vehemency, and with equall hope of victory. The encoun­ter endured many houres, not without a great slaughter betweene them, & still with vncertayne and doubtfull euent: the King him­selfe went heer and there very manfully vp and downe the troups, encouraging the doubtfull, inciting the valiant, hartening the co­wards, and very readily sending still succour where greater neces­sity appeared; and aboue all, neuer ceased he to inuoke the diuine a [...]nce, in a cause [...] iust: and his prayers were not cast into the winds, because, that Vencellinus, who had the right wing in charge, perceiuing himselfe to be secretly renforced, as it were, with new breath; after he had [...]ought a good while, with his eye vpon the disloyall Capa, finally knew him, and went suddenly to meete him, & while they both were buckling together, hand to hand, the King perceyuing the encounter, with a good number of choyce horse made [...]ast to succour him, whē approching neerer, he sees Vencellinus hauing now vnho [...]sed his enemy, to be cutting of his head with his owne hands; the which to the great ioy of the Christians, was put on the point of a speare, and being carryed heer and there, did giue [Page 268] great terrour to the Rebels, for without more adoe, they fell into route, and direct flight: while our men pursued them with hoat e­xecutions, and with the same violence entring into the enemies trenches, neuer gaue ouer from cutting in peeces, as many as they found therein, vntill S. Stephen, who grieued at the effusion of so much bloud, caused the retrayt to be founded.

The Captiues as guilty of high treason, escaped not without cō ­uenient punishmēt: one quarter of Capas body, in terrour of the rest, was affixed on the gate of Vesprinio; another of Strigonium; the third at Gauerino; and the fourth, at Alba Iulia, the principall Citty of Transiluania. And if S. Stephē in chastizing had vsed iustice, he shewed it no lesse, in largely rewarding his Captaynes, and souldiours, according to the dignity and deportement of ech one: but his prin­cipall study was, amidst such prosperous euents, to shun vayne­glory, and to shew forth that piety and gratitude, which he owed to the Authour of all good, and the Court of Heauen. And to that end, deuout processions being made, with solemne masses, he be­gan from the very foundations a magnificent Temple to S. Martyn his Protectour, in a scite, which is called the holy Hill; where is sayd, the great Seruant of God, was wont to remayne in contem­plation, for the litle tyme he abode in that Country: and besides the applying of the third part of the spoyles to the fabricque, he assi­gned for all the Priests that should inhabite there, the whole Ti­thes of corne, wine, & of cattell; and moreouer of the children themselues of the inhabitants of the Citty and territory of Simigia. And the rest of the goods which he might well haue put into the Fiscall, he deputed part to the maintenance of the poore, & part to the increase of the diuine worship. And being inflamed with new feruour of charity, he neuer left crauing of the Highest, at all houres, & somtymes in sackcloth & ashes, the grace to see before his death, all Hungary conuerted vnto the fayth, as forseing for certayne, that being so, it should come to be (as it fell out afterwards) a perpetu­all, and strong bul warke for the Church of Christ, agaynst the vio­lence of the Barbarians.

Many difficultyes seemed to crosse this pious desire of his, but none greater, then the want of sufficient Cathechists, & Preachers; while the number of them who had come to those parts, in the tyme of Geisa, through diuers accidents, was much diminished. Whereupon in imitation of his Father, with ample patents, and ve­ry [Page 269] liberall offers, he sent to al the religious Orders of Christendom, to inuite the good, and learned vnto him: In somuch, as many Monkes, and Priests repayred thither, partly moued at so honest a request, and partly also of their proper will. Among which, was one Astricus a Benedictin Abbot, called Anastasius by another name, with some disciples of his, who in the lower Hungary, receyued some wounds for Christ. From Polony, resorted two famous Her­mits, Andrew and Benet; whereof the one was famous for miracles, the other honoured with sacred martyrdome. By meanes of these, & others, who came to that worke; the King attended to instruct the Gentils in the principles, and manners truly Christian; alluring them with sweetnes of words and workes, and likewise when need required, constrayning thē by mayne force, to forsake the impious worship of the Idols. Nor euer ceased he from the worke vntill such tyme, as he had purged all those lands of their profane rites, and ab­hominable filth of the Diuells. And to the end, that all might pro­ceed with due forme, and that the fruit of these labours, might be durable, he takes in hand, with mature consideration, & with the counsayle of the wise, to ordayne in fit places, with sufficient rents, Parochiall, and Collegiate Churches, & diuers Conuents of Mon­kes; and diuided the Kingdome it selfe into ten Bishoprickes, de­claring the Citty of Strigonium the Mother of them all, & choosing Prelates of honourable fame for ech one, and such as were apt, with the word to feed the flocke, and to lead them with good workes.

King Stephen sends to Rome an Embassadour, to submit himselfe, and his Kingdome to the Sea Apostolique: & marryes with Gis [...]a, of the house of Bauary. Chap. 5.

THe rumour and applause of these so heroicall actions of S. Ste­phen, immediately ran through all Europe; and there was none who vnderstood the noble proceedings, and spirituall conquests of the new King, that deemed him not worthy of eternall prayse, and royall Maiesty. Yet he alone could not satisfy himselfe, nor euer repute that Hierarchy Canonicall, or the Title acceptable to God vnles the free assent, and full confirmation of the Pope were added thereunto, who in those dayes was Benedictus VIII. Some foure yeares then, after the death of Geisa, the Rebels for the most being suppressed, the publique affayres put in good order, and the faith [Page 270] dilated now as farre as Danubius, he sent Embassadour to the Citty of Rome, with a goodly and decent pompe the aforesaid Anastasius, by him named already Bishop of Co [...]otz: who after kissing of the feet, and tender of obedience, and a full relation of what had happened in Hungary in these latter yeares, was humbly to beseech his Holy [...] for three things. First, that he would daigne to blesse, and admit that new Christianity into the my sticall body of the faythfull. The second, to ratify, with his supreme power, what S. Stephen had al ready disposed, about the Bishopriques, & Metropolis. The third, to approue, and declare valid the name of King, wherewith he had beene voluntarily honoured by his subiects; to the end, that the iudgment of the vicar of Christ concurring thereunto, he might, with so much the greater authority, seeme to promote the diuine seruice; whereto only had all his industryes, thoughts, and designes their whole scope.

The Pope at so noble an Embassage, and ioyfull tydings, felt extraordinary consolation in himselfe, nor euer ceased frō praysing God for the happy increase of the Catholique Church, especially there hauing beene that yeare likewise, Polony vnited thereto, vnder the Duke Mischa, and thither come from thence in like manner an Embassage, to acknowledge the chiefe Sea, and to yeild due obedi­ence to his Holynes: wherefore very freely with the generall consent of the sacred Colledge, it pleased his Holynesse to giue full satisfactiō to the petitions of S. Stephen, & to accept the Hungars into the flock of Christ. And for royall Ensignes (being a thing that seemed most iust to all) he made him a gift of a Crowne of gold, of great price, and of excellent workmanship: and more ouer sent him a Crosse, to be caryed before him in publique, in signe of the Apostleship, and a­dorning the presents, with these very words: I am, said he, an A­postolique man, but he may worthily be called the Apostle of God, since through his meanes, Christ hath gayned so great a multitude: and therefore, do we remit also to this good King, the care of redu­cing those Churches to better for me, with Parishes and Diocesses.

In this manner, Anastasius with a happy expedition, hauing now obtayned what he would, returned agayne very glad into Hungary. In whose approch to Strigonium he was met by S. Stephen forth of the territory there, with a great multitude of the Clergy, & Nobility. Then were the Apostolicall Briefs read, and the Crowne and Crosse presented; which things S. Stephen receiued, not only [Page 271] with extreme ioy, but also with much veneration, kneeling him­selfe, among other things, in publique, at ech mention which was made of the holy Father, to excite, with his example his subiects to a great esteeme and reuerence due to the Roman Sea. Then being anoynted, consecrated, and crowned, with solemne ceremonyes & triumphes, by the Arch-Bishop, he attended with more seriousnes thē euer, to take away the impediments quite from the course of the Ghospell, maynteyning the external peace with a good neighbour­hood, and louing offices, and the internall, with Edicts, & Lawes full of iustice, and equity.

And forasmuch, as to conserue the state, and life of the Prince, and to restrayne the pride and animosity of the more stubborne sub­iects, it is of no light regard besides the good intelligence of neigh­bour, Potentats, to haue like wise some number of Children, he de­termined, with the iudgement of his more trusty and wise Coun­saylours, not to differre his mariage any longer, especially there of­fering it self, the most noble cōdition of Gisla, of the illustrious bloud Bauary and Sister of Henry the second being he that comming into Italy and crowned by the Pope, to his immortal prayse had cha­sed away the Saracens, and their fauourits from Gapua; and those neighbour countryes. The Spquse then, was decently conducted to the Husband and as that Sacrament was celebrated with all the cir­cumstances, and respects due vnto Christian Princes so is it no wō ­der, the match succeeded to be one of the most blessed, which for ma­ny yeares haue flourished since in the world. Into that royall house neuer entered any vayne pompes, no importune iealousyes, no false suspitions, nor bitter contentions; while the happy couple stri­ued not between themselues but in charity vn [...]aigned, & in the con­tinuall study of the diuine glory. For which end hauing obteyned (as we haue said) confirmation from Rome, of the Strigonian Ma­tropolis, and of the Seas subordinat thereunto to eschew all occasion of strifes, he cleerly determined and lymited the confines of ech; & the same did he also, to diuerse Abbacyes, founded by him.

Saint Stephen and his Queene build many Monasteryes. His piety [...] to all; and the marueilous eleuation of his in prayer. Chap. 6.

IT cannot easily be expressed what sollicitude, and magnificēce Saint Stephen alwayes shewed in sacred buildings. He built a mar­ueilous [Page 272] goodly Temple in Alba-regalis, to the most Blessed Virgin (to whome he was singularly deuoted, and so would he likewise haue all those vnder him, and to keep the vigils of all her Feasts, and especially of the Assumption) prouiding it with most ample priuiled­ges, of large rents, and sumptuous furnitures, of vessels both of siluer, and gold, beset with iewels, and so finely wrought, as the metall though of exceeding price, was the least part of the valew therof. In the ancient Buda, called Sicambria of old, he erected a most noble Temple to the glorious Apostles S. Peter & S. Paul, hauing for that end, with great rewards, caused certaine Architects to come from Greece, and as many artificers, as he could procure to come thi­ther. And to the end, the Hungars might conuerse more freely in Rome, and continue alwayes firme in deuotion to the chief Bishop; he dedicated that gallant Temple of Mont Celius there, to S. Stephen the Protomartyr, without sparing any cost, which for the figure is com­monly called the Rotundo, and there richly founded withal a Col­ledge of twelue Priests: and built in the Vatican, & sufficiently pro­uided an Inne, for a welcome receptacle of those of his nation, who should go to visit the Princes of the Apostles. And extending his libe­rality also into Thraci [...], and Soria, he erected in Constantinople, a holy place very statly and goodly to behold; and a conuent of Religious in Hierusalem, that ech day at the holy Sepulcher, sacrifices might be offered for the publique good.

These, and other very pious places, are recounted to be built by that holy King. And the Queene Gi [...]a also, besides the participation she had with his merits, in applauding her husband in all things, & concurring therto as much as she might, would needs build like­wise at her proper assignements, and adorn at all points, the Church of Vesprinio, and there maynteyne at her owne costs, a good number of Priests to say diuine seruice. And if such were the greatnes of mind of these two happy Princes, and continuall profusion of expē ­ces, in materiall wals, and other dumbe works; euery one may easily ghesse, how much their benignity was, and how great their tender­nes to men, created for the heauenly country, and oppressed and afflicted in this banishment of theirs, through various necessityes & miseryes. It is reported of S. Stephen, that there neuer came any pil­grime to him, whome he lodged not, and after dismissed with a viatique. He had an extraordinary care of the sicke, he would send them, besides dayly relief, now and then some louing present or o­ther, [Page 273] and immediately cured some of those, whome he but com­maunded to arise in the name of God. By night, with a pleasing, and cheerfull countenance, he would put himselfe, to wash the feet of most abiect people, and then at last bestow mony vpon them. He would further in the night go alone vnknowne, to visit the Hospitalls of the poore with his full purse.

And it happened on a tyme, that some of them, eyther through greedines of the present obiect, or for some other vniust occasion, meeting with the pious benefactour, most furious and vngrateful as they were, fell a pulling of his beard; with which fact of theirs notwithstanding he was nothing moued, but passing from thence, to the Church of the Mother of God, gaue her thankes, with all his hart, for that through her intercession, our Lord had vouchsafed him, in some manner, to make him partaker of the most vnworthy outrages, villanyes, and iniuries done vnto him. And from thence­forth, more earnestly pursued he to giue large almes, to all sorts of miserable, and calamitous people as well in publique, as in secret, with his owne hands, and by meanes of his familiars, and espe­cially of the blessed Gunther of Bohemia, an Hermit.

And as often, as this Gunther the man of God, did come from his Country, to visit him; King Stephen would put all the prouisiōs & store of the pallace into his hands; when the Hermit distributing what he found, vnto widdowes, Orphans, strangers, and beg­gars, would soone leaue the Royall Pallace voyd and destitute of all things. Whereat Saint Stephen would take very great content­ment; feeling himselfe by such acts of charity, towards his neigh­bour continually enflamed, more and more in the loue of Christ, and to the sweet contemplation of inuisible things. And now and then was so highly rauished withall; as that praying once, on a ty­me, in his Pauillion, in the open fields, he was playnely seene with the pauillion it selfe, quite raysed a pretty way from the earth.

The Bessians of Bulgary do forrage Hungary, but are defeated by S. Ste­phen: and Conrade the Emperour with great forces being ready to giue him battell, is miraculosly preuented. Chap. 7.

KIng Stephen had likewise through the great familiarity, which he had with God, some reuelations of no small importance: as then when the Bessians (being a people of Bulgaria, with whome af­terwards [Page 274] they confounded their proper name) and Pagans at that tyme accustomed to rapine, and most bitter enemyes of the Hungars, were euen ready to forrage and destroy Transiluania; whereof S. Ste­phen in the night being aduertised from Heauen, dispatched imme­diatly with all care and diligence, a Post vnto Alba-Iulia, who ar­riued so early thither, as that all the country people of those parts, had space sufficient, to retire themselues, with their most precious commodityes, into walled townes: and there remayned exposed to fire and sword, and pillage of the Enemies, the houses only with the beasts, and such like Cattell. With which notwithstanding that rauenons people went not long away so triumphant and proud: Because S. Stephen, being prouoked with new iniuries, made in­cursions into their Confines, with a flourishing army, and com­ming to encounter with Cea, the head of the Bessians, slew him, and taking his baggage, made a most rich booty of him, and without cō ­uerting it to priuate vses, applyed it to pious workes, and to the or­nament of Churches.

Heerupon the fame of S. Stephen now continually increasing, and spreading it selfe through the world; it fell out, that whereas at first, for the instruction and conuersion of Hungary there had come thither from diuers parts, very learned and pious men; now for to learne good lawes and laudable customes, began thither to resort many rude and ignorant people, with desire of instruction, & light. As among others some sixty of the principall Bessians themselues, though not without great perill and danger, through default of the garrisons appointed there by S. Stephen in those frontiers, who at the appearing of such a troupe (which besides the rich furnitures of their personages, brought with them a good number of carriages) eyther allured by the greatnes of the booty, or moued of hatred, or iealou­sy towards them, without more ado, set vpon them, & not satisfyed with the vniust spoiles they tooke, some they killed, & others they left halfe dead, & wounded. The King receiuing the complaint of so haynous a fact, caused without tumult and delay the malefactors to be brought into his presence; & after a shrewd reprehensiō giuen, setting vp gibbets in all the principall passages of the Kingdome, he made them publikely to be hanged vp by two and two. Through which seuerity, besides the punishing of the insolence and presum­ption past, he so wrought, that while he liued afterwards there was no more any violence offered to any stranger. To this zeale of [Page 275] Iustice, and care of strangers, may be attributed a great part of the continuall protection, which the diuine Maiesty had of him, in his greatest daungers: whereof besides the euents declared aboue, the aduentures which now we shall speake of, doe giue ample testi­mony.

His Cousen Henry being dead, Conrardus Suenus entred into the Empire. Agaynst this man, while for diuers respects he differred his going to Rome, the Dukes & Communaltyes of Italy making a conspicacy, to set themselues at liberty, fell flatly into rebellion; and the better to stand agaynst the power of Caesar, besides the cō ­bining of themselues togeather, they further demaunded ayde of strangers, and especially of King Stephen, and the Sclauonian nations which extend themselues from the vtmost bancks of the Adriatique Sea, through Dalmatia, Bohemia, Seruia, Bulgaria and Polonia, euen to the Artique pole, by the meanes of commerce of a common langua­ge amongst them. With all which preparation notwithstanding, I­taly was not of power sufficient to resist the forces of Conrad; who at the fame of such comotions, descended with a dreadfull army vn­to Millan, and so strayghtly besieged that Citty, as all the rest being terrifyed therwith, laying aside all stubbornes of hart admitted him, with all humble homage and obsequiousnes that might be. Whence applying himselfe to find out the origen and trace of the whole cō ­spiracy; he found that among other stayes and vpholders, it was foūded particularly on the succours promised by the Hungars, as wel for the naturall auersion they had from the name of the Dutch, as for the especiall deuotion they bare, from the tyme they receyued the Holy fayth, to the Italian name, & to the Bishop of Rome.

Conrad, being exasperated with these informations, and mo­ued to a bitter desire of reuenge, was no sooner returned into Ger­many agayne, but he tooke vp armes a new to reuenge himselfe of his aduersaryes, and after he had wasted Bohemia, and the neigh­bour countryes, and seuerely chastized Boleslaus the new Duke of Po­lony, and chased away his Sonne Mestou thence, he sets forth a great Army agaynst Hungary: at which newes S. Stephen, though a great deale inferiour in forces, endeauours notwithstanding to gather vp an army, and to prepare for his defence, confiding yet aboue all things in the diuine succours. Of which his confidence at this tyme neyther, was he a whit deceyued. Because the High-dutch very fier­cely entring into those parts, and being now encamped in a place [Page 278] commodious, S. Stephen was not slacke to meete them with his squa­drons, and now were matters disposed on both sides, for a cruell and bloudy battell; when besids all opinion, appeares in the field, an Imperial Herald, who running through all the tents of the Cap­taynes and souldiours, gaue expresse order, to take vp the pauilli­ons, and bagage, and to returne agayne into Almany. There could not happen to Conrad, a thing more strange, and new at that tyme, who examining his officers with great diligence, and not finding he had giuen any such commaundement at all; was satisfied at last, how that Herald could be no other, then an Angell sent from Hea­uen, in fauour of S. Stephen; and being touched with religion, not only for the present renewed a firme peace with the Hungars, but holily resolued withall, perpetually to beware of molesting such a­ny more, whome he manifestly saw to be so safe, and secure vnder the diuine protection.

Gynla the vncle of S. Stephen rayseth a rebellion, and is ouerthrowne: & af­ter that receiueth Baptisme. With another notable conspiracy against him discouered, and punis [...]ad. Chap. 8.

THe good King, being thus deliuered from so great a daūger, had soone after, a new occasion, to acknowledge the eyes of the diuine clemency to be cast vpon him. Among the remaynder of the rebellious and contumations people, against the yoke of Christ, & obedience of the Prince; was an vncle of his, by name Gynla, who had the mountaynes of Transiluania in his gouerment. This man, af­ter he had often sought to recall to the anciēt profane rites, not only the people but euen his Nephew himselfe; takes vpon him through diabolicall instinct, to endomage with inrodes and incursions the Lower. Transiluania, & the Cityes of Hungary it selfe. While S. Stephen, on the other side, hauing tryed all wayes to quiet Gynla, and to put him in the way of saluation; being finally enforced to recurre to armes, had so much furtherance from him that can do all things, as that passing into his Vncles gouerment, in a few monthes, he subdued him quite, and conuerting the neighbour people to the Fayth, led Gynla with him prisoner into Hungary, with his wife, and children: and lastly also hauing induced them to Baptisme, he set them at liberty and treated them alwayes very honourably. To this persecution, there succeeded afterwards another, so much more daungerous, as it [Page 279] was more secret.

Foure of the principall Palatynes of his Kingdome, with many familiars of the Court, being but ill founded in human and diuine fayth, and not able to endure the present tranquility & peace, and throwly resolued ere Christian religion tooke deeper roote, to reduce Hungary agayne to the ancient fiercenes; determined first of al to take away S. Stephens life, and thences afterwards to put all into hurly-burly, and to stirre vp heere and there, reuolutions and tu­mults: With this purpose, one of the conspiratours, being the most temerarious of the rest, hiding his Scimetre vnder his coate, and en­tring one Euening into the Pallace, in the shutting of the night, be­fore that candles were lighted (it being then [...]) m [...] [...] went priuily insinuating himselfe into the Kings lodging; where while he goes feeling the wals vp and downe into the darke, with dubious hands; behold his Fauchon vnawars fals from him: at the noyse whereof the King crying out, the Palatyne being wholy terrifyed and confounded, found no better euasion then to present himselfe vnto his presence, & humbly to craue pardon at his hands: [...] was the same denyed by the Kings who making neuerthelesse most dili­gent inquisition of the cōplices, for publique example, would haue them by no meanes to be let without due punishments.

The Sanctity, and vertues of B. Emericus, sumne to S. Stephen: bis special gift of discerning the merits of others. And how Maurus a Monke was es­pecially honoured by the said King. Chap. 9.

SAint Stephen, in the meane tyme, had many Children, & among them, one Emericus, who being adorned with more then human vertues, was by posterity afterwards, with the authority of the Pope Beatif [...]. It cannot easily be explicated, what consolation tooke, not only the Parents from the bud, but euen likewise all those, who being neere him had any knowledge of him. For first, being pre­uented from heauen, with plenty of benedictions, and alwayes af­terwards brought vp with exact tendance of Nurses, Tutours, and very excellent choyce Maisters, and principally assisted by the liuely examples, and holsome documents and admonishments of the Fa­ther, (who not content with his present aduices to help him, did write himselfe also a Booke of that matter) he came in short tyme to worke those fruits which from so rare a towardnes, & diligent edu­cation, [Page 278] the world might well expect.

And among other notable things, recounted of him, this was one, that euen from his tender age, through his great moderation of dyet, restrayning himselfe, with much watching; he would rise at midnight, to recite deuoutly the diuine the office, and pausing be­tween psalme and psalme, examine the distractions suffered therin, and with hart contrite, craue pardon of God for them; and would endeauour besides with heauenly grace, to reduce his actuall inten­tion to a most perfect habit. S. Stephen sometymes beholds the same through a certaine chincke of the wall, and keeps it secret, reioycing in himselfe, at so new and pleasing a spectacle. Now the holy King was wont (according to his commissions and facultyes, receiued from R [...],) to obserue the customes, and behauiours of Ecclefiasti­call persons, and to go in person to visit the Churches and Conuents of his Kingdome: and among others, going once to S. Martyns hill, where (as hath beene said) many Monks of the Order of S. Benet did liue very orderly & regularly togeather; it pleased him once, to cary his beloued Emericus thither with him, & at his coming neere to the place, perceiuing the venerable family to come in processiō towards him, he sudenly sen this Sonne before to meete them, & entertayne them the while, who being receiued with great honour by the Ser­uants of God, began in the sight of his Father, to kisse him one by one, but yet not all alike, since that knowing by diuine reuelation the merits of ech one, to some he gaue two kisses, to others three or foure, and fiue to many, saue only to Maurus he gaue seauen. Whe­reat the King merueyling much, and thinking it likely not to happē by chance, would needs be satisfyed therof; when Masse was ended he familiarly demaunded of Emericus, what was the reason, that to one, and the selfe same habit of Religous, with the same manner of salutation of kissing, he had obserued so great diuersity in the num­ber: whereto the Youth very promptly answered, that in such distri­bution he had had regard to the purity and continency of ech one, & that with the number of seauen so perfect, it pleased him to ho­nour him so, who from a child to that tyme, had kept his virginity entire.

The Father remayned with this answere, much more in sus­pense, then before: and to be the better certifyed therof, taking his leaue from thence for the present, returned thither agayne, a little after vnknowne, with two only familiars, and no more: and dexte­ [...]erously [Page 279] comming by night into the Quire, in time of the Mattins, [...]he office being ended, he noted how the greatest part of those Re­gulars, immediately retyred themselues, to repose in their Cells, & how such only as Emericus had fauoured most, remayning behind, went to hide themselues in certayne corners, to continue their ser­uent prayer. Then S. Stephen approching first to one, and then to another a part, discouering who he was, very courteously saluted them all; who at the sight of his Royall Maiesty interrupting both prayer and silence not fayled to salute agayne with all reuerence: [...]ut so did not Maurus, being wholy rauished the while with [...] things; for being saluted by the King, with most sweet words, he opened not his Mouth, and being sharply rebuked by him for it conttnued still mute. Whereupon the day following the King for better proofe of the in ward qualityes of Maurus, causing the bell to sound to a Chapter, in the presence of all, with seuere countenan­ce at last charged him with many things that by no meanes became a religious person: but the disciple of Christ, confiding in the testi­mony of a good conscience, and in the iudgement of him that sees all, keeping alwayes a good composition, and modesty with him, answered not a word. Whereupon the King apprehended the san­ctity of this man, was with reason so singularly honoured by his sonne Emericus, & laying all dissimulation aside, he discouered most cleerly to the Monkes, the intent wherefore he came thither, and the experience he would needs make of Maurus. Nor did he extoll him only for the present, with extraordinary prayse, but further elected him a litle after, to the Bishopricke of Cinq-Eglises, and obtay­nedthe full confirmation therof from his Holynes.

A singular act of Chastity in Emericus, preseruing his virginall parity in the state of Matrimony. Chap. 9.

IN this meane while, Emericus went dayly increasing, both in yeares and vertues, & felt a generous desire to burne in his breast of doing some notable seruice to the diuine Maiesty. With [...]his de­uotion, entering on a tyme, with one page only, into the Church of S. George; he puts himselfe on his knees to meditate, and to find out with himselfe, what Present to offer, that might be most grateful & acceptable to the eyes of his Creatour: and behold on a sudden, the whole place to be replenished with an immense light, and a voyce [Page 280] heard which said: Virginity is a fayre and beautifull thing; this is that which I seeke entirely of thee, as well in mind, as body; This then, do thou offer to God, and see thou perseuere there in with full pur­pose. These words arriuing in the eares of the Page withall▪ did so penetrate the mind of Emericus, and so wrought with him, as that being enflamed with the desire of obeying, and distrustfull withall of his owne forces, he prayed in this manner.

My Lord God, to whose eyes euery thing is open, and naked, & who, as thou knowest, through thy iust iudgment how to take away the life from great men, and are very dreadful to the Kings of the earth; so to their frailty, who presume not of themselues canst tell how to afford opportune succour; Graunt I beseech thee, thy most holy will, may completely be performed in me, and with the dew of thy mercy▪ extinguish in my [...] concupiscence Fortify the weaknes of thy poor Seruant through thy benignity, that he may neuer swearue from the right way: Guard him from al the allurements of sensuality, and cause that he neuer commit any thing, whence he may seeme to fall from thy grace.

The Colloquy ended, Emericus felt himselfe to be fully replenished with extraordinary consolation, & wonderfully encouraged with­all, yet to eschew vain glory, would neuer reueal the fauour to any, but commaunded his seruant vnder grieuous paynes, as long as he liued, to keepe it secret. When cooperating afterwards, with the di­uine mercy, he neuer left at tymes to macerate the flesh, with prayer fastings, and vigils: and that with reason too, because God, (who is not pleased with vertues not come to the Chisel, and proued by the Hammer) disposed, that by meanes of his Father, he should be tēp­ted to marry with a yong Lady of rare qualityes, and of Princely bloud, though by Authours vnnamed. To which importunity, af­ter Emericus had resisted a prety while at last, not to contristate his Parents, he yields, secure the while, that the diuine Goodnes for the obseruance of his promise, would not fayle him of some succour or other, as indeed after he found it so.

For that as soone, as he had with solemne ceremonyes, pu­bliquely accepted the Spouse, in pritrat being assisted from heauen, as well with reasons, as with prayers, he easily induced her, to cō ­serue with him, vnder the cloake of Matrimony, the flower of vir­ginity, preferring it (wisely) before all respect of yssue, and all the greatnesses, & Signoryes of the world. Wherof in progresse of tyme [Page 281] S. Stephen was aware; but yet setting the greater glory of God be­fore his eyes, by all meanes he absteyned frō with drawing Emericus frō his holy purpose. Amidst so great variety of human accidents, & among so many prosperityes of glorious victories and ioyfull suc­cesses, had S. Stephen no want not withstanding of his probation & scourges. For of so numerous an of-spring, which he had, while one dyed after another, in their childhood, there was only Emeri­cus left him, with whose safety alone, to him it seemed were coun­terpoysed all other losses whatsoeuer; when he also, in the flower of his age, was snatched away, so accomplished with merits, to be an aduocat in Heauen, for those nations, which in earth by lawful inheritance belonged to him.

S. Stephen neuerthelesse at so grieuous a blow felt incredible▪ so­row; especially so redoubled a little after, by the death of his wife, not finding the while, any one of his stock, to whome securel [...] he might leaue the gouerment: and the whole kingdome standing in daunger to returne to their old vomit, and customes as before, whē through want of a good successour, the good exercises began, should be quite giuen ouer. Emericus his exequies were celebrated in Alba­Regalis, some 30 dayes after his happy passage, with so euident mi­racles, and so full persuasion of his eternall felicity, as in a moment all the cloudes of sadnes and mourning were vanished quite, when his wife, now Widdow, gaue faythfull testimony of her husbands virginity, and the Rage to confirme the same, discouered what had happened in S. Georges Church.

How S. Stephen dyes, and is buryed with pompe in the Church of our Lady which himselfe had built, where he workes many miracles. With the tran­slation of his holy Body afterwards. Chap. 10.

SAint Stephen perseuering still in his wonted yielding of due thankes vnto God, and conforming himselfe with the diuine will in all things, came shortly after to fall into a grieuous palsey, where with being held more then 30. months in his bed, he was finally seized with a strong feauer, which brought him to the end of human miseryes. And now at last, peceyuing himselfe to decay, causing the Prelats and Barons which were in Court, to be called vnto him, he delt with them about a future Election, hauing al­wayes an eye on the diuine seruice, & increase of his holy fayth, & [Page 282] exhorted them with fatherly affect [...], to est [...] it aboue all things, and for the same to be ready to spend their bloud, when oceasion should require. Moreouer, he recommended to them the obser­uance of the diuine precepts, & of the Popes ordinations, the main­tenance of Iustice, concord, and of peace, not only among them­selues, but like wise with-strangers▪ In summe, to shew themselues Christians to euery one, and faythfull no lesse in hart, and deeds, then profession, and title.

In this manner in substance, S. Stephen spake to the principall of the Kingdome, with the great resentement, and sorrow of as ma­ny as heard him; when lifting vp his eyes and hands to heauen, not without teares, but with voyce interrupted, he spake in this man­ner; O glorious Queene of Heauen, O noble restorer of the world, into thy hands do I recommend, togeather with my soule, the Churches, the Clergy, the Primates, and the people of Hungary. Heerupon, hauing receyued, in the presence of all, after the Sacra­ment of Pennance, the celestiall Via [...]ique & Extreme vnction, he quiet­ly rendred his spirit▪ vpon the very Feastof the Assumption, as he had alwayes desired, a happy day, and with reason euer celebrated by him from a child with singular ioy, being then the yeare of our Lord, one thousand thirty & eyght, or thirty foure, as some will haue it, being the 69. of his Stephens life, and 41. of his Crowne.

His body with magnificall pompe▪ and most frequent con­course of all the States, was carryed likewise to Alba regalis, there [...]o be deposed in the Temple of the most blessed Virgin, by him built, as we haue said aboue: but being not yet consecrated, it seemed good to the Bishops, that ceremony should first precede the funeralls, which being ended, he was there placed with psalmes and canti­cles, and other solemnityes, in a vault of white marble; where a long tyme the diuine Goodnes continually glorifyed his seruant, giuing health to the lame and diseased; and consolation, and [...] ­cour to the miserable & afflicted. There were heard also in the same place, often tymes by night, angelicall songs, with a most fragrant odour diffused on euery side. The precious members lay there in a Sepulcher, some 45. yeares at which tyme Ladislaus the 7 [...] rayg­ning, there came order from R [...], that diligent search, and enqui­ry should be made of all the reliques of such, at from the beginning had been the instruments of God, in the preaching of the Word, & conuersion of Hungary; and for the renewing of the memory of such [Page 283] labours, and so great merits, that a very Honourable, and Noble translation, should be made of their bodyes.

In veriue of this Order, by the vniuersall Dyet, was a Fast in­timated of three dayes, with prayers and almes; after which Ladis­slaus, with much veneration, being accompanied by the Court & people, came first to the Monument of S. Stephen: but with all the engins, and strength that might be, was it not possible to be ope­ned and discouered; vntill such tyme, as by the aduise of a Virgin, whose name was Carite (who being immured besides the Church of our Sauiour, was held in great opinion of sanctity) he was resol­ued to deliuer Salomon his brother, imprisoned by him for grieuous strifes and disgusts betweene them. Heerupon now the Fast being redoubled, that immoueable stone, was so easily remoued as it had been of wooll, of straw. The Coffin then of lead being taken from thence, and carryed in procession, and the Vespers sung, it was re­uerently deposed vpon a most glorious Aultar, in the midst of the Church; and all that day, and the night following, there continued very euident miracles.

In the morning, which was the 20. of August, the Masse be­ing celebrated, and prayer ended; the King, with the principall of the Clergy, and Nobility, approching to the coffin, keeping the multitude off, for feare of some theft, with deuotion they opened the same, and now the flesh being dissolued, the bones appeared to lye within a certayne liquour, like balme, which euen sauoured of an odour of Paradise, being much consumed with tyme. Ladislaus beheld it attentiuely, and with great curiosity seeking for the ring of S. Stephen, caused for that purpose, the said oyle to be laded forth by hands of the worth yest Prelats, into siluer vessells: but by how much the coffin was emptyed by others, it was agayne filled vp of if selfe, and all their diligence succeeded in vayne: being then a­mazed thereat, they powred it in agayne, and yet the quantity in­creased not a whit eyther more or lesse. When the borres withall, be­ing put thereinto, they were thence translated, into a most sump­tuous, and rich Chapell.

An Angell appeares to Mercuriu [...] a Monke, and deliuers him a hand with the Ring of S. Stephen. With a Miracle happening at the shrine of Emeri­cus. Chap. 11.

OF the number of those, to whome, in the ministery of the Priests, was denyed accesse to the sacred reliques, was a Mōke whose name was Mercury, deputed to the seruice and custody of that Church. This man, taking it very heauily to hart, that he could not be suffered at pleasure, to be hold and kisse that great treasure, retired himselfe a part; and there in the dead tyme of the night, sat mour­ning and lamenting, when besides all hope, there appeared to him a yong man, of a heauenly countenance, who reaching him a peece of fine holland, enfolded and wrapped vp together: Take heere (said he) O Mercury, the same which thou hast so much desired, & when thou hast kept it in deposito for a day, do thou carry it to the King. After these words, the Angell vanished away: and Mercury ful of vnspeakable sweetnes, vnfolding the cloth, found there the hād and Ring, so much sought for of the King, and when it seemed to him, to be now high tyme, he went and made a present thereof to the King Ladislaus, who receiued it most ioyfully, & in a sumptuous Reliquary, caused it to be layed apart in another Oratory. And it was but iust, that so beneficious a right hand, with particular care, without all iniury should be kept and reuerenced, in a place by it selfe, which so often had beene so profusedly stretched forth, to the benigne succour, and liberall reliefe of the poore.

This particular, from a heape of relations, we haue thought good to select forth, about the life, customes, and greatnesses of S. Stephen, the first King of Hungary. With which, since we haue accidē ­tally like wise fallen vpon those of the blessed Emericus; it may not happily be amisse, to conclude the whole narration, with an admi­rable effect, wherof they both, though not equally, might seeme to participate.

In the tyme of the same King Ladislaus before mentioned by vs, a certaine High-dutchmā, one Conrad by name, a man of a most wi­cked life, and plunged in all manner of debauchnes, being at last compunct, and contrite for all; went his wayes to Rome, and there making a generall Confession of his whole life, had for his penāce, to weare on his bare flesh, a breast plate of steele, tyed on with fiue [Page 285] chaynes of iron, with a sheet of paper written therein, wherein his more enormous crymes were conteyned, signed with the seale of his Holynes, and in this habit to go visit the holy places of Christen­dome, vntill such tyme, as through diuine power the bands should be vndone, & the writing be wholy cancelled. This man obeyed with great promptnes, and after he had beene at Hierusalem, and o­ther famous Monuments of Saints, he came at last vnto Alba-regal [...], & there putting himself in prayer, at the shrine of the holy King Stephē, he determined not to arise from thence, vntill he had perfectly ob­teyned the grace. And now he had perseuered from one, to nine a clock at night, when sleepe through wearynes oppressed him, and immediately the glorious King appeared vnto him, saying: Get vp friend, and go thy wayes to the Chapell hard by, of my sonne Eme­ricus, who through especiall priuiledge of incorrupt virginity, shall obtayne thee vndoubtedly pardon of thy so great crymes, he being one of the number of those, who haue neuer defiled their garments, but accompany the Lambe wheresoeuer he goes, and who stand sin­ging before the Throne of God, that new song.

Which said he vanisheth; & the Penitent without delay, passing to the Monument of Blessed Emericus, had no sooner begun to frame new prayers, but that in a moment, his hard knots fell loose of thē ­selues, & the seale broke open, & discouered the paper to be blank. At the noyse of the cheynes falling off, the Keepers of the Church, & others, at that tyme entring to do their deuotions, came running to him, and some of them vnderstanding particularly by relation, and the rest with their owne eyes what had happened, neuer cea­sed to magnify God, the giuer of all good, and merueilous in his Saints. To whome be all honour, power, and benediction for all eternity.

Amen.

S. EDVVARD KING.
THE ARGVMENT.

AN Orphan left, and in minority,
Heau'en was my Guardian; this did mee protect;
To this I did assigne my custody;
My raging [...]es heerby suppress't and checkt
Yielding to [...], did grant me liberty
To serue my deare Aduancer, and reflect
On this false world, which promising content
Doth only yield vs matter to repent.
As those that in the Eternall Essence see
What ere falls out, what euer was before:
Veyl'd vnder bread, Deare Lord, I viewd in thee
The machinations of the Prince
The D [...].
that bore
A Rauen bath'd in Martiall Gules, to bee
Dissolu'd: I stretcht mine Empire past the shore
That Albion bounds: my force did Ireland tame
That thought my standards fatall where they came.
Treasures so much I slighted, that I viewd,
Vnmoued thereat, my treasures borne away.
The [...]ately Fane at
Novv VVest­minster
Thorney rays'd, hath shewd
My end, Heau'ns glory: Still it doth display
A mynd with true Magnificence end [...]'de.
Heerby I gaind what neuer shall decay:
And with a Ring espous'd me to the skie,
Where my Raygne done, I raygne Eternally.

THE LIFE OF S. EDVVARD KING OF ENGLAND.

S. Edward is chosen King in his Mothers wombe. Ethelrede the Father dying, Edmund succeeds. Canutus rages. Emma flies with her two yonger Sonnes into Normandy: with the great to­wardlines of S. Edward.

IT pleased G [...], the Blessed Edward, through especiall p [...]ogatiue, should be chosen King be­fore his a [...]pearing to the world: for that at the instance of his Father Ethelred King of England, a Parliament being called, as wel for other publi­que affayres, as to declare, & sweare to a new Prince, howbeyt already there were two sōnes of his of strong constitution, Edmond, and Alfred: yet the Nobility & Clergy, being but little satisfyed with eyther of them, with a won­derous inclination, concurred to yeild homage vnto an vncertaine [Page 288] yssue, as yet enclosed in the Mothers wombe, which being born [...] little after, was called by the name of Edward. True it is, that E [...] ­red dying in those dayes, and most cruell tempests threatning the Iland on euery side, with consent of the Barons, not to leaue thing [...] altogether without a head; the said Edmond, tooke the rule vpon him. Nor was it long, but that a terrible inundation of the Barba­rous Danes, came rushing into England, vnder the Tyrant Canutus. Who beginning to put all things to fire and sword, the Queene Mother, whose name was Emma, a Norman by natiō, was conuayed for grea­ter security, with her yonger sonnes, into her Fathers Country.

Heere the child Edward, began betymes to giue forth very eui­dent signes of the mature piety he was like to atteyne in tyme. I [...] reguard, that hauing in scorne all childish sports, he attended still, among other tokens of a Christian mind, to visit now this, now that holy Conuent, and to linck streight amityes with the most fa­mous Seruants of God. In the meane tyme, in England the [...]ury of the Enemy grew day by day more cruell, then other: nor was now to be seen at last, or heard any other then slaughters, rapins, bitter plaints, and terrible outcrys. The Temples burned, the sacred habi­tations ruined, the Guardians, and Pastours o [...] soules, for feare of the worst punishments, hid themselues in the most craggy, and desert places.

Among which, was Britwald Bishop of Winchester, a man of great prayer, and of a notable spirit. Who praying one day, with many teares, for the health of the Kingdome, and powring forth his afflicted hart with sighs and laments before the diuine presence, after much wearynes of mind, and body, fell finally asleepe. Where behold the Prince of the Apostles appeared to him, from an eminent place, with S. Edward before him, a youth very gracious in countenance, and a­dorned with a scepter, diadem, and royall man [...]le, who after he had with solemne vnction, consecrated him with his owne hands, gaue him many good documents withall, full of verity and life; and in particular exhorted him, to keepe virginity, reuealing to him besi­sides, for how many yeares he should hold the dominion.

Now Britwald being sorely astonished at such a vision, at soone as he returned agayne to himselfe, tooke hart, & beseeched S. [...] to vouchsafe to manifest to him some things of the estate of that mise­rable Coūtry, & of the end of the troubles, which afflicted the same. To which demaund, the Apostle answered, with a seren countenāce▪ [Page 289] Kingdomes, O Bishop, are of God, he is the Lord, and Maister of all; he at his pleasure alters, and changes gouernments, & for the sinnes of nations, doth oftē exalt the Hypocrit. The diuine Maiesty, is grie­uously offended with thy people, and therfore they are fallē into the hands of their most capitall aduersaryes: but yet neuerthelesse God shall not be vnmindfull of his wonted mercy, nor stretch forth his iust vengeance, for euer vpon them: because many yeares shall not passe after thy death, but the present calamityes shall cease, and the wished redemption shal come to this peoplesince his eternal good­nes, hath already destined a man, according to his hart, and wholy at his deuotion; who being placed through my help in the royall Throne, with the infinite consolation of the subiects, shall abate the forces, and bridle the Danish fury; and who after he hath many wayes raysed, and aduanced the Church, being deere to God, very acceptable to his friends, and dreadfull to his enemyes, shall termine his glorious life, with a most holy end.

From this so benigne an answere, together with the sight of him there promised, the Bishop tooke new courage, and stuck not to enquire of the Oracle it selfe, of the posterity, and successours of Edward. To which demaund, with obscure and dubious words, the Apostle replyed no more, but that, God was Lord, and after this, he would prouide another, according to his good pleasure.

Edmund with his Children are put to the sword. Alfred is made away. S. Edward prayes, and makes a vow to God and S. Peter; and Canutus with his children dying, is recalled into England agayne. Chap. 2.

THe English troubles, continuing still, with ciuill discord a­mong themselues, being ioyned at last with externe warres, came to be so mischeiuous and pernicious, as that despising all law of fayth, all vicinity of bloud, all obligation of friendship, al things were full of fraud, factions, and iealousies. And euen malice pro­ceeded so farre, as that the Nobles themselues, forgetting their oath shamefully renouncing their lawfull Kings, and putting Edmond to the sword, with his children at Nurse, they continually prepared tragedyes. Canutus with a wicked marriage, possessing the Widdow the Wife of Edmond, left nothing vntryed, to confirme himselfe, in the vnlawfull vsurpation of the Kingdome. Wherein he had so fast a hold, that Alfred for the quieting of tumults in some manner, too [Page 290] boldly passing ouer from Normandy into his Country, was with ex­treme cruelty, made away, as well by the Danes, as English, and at the same tyme, the desolate Queene Emma dyed in her Fathers house.

Then Edward, being depriued of all human succour on earth, and fearing euery houre, his last ruine from others, amidst many troubles, and anguishes, prostrating himselfe most humbly before the diuine presence, prayed in this sort. Behold, Lord, how I haue now, no more help in me, and my neerest friends are farre of from me: my friends, and neigbours, are all become my aduersaryes; I haue neyther Father, nor Mother in the world; my Brothers and Nephewes, are betrayd and slayne; the widdow my kinswoman, is become our aduersaryes wife. So as I am left without all stay, & they seeke moreouer, to take away my lyfe. But I (O Lord) poore wretch, am left to thee, and thou shalt succour the orphan, as heere­tofore in a meruailous manner, thou hast done to King Edwin, en­uironed on euery side. Thou, that madest S. Oswald, the ornament of England, of an exile, to be King, and by meanes of the signe of the Crosse, didst subiect to him, all those that hated him; If thou shalt be with me, and through thy protection, remit me into my Fa­thers kingdomes, thou shalt be alwayes my God, and the blessed Apostle Peter, shall be my especiall Protectour, whose most holy re­liques, I do promise to visit in the Citty of Rome, with his dire­ction.

With this Vow, S. Edward felt himselfe exceedingly, reuiued, and replenished with no vayne hopes. For that Canutus in few daies dyed, and his children also, of tender age, not long suruiued. By occasion whereof, the English, as a wakened out of a dead sleepe, ve­ry suddenly tooke vp armes, and shaking of the yoke of intruding tyranny, recalled the desired Edward into the land agayne, and receyuing him with all the honour possible, with one accord, they placed him in the royall throne. At the comming of S. Edward, all good arts, and Christian vertues did returne from banishment. The vacant Seas were soone replenished, Churches, and Monaste­ryes repayred, and the diuine seruice, in short tyme brought to its auncient splendour agayne. Hence through welcome peace, en­sued the tillage of the wast and desert champaynes, and the Iudge [...] and Magistrats being kept in their duty, more through example of the King, then feare of punishments, attended to administer vpright iustice, to all sorts of persons. The iubily, and content of the pre­sent [Page 291] felicity, was much augmented by the fresh memory of the miseryes past; insomuch as not only the reasonable creatures with prayses and thankes-giuing, but euen the land it selfe, with extra­ordinary fruitfulnes, the ayre with fayre and serene weather, the sea with still and quiet waues, and smiling countenance, seemed to acknowledge him, and the Cittyes daily to multiply in laudable customes, riches, and multitude of inhabitants.

Two notable examples in S. Edward of contempt of Riches. With his vow of chastity, maintayned in the state of Matrimony. Chap. 3.

IT was not long, ere the fame of so great prosperity, extended to the Prouinces beyond the Seas. And from all the Potentates, the Dane excepted (for they left not their pride) came very honoura­ble Embassages, from tyme to tyme, to congratulate, to make lea­gues of freindship, and to establish some good correspondence with S. Edward. And he the while, not puffed vp with pride, nor dissolute with vayne triumphs, hauing alwayes the diuine Maiesty, before his eyes, with an euen tenour of life, carryed himselfe very meeke to his domestiques, reuerent to Priests, gracious to the people, com­passionate to the afflicted, and aboue all things, a great Almoner, & a strange neglecter of money; insomuch, as once, among the rest lying on his bed, & his priuate Treasurer, Hugoline by name, hauing vnawares, left open a chest of mony in that chamber, a groome of the place, being inuited through the commodity of the purchase and the seeming sleepe of the Prince, approaching boldly, tooke a­way from thence a good quantity therof, & put it vp in his pocket; and being glad of so happy a successe, returned againe a second tyme and so a third; When as the King, who had feigned till then, percei­uing Hugoline to be comming, brake silence, and with friendly voyce, said to the wretch Get thee gone, for the Treasurer comes; who if he chaunce to catch thee once, will not leaue thee a fa [...]thing of all thou hast. At this voyce, the fellow fled assoone, and scarcely had got his feete forth of one doore, but Hugoline entred by the other, and finding so great a summe of treasure to be wanting, he was euen ready at first to faynt for griefe, then entring into a rage with himselfe began to rent the ayre with cryes and sighes: When S. Edward, arising from his bed, & still dissembling the matter, quietly demaunded the occasion of so great a heauynes, and hauing heard it: [Page 292] Hold thy peace man (said he) perhaps he who hath taken it away had more need thereof, then we: Much good may it do him, the rest I hope will serue for vs. With such quietnes, he passed ouer that act. Whence may be gathered, how well subdued he had his passions, & how farre he was, from all rapine of others goods, that was so prōpt to yeild his owne.

To which purpose likewise, we may not let this passe; there hauing beene in his Fathers tyme, a most grieuous taxation, layd on the people, in respect of an army to be leuyed against the Danes, and yet the same exaction still continuing (as it happens) though the warre were ended; S. Edward as a good Father, and Pastour of his people, with princely liberality, discharged them thereof, for euer: whereto, besides the greatnes of his mynd, he was likewise moued by seeing playnely, vpon a heape of the same money, an vgly Deuill to sit, and sport himselfe. In such like acts as these of religi­on, equity and bounty, with the edification of all the world would S. Edward spend the tyme afforded him for the purchase of the Eter­nity. And yet among these same honourable thoughts, he forgot not a whit, the virginall title, so seriously recommeded to him by S. Peter the Apostle: which thing indeed, proued to be so much more violently assaulted by his green yeares, hoat complexion, easy accesse vnto delights, as through the fubtilityes of the enemy, and store of seruants, most prompt to him at euery becke. Which assaults notwithstanding, though grieuous and fastidious, yet most com­monly being open and manifest, S. Edward did manfully resist, through diuine grace, and went continually away with glorious triumphes. The battayles which perpetually day and night he suf­fered, from the Communalty, and states of the land, were cloaked with honesty, and coloured with the publique good, and conse­quently more treacherous, and terrible to him; who shewing infi­nite care of the vniuersall peace, and security, which greatly de­pended on the future succession of the King, neuer left vrging op­portunely, and importunely, in tyme and out of season, with rea­sons, and examples, with prayers and coniurations, and those min­gled now and then with some manner of threats, that he, forsooth, hauing pitty on his country, and of the daungers, that hung ouer it through his single life, would be pleased to differ no longer to prouide for progeny, to wit, some fruitfull and honourable ma [...]e.

Such were the requests, and supplications of the people, and [Page 293] Barons. Among which, with apparence of right intention, and ho­ly zeale the Earle Godwin shewed himselfe most earnest, being a person, very potent, politique, and ambitious, and who by the o­pinion of all, had a hand with the tyrant Canutus, in the impious murder of Alfred; and now with thoughts, wholy pointing to his priuate greatnes, plotted to mary his daughter Edith with Edward, and that to the notable increase of his estate, to see her Queen. This Lady, was not any thing like to the Father, as one that feared God, being a friend of abstinence, very prompt to read and worke, farre from pratling, & all feminin disports; in summe, a rose sprung from thornes, ordained by God for a faithfull Companion of S. Edward in all vertues. This yong Virgin, by publique decree, was commended and tendred to the good Edward, with the common importunityes and prayers perseuering still; so much more liuely, as the necessities of the Kingdome, and qualityes of the Spouse, made a repulse to the more inexcusable. All this now, the King knew very wel, but on the one side being resolued, not to manifest; or breake his solid purpose of virginall chastity; & on the other, very hardly able to resist any longer, the petitions and most earnest importunities of his subiects; being put into such streights, and fallen into an agony, he could find no better remedy, then euen the same by him so often tryed, of voluntary pennances, and feruent prayers. So as after many fa­stings, and other corporall afflictions, which doubtles do serue ve­ry much, to render the diuine Maiesty propitious to a man, being pro­strate on the earth, full of humble affect, and firme fayth, he spake to his Creatour & Lord, in this manner following: O good Iesu, by thee the three Childrē haue been deliuered from the Chaldean flames of old. Through thee Ioseph leauing his cloake behind, had saued this ho­nour: and the constant Susanna got the victory of the lewd old Men: and the holy Iudith through thy help could not be tempted by Holofernes. Behold mee heere, thy seruant, and as I haue beene heertofore, fauoured and beloued of thee, in diuers accidents: So succour mee now also, O Lord, in this necessity, and graunt, that in some manner, of imitation of Mary thy Mother, and Ioseph her fayth­full Guardian, such espousalls may be had betweene Edith, and Mee, that my Chastity may suffer no wrong, or empeschement what­soeuer. So Edward prayed, and moreouer added thereunto the efficacious intercession of the Queene of Angells herselfe: by whose intercession and meanes, so great desire of purity, was infused into [Page 294] the Spouses mind, as that being brought with solemne pompe and royall preparations to her husband, she was by him, without the mediation of any other testimony at all, in the diuine sight, very easily brought to a perpetuall purpose of entire Virginity; in such sort as being both vnited with the holy band, contenting themselues with the Sacrament of Matrimony, they alwayes kept themselues pure and far from any worke of wedlocke.

S. Edward being myndfull of his vow of Pilgrimage, consults with the Peer [...]s of his Kingdome thereof: But after debate resolues, & is dispensed there­with by the Pope. Chap. 4.

THis difficulty, now by diuine help, being so passed ouer, there remayned yet another, of some moment; which was the ful­filling of his vow (as we haue sayd) heertofore, in his greater trou­bles, to visit personally in Rome, the Memory of the Apostles. The pious King, kept faythfull record still of this so great an obligation, and the care he had of performing the same, did now continual­ly burne in his breast. Whereupon, as soone as matters seemed to affoard opportunity, he immediately began to make prouision of magnificent and sumptuous gifts, for to offer vp at the holy Aultars of Rome; & besides went putting of things in order for the voyage. To this effect, calling the chiefe of the Kingdome into counsayle, he discouered this thought of his vnto them; and reducing to all their memoryes, the vnhappy state, and extreame calamityes of their country, which had brought him to recommend himselfe to the diuine Clemency, and to make a vow of pilgrimage to Rome, to obteyne more easily the Protection of the Prince of the Apostles, he demonstrated with many reasons, how abominable, and impious it was, to forget ones duty, and to become vngratefull to him, who had deliuered the whole nation from the hand of most cruell ene­myes: wherefore, euery one sincerely should propound, what best occurred to him, about the accommodating of things, in such sort as through his absence, might neyther the traffique by sea, nor cōmerce by land, nor Townes, Castles, or Cityes, nor finally the priuate, or publique affayres come to suffer any hurt: and lastly bids them be of good cheere, affirming, he was most secure that the Great God, would both assiste him, in so long a iourney, and conserue his subiects in the peace and abundance, which of his be­nignity [Page 295] he had graunted to them of late.

To this sense did S. Edward speake, and scarcely had he finished, but all those Counsellors, and heads of the Prouinces, began to com­playne with a lowd voyce at such a resolution, as not being fit the land should so be abandoned of its guide, and the subiects exposed to the slaughters, and outrages of the Enemyes, who were ready at al occasions, that should be offered them, to returne againe into the Iland in armes: His vow was laudable, but yet coūterpoysed with too grieuous and manifest perils. In this sort contended they a good while, and after many answeres, & replyes to and fro, he finally tooke resolution, to remit all to his Holynes, being at that tyme Pope Leo, the Ninth of that name; who being fully informed by expresse men, and letters at large, wrote back to the King, in this forme.

Leo Bishop, the Seruant of the Seruants of God, to his deerely be­loued Sonne Edward, King of the English, Health, and Apostolical benediction. Knowing thy good desires, worthy of prayse, and most acceptable to God, we do yeild due thanks for the same, to him through whose meanes Kings and Princes do rule and gouerne, & execute iustice: but forasmuch, as God in euery place, is neere to those that call vpon his name, in truth and equity, and the holy A­postles are vnited with their head, with one, and the selfe same spi­rit; and that he equally attends to pious prayers: And that besides being euident, the Kingdome of England would come to be in great daungers, if thou shouldst leaue the same, that with the bridle of thy power restreynest the seditious motions of the people: We by the authority committed to vs from God, & his holy Apostles, do ab­solue thee from the band of that vow, for which thou fearest to of­fend the diuine Maiesty; and likewise, in vertue of that power, which was graunted to vs▪ by our Lord, in the person of the blessed Peter, when he said: Quaecum (que) solueris super terram, erunt soluta & in caelis, we do first absolue [...]ee, as well from this band, as from all other negli­gences and defaults whatsoeuer, incurred in thy whole life: then, in vertue of holy Obedience, and by title of penance, we do commaund thee, thou distribute the money, assigned to this Pilgrimage to the poore; and to erect besides, a Monastery of Religious, vnto the ho­nour of the Prince of the Apostles: yet leauing still to thy discretion, eyther to teare it from the first foundations, or to repayre or augmēt some other in ill plight, and ruined already through iniury of tymes or other accidents: & furthermore, that thou endow the same, with [Page 296] rents sufficient, to maynteine a good number of the Seruants of God; to the end, that while they there attend to prayse the diuine Maiesty, the glory may redound to the Saints, and pardon and indulgence to thee. Besides, we do will and declare, whatsoeuer so conferred & applyed, eyther by thee, or any others, to be firme and stable, and to be alwayes the habitation of the Monks, and not to be subiect to any secular person whosoeuer, except the King. Moreouer we confi­me, with most ample authority, what priuiledges may seeme good to thee, to be graunted, so as truly they may be to the honour of God. And for conclusion, we do curse him with eternal maledictiō, whosoeuer shall once seeme to haue the boldnes to violate, or break the same.

This Briefe of the Pope, though otherwise true and authenticall inough, was notwithstanding by the diuine will, confirmed with an admirable euent, as followeth.

S. Peter appeares to an Hermit, and bids him in his name to aduise S. Ed­ward, not to doubt of the Popes Briefe. The ioy of the King heereat: and what followed therupon. Chap. 5.

THere liued in those countryes a holy Hermit, who hauing beene now, for many yeares voluntarily shut vp, in a deepe Caue, with desire of Contemplation, came at last, to receiue the crowne of Iustice. To this man, on a night S. Peter appeared, and said to him: K. Edward, through anxiety which he feeles, for a certaine vow that he made, in the banishment from his Country, & for the care, which he hath for the quiet of the Kingdome, and necessityes of his Subiects, hath taken resolution, to seeke the pleasure of the Pope of Rome: Let him know then, that of myne authority, he is dispensed of the same obligation, with condition to found a Monastery to my honour and therefore he shall make no doubt of the Apostolicall Brief, but shall endeuour to dispose himselfe without delay, to performe what he commaunds him to do for that end. Because the whole or­der proceeds from me, being his ancient Protectour, and perpetuall Aduocate. And to the end, he may see the better to resolue vpō the execution therof; let him know, that in the west side of London, are yet to be seen the ruines of a most noble Temple, and Conuent of the Monkes of S. Benet, which heertofore hath beene fauoured with my presence, illustrated with miracles, and consecrated moreouer with my proper hands. This place is called Thorney; which for the [Page 297] sinnes of the Inhabitants there, now for many yeares, being giuen ouer into the hands of barbarous people, of very opulent, and fa­mous, is now become most poore and despicable. This would I haue the King take in hand to renew, adorne, and endow with sa­cred pictures, stately buildings, and rich possessions, that well may they say thereof: Heere truly is the howse of God, and the Gate of heauen. Heere will I set vp a ladder, by which the Angels may as­cend, to cary vp the supplications of Mortals; and I will not fayle according to the dispositiō of ech one, to open him the gates of hea­uen. But do thou, for the present, put downe in writing, what heere thou hast heard, and vnderstood of me, and without delay send the scroule to the King, that so he may rest both the more secure of the dispensation, and more prompt to obedience, and stable in my de­uotion. Which sayd, the Apostle vanished, and the Hermits relation, came into the hands of the King, euen iust at the howre, when the Apostolique Brief was deliuered and read.

Of which concurrence so together, it cannot easily be expres­sed, how glad S. Edward was thereat, and how greatly astonished were all the standers by. From hence, he did wholy apply himself to the execution of the precept: and the first thing he did, was to di­stribute to the poore, that whole summe of mony, which was pre­pared for the voyage of Rome; and then after, hauing taken very di­ligent information of the place of Thorney, he came to vnderstand, how in the tyme of Ethelbert, who reigned in the Country of Kent, and was conuerted to the Fayth, by meanes of the blessed Augustin, being sent into those parts by Gregory the great to preach the Ghos­pell, his Nephew Sebert who ruled the Easterne part of England, at that tyme, was likewise baptized by the same Seruant of Christ, & in signe of his true piety, built a Church in honour of S. Paul, within the walls of his principall Citty by name London, & gaue good rents to Mellitus, for that purpose, newly created Bishop. Then after, with­out the walls, to the West-ward, he built, and richly endowed an­other, with a sumptuous Monastery, in honour of the Prince of the Apostles.

Now being to make the Dedication of the Temple, the night be­fore, the same Apostle S. Peter, appeared to a Fisherman of the Riuer of Thames which passeth along that Monastery, vpon the banks ther­of on the other side, in the habit of a Pilgrime, who promising the Fisherman a good reward, made him to waft him ouer, and passing [Page 298] out of the barke, in sight of the Fisherman, went directly into the Church, and behold on a sudden, a splendour so bright and glorious, as banishing all darknes, made of an obscure night, a goodly day. There was then present with the Apostle, a multitude of the Blessed, who by turns went in and out, and melody was heard from Hea­uen, while odours of vnspeakeable sweetnes, were spread vp and downe.

The Consecration being finished, the Great Fisher of Men returned agayne to the Fisher of Fish, and finding him amazed & astonished at that vnquoth diuine light, entring agayne into his boate with him, sayd to him: Hast thou not something to eate? and he re­plying. The hire you promised, so contented me at first, and then those heauenly rayes, did so quite bereaue mee of my senses, as I had no thought at all of taking any fish. Go to then, sayd S. Peter, cast thy net into the water. And so he did without resistance, when in a moment, he tooke a huge multitude of fishes, and all of one sort, saue one of an vnmeasurable Greatnes; which being drawne to the shore, the Apostle sayd: Thou shalt make a present to the Bishop Mellitus of this heere, which exceeds so much the other in worth, & bignes. The rest, do thou keep to thy selfe, for thy hyre: & know that as long as thou liuest, thou shalt also haue store of them, & like­wise thy Successours for a long time after; so that you all take heed, not to fish vpon Sundayes. I am Peter that speakes so vnto thee, and who in company of other Citizens of Heauen, haue dedicated this Church, as Titular to me, and with this ceremony haue been plea­sed to supply the Episcopall rite therein. Do thou tell then Melli [...], what thou hast seen and heard, and for his more security heereof do thou shew him, the signes which are left in the walls. Whence he shall not need to reiterate the same any more, but there only to ce­lebrate a Solemne Masse, and preaching to the people, giue them plain­ly to vnderstand, that I shall often visit that place, and there be fa­uourable to the vowes and praiers of the faithfull, to open them the gates of Heauen, and to euery one heere beneath, who shall lead a sober, pious, and iust life.

At the end of these words, the Saint was seene no more. When the morning being come, and the Bishop now in going in processi­on to dedicate the Church; the Fisherman went to meete him, with that great fish, and declared to him faythfully, what was recom­mended to him. Mellitus stood wonderfully in suspence heerat, and [Page 299] opening the Church, finds the flore to be all markt with the Greek, and Latin Alphabet, and the walls in twelue seuerall places to be anoynted with holy oyle, and as many ends of wax tapers, set v­pon twelue Crosses, and all these things, as fresh as they seemed to haue been but now finished. At which sight, the good Bishop, with all the multitude, beginnes to blesse, and thanke the diuine Goodnes, without end. Nor fayled the prophecy of its effect likewise, in the promise made to the Fisherman, forasmuch as he, and all his po­sterity had euer after a lucky fishing; & in signe of gratitude for it, they were volūtarily wont to giue the Monastery the tithes therof: till at last, one of them, who would needs craftily haue subtracted the wonted tribute, came to be depriued of the benefit, vntill such tyme, as being humbly confessed, and penitent for it, he had made restitution thereof, and promised not to fall any more, into that fault.

S. Edward sends to Pope Nicolas to confirme the Grants of his Predessour, which was accorded. He cures a Cripple, and the Kings euill, with diuers other Cures besides.

SAint Edward hauing had certayne notice, of such a tradition by diuers wayes, without more ado, was enflamed to the restaura­tion, and reedification of the ancient Thorney: and for the obteining to that end, the confirmation of the priuiledges and spirituall graces already affoarded by the Sea Apostolique, he sent againe certaine men of purpose to Rome, with an Epistle, to the new Pope, in this tenour.

To Nicolas, chiefe Father of the vniuersall Church. I Edward throgh the grace of God, King of the English, do present all due subiection, and obedience: Let vs glorify God, who hath care of his elect, and who in place of a good Predecessour, hath substituted in his place, a very excellēt Successor. Wherupon we do thinke it meete, to come to your Holynes, as to a solid rocke, to refine and examine ech action of ours, how good soeuer it may otherwise seeme to be, that be­tweene vs, in our Lord, may still be receyued a due acknowledge­ment and sweet accord togeather; by meanes whereof, it may not be grieuous vnto you, to renew and amplify, at our instance, the graunts and fauours, which your sayd Predeceslour heertofore hath affoarded vnto vs; especially in dispensing with the vow, by me formerly made, of my comming to Rome, being changed not with­out [Page 300] the full remission of my sinnes, into the building of a Mo­nastery of Religious, vnto the honour of God, and the blessed Peter his Apostle: as I also, for my part, will notfayle to confirme, & aug­ment, the good customes of annuall contributions, which are made to the sayd S. Peter, in these my Prouinces: of which Collections, with other appendices, I do send your Holines a present, to vouch­safe to pray for me, and for the peace and tranquillity of my King­dome, and to ordayne that continuall and solemne memory be had of all this Nation, before the Aultar, where the sacred Bodyes of the two most glorious Princes of the Earth be kept.

The Pope, very easily assented to his suites, so iust; he confir­med the dispensation, ratifyed the priuiledges, exempted those Monks from the iurisdiction of the Ordinary, and recommended to the King, not only the protection of the said place, but euen likewise the defence, and good direction of the Churches of the Iland. So that all things were done in name of the Roman Bishop, & with the assēbly and counsayle of the Abbots, & Bishops. In this manner, an end was put to the busynes of the Pilgrimage: & the most deuout King, went so perseuering in holy workes, as it pleased the diuine Goodnes, to make him continually more great, and more illustrious then euer, not onely with fame, and worldly honours, but euen also, with the gift of Curing, and Prophecy, and of other not ordinary miracles.

He being once at his pallace, hard by the Church of S. Peter, there came thither a certaine Irish man, of a miserable forme, or figure; for that besides he was full of vlcers, and that the nerues and sinewes of his knees, were so shrunck vp, and so attracted together, as they had euen retorted his legs to his very backe, his shancks and shins stuck close to his reynes; whence he was forced, with certaine Pat­tins, in his hands, to go creeping on all foure, with trayling his lyms after him. This man hauing thus a good while been a burden to himselfe, to his owne exceeding payne, and trouble, and not finding any human remedy, recurred deuoutly to the diuine: and after he had recommended himselfe, many tymes, with great fer­uour, to the Prince of the Apostles; going lastly forth of the Church, & approaching neere to Hugoline, whome we mentioned aboue, be­ing the Kings seruant and fauourit, he spake vnto him thus.

And will you not once looke vpon me? and haue you no com­passion on me? and do not any so great miseryes moue you a whit? What wouldst thou haue me do to thee (said the other;) when the [Page 301] Irish man replyed: It is now six times, that I haue gone, in this man­ner, as you see me heere, to visit the Aultar of the Apostles, in the Citty of Rome, to obteyne health, which yet at last S. Peter hath not de­nyed, but only seemed to differ a while, and put me off, as willing to haue for company in the worke, his client K. Edward, for so hath he commaunded me to seeke him out, and to pray him to beare me on his sacred shoulders, into this Church at hand, with promise that if the King may once be brought thereunto, I shal recouer perfectly my lymmes.

Hugoline stood a while in doubt, as at a thing that seemed so absurd at first: yet notwithstanding did the message to his Lord, who im­mediately gaue thankes to God for the same, and without delay, causing the Cripple to come before him, tooke him cheerfully on his back, and began to carry him to the place designed. Thus hung so poore & noysome a Wretch on the shoulders of so great a Monarke, who with botchy hands, and loathsome armes, clung fast to that royall breast, and neck. At this sight, some Courtiers fell a laughing; others with a scornefull and disdaynesull eye, lookt on the Irish mā, as a Dissembler and Hypocrite; others finally, who would seeme wise, began to tax the simplicity, and folly of the Princes but he vn­der this straung burden, had not gone many steps, when sudenly the nerues of the Cripple, began to stretch forth themselues, the bones to be setled agayne in their places, the dead flesh to wax warme, and the legs and feete, now vnloosed from the loynes, to returne a­gayne to their naturall place. Whereby a great quantity of corrupt humours, gushing out from diuers parts, did very fowly defile the embrodered Robes, wherwith the King was cloathed. Then could not the multitude cōteyne themselues from crying out alowd, Hold, hold, for that the Irishman is made sound, the King need not to proceed any further so to weary himselfe, and to moyle and soyle his robes, in that manner: While he on the contrary keeping the heauenly precept still fixed in his mind, shutting his eares to the Sirens songs, passed yet further▪ and entring into the Temple, reposed that sacrifice before the Aultar; and the Wretch moreouer hauing a good summe of mony for his Vi­atique, returned full of ioy, and iubiley to Rome, to giue due thanks to God, and his Saints.

A certaine woman, had kernells growing vnder her throat, or as we call it, the malady of the Kings Euill, which continually swel­ling with putrifyed bloud, besides the possessing of the whole, [Page 302] with a deformed aspect, gaue also forth an intolerable [...]ench a [...]ane off; this miserable wretch, after she had tryed many wayes, to be rid of this euill, was finally aduertized in sleepe, that her Health re­mained in the Kings hands, who if he would but once vouchsa [...]e to [...]ouch, and wash the affected place, she should be cured without any more ado. The sick party, being encouraged with such an Oracle comes to the Pallace, decla [...]es the dreame, implores cōpassion▪ And the King, without any l [...]hing of the fowle corruption, beginnes with his owne fingars, to stroake the tumours; then hauing washed them with water, he made the signe of the Crosse vpon them; Whē behold in a moment, the skynne being broken, came forth togea­ther with goare bloud, a great mul [...]ude of wormes, the ke [...]els were asswaged, and the ang [...]ish went quite away. This is certayne likewise of some blind people, who hauing their Eyes spurted with the water, wherein the King had washed his hands, they recoue­red their sight in the presence of many. But leauing the meruayles of this fort; let vs come to some of the extraordinary reuelations which he had, as follow.

S. Edward beholds, in vision, the King of Denmarke drowned, in comming to inuade England. With diuine iustice shewed vpon Earle Godwyn, for his periury. Chap. 7.

The hatred of the inhabitants of Denmarke (as we haue said) against the English continued still. And so much the more increased their rage, as more happy, and glorious were the successes of this good King. In summe, the Enuy augmented so much, as that after long consults, they determined to vse all endeauours to recouer the pol­session agayne, whence they were so shamefully thrust out. In the meane tyme, S. Edward being at Masse, on the day of Pentecost, while the Body of Christ was eleuated, shewed a smiling countenāce, with the eyes attentiue, and fixed more then ordinary. The same, was much noted by the standers by, & the Sacrifice being ended, his most familiars were so bold in confidence, as to craue the occasion of such a nouelty: and he with his natiue candour, and humanity confessed what passed, saying thus.

The Danes had agreed with their King, to returne to their ancient exploits of armes, and to come and disturbe with hostili­ty, that peace & quietnes, which the diuine Goodnes hath vouch­safed [Page 303] to affoard vs: and for that they placed the foundation of the whole enterprise in their owne valour, not regarding the Highest to be the only Maister, and Distributer of victoryes; his diuine Ma­iesty hath been pleased, to let them see their vnmeasurable confi­dence. Now had they their army in readynes, and being iouiall, and proud of a prosperous gale, were at the point of hoysing sayle; when the King in leauing his long Boate, to board the Admirall, slipping with his foote betweene both the decks, fell downe into the sea, & was drowned without remedy, deliuering his followers at once from a new sinne, and vs from a new daunger. And this happened iust this very morning; and I hope in our Lord my God, and his most sweet Mother their impious designes shall take no effect in my tyme: & this is that which our Sauiour Christ hath cleerely shewed my this day. Great ioy and iubiley was this newes to the hearers; especially when fending some of purpose, to be ful­ly enformed thereof, they found and reported the fact, the day and houre, to be iust the same, which was told by the King.

The Seruant of Christ, on a tyme sitting at table, and the Earle Godwyn his Father-in-law by him, it happened, that two Sonnes of the sayd Earle, yet children, the one Harold by name and Tosto the other, in playing together, in the presence of the King grew hot (as it happens) into a kind of quarell, & with bitter rancour, their sport was turned to a Duell. Harold being some what the more robustious and bold, sets vpon his Brother, and with both hands pulling him by the hayre of his head, ouerthrew him to the ground, & would haue stifled him doubtles, had he not beene suddenly taken forth of his hands. Then S. Edward, turning himself to Godwyn asked him if he did see nothing in the scuffling of these two boyes, but a sim­ple [...]ray? And he affirming, he did not. But to me, replyed the King in this childish brable of theirs, farre greater things then it, are re­presented. For that, as soone as both shell arriue to mans estate, they shall be taken with blind Enuy▪ and wicked Ambition: as first with traynes, and hidden frauds▪ they shall seeme to sport, and be in iest, with one another; but the stronger at last shall preuayle, & [...]hase away the other: and then againe attempting to rebell, he shall againe be suppressed by him; and after he hath put him to death, it shall not be long ere himselfe do likewise come to [...]uine. Which to haue fallen out effectually, England itselfe saw afterwards, and truly may testify the same▪

[Page 304] And since now we are fallen to speake of Earle Godwin: it is sayd of him, that he another tyme being at table with the King, one of the Squires stūbling with his foote vpon a rub, was ready to fall on his nose, had not the other foot which stood fast vpheld him the while. At which sight, the standers by reflecting, how one foot had helped his fellow; the Earle iested. Euen so it is (said he) when a Brother helps a Brother, and one succours the other, in his grea­test need. Whereupon, replyed the King: And so might my Bro­ther likewise haue done for me, had Godwin beene so pleased. At these words the Traitour was afrayd, and with a sad cheere sayd withall: I see Syr, I see very well you suspect me likewise for the death of your Brother, and giue credit to those that falsely terme me a Traytour. But God be the Iudge heerof, who knowes all secrets, and so may this morsell in my hand heer, do me good, as I was far from working any plot eyther agaynst thee, or thy Bro­ther.

K. Edward accepted the condition, and gaue benediction to the meate, which as soone, as it came to the midst of the Earles throat, stucke thereso fast, as he was neuer able, withall that he could do, eyther to swallow it downe, or to put it vp agayne, so as the pas­sages of respiration, being stopt, his very eyes started forth in fear­full manner. Whereupon, as many as were present, were astonished and cleerly acknowledged the heauenly reuenge; when the King sayd to them: Take away this dogg, as they did. This wicked man, a­mong many things, committed agaynst the diuine, and humane lawes, was growne at last to be so bold, and abused so much the goodnes of the King, as that to sway and rule alone, through di­uers calumnies, he had banished by litle and litle, all the friends & kinsfolks that came from Normandy with the King. Nor was Edward vnaware thereof; but politiquely proceeding, not to put things into hurly-burly, referred, and reserued all to the Highest, as knowing certaynely, he would make some demonstration therof in its time, which he foretold more then once, not only to others, but euen to Godwin himselfe.

One Easter day, the King sitting likewise at table (where euen amidst the royall Feasts and great assemblies of people, no lesse then when alone, he was wont to take many occasions to enter into God) he recollected himself more strictly then ordinary, & musing vpon the celestiall goods, with an eleuated mynd, acknowledged [Page 305] the vnworthines and basenes of all worldly things: & while he re­mained thus in this consideratiō, his face was seen to be more [...]eren then vsually, and his lips to moue with a modest smile, and then anone to become wholy sad and pensiue: the same was noted by by such as were present, and the Table being taken away, Duke Harold, with a Bishop, and an Abbot accompanying him to his chā ­ber, were so bold, as to demaund, what had happened to him: When S. Edward answered.

The more a man shall seeme to subtract himselfe from transi­tory, and externall things, shall the true and essentiall make the more impression in him. Behold how I amidst the precious wines, and cates most delicate, and amidst the lustre of vessels of gold, & siluer, lifting the eyes of my mynd, to my Lord God, haue first felt myselfe to be replenished with spirituall consolation, and then in vnspeakable manner, haue been with the mynd, raysed to the signt of very sad disaduentures, which for these seauen yeares next, with a sudden mutation, shall hang ouer the head of mortalls. Because God, shall not fayle to vsit the iniquityes of the Christian people. He shall deliuer them into the hands, and power of the Infidels, the subiects shall rebell agaynst their Lords: and Kings shall lay traps for Kings, Princes for Princes: and in euery Country, the cruell sword, shall reuenge the iniuries done to the Redeemer. Which things, and others like to these, fell out afterwards, euen iust in the manner, as the King had presaged. And this may suffice vs for his Prophecyes.

S. Edward being at Masse beholds our blessed Sauiour on the Aultar. And being deuoted to S. Iohn Euangelist giues a ring to a Pilgrime for his sake, and dyes soone after. Chap. 8.

KING Edward, was wōderfully deuout to all the Ecclesiasticall Sacraments, and particularly to the most holy Eucharist: and in this point had, from the diuine Goodnes, among others, one notable fauour. For being at Masse one day in the Monastery of S. Peter, before the Aultar of the indiuiduall Trinity, with one Leo­fricus an Earle (of whome it is said, that he liued very holily in the company of his wife Gothgina, and founded many religious Con­uents) the Sauiour of the world appeared to him on the Aultar it self, & stretching forth his right hand, gaue him his heauēly benedi­diction, [Page 306] with the signe of the Crosse, while the King in bowing with his head, was adoring the diuine presence. The sayd Earle Leofricus was likewise made partaker of the same apparition, who not knowing what passed in the Kings mynd, was approching to aduertise him thereof; whereof S. Edward being aware: Stand still Leofrick, said he, stand still: what thou seest, I see also: and then Masse being ended, he added: I cōiure thee, O Earle, for the Maiesty of him, we haue both seene too day, that while we are in this life, thou speake not a word of this vision, to the end, that eyther throgh popular applause, we may not fall into pride, or through so rare a nouelty, occasion may be giuen of murmuring to those, who belieue no more, then what they can touch or feele with the fin­gar.

Among these things, S. Edward, being now well stept in yea­res, and loaden with merits, was certified, that now at last his re­ward approched, and his certificate was in this manner. He held (next S. Peter) S. Iohn Euangelist the beloued Disciple of Iesus, in greatest veneration: insomuch, as he neuer denyed any honest pe­tition, that euer was made to him, in the name of S. Iohn Euange­list. When among other times it happened one day his priuy Alme­nour being absent, that a certayne Pilgrime, with the sayd inuo­cation, most importunely craued an almes of him, and he not ha­uing any thing at hand, pulling off a precious ring from his fingar, very graciously gaue it him. It fell out afterwards, that two En­glish men, went in pilgrimage to the holy Sepulcher, & hauing cros­sed the Seas and now strayed vnawares, out of their way, in that errour they were ouertaken by the darke night, wherein very sad and afflicted, they could find neyther Guide, nor Counsayle, till beyond all hope appeared a venerable old man, who conducting them into the Citty of Ierusalem, benignely receyued them as ghests into his house, and after a dainety supper, brings them to their lod­gings, with great charity. The morning being come, they both hauing giuen thankes, & ready to take their iourney, the good Host sayd to them.

Know Brethren, you are like to haue a good voyage, and shall returne safe, and sound againe into your Country: God shal be pro­pitious to you, & I for your Kings sake, in all this time, will regard you still. I am Iohn the Apostle, that loues your King very tender­ly for the excellency of his chastity. You shall carry him backe this [Page 307] ring, which he gaue me some dayes since, when I appeared to him in forme of a Pilgrime: and acquaint him that the day of his depo­sition approches, and six months shall not passe ouer his head, ere I put him into the company who follow the Lambe, wheresoeuer he goes. Which said, the Apostle vanished, & they happily arriuing at home gaue faythfull accompt to the King, of what they had heard, and seene. Not was the prediction vayne, because S. Edward, very soone after fell into his last sicknes: wherein purposing to edify by all manner of wayes, as many as conuersed with him, now feeling himselfe to decay apace, ordayned his death, should be presently published, though all the kingdome, that his soule, being loosed from prison might haue the suffrages of the faythfull, assoone as might be, and with this, he passed to his most desired Lord, on the 5. of Ianuary 1066. hauing held the scepter 23. yeares, 6. months, and 27. dayes.

He was bewayled, and buryed with that feeling and concurse of the people, as became such a Ruler and Gouernour. Two tran­slations haue been made of that vessell of the holy Ghost: the one some 36. yeares after his pappy passage, which vntil the other, was the space of 60. yeares. In both discoueryes, not only those sacred members, but euen also his Princely robe, and habit appeared very whole, and vncorrupted. The first Translation was made, to afford him a more honourable funerall. The other followed, at the tyme of his Canonization, vnder Pope Alexander the III. When deposing the venerable Reliques, there succeeded so many miracles anew, as would be too long a matter & far from our purpose, to make narra­tiō of them. Whence we may, with reason hope through the merits, and intercessions of this great Seruant of God, that as so many par­ticuler persons, haue obtayned the graces which they craued; euen so that most noble Kingdome, all scandals being taken away, and Heresies destroyed, may one day be reduced, to the vnion of the faythfull, and to the lap of the holy Catholique Church.

S. ANSELME.
THE ARGVMENT.

SEe in the West Arabia's wonder bred,
With gorgeous lustre fayre embellished;
Rich in all colours which our eyes behold,
Vying agaynst the Sunne his natiue Gold,
The Phoenix of his age. His Parents left
And of all help and succour quite bereft,
Heau'n vndertooke his charge. He needs not feare
The want of friends, whose friends, whose Hopes are there.
Deuided from the world can England be,
The worlds chiefe Grace hauing espous'd in thee?
Or seeme discourag'd now, or hartlesse growne,
When such a Saint is denized her owne?
No, she may hope, that though some clouds may hide
A while the light, it will at length be spi'de:
And that th'offended Sunne will glister more,
And spread his rayes far brighter then before:
When you, Deare Saints, shall put an helping hand,
That you agayne may on our Altars stand.

THE LIFE OF S. ANSELME ARCH­BISHOP OF CANTERBVRY.

What the condition of S. Anselms Parents was. The presage of his future life. His good inclinations, and first vocation to Reli­gion. Chap. I.

WE being to vnfold the Life and manners of S. Anselme Archbishop of Canterbury, a most no­ble Citty of England; will first touch some things of his Parents. His Father then was one Gondolfus, who being borne in Lombardy of Ita­ly, and comming to liue in the Citty of Augu­sta Pratoria, now called Aust, in the confines of Piemont, tooke to wife a gentlewoman, whose name was Ermen­berga. These two consorts, for riches & nobility were equall, but in manners and disposition far vnlike. Because the husband, being giuen to his pleasures, was held to be no good husband for his fa­mily. [Page 310] While the wife on the contrary, being serious in the gouern­ment of the house, and a wise dispenceresse of his goods, gaue al­wayes forth, a most excellent odour of her life vnto her last, lea­uing Gondolfus aliue; who seeing himselfe vnloosedfrom the bands of Matrimony, being now growne of great yeares, became a Mon­ke, and dyed in his Monastery.

Of this couple S. Anselme was borne, of whome, as through a certayne presage of his future sanctity, it is reported, in his tender yeares, hauing heard his Mother say, that aboue in Heauen, was but one God only, who ruled and maynteyned the whole Vni­uerse, he thought with a childish imagination, that the Heauens were shored vp, and susteyned by the mountaynes, & that from the tops of them, one might reach to the royall pallace of that great Monarke: and as he often had this thought, it happened one night, that he seemed, to mount vp by one of those tops to the forsayd pal­lace, and beholds at the foote therof, certaine seruants of the King reaping of corne with much slouth and negligence: Whereat be­ing scandalized, he determined to accuse them to the Lord himself. Whereupon, ascending to the top, and being admitted to the Pal­lace, he found the King, with the onely attendance of one Squire and no more, hauing sent away the rest of his family to reape, it be­ing then haruest tyme. The child then entring into the hall, & be­ing called by the King, approches neere him, and sits him downe at his feete. After which, being pleasantly demanded by him, who he was, and from whence, and wherefore he came: he answered to all without difficulty. And immediately heerupon he caused a loafe of most pure bread to be giuen him, which S. Anselme eating in the King his sight, felt meruaylous comfort. Being afterwards a­wakened in the morning, and reducing this vision to memory, the innocent child held it to be a certayne truth, & no fantastical thing; & verily belieued, he had been in Paradise indeed, and had tasted of the bread of our Lord, and so publikely affirmed to his companiōs.

He went after increasing in yeares, and vertue so, as for his good behauiour, he was beloued of all. Being sent to Schoole, as he was of an excellent wit, in a very short tyme, he profited excee­dingly in learning: & for his choosing of a state of life, he was not yet entred into the 15. yeare of his age, when he began to thinke in what manner he might best obserue the diuine precepts, & saue his soule: and after a long discourse thereupon with himselfe, he came [Page 311] at last to resolue, there was nothing more apt for the purpose, then to become a Monke, & to consecrate himselfe foreuer to the diuine Seruice. With this determination, he went his wayes to a certayne Abbot, intreating him to admit him into Religion. But that Pre­late for feare of Gondolfus, durst not receyue him. And yet was not the good youth a whit coole therwith in his purpose: but ra­ther besought God, he might fall into some grieuous malady, to the end the Abbot by meanes thereof, being moued to pitty, might ad­mit him at last.

The prayers of S. Anselme, were more efficacious with God thē with men. Being suddenly sicke then of a dangerous infirmity, he besought the Abbot anew, he would daigne to accomplish his desi­res, and not suffer him to dye in the world. But he fearing yet the offence aforesayd, was still very stiff in the negatiue: and that not without the diuine Will, since the chast youth was destined to the help of other nations, and for other enterprises of greater glory of Christ, as we shall see anon. He recouered then his perfect health, & for that tyme withall renewed the good purposes; but afterwards what with the heate and feruour of youth, and the riches and com­modityes of home, suffering himselfe to be carryed away with plea­sures, and company keeping; he came wholy, as it were to loose, not only his Vocation, and spirit he had, but euen also the study of letters, wherein he had been so diligent before. One thing only for awhile, deteyned him somewhat, from complying too much with his senses therein, the respect of his deere Mother, whome he lo­and reuerenced much. But after she was passed from this lyfe, be­ing then meerly without any tye at all to hold him too, that frayle barke was carryed away into the waues and streames of the world.

S. Anselme being tyred with the bitter vsage of his Father. goes into Nor­mandy to S. Lanfranke, and becomes his Scholler. Chap. 2.

IN his manner went S. Anselme, with the greater part of mortalls into manifest perdition; when the heauenly Father beholding him with the eyes of clemency, to vnty him from the world, per­mitted his Father to be so fraught with hatred, and auersion from him, as that equally the good and bad, or rather more the good acti­ons of S. Anselme, them the bad, displeased him: nor was there any meanes left to pacify him, with all the humility and satisfaction the [Page 312] yong man could yield vnto him. Insomuch, as seing euery day, the old man to be more bitter to him, and intollerable then other; for feare of some great inconuenience, he determined to leaue his Country, Parents, and friends, as well to deliuer himselfe of so great tribulations and troubles, as to apply himselfe anew, more seriously to learning. Putting himself then in order, and laying his fardell on an Asse, he went towards Burgundy, with onely a certaine Clerke his familiar friend in his company: and passing ouer Mont­senese, being not much accustomed to the labours of the body, he felt himselfe, so weary of the way, and of climbing vp the hill, and so afflicted withall, as not hauing other sustenance, he began to eate the very snow, insteed of food. Whereat the Clerke being moued to compassion, did presently looke into his sachell to see if there were somwhat there to eate: when besides all expectatiō, he found therein a white and sauoury loase of bread, which not in a dreame now as before, but really in effect gaue to S. Anselme lyfe, so as he arriued in few dayes to the place designed, very safe and sound, where partly in Burgundy it selfe, and partly also in France, for about the space of three yeares, he attended to his studyes.

There liued in those dayes in the Monastery of Benedictins at Bec, in the country of Normandy, one Lanfranke an Italian by nation, of the Citty of Pauia, a man so famous for knowledg & goodnes, as many youths from diuers parts of the world, repayred to him that were desirous of sound and perfect doctrine. Now S. Anselme being moued with the noyse and rumour of such a one; became so enfla­med with desire of knowing Lanfranke by sight, and to conuerse with him, as he doubted not a whit, to go himself in hast into that prouince. And was in truth nothing deceyued of his expectation, finding in that Father, so rare gifts of wisedome, as he tooke it for no small happynes to haue him for Mayster, and to be admitted into particular familiarity with him.

With this occasion the feruent louer of liberall arts, without sparing eyther day or night employed himselfe with singular indu­stry, to enrich his breast with sundry knowledges of high & extra­ordinary things, in giuing eare to the doctour, in turning of books, in gathering notes, in framing Epitomes, in rehearsing of thinges heard, and expounding others. In which occupations, while he suffers much paynes and many incommodityes (as it happens) now of cold, and now of heate, now of hunger, and then of sleep; it [Page 313] came agayne into his mind, that if he were a Monke, as heertofore he had desire to be, he should not suffer more troubles and paynes, nor do more pennance then now he did, while in a religious state besides, he should not loose the merit of so great labours; whereas in the life he then led, it was more vncertayne what fruite at last, he were like to gather thence. Wherefore in ruminating this, new purposes began to awake in his mynd of seruing God, and wholy renouncing secular designes.

Truly, it is well knowne that, that fier was as yet very feeble, and the flames ascended but impure, and full of smoake: whereu­pon, consulting with himselfe of the Monastery, he was to re­tyre vnto, he sayd within himselfe: If I enter into that of Cluny, it is somewhat too strayte, and I shall not be able to endure it: If in that of Bec, I shall not there be esteemed awhit, since the emi­nency of Lanfranke will doubtles obscure my name, and qualityes: Insomuch, as not onely I shall be able to help but few, but shall come also in a certayne manner to loose the tyme and paynes, I haue taken in studyes. It were conuenient therefore, I should seeke a place, where I might both help others, and giue forth some wor­thy demonstration of my selfe. In these considerations, S. Anselme was remayning for some dayes: but then afterwards making his re­flexion thereupon, through diuine grace he was soone aware how they spang from an euill spirit, and from a hart but ill mortifyed, & too much affected to the world. So, as reprehending himselfe for it: And doth this forsooth (sayth he) seeme Monachisme vnto thee, so to wish to be preferred before others, and to be more honoured & reputed then others? No truly: go to then, lay downe thy pride and become a Monke in a Conuent, where, as reason would, for the loue of God, thou beest the last, and the vilest, and most despi­sed of all. And where may this be trow you, but surely in the Con­uent of Bec? Since there is one to be found, who for his high wise­dome and reputation purchased, is so sufficient for all, as there shall be no need of me at all. Heere then shall be my rest, heere my re­pose, heere God alone shall be my scope, heere his loue shall be my thought, heere the blessed and continuall memory of him, shallbe my happy entertaynement, and pleasant satiety.

Gondolfus Father of S. Anselme dyes, and leaues him his heyre. He con­sults with S. Lanfranke, and the Archbishop of Roan what course of life to take, and afterward is made Prior of Bec in Normandy. Chap. 3.

A Midst these deliberations S. Anselme was aduertised, that by the last will and testament of Gondolfus his Father, he was be­come the heyre and Successour of all his substance. This newes puts his wits on the racke, not so, as to put himselfe from the will of ser­uing his diuine Maiesty, but only made him to doubt, whether it were not, to the greater glory of God, to remayne in the world, & in the workes of Charity himselfe to dispence his goods to the poore. It would sometymes likewise come to his mynd, that to be vnknowne, and to giue himselfe wholy to contemplation, it were expedient to hide himselfe, and to liue in the desart. In this perple­xity, it seemed good to him, not to make any firme resolution ther­in, without the sound and mature counsayle of some vnderstanding and faythfull person, remembring the Scripture which sayth: Om­nia fac cum consilio, & post factum non poenitebis. Wherefore he went to S. Lanfranke and simply declared vnto him what passed in his mynd, he craued to be setled and established by him, in what were best to be done to the greater seruice of God. S. Lanfrancke was not willing to be iudge in the matter, nor himselfe to passe the sentence alone, but exhorted S. Anselme, to remit the whole, vnto the Venerable Maurilius, Archbishop of Roan, vnder whose obedience, at that tyme, the Benedictines of those countryes gouerned.

S. Anselme replyed not a word heerunto, and being guided by Lanfrancke they both went their wayes immediately towards the Archbishop: And so great was the deuotion and credit, which the good youth gaue to his Mayster, as that passing through a great wood, betwixt Bec and the sayd Citty of Roan, if Lanfrancke would but haue sayd the word, that he would doubtles haue obeyed him therein. Being come to the Prelate Maurilius, they both togeather proposed the occasion of their iourney vnto him, & the difficulty which S. Anselme felt, in choosing a state of life. Whereto without delay, the Archbishop answered, that surely the Monasticall Professi­on was the better, and most secure of all. To this answere, gaue S. Anselme very humbly his consent, and layng all care aside, hauing dispēsed his patrimony, as best seemed vnto him; he became Monke [Page 315] in the same Monastery where S. Lanfrank was Prior; whose Abbot was called Herlwin, a person of good yeares, and of much esteeme, as well for his rare vertues, as also for hauing built and founded that Monastery at his owne cost, & charges.

S. Anselme being entred into this Academy of Christian Philo­sophy, and heauenly exercises, on the 27. yeare of his age, endea­uours with great iudgment and attention to imitate (as we also read of S. Antony) all the qualityes, which he discouered to be more no­ble and perfect in euery one; through obseruation whereof, and with diuine assistance, walking apace from vertue to vertue, he be­came within the terme of three yeares, a most cleere mirrour of Re­ligion. So as S. Lanfranke being assumpted to the gouernment of Ca­dom, S. Anselme was immediately substituted to him in the Priory of Bec: which dignity hindred him not awhit, from his won­ted meditations, but rather continually recollecting himselfe, so much the more, he raysed himselfe to the vnderstanding of most high mysteries, and solued such Theologicall questions, as till that tyme had neuer beene treated before: wherein he was not so much assisted with intense speculation, as with purity of hart, and right intention which he had to expound the purity of diuine scripture, to the common benefit of all, and to defend the verityes of the Ca­tholike fayth agaynst the malignant.

But among other knots that straytned him most, and held him in suspence, one was, In what manner the Prophets had seene at once both things past, and to come, as they had been present with them; and in what manner, with so much firmnes and resolution, they haue been able to preach and write them. In which passage while one night he was plunged before the houre of Mattins: be­hold from his bed with his eyes towards the dormitory, and temple he cleerely sees through the wals themselues, the Sacristans and the other Officers, about the Aultar and Quire, to prepare the bookes, to light the candles, and lastly one of them to take the rope, and to ring the bell, and at the pulse, all the Monkes to rise from their beds, to go to the Office. At which reuelation, merueyling not a litle, he came to comprehend, how easy a thing it was to God, to shew the Prophets in spirit the things most remote and distant from them, since to him it was affoarded so to behold them with the eyes of the body, there being so much distance of place, and so ma­ny impediments and obstacles betweene. In this manner came S. [Page 316] Anselme to be cleered of the doubt, which tormented him so much.

But that which more imports, there was affoarded him from heauen, a discretion of spirits, so iudicious and subtile withall, as he easily diued, and penetrated into the customes and inclinations of ech sort of persons; and arriued sometymes so far, as to know the most hidden secrets of harts, and to discouer moreouer with ex­traordinary light, the very origens, and seeds, and proceedings of all vertues and vices; and finally to demonstrate with most cleere precepts and examples, in what manner to purchase the one, and eschew the other. To this so great liberality of God, corresponded he with all due thankefullnes and promptnes to serue him, & with the exact custody of himselfe from all that, which might any waies make him vnworthy and vncapable of so high fauours. In fasting he had now got such an habit, that how long so euer he differred his repasts, he neyther felt hunger in expecting, nor tooke any de­light in the meate he eate: And yet did he feed as other men do, as knowing he could not otherwise susteyne himselfe, but did it spa­ringly, and so without sensuality, as he not only abhorred al dain­tyes and delicacyes, and gusts of the palate, but seemed (as we sayd) as if in him, the sense of tasting had quite been lost and extinct.

As for sleep, his holy occupations, and continuall labours gaue him but a very small tyme, answering and assisting euery one, that made their recourse to him for counsayle and direction. In which things the diuine man would be spending, not only the houres of the day, but euen those of the night also: and by night besides, he would attend, partly to amend, and correct bookes, which were dangerously marred, and corrupted; partly in meditating the life of his Redeemer, and contemplating the eternall Beatitude, through desire whereof, he would shed whole fluds of teares, as likewise he would do for his own defects, and through compassion of the sins of his neighbour, togeather with the miseryes of this lyfe, and the eternall losse of soules; insomuch as many nights he would often passe ouer without any sleep at all: and if perhaps he but chanced to shut his eyes, it would be but euen a litle before the houre of mat­tins, when how affectuous he would be in prayers, & vnited with the diuine goodnes, the prayers which he made at the instance of his friends and deuotes, set downe in writing, declare sufficiently.

S. Anselme was enuyed much for his promotion to the the Priory, especially by one Osborne a Monke, who was afterwards reconciled to him; and dying appeares S. Anselme, and reuealed his estate vnto him. Chap. 4.

AMong all the vertues, and prayses, which are recounted of the holy man, to me none seeme more worthy of consolation, & imitation then the dexterity, & charity which he vsed in the go­uernment and instruction of his subiects. To which purpose, we are to vnderstād thus much, that assoone as he ascended to the Priorship, he wanted no few enuyers and persecutours; to whome it seemed an intollerable thing, and very vnworthy, to be subiected so, to the obedience of one, that might well be called a Nouice. Agaynst the peruersnes, & malice of these, S. Anselme opposed himselfe with all offices of benignity, that might be, and particularly vnto one, very yong of yeares. by name Osborne. This man being endowed with a rare wit, and of great hability, imploying his talents ill, and abhorring the interiour discipline & seruice; had cōceiued an auer­sion & hateful rancour against the holy Pastor, & stuck not to exer­cise the same, both openly & closely when occasion serued. Which malignity of his, though S. Anselme for himselfe, not much regar­ded: yet was he sory so noble a Subiect, of whome otherwise so much fruite might well be expected, should, through diabolicall operation, be so lewdly seduced, and as it were, vtterly lost.

Now then to reduce him into the righ way, first he sought by all meanes possible, to gayne his good will, and to win him to be confident. For which end he began to make exceeding much of him, to dissemble with his errours, to graunt him whatsoeuer was possible, without the manifest domage of the Order, and finally to omit nothing that might any wayes seeme to tame, and relent that so fierce and vnbridled wit of his. The youth tooke complacence at such deportements of S. Anselme towards him, and by little and litle being mollifyed and vanquished with so much humanity; be­gan to be affected to him, and to take his fatherly aduises in good part, and euen voluntarily to compose himselfe to all modesty and grauity. Which the wise Rectour perceyuing, he proceeded to fa­uour him more then euer, to preuent his necessityes, not to suffer him to want any thing; and withall to prayse that emprouement and fruite which he noted in him, and sweetly to exhort, & pray [Page 318] him withal, continually to passe from good to better. From hence he went vntying him by litle and litle, from his accustomed leui­tyes, and very dexterously reuoked agayne those former indulgen­ces which heertofore he affoarded him, and by all meanes endea­uoured to reduce him to reason and religious maturity.

When as afterwards he saw himselfe to be fully possessed of him, continually restreyning him more and more, he fayled not to cut of quite that childishnes, which seemed as yet to remayne in him: and if he had noted him to relapse at any tyme into errours, he would chastize him, not only with words, but with pennances also. Which new seuerity, was supported by Osborne, with admira­ble patience, being now assured and most secure of the fatherly bo­wels of S. Anselme, and of the amorous affect whence it seemed to proceed. In summe, with holsome and fit remedyes, that youth, who seemed so incorrigible before, came now to be amended and reformed in such manner, as looke what disquietnes and scandall he had giuen before, he now gaue as great example, and edification to all: When as thus cured in his soule, through diuine disposition he fell grieuously sicke.

Then did the good Pastour, shew no lesse diligence, in helping the exteriour man, then before he had vsed towards the interiour: so as he serued him in person, in supplying him his meate & drinke with his owne hands, & with extreme sollicitude, prouiding him of all things necessary, to rid that subiect of his infirmity, of whom now a good while since, he had promised to himselfe, great mat­ters for the diuine seruice, and the good of Religion. But this pious industry of the Seruant of Christ, had not the desired end; since it pleased the diuine Maiesty, to cut of the threed of Osborns mortal life. Whereat S. Anselme grieuing with most tender affect (as much as Christian vertue suffered) in the houre of his passage, deerly intrea­ted him, that if it were possible, after his death, he would giue him some tydings of him. The dying man did promise as much, and so expired.

The body, according to the vse being socked, clothed, & then layd forth on a beer, was carryed into the Church; while the Mon­kes sate singing of the wonted psalmes about the same. S. Anselme in the meane tyme to make his prayer more attentiue and feruent, retyred himselfe into a place somewhat a part from the others: heer while with teares, and sighs he begs of our Lord, the saluation of [Page 319] that soule, being oppressed with sorrow & heauynes and his eyes now shut, he fell into a slumber: and in that repose, beholds in spi­rit certayne venerable persons, dressed vp in white garments, to be entred in the chamber of the deceased, and there to sit downe to iudge him. But not knowing, what sentence they had passed vpon him, & expecting with great anxiety to vnderstand the successe of that iudgmēt; behold Osborn appeares on a sudden, in face not vnlike to one that returns to himselfe againe, after a traunce, or fit of fain­ting. Whereat S. Anselme sayd presently to him: What is the matter sonne? How it is with thee now? The other answered: The an­cient Serpent hath risen vp thrice agaynst mee, and thrice hath it fallen vpon his owne head, & the Bear-heards of God haue deliue­red mee: after which words S. Anselme opened his eyes, and Osborn vanished.

This answere the dead man gaue, and S. Anselme himselfe, af­terwards interpreted the same in this manner: That thrice the an­cient Serpent arose agaynst Osborne; because first, he accused him of sinnes committed after Baptisme, before he had been offered vp by his Parents into the Monastery: secondly for those, which he had committed after his entry into the Monastery, and before the ma­king of his vowes: in the third place, for those whereinto he had incurred after his vowes, euen to his death. But thrice agayne, was the accuser defeated; because the errours of the world, had been cā ­celled in vertue of the Fayth, and oblation of his Parents, when they presented him deuoutly to the diuine seruice: those of the No­uiciate, were remitted him in the new consecration of himselfe by meanes of his vowes. The faults which he had committed after the vowes, were pardoned him somwhat neere to his passage, by mea­nes of confession and pennance: So as the diuell, finding all his quarrels frustrate, being wholy confounded, was quite defeated, since all the instigations and subtilityes he had vsed to make that soule to fall into sinne, had redounded to his owne more grieuous torment, and greater damnation.

As for the Bear-heards of God, they are (said he) good Angels: for that, as they tame the beares, so do these restrayne the malignant spirits, from the cruelty and impetuosity, wherewith they vse to rush on, to the destruction of soules. After all these things, to shew himselfe a true friend, and father of his Osborne, no lesse after his death then before, he sayd euery day a Masse for him, though the whole [Page 320] yeare following. And if sometymes, he were hindred from cele­brating at all, he would seeke for some other, to supply the same, promising to do as much for that Priest, when he was requested. Besides which, he did send letters into diuers parts to procure suf­rages and sacrifices for the same intention, and thereby obtayned a great number of them. Whence it followed, that not onely the deceased party felt (as is verily belieued) eyther opportune refresh­ment, or accidentall ioy: but euen also the liuing tooke excellent example of so burning and continuall charity of S. Anselme; yea e­uen his very enemyes tempered themselues, who before could not looke on him with a good eye; & at last ouercom & touched with the perpetuall tenour of such goodnes, tooke so great an affection to the holy man, as from murmurers and emulous, they became fol­lowers and proclaymers of his rare vertues. Although indeed to bring things to those termes, a certaine strange accident of no small moment, happened to one of those enemies of the blessed Pastour, that immediately followes.

A certayne ancient Monke, and great Enemy of S. Anselme, at his death, was tormented with a dreadfull vision, which S. Anselme driueth away with the signe of the Crosse. And how he gaue himselfe to the trayning vp of Youth. Chap. 5.

THere was one very ancient in Religion, who with implaca­ble disdayne neuer ceased to bite and molest the good Father, and by no meanes could neuer endure him, much lesse reuerence & acknowledge him in the place of Christ. Now then, through the iust iudgment of God it happened this miserable wretch fell sicke to death; and one night while all the Monkes were in bed, he began to giue forth very dreadfull cryes, & to seeke as it were, to shun the sight of some horrible figures; became very pale of visage, and full of trembling and great anxiety, and would withall be turning his head on this side, and that side, to hide himselfe. At these noyses, his neyghbours being now awakened, came suddenly in hast to aske what he ayled. You behold mee (sayd he) afflicted and distressed thus within the pawes of two most rauenous wolues, which are now euen ready to strangle me, and demaund you of mee, what I ayle? One of them that was present hearing this, by name Ricolfus, who was the Secretary of Conuent, without delay went running [Page 321] to S. Anselme, who at that tyme was correcting of a booke, and pre­sently informed what passed with the sicke man.

At which newes, the venerable Prior being touched with his accustomed clemency, bad Ricolfus returne backe to the sickman: and he in the meane tyme recollecting himselfe a litle, ouertooke him in the Infirmary, and lifting vp his hand, made the signe of the Crosse vpon him, saying: In nomine Patris, & Filij & Spiritus Sancti. With which signe, the Wretch was suddenly quiet, and being som­what cheerfull in face, with most in ward affect of the hart, began to giue thankes to the diuine Goodnes: and added withall, that so­ueraygne signe he had seene to come forth of his mouth, as a fiery lance, which being brandished agaynst those wolues, had so terri­fied them, as made them suddenly to fly away.

Then S. Anselme, sweetly approching to him, dealt with him seriously of matters concerning the saluation of his soule, & brought him to a great compunction, and true confession of all his offences committed agaynst God: and after he had giuen him the absoluti­on, told him playnely, he should render vp his spirit, about nine of the clocke: and so indeed it fellout, to the great astonishment of all. From hence forward, S. Anselme with a great deale more ease, began to administer the office: in which, as one that sought to pro­mote to perfection all those, whome he had vnder his charge; so with particular application, he laboured especially in the help of youth, and alledged this reason for it: That euen as wax, when it is too hard, or too soft, takes not very well the impression vpon it, but if it be well tempered between the hard and soft, it most fayth­fully receyues the print of the Seale; so iust, do we see it to happen in the age of a man.

Take you one who from his infancy to his old age, hath been alwayes bred vp in the vanityes of the world, and begin to deale with him then of spirituall conceipts, of contemplation, of celesti­all things, and of such other like discourses, and you shall find him to be not able to conceyue hardly, much lesse to put your aduices in practice, and due execution. Nor is it any wonder, since the wax is hardned, nor hath he spent his yeares in such practises, & hath al­wayes had other obiects, and other designes. On the contrary side, take me a child, both tender of yeares, and of conscience, and who cannot as yet discerne the euill from the good, the very same shall happen with this, as with the other, the wax is too soft, and liquid [Page 322] for it, it admits no characters, or images. Betwixt these two then, the youth stands in the midst, as temperatly composed of stiff and tender. Do thou endeauour, to instruct such a one, and thou shalt imprint in his mind, what thou wilt. Which thing I noting (sayd S. Anselme) do employ my selfe with the more assiduity and follici­tude, in trayning vp of youth, and do labour from their soules to extirpate all the rootes of vices, and to plant the vertues in place of them: that being purged in this manner and well tempered, they may come to represent more to the lyfe, the true image of a perfect man. And these were the principall motiues of S. Anselme, for the education of youth.

S. Anselme sueth to the Archbishop of Roan, to be discharged of his Office, but is denyed. Togeather with a Vision of Ricolfus concerning him. Chap. 6.

IN the meane tyme, occupations and affaires continually increa­sing, and sorely oppressing the Man o [...] God; he held himselfe to be so much disquieted and distracted therewith from interiour exer­cises of the mynd (which happened not so to him at the beginning) as he went for counsaile a new to the aforesayd Archbishop of Ro [...] before whome, he vnfolded the occasion of his comming, and bit­terly bewayling his peace and tranquillity lost thereby, be sought him, that he might be disburdned with all expedition of the charge. Whereto the Archbishop, being a person of much iudgement and sanctity withall, thus answered: Do not, my deerest sonne, make instance to forgo the charge, not do thou seeke to subtract thy selfe from helping others, to attend to thy selfe only: for I tell thee, in good sooth, that I haue heard heertofore of many, and seen some al­so, who hauing vnder the coulour of their proper quietnes, abon­doned the pastorall cure, & by that occasion being fallen into [...], haue likely gone from euill to worse. Which to the ed the same may not fall vpon thee likewise (which God forbid) I com­maund thee in vertue of holy Obedience, to reteine to thee still the Prelacy which thou hast, nor to suffer thy selfe to be induced any wayes to depose the same, vnlesse the Abbot do enioyne thee to it. And if thou shalt be called heerafter to any greater charge, that thou do not refuse by any meanes to accept therof: Because I know very well, thou art not like to stay any long tyme, in that where­thou [Page 323] art, but shalt shortly be aduanced to a higher degree.

To these words sayd S. Anselme: Then woe to me poore mi­serable wretch: I am ready to faynt with the present burden, and yet when another more weighty shall be layd vpon me, I may not refuse the same! These sighes of S. Anselme, moued not the wise Archbishop a whit, but rather with the same seuerity, he rehearsed to him agayne the same precept, which he had giuen him. In this wise the Seruant of Christ, perceyuing himself to be quite excluded from that which he wished, fayled not at last to conforme his own to the diuine will: and returning home, with new feruour & new purposes gaue wholy himselfe to cherish & increase the more solide vertues in his Monkes. To which effect, knowing very well of what importance was the vnion and communication togeather of the subiects, with the Superiour; he pursued with all the meanes, that well he might, to procure to himselfe the loue of ech one, and that particularly with shewing of true compassion and tendernes to the sick, and indisposed; so as he stucke not to enter often into the Infirmary himselfe, and there not only with sweet countenance and gracious words to comfort the afflicted; but euen also (as we sayd of Osborne) to serue them, and prepare them their dyet & food with his owne hands, and with diligence to find out the state of ech one, and that which most would be gust-full, and pleasing to them.

Through which dealing of his, the bitternes and detractions not only ceased, if there were any yet left, but there followed a thing, which may truly be called, the very health of religion; to wit, a confidence, and a certaine coniunction of the members with the head, and that so strayt, and so great withall, as there was not any, who not suddenly to manifest his secrets, and ech passion, & thought which he had in his breast to the good Priour, as a child would do to his sweetest Mother. With which security, and sweet familiarity would S. Anselme be curing of the inward wounds, and remedying the temptations of his Monkes, and that with so much more ease, as their consciences were made more manifest and pal­pable to him. So as by this meanes, S. Anselme came continually to be held in greater grace and reuerence with all men.

And this good conceypt of theirs, increased so much the more, through a certayne meruayle, which newly happened to the a­boue named Ricolfus. This man, while he went one night through [Page 324] the Cloyster, obseruing the houre of rising of the Monkes to Mat­tins, in passing by good hap before the Chapter-doore, peeped in with his eyes, and beheld S. Anselme in prayer, enuironed round as with a flaming circle of fire. Ricolfus was astonished at the sight, & after he had a litle thought with himselfe what it should be, he re­solued to hye him to the Fathers celll, when seeing no body there, he returned to the Chapter agayne, and found there the Priour as before, but without the sayd flame, yet most assured the while, of that which at first he beheld so cleerly.

S. Anselme in a case of necessity miraculously procures a fish from the Riuer neere by: And with the spirit of Prophesy foretels an accident to come. To­geather with the Bookes which he wrote.

ON a certayne day, S. Anselme being sent vnto, by a principall Lord of Normandy, to come and deale with him about certaine affayres, he refused not to go; and hauing discoursed with him, till the Euening, he was not inuited at all by the Prince, to lodge there that night, though the Monastery of Bec, were farre from thence. Which the Man of God perceyuing, without speaking a word ther­of to any, tooke his leaue, and departed thence, not knowing where to lodge. In the meane time, meeting with one of the Mon­kes, of his owne Order, he asked him, Whither he went, and were they might harbour and retire themselues that night? The o­ther answered: Father, we haue a house indeed, not far frō hence, but there is no refection to be had for you, and your company, saue only bread and cheese.

Then sayd S. Anselme, with a cheerfull countenance: Doubt you not good brother; go thy wayes then before, and cast a net into the riuer there, and thou shalt presently find fish inough for vs all. So did the Monke without any doubt a whit, and calling in hast, a fisherman to him, bad him to throw in his net. Now was it indeed neyther tyme, nor place for such a draught, and therefore the fisher­man laughed at such a bidden thing, and tooke himselfe to be mockt at by the Monke. But at last, being thereunto cōstrayned, as it were though his prayers and persuasions, he resolued to obey; and be­hold agaynst all hope, came forth of the water a Trout of an vn­couth bignes, with another litle fish also: So as that fish was more then inough for S. Anselme, and his company.

[Page 325] That other accident differed not much from this which hap­pened to him in another house of a deere friend of his, called Walter Tuel, who being sory for want of fish, and with words of courtesy excusing himselfe, for not hauing prouision worthy of such a ghest; S. Anselme smiled, and replyed: There is now a Sturgeon brought in vnto you, and do you complayne for want of delicacies? As yet Walter verily belieued he had but iested with him, and would by no meanes giue any credit to it, when behold, two of his men came & entred into the house with a Sturgeō, the greatest they had seene a long tyme, being found (as they sayd) by the Stepheards vpon the bankes of the riuer of Alteia. Whence, though in a base and ma­teriall subiect, yet may it well be gathered, that S. Anselme, amongst other gifts of heauen, had likewise the spirit of Prophesy.

About the same tyme, he composed three very subtile Treati­ses: one of the Truth, another of Freewill, the third of the Fall of the Deuill. By which treatises, may well appeare, wherein he had tru­ly fixed his mind, though by such considerations and labours, he neuer subtracted himselfe from the care & consolation of his Mon­kes. He wrote also another booke, which he entituled, The Gram­marian, wherein he introduceth a Scholer to dispute with him; he also in that booke goes soluing of many Logicall difficulties. He an­nexed thereto a litle Tract, which he called, by the Greeke terme, Monologion; for that speaking with himselfe alone, without medling with quoting of the holy Scripture, with meere reasons he proues There is a God, and that by no meanes it can be otherwise.

After this, it came into his mynd, whether with one short ar­gument only, that same might not be solidly proued, which is so belieued and preached of God, to wit, that he is Eternall, Incom­mutable, Omnipotent, Incomprehensible, whole in euery pla­ce, iust, pious, mercifull, true, or rather Truth it selfe, Goodnes, Iustice, and some other attributes, and how all these things are one thing in him. This same proposition now did affoard himso much to do, as partly it tooke away his meate, and sleep; and partly also (for which he felt the greater griefe) held him exceedingly in sus­pence, and greatly distracted him in his Psalmody, and in the other diuine Offices: and by how much more violence he vsed thereun­to, so much the more was he troubled with the foresayd question; vntill such tyme as waking one night, it pleased the diuine Mercy to illumine his vnderstanding, and to giue him the knowledge of [Page 326] what he desired, with so much clarity, as he felt therewith a great iubiley of hart, and a wonder full sweetnes and consolation of mynd. And supposing he might help others therewith (as he was far from all enuy, or basenes of mynd) he went suddenly about to put the thing in tables of wax (according to the vse of those tymes) and then gaue them in keeping, with great charge, to one of the Monkes.

Some dayes being now passed ouer, he demaunded the same of the party himselfe, and suddenly they were sought for in the self same place where they had been layd, but could not be found. Wherupon good diligēce was vsed to learne out if any of the house had taken them away, but yet could neuer come to haue the least inckling of thē. S. Anselme went about then againe to make others of the same matter, and with especiall recommendation gaue them in charge to another of his Monkes. He hides them in the secretest part of his owne bed: and the next day, beyond all suspition, finds them all to pieces on the ground, and the wax, with the characters, scattered heere & there. He gathers them vp as they were, & brings them to S. Anselme, who endeauours the best he could to set the pie­ces together and fits them at last with much ado, so as they might be read, and so kept them close vnited togeather. And to the end the same might happen no more, he causes them to be transcribed in parchment: and from thence, he drew afterwards a Volume, though litle in bulke, yet great and very admirable in conceipts & speculations, and called it Prosologion, wherein he discoursed ey­ther with God, or with himselfe. Which litle Worke, being writ­ten against, by a learned man, S. Anselme seemed to reioyce the [...], and to yield thankes to the Censour, but made notwithstanding his Apology for it, and sent it backe to the sayd friend, beseeching him, or any other whosoeuer, that should once go about to taxe the afor­sayd doctrine, not to publish the reprehension without likewise annexing the defence.

A most pious, and Excellent Epistle of S. Anselme, to a certaine Launce-Knight, who was newly entred into the Monastery of Cluny. Chap. 8.

VVIth all these occupations, as well of gouernment, as also of more grauer studies, the Seruant of God neglected not to write also sundry letters of edification: Of one of which, we [Page 327] will heere insert a chapter, about the subiect of mutation of place, to the end yt may appeare, how much the same was impugned by this holy man, when it is not done through Obedience, or for some important occasion. He wrote then among other things, some aduises to a certaine Launce-knight, who was newly entred into the Conuent of Cluny, of the tenour following.

Thou art now entred, my dearest, into the lists and warfare of Christ, in which yt behoues thee, not only to resist the open bat­tayles of the Enemy, but to beware likewise of the subtile traynes, which lye hid vnder the shew of a goood spirit. Because many ty­mes, when the wicked aduersary cannot come to ouerthrow a No­uice, with obiects of manifest sinne, he seekes to ruine and murder him with the poyson of false, but probable and apparent reasons: and so being not able to induce him to the harted of Religion, and the Institute which he hath made choyce of, at least he endea­uours to make the conuersation, and dwelling tedious to him where he abides for the present: and though in some manner, he permit to reteyne yet the Monasticall life; notwithstanding he cea­seth not by a thousand wayes, to make the simple and foolish to i­magine, that he knew not what he did, when he tooke then abit in such a place, or vnder such Superiours, or els in such a community, and this to the end, that making the wretch by these meanes, vn­gratefull for the benefit of his Vocation, through the iust iudgment of God, he may not only not go forward, but euen also haue much ado to hold his vocation, and to conserue himselfe in his good pur­poses. Because the mynd being once distracted into melancholy thoughts, eyther of changing the residence, or if this cannot be, at least of reprehending and blaming the foresayd causes of his deter­mination, he hath no power to recollect himselfe, nor to aspire to that terme of vertue, whereto he ought to extend himselfe with all his forces. The cause is, for that the foundation being once vn­gratefull to him, he knowes not how to erect any frame of building thereon. Whence it followers, that euen as a yong tree, being often [...]ansplanted, or disquieted and shaken with many encounters, can not take any deep roote, nor commodiously suck in the moysture and nourishment of the earth, to giue forth the desired fruit in tyme: so the vnhappy Monke, if he seeme to remoue himselfe, now heer now there of his owne meere appetite, and not though any dispo­sition of Superiours, or els euen remayning still where he is, per­mits [Page 328] himselfe to fall into tediousnes and disgust; he can neuer come to be well grounded in diuine loue, & consequently being dry and languishing in euery action of religion, he shall finally re­maine very poore and despoyled of the fruites of good workes: & he seeing himselfe withall, to proceed from euill to worse (yf so he note the same) shall lay all wayes the fault thereof on others, and by this meanes abhorre euery day, more and more, euen those with whom he liueth and conuerseth.

For which cause, whosoeuer will bee a good Religious man indeed, yt behoues him, that looke into what Monastery he hath been first admitted, and dedicated to the diuine Seruice (if in that place be no manifest daunger to offend the diuine goodnes) with all study and attention he endeauour to establish himselfe there, and there to found himselfe in true Charity, and to beware by any meanes from iudging the manners of the place, whether they be publique or priuate, profitable or vnprofitable, so that openly they stand not against the precepts of God. But rather, reioycing for ha­uing found where to abide in the seruice of Christ, that he put away from himselfe all manner of suggestion, to remoue else whi­ther; but with the greatest quiet that may bee, he seeke to attend vnto pious and deuout exercises. And yf peraduenture, yt may seeme to him, that he hath reguard to greater matters, & of more euident profit, then such as are practized in that Conuent there; let him thinke, that perhaps he is deceaued, in preferring things that are equall, before all others; or els in presuming, or promising too much of himselfe: and yf he cannot be brought to leaue of that opi­nion, at least let him belieue, he hath not deserued what he desires.

And if further he note he were deceaued; let him giue many thankes to the diuine clemency, in defending & setting himself free from such an errour, and for that he hath not suffered him, without gayne, or perhaps rather with losse, in prouing another habitation, and some other manner of gouernement, to fall into the blame of leuity, or lack of wit; or els, by imbracing of things too hard, in a very short tyme to become wearied, and fall into the former state, if not a worse. But if he truely desireth a thing more perfect indeed, and more conformable to him, let him make accompt, that for his sinnes, he hath not deserued the same; and let him patiently, suffer the diuine iudgment therein, which neuer denyes any one any thing, vniustly. And in summe, let him shun the offences of [Page 329] the diuine Maiesty, through murmur or muttering, but take in good part, and endure all with a sweet and holy peace, least per­seuering otherwise, he come to exasperat the iust Iudge, and so re­maine excluded from that which as yet he hath not receiued, and loose perhapps, what he holds already, or els to possesse it with­out any profit at all. But howsoeuer he do feele vpon himselfe, ey­ther the mercy or iudgment of God, in any case let him cheereful­ly giue him thanks, and in all, and through all, acknowledge that infinite benignity of his. And since he hath the grace to retire him­selfe, into the Port (whatsoeuer) from the perilous stormes and tempests of the world, let him now auoyd to open in the Port it selfe any entry to the impetuous winds of impatience, and muta­bility; that the Soule abiding in the Lee, or harbour of constancy and meekenes, may remayne firme and intentiue ioyntly, and wholy to the sollicitude of feare, and the gust of diuine Loue; the one of which through caution conserues the hart, the other with sweetnes, euen perfects the Mynd.

I am not ignorant, how this matter would require more com­modity of writing, or of discourse by word of mouth, to giue you to vnderstand with what subtiltyes in this matter of temptation, the ancient Serpent is wont to make the ignorant Monke to fall into his s [...] on the contrary, with what reasons and aduises, the wise Religious may dissolue and defeate his malicious perswa­sions. But for that I haue exceeded the breuity already, which an Epistle requires, and that whatsoeuer I haue sayd, or can otherwise say, consistes wholy to conserue this repose, and tranquillity of the Soule; it shall suffice me for this tyme, to haue proposed for your good what succinctly I haue don already. Nor would I haue you for this to imagin, that I hold you for vnquiet or malcontent: but forasmuch, as Don Orsion obliged me to giue you some aduertise­ments, I know not how to affoard you a better and more holsome one, then for a man to stand on his guard, in this kind of tempta­tion, which I know is secretly wont to enter into some Nouices, and quite to ouerthrow them. So as (my friend, and most belo­ued Brother) behold how your deerest freind doth counsaye, ad­monish, and pray you, with the whole bowells of his hart, that with all the forces of your mind, you attend to the foresaid quiet of the hart, without which, it is impossible to discerne the snare of the treacherous Enemy, nor yet to penetrate with the eyes of the [Page 330] vnderstanding, the most strait and narrow way of vertue. To which tranquility, may no Religious, euer arriue without con­stancy and meeknes, which meekenes is the inseparable compa­nion of patience: nor lesse shall he euer attayne thereto, yf he re­solue not, to obserue and reuerence all the orders, and institutes of his Monastery not repugning to the diuine Law, though he see not the foundation of them, nor the reason why they were in­troduced, and prescribed. Farewell, and the blessed God direct & guide you in all your actions with perseuerance; so as, in the habit of iustice, you may one day appeare in his sight, and fully be sa­tisfyed, when he shall manifest his glory.

A pretty Dialogue, betweene S. Anselme, and another Abbot, concerning the trayning vp of youth. Chap. 9.

THe like instructiōs gaue the diuine man in writing according to the occurrēces that happened. Nor were those same lesse re­plenished with heauenly wisedome, which in diuers occasions, as we haue touched aboue, he deliuered by word of mouth: Whereof likewise for fuller satisfaction of the Reader, we will not spare to set downe some one example. It was the cōmon custome in those tymes, for Noblemen, as it were throughout all [...] [...]ndome, to put their children of tender age into the Cōuents or Monkes, partly to consecrate them perpetually vnto Religion; and partly al­so to take them forth agayne, being piously trayned vp, for the be­nefit of the common wealth. Now it chanced that a certayne Ab­bot, in great opinion of Sanctity, discoursing with S. Anselme, of Monasticall gouernement, among other things, came to speake of these youths, to which purpose, he vsed these words: Tell me I pray, good Father, what we shall do with them, they are so per­uerse and incorrigible; we neuer cease day and night from beating them, and yet still they grow worse and worse. Whereat S. Anselme, making a shew of some wonder, answered. You neuer leaue bea­ting them: and when heerafter they come to be elder, what proue they then to be? Euen dolts, sayd the other, and very beasts. Then S. Anselme: O how well then, do you bestow the paynes to make beasts of men. And what can we do withall, replyed the Abbot? We seeke by all meanes to constreyn them to their profit, & it boots nothing. Do you forme them, or one, replyed S. Anselme?

[Page 331] Do but tell me a little Father Abbot: If you set but a plant in your garden, and bind it vp presently on euery side, so as it can not extend the branches any way: if you go after a yeare to take away the binder from it, how shall you find it? Certaynely with the boughes crooked, intricate, and inuolued. And who then should be in fault thereof, but your selfe, who so immoderatly restrayned the same? Iust so succeeds it with your pupils. They are planted by the oblation of their friends in the Garden of the holy Church to grow vp, and to giue forth good fruits to God. But you, with ter­rours, menaces, and stripes, do euen so strayten them, as that the poore wretches haue not a iot of liberty. So as being indiscreetly wrung and opprest, they produce and cherish in themselues, but ill discourses, which in manner of wreathed thornes, so grow & setle in them, as there is after no remedy to be found, or prop to sustaine and hold them vp, & to make them grow out straight agayne. And for that, they find no sparke of loue or pitty in you, nor any ten­dernes or sweetnes towards them, they cannot frame any good cō ­ceipt of you, but do rather verily persuade themselues, that all your doings spring from hatred and malignity in you. And hence very miserably proceeds it, that the more they grow in body, so much the more increase they in auersion and iealousies, being alwayes inclined and ready to fall into all sorts of vices; and as in none they find any signes of true charity, so can they not reguard any one, but with an eye a skew, and quite awry.

But for the loue of God, I would feigne haue you tell me, what is the cause you are so strange & harsh vnto them? For are they not I pray, men, and of the same nature that you are? And would you, if you were in their place, thinke it well to be dealt with, in this wise? but be it, as you say, that you haue no other intentiō with you in such your rigours, but only to make them good. Did you euer in your life, behold a Gold smyth to frame with blowes and beatings only, any goodly figure of some masse of gold or siluer? I belieue not. What then? For to shape it with his instruments, now beates he it, and presseth it gently, and then with a discreet relieue, ray­ses he it vp, and frames it as he list. So, if you will seeme to intro­duce any good forme of manners into youth, it behooues you to­geather with the depressions of pennance to vse some indulgences and helps withall of a fatherly tendernes and loue. To this point, the Abbot. What indulgences, (sayd he) what helps? We continu­ally [Page 332] labour to constreyne them to vertue. And S. Anselme: It is well: and so euen bread, and other solid food, are good and holsome to such as are able to disgest the same. But do you try a while to giue it to a sucking child, and you shall see it rather to be choaked, then sed therewith. Wherefore I need not tell it you, it is so cleere. But this I do affirme, that as sickly and strong bodies, haue their diffe­rence and proportionable food: so the weake and more feeble sou­les, require a food which is agreable to them, in measure and qua­lity. The strong and able are fed, and delighted with the solid and substantiall food, that is, with Patience in tribulations, with breaking of the appetite, with exhibiting the left cheeke to him that strikes them on the right, praying for ones enemyes, with lo­uing their persecutours, and with other the like. But that Soule, which is feeble as yet, in the diuine seruice, had need of tender milke, that is, to be intreated with sweetnes, with mercy, with a cheerefull countenance, with patience full of charity, & with such like carriages. If you would but accommodate your selfe in this manner with your feeble, and able ones, with the grace of God, what in you lyes, you would gayne all. With these words, the Ab­bot, being finally conuinced and touched withall, began to sigh, and said: We surely, Father, haue erred all this while from the right way, and to vs hath the Sunne of discretion, as yet not risen. Heer­vpon being prostrate on the ground, he confessed he had hitherto done ill; and with crauing pardon for what was passed, promised to amend heerafter.

Another Dialogue betweene S. Anselme, and a certayne Procuratour of a Mo­nastery. Chap. 10.

VPon a tyme, there came to the holy man, a Procuratour of the same Order, who bewayled (as it happens now and then) his hard misfortune; for that being touched heertofore by heauenly in­spiration, he had left the world to serue God, and now through o­bedience, was constrayned agayne to leaue God, to attend vnto the world. For as much, as the care of conseruing of rents, of following suites, of reuiewing of accompts, and of other such like secu­lar affayres, did leaue him no tymeat all to recollect the powers & facultyes of his Soule, for contemplation of celestiall things; but put him rather in continuall danger of offending the diuine Maie­sty, [Page 333] in diuers manners. To which complaint, S. Anselme answe­red, with the comparison following: The whole lyfe of man, may be well likened to a water Mill, seated on a swift riuer. Let there be then many millers belonging to this mill, some so negligēt, as to let the meale fall into the water; others, to retayne part, and part a­gayne to let passe away; and some also, that gather vp all, and lay it vp, according as it is fit. Of this number, it is manifest, that he who hath reserued nothing, shall find but litle, he that hath held & saued all, shall be able to maynteyne himselfe more plentifully.

This Mill, as we sayd, may well be vnderstood this present life: the Meale represents the actions of men. Because, that euen as when the Mill workes, it goes allwayes round, and is euer continually wheeling about in it selfe; so likewise, human actions for the most, returne vnto their stations. As for example: Men plough, men sow, men reape, men grind, they make bread, they eate. Behold the Mill hath fetched a compasse. What then, doth it now stand still? No truly, because it returnes agayne to the foresaid tilling, sowing, reaping, grinding, making of bread, and nourishing with­all. These things are exercised euery yeare: and like a Mill fetch agayne the same compasse, and turne about. Let vs now take one, that doth all his workes for terren ends, and who in them hath no regard but to transitory things: this man, truly grinds and works indeed; but all the meale, which should be the fruite of his la­bours, through the course of secular desires, comes to be drowned, and caried quite away. This man, at the end of his life, when he shall turne back from the Mill to his howse, and that he would fayne feed on something, shall find nothing to eate, because the vehement streame hath caryed away the meale: Whence, wo to the wretch, for he is like to fast eternally.

Behold another, who looseth not the whole meale altogeather; because now he giues some almes, now hee goes deuoutly to vi­sit Churches, and the sicke, and now he buries the dead, and so doth some other such like workes. But yet when this very person forbeares in nothing to giue himselfe to all sensuality, to be auēged of iniuries receiued, to take complacence in human prayses, and that he cannot rid himselfe quite of impure and disordinate af­fects, the wretch looseth, ere he is aware, the greater part of the meale. And what shall become of him then in the other life, but euen to receiue rewards, according as he hath behaued himselfe?

[Page 334] Let vs now passe to the third quality of men; and let vs in­gine it to be within religious. Suppose, when a Monke who hath made the Vow of Obedience, and what in him lyes, desires not to go forth of the Cloyster for any temporall busynes whatsoe [...], Such a one then, is enioyned by his Superiour to go abroad, to haue care of some possession of the Conuent; the good man excu­seth himselfe, and prayes he may not be forced therevnto. And yet the Abbot still perseuers, and vrges his going thither. So as the sub­iect, being not able to resist, doth what he is commaunded. Behold he comes to the Mill, and needs must he grinde. There arise com­plaints heere and there, with murmurs and contentions. Heere now the prudent Monke is to looke well to his meale, and to re­ceiue it warily into his sack, and not to let it fall into the Curren [...] and how this? Let him do nothing out of vanity: Let him not be drawne to any manner of iniustice, for any gayne whatsoeuer. Let him execute Obedience in such manner, as he stifly defend with good reason all the Ecclesiasticall goods; but withall not seeke to increase them by vnlawfull wayes. If he walke in this manner, though he be sometymes enforced not to heare Masse, to breake silence, and other such like obseruances; Yet the vertue of holy Obedience, consummates all these defects, and with his sa [...] both whole & sound, he conserues all his meale, whence after he shall haue plenty inough to feed on for all eternity: because such a one walkes not according to his Selfe-Will, but answearable to that of his Superiours, by meanes whereof, as the Apostle sayth, he comes to escape damnation.

Being now come to this passage, the Procuratour demaunded anew: & what then should we thinke of that Religious man, who offers himselfe voluntarily to such businesses, or rather practiseth them, with complements and flatteries? Wherto S. Anselme said, such question was not to the purpose of Religious men. To which the other replying, that he allwayes vnderstood it with condition, to wit, that the Monke so desirous of such occupations, should not af­ter execute any thing without leaue of his Prelate; When S. An­selme answered: This leaue hath deceiued many such: because that in the matter, which we now treate of, there are two things wholy opposite, Obedience and Disobediēce: between these two contra­ryes, this leaue stands in the midst. He then, without being con­streyned by Obedience to go forth of the Monastery, will yet ne­uertheles [Page 335] goe forth, and by this meanes subtract himselfe from the [...]igour of the rule; though he do it with the full consent of the Su­periour, & so seeme to iustify the act, by the licence obteyned; he [...]emaines yet lyable to the sinne of disordinate and vnlawfull will and desire. Because that after one hath once left the world in per­son, he ought not to returne to it agayne, with desire: but yet while he would not performe it without the permission of his Superiour, the Obedience whereto he tyed himselfe, shall seeme [...]ndeed to excuse the exteriour fact; but that Will, which he had of [...]is owne, shall cost him deare, if he do not penance in tyme for the same. Which some not reguarding, do suffer themselues, as I said, oftentymes to be deceiued through their appetite, vnder the shew of this leaue, or licence.

S. Anselme had a vision in sleepe: His fame increased euery where: And through the importunity of the Abbot, was forced to take the whole Charge of the Monastery vpon him. Chap. 11.

IN this manner, went S. Anselme, as well with wordes, as with the pen, & that which more imports, with works, inciting all to the contempt of the world, and to the seruice of the eternall God. When through his many labours, being seized with a most grieuous infir­mity, in excesse of mind, he came to haue a Vision, that inflamed him much more to the desire of the eternall beatitude. For that, there seemed a very swift and swelling torrent to be represented to him, whereinto descended all the ordure and filth of the World: Which troubled, stincking, and filthy waters, with a violent force went promiscuously carying away all things with them, which they met with on the way, with all sorts of persons, both men and women, rich and poore. S. Anselme being astonished at so foule a spectacle, demaunded of one the company, Of what those mise­rable wretches liued, and whence they quenched their thirst? And being told they mainteyned themselues with that same water, wherewith they were more precipitously caried away. And how so, answered he? Is there any amongst them, that is not ashamed to swallow vp such filth? Whereto the other answered. Do not you seeme, Sir, to wonder heerat: This same, which you se heere, is the Torrent of the world, wherein sensuall men are so enwrapped, & caryed away: and by and by sayd: Wouldst thou feigne behold, [Page 336] what is a true Monke indeed? Yea mary would I, answered S. [...] ­selme. When he replyed. Then looke round about thee, and see the walls of a Cloyster, being all lyned ouer with the finest siluer, and the grasse in the midst thereof, all of Siluer indeed, but soft and de­licate, and most pleasant to behold. Which hath likewise another condition with all, that if one resteth thereon, it will gently seeme to yeild vnder him, and then rising agayne, be rising in like manner. This place so delightfull to see to, seemed to please S. An­selme beyond measure: When deliberating with himselfe, to choose the same for his owne habitation, the Guide began to aske him agayne, saying: Hola. Would you see now, what is true Patience [...] And S. Anselme, shewing forth as well with wordes, as gestures, a most ardent desire thereof, the Vision vanished on a suden, and [...] returned to himselfe agayne. By such apparitions he was filled with new light, and with a new feruour of spirit.

In this meane tyme, the name of S. Anselme, ran not only through out all Normandy, but euen likewise through the Countryes of France and Flaunders, yea and passing ouer the Sea, extended it selfe throughout all England, so as from diuers parts many no­ble and learned men, and Souldiours also had recourse to the di­uine man, and dedicated themselues to the seruice of God vnder the custody of so great a Pastour: though he with great prudence tooke heed of perswading them, more to this, then to that Conuent, con­tenting himselfe with drawing them onely in generall to a Re­ligious state, least they entring in without any proper deliberation of theirs to some Monastery, and then finding themselues after­wards, molested with molestations, temptations, and trauayles, might chance to murmur, and attribute their impatience and scan­dall to his persuasions. Whereupon the Conuent of Bec, came short­ly to be amplifyed, both in number of subiects, and in plenty of possessions.

And the Abbot Herlwin, being lastly arriued to extreme old age, and now become decrepit withall, discharged himselfe of all things (touching the gouernement) & layd thē on the shoulders of S. Anselme; expressely ordayning that he should be well prouided of horses, & of all other accoutrements for iourneys, whensoeuer his busines required the same, and all should be kept as proper for his person. But he being affrighted with the name of propriety, when he returned from his iourneyes, would giue vp the same in [Page 337] common agayne; nor would he euer endure, that for his owne commodity, the others should seeme to suffer in any thing. And that no meruaile, since euen in the world it selfe, he was euer so amiable and courteous to all; as that when he saw his friends to want any thing, he would willingly supply them of his owne, ac­cording to his ability. For euen at that tyme also, the very light of reason, had dictated to him, that all the riches of the world, were created by the Eternall Father, for the common vtility of men, and that in the law of nature, they belonged no more to one man then another. And much more, after he was offered vp to God in Re­ligion, as a perpetuall Holocaust, stood he allwayes firme and constant in voluntary pouerty. Not wanted he occasions inough to exercise the same; in reguard, that besides the aforesaid priui­ledges and particularities, which in vaine the Abbot Herlwin had enforced vpon him; there were brought now and then, no small summes of gold and siluer to spend, or keepe to himselfe for his owne commodity and pleasure, which yet the good religious man, would neuer yield to accept of, if they, were not presen­ted to the Abbot himselfe, for the benefit and vse of the whole community. And if the Benefactour himselfe, as it would happen now and then, replyed, that he had as then no intention to bestow it on the Abbot, or Conuent; he would answere, that he had no need of such things, and that, in that nature, he would receiue no­thing at all of any person liuing. With these proceedings of his, he did allwayes yield forth a most sweet odour of himselfe. Whēce he came to be inuited vnto diuers Abbyes, to make them spiri­tuall exhortations, and to resolue their doubts, and to afford them his counsayle, as well in publique a [...] in priuate affayres: Which the man of Christ would do, with exceeding edification, and good of Soules.

Abbot Herlwin being dead, Saint Anselme is chosen in his place. He is giuen much to Hospitality: And goes into England to visit S. Lanfranke, and King William.

IN the meane tyme, Herlwin dyed, and S. Anselme with the com­mon consent of all the Conuent, was elected for Successour. But he knowing the danger of such manner of dignitye, for many daies opposed himselfe with excuses & reasons as efficacious as he could, [Page 338] agaynst the sayd election. After which, perceyuing that he was not able to remoue the setled determination of the Monkes, lamenting and sending forth sighes, he cast himselfe at their feete, beseeching and coniuring them, through the bowels of the diuine mercy, to leaue of such a thought, and not to burden him with such wayght. But they on the contrary, being prostrate before S. Anselme, besought him to haue pitty on the Conuent, and to beware, that with such resistance he seemed not more to regard his proper commodity, thē the publike weale and vtility. This perseuerance of the Monkes, togeather with the memory of that which was expressely com­maunded him, by the Archbishop of Roan, ouercame him at last: otherwise, there had been no meanes possible, to haue brought him to accept of the Prelacy.

Being then consecrated, without altering awhit the manner of his customes, and liuing; he now proceeded to promote with all diligence his subiects to the end of their vocation, and with great vigilancy prouided, that the least wrong in the world might not be offered to any one, by the Officers and Procuratours, in the causes of the Monastery. Moreouer in receiuing, and lodging of Ghests (to which worke of charity, the family of S. Benet hath euer applied it selfe with particular industry, and prayse) S. Anselme was among others most wondefull liberall, & where ability fayled, he supplyed the defect with a great pro [...]ptnes of the will, and withall sere­nity and cheeerfulnes of the countenance: and likewise, sometymes in case of necessity he would be taking from the refectory it selfe, the meate which was prepared for the Monkes, to set before stran­gers; though ordinarily, as he was a most prudent exactour of ob­seruance, so was he very accurate in procuring, that the Conuent should suffer no want: howbeit often tymes, things arriued to those termes, as there would seeme to be no prouision left for the day fol­lowing. In which cases, the Dispensiers, the Cellarians, and other the Ministers of the Monastery running with all anxiety vnto the holy Abbot, he would answere them with a graue & serene coun­tenance, that if they would but haue confidence in the diuine Goodnes, he would not suffer them to want any necessaryes, nor were they deceiued awhit of his promise.

Because, euen in that very instant, or shortly after, you mig [...]t haue seen to come from England (where many of the possessions of their Conuent lay) some ship well freighted with all manner of [Page 339] prouision; or els some extraordinary almes to arriue from some de­uout person; or otherwise some wealthy m [...]n to come, and enter into Religion amongst them, wherby in time what manner of wāt soeuer, or disorder in this kind, might be easily remedyed. And for­asmuch, as the forsayd possessions in England, for the better manage of good gouernment, required somtymes the visits and presence of the Abbot himselfe; S. Anselme was fayne now and then to go [...]hi­ther, being thereunto moue [...] moreouer with desire to go and visit his deere, and most venerable Father and Mayster S. Lanfranke, who for his most excellent vertues, from the Abbot of Cadom, was as­su [...]pted to the Archbishoprike of Canterbury. Comming then to En­gland, he was receiued with much ioy and honour, not only in the sayd Citty of Canterbury, but in all other places wheresoeuer he pas­sed. And he alwayes according to custome, shewed himselfe most sweet and affable to all, accommodating himselfe to the genius and fashions of euery one; so much, as he would many tymes say, that he who in euery thing, wherein God may not seeme to be offen­ded, endeauours to consent to the will of another, comes to merit exceedingly with the diuine Goodnes: that as he accordes with o­thers in the present life, so with him in the future, may God and all created things, seeme likewise to accord. But he that dispising the neighbours contentment, will attend but his owne gust only; shal deserue often, with the iust Iudge, that euen as in this world, he would not seeme to conforme himselfe to the will of any; so in the other, shall no man accommodate himselfe to his. Since euen it is sayd by our Sauiour himselfe, that euery one, shall receyue accor­ding to the measure he hath proportioned to others.

The blessed S. Anselme now being moued with such like rea­sons, as we haue sayd, did shun by all meanes to be troublesome & grieuous to any: howbeyt, now and then, he was constrayned therefore to remit somwhat of the monasticall seuerity & discipline that he vsed otherwise, reputing it to redound to the greater glo­ry and seruice of God, to condescend rather a litle now and then, with holy equity, to such Soules as he was to help, then by standing too much vpon rigour, to estrange, and alienate them from his speach and conuersation. Whence it followed, through the great affection, that all seemed to beare him, they came at last with a very good will to receiue very holesome and spirituall aduertise­ments from him: Which in truth haue neuer yet beene put in print, [Page 340] nor alwayes giuen in the same manner, but proportionable to the qualityes and estate of the hearers.

To the Monkes, aboue all things he would giue to vnderstand they should not seeme to neglect the least faults and trangressions of the Institute. And was wont to confirme the same, with a simili­tude of a Viuary, or Fish-trough, because that euen as when the ho­les, or chinks are not kept well stopt within them, the water by and litle goes running forth, & the fish doth euen perish the while: So in religious houses, when there is no heed taken of lighter faults, by litle and litle, is spirit togeather with obseruance lost.

He taught the Clearkes, how they were to maintayne the profession which euen by name they made, of hauing God only for inheritance, portion & lot, and aduised them to stand allwayes vpon their guard, least through negligence or tepidity, insteed of possessing God, they come to inherite the Deuill. To the maryed in like sort, he would giue aduertisements, very full of prudence and sanctity.

And in this doctrine of his, the diuine man proceeded not after the manner of the Maisters, and deep Deuines of the world, who beleiue they cannot seeme to maintayne their degree and dignity if they do not still propose very high and sublime conceipts, and not so easy to be apprehended of the vulgar: But S. Anselme, quite contrary to such, by reducing the highest points to the capacity of the meaner vnderstandings, and vnfolding the obscure and intri­cate passages, and declaring them by images and materiall exam­ples (being a thing very proper to true and absolute Wisedome in­deed) and confirming them moreouer with potent and manifest reasons; would seeme efficatiously to engrosse them in the breast and heart, so as euery one heard him with great cheerefullnes, and recurred to him in their doubts, with the greatest confidence that might be. Nor was there in England a personage at that tyme of importāce, that held it not a great misfortune to haue had no occa­sion to heare, honour, and serue such a man. Yea euen King William himselfe, who had, conquered that Nation by force of armes, and was commonly held to be fierce and cruell, shewed himselfe to S. Anselme so human and benigne, as they were all astonished at him.

K. William the Conquerour being dead, his Sonne William Rufus succedes. And Lanfrancke the Arch-Bishop deceasing, S. Anselme is chosen in his place. Chap. 13.

FRom this tyme forwards, S. Anselme was much conuersant in England, and according to the occurrences that happened, he made frequent iourneys thither. And among other tymes that he went into those parts, one was, after the death of the said King William, to whom his Sonne succeeded of the same name, being a person very ill enclined, and who from a King became a Tyrant: and among other iniquityes of his, against all Iustice, he doubted not to pollute his impions hands, with the oppression of the Clergy and Religious, & with the vsurpation of the goods of the Church. Whereupon it seemed good to the Earle of Chester, and to other principall Lords of the kingdome, to giue him a Christian admo­nishment by the meanes of one of so great authority, as S. Anselme was; and with that occasion to comfort themselues with his pre­sence and discourses, whom they wished to be the Phisitian, and Gouernour of their soules.

S. Anselme then, being so earnestly inuited and intreated by this Man, and many others, with the greatest instance that might be; passed ouer agayne vnto Canterbury, where a litle before was de­ceased S. Lanfrank the Arch-Bishop, and where the Clergy and people, were in great care and desire, to supply the vacancy of that Seate, with the election of some worthy and sufficient Prelate. So as now at the appearing of S. Anselme, began to arise a generall whisper in the whole Citty, that a new Arch-Bishop was come already, and how they ought not to thinke of any other then of him. Which the humble Seruant of Christ perceiuing, immediately departed from thence, nor could he be induced by the prayers or in­treaties of any, so much as to celebrate there on the Feast thē appro­ching of the Natiuity of the most blessed Virgin. From hence, according to the necessity of the Churches, and the request of the Peeres, he refused not to go to the Court, where met with much reuerence by all the Barons, & the King himselfe likewise, with cheerfull coun­tenance, came to receiue him, euen to the gate of the Pallace; and after most deere kisses, and louing imbraces, taking him by the right hand, he conducted him into a roome thereby. Where sitting [Page 342] downe, and some words of courtesy passing betweene them, S. An­selme shewed his desire to haue priuate audience with him: so as the standers by, went immediatly forth, when he without touching a­whit the matters appertayning to his Monastery, for which it was thought, he had principally come to Court, with Christian liber­ty, be gan to discouer to the King, the sinister fame, that went of him; nor stuck he, to specify vnto him many particulars, that he might the more easily come to amend them.

The discourse being ended, he went his wayes, to seeke out the Earle of Chester, & was enforced to remayne there for some dayes. In the meane while, the King fell grieuously sicke, & fearing death was put in mynd by his followers, assoone as possible, to prouide for the principall Church of the Kingdome, being then without a Pastour, which was that of the aforesaid Canterbury. And now this counsayle seeming good to the King, he nominated the Abbot An­selm, and no other, for the same administration. The which declara­tion, was with admirable applause, receyued of all. The Abbot on­ly, at the newes thereof, was strooke euen dead, as it were; but then gathering his forces to him agayne, he endeauours by all meanes possible to resist, but not being able to preuayle, agaynst the deli­berate consent of the King, and of the whole Clergy, and people, he was snatched vp, and carryed into the Cathedrall Church, and placed in the Throne with much solémnity From thence, he was straight conducted to Winchester, and lodged in the suburbs of the Citty there: where while he remaynes in the company of Gondol­fus Bishop of Rochester, and of a certayne principall Monke, by name Baldwin: behold one night was a great fire enkindled in the neigh­bour-houses, which with fury went consuming whatsoeuer it met with in the way. It now approched to the house very neere vnto S. Anselmes Iune; when some familiar friends of the Hostesse or Mistres of the house, seeing so litle remedy agaynst the fire, began to carry away from thence the houshold-stuffe, into some safer place. But the woman, being full of fayth, forbad the same; very confidently affirming, there was no such cause of feare, while she had the Arch­bishop S. Anselme in her house. At which so generous words of hers, Baldwin being moued, intreated the holy Father, not to deny his succour to the deuout Matron: but he, with accustomed modesty & humility, answered: what should I helpe her? & wherein I pray! Go you but forth then, the other replyed, and make the signe of the [Page 343] holy Crosse agaynst the fire: and who knowes, whether the diuine Clemency may not happily extinguish it by that meanes? When S. Anselme replyed agayne. What say you, by my meanes? You know not what you say. And yet neuertheles, for feare of the imminent danger, he went forth with the others; and in the sight of those furious flames, was constrayned by the Bishop of Rochester, and Bal­dwin, to oppose the holsome signe of the Crosse there to. A strange thing, he had no sooner lifted vp his hand, but (as likewise it is read of S. Martin) that flaming and impetuous floud of fire, retiring into it selfe, made a stop in its course: and the flames being extin­guished on a sudden, left the buildings halfe burnt, so farre as it had gone.

S. Anselme endeauours to put off the charge imposed vpon him, but in vayne. He after falls in disgrace with the King and is banished the Court. With a miracle that happened. Chap. 14.

AFter all these things, S. Anselme did seeke very dexterously to put off from his shoulders, that new burthen of the Archbi­shoprique: and to that end had differred till then, the acceptation thereof, and his full consent thereunto. But so great were the moti­ues, and coniurations made of persons of ech quality; togeather with the scruple of Obedience thereunto added, which was imposed vpon him heertofore by the Archbishop of Roan, as that in fine a cō ­sent was violently extorted from him. And so was the blessed Man, with great ioy and solemnity, consecrated by all the Bishops of En­gland, in the Metropolis of Canterbury. This consecration of his, was celebrated vpon the 4. of December, on the feast of the glorious S. Barbara: when loe, the Natiuity of our Sauiour comming shortly after, S. Anselme went his wayes to the King, to giue him the accustomed salutation of the good New yeare: of whome he was first well in­treated; but afterwards, partly out of malice, and the meere insta­bility of the Kings owne disposition, and partly by the worke and instigation of wicked Courtiers and flatterers, the state of mas­ters was quite changed: and the Kings mynd began with a sudden mutation to shew it selfe much aliened from the Archbishop: while to the foresayd occasions, was likewise added another of no small moment, which was, that K. William hoping for some great pre­sent from him at his first entrance, found himselfe to be quite decei­ued [Page 342] [...] [Page 343] [...] [Page 344] of his expectation; since S. Anselme, was not willing at all to aggrieue his subiects with any exactions & loanes, to satisfy the dis­ordinate appetites of the King.

So that perceyuing him now to be angry with him, he depar­ted from Court, and retyred himselfe to a certayne Village of his called Bregge, to finish, and dedicate there a Church for that parish, which by the death of S. Lanfranke his Predecessour was yet imper­fect. In which ceremony, succeeded a notable accident: which was, that a certayne Clerke, but ill disposed, comming from London, vnder shew of assisting at the sacred office, had thrust himsele into that troupe: where casting his eye on the vessell of holy Oyle, but ill lookt to as it seemed; he began to lay his sacrilegious hāds ther­on, and so with silence went secretly his wayes, towards his home agayne. He was now gone a pretty way, as he thought, when cō ­trary to his opinion, he found himselfe still in the same assembly, & in the selfe same place from whence he had fled; whereat wonde­ring not a litle, he puts himselfe on the way againe: & behold with in a while, finds himselfe still in the Church of Bregge: and so went turning his backe to it agayne and agayne, vntill such tyme as the people being aware of those erring and wandering steps of his, cast their eyes on the Clerke; and at the same instant were the Deacons aduised, that the vessell of Chrisme was not to be found, for which there arising a great cry, vpon good aduise, and discreet coniecture, the foresayd Clerke was immediately apprehended, and the vessell being found about him vnder his cloake, with menaces and ra­ting, he was brought to S. Anselme, who being moued with com­passion towards the wretch, with cheerfull countenance reprehen­ded him Fatherly for it, and ordayned, he should be let go forth­with without punishment; and immediately the Man went dire­ctly home to his house.

This Dedication being finished, S. Anselme was very suddenly recalled agayne to the Court, of purpose, to giue his benediction to the King before he crossed the seas. He went then presently thi­ther: and for that, the wind in those dayes was very contrary vnto him, he thought it his duty in the meane tyme, with all care and diligence, to admonish K. William agayne, of the great disorders & many abuses introduced into the kingdome, and to exhort him to relieue the afflicted Churches, and to help to reforme the same. He did it then in the best manner he could: but the King, being now [Page 345] troubled already, and wholy vncapable of good counsayle, not only slighted the man of God, with the Fatherly correction he gaue him: but euen also, with great disdayne and contempt did banish him his presence. Whereupon, some wicked and insolent men present, tooke new courage, and boldnes agayne to offer wrongs and iniuries to Ecclesiasticall persons and their goods, bearing but li [...]le respect to the dignity and merits of S. Anselme himselfe: who being much more seen and expert in the knowledge of spirits, then in the manage of temporall affayres, partly suffered himselfe to be deceyued, not being able to persuade himselfe, that any one for trā ­sitory things, would willingly loose the eternall; and partly also, was enforced to yield, hauing (as we sayd) the King for aduersary, and his grieuous enemy.

So as now being wholy anxious, he neuer ceased to bemoane himselfe for the quiet and peace of a religious state; nor found he any comfort, but when he could now & then, retire himselfe from company, into Cloysters. Nor would he neither within the Bishop­rique, nor yet without, euer liue without the company & assistance of some vertuous and approued Monkes, to his exceeding gust, and to the great edification of as many as knew him. Besides which, he fayled not to steale some tyme for meere contemplation, and to re­medy the troubles of the Catholique Church, by meanes of his most learned writings. Among which, is that worke of his, most worthi­ly renowned, which he wrote in the midst of so great afflictions vpon the subiect of the Incarnation of the Eternall Word: wherewith, the errour of the Greeks, remayned discouered and conuinced, be­ing so audacious, as to deny the Procession of the holy Ghost from the second person of the Blessed Trinity.

Not only thus in his Cell, and studies, but euen likewise at ta­ble, when they had giuen ouer reading, as a most excellent Deuine, he would solue very intricate knots, & expoūd difficult passages of the sacred Scripture. He likewise feared so much euery offence, how light soeuer; as he often affirmed, with sincerity, that if he had on the one side, the horrour of sinne before his eyes, and the paynes of Hell on the other, with the necessity of being drenched or engul­ted in this, or that; he would doubtles make choyce, rather of the infernall paynes, then of the offence of God; and sooner accept of Hell, as pure and innocent, then the heauenly mansion being polluted with sinne.

What occasions S. Anselme would vsually take of spiritual Conceyts. How K. William returnes from beyond Seas: and S. Anselme goes to Rome. Chap. 15.

THe Seruant of Christ, was wont with the gift which he had of knowledge, to gather spirituall & fruitfull conceipts from the things which daily occurred: as once certaine Seruants of his, had a course at a Hare, who after she had diuers wayes, very nimbly tryed to escape from them, by secret instinct, came at last to squat euen vnder S. Anselmes horse, who suddenly thereupon made a stop, so as the dogs, not daring to set vpon her, stood aloofe, baying at her, expecting her starting agayne. At which sight, the company laughing, and making much sport, S. Anselme fell a weeping: You laugh my Maysters (sayd he) but this poore little beast heere laughs not at all, or finds any sport. Her enemies encompasse her round about, and she with the agonies of death, recurres to vs for succour. The same indeed succeeds very often to the reasonable soule of man, which no sooner yssues from the body, but the hunters (ma­lignant spirits) pursuing her as long as she liueth in flesh, by the di­uers turnings, & crooked pathes of vices and iniquityes, euen to the article of death, do then cruelly stand ready to snatch her away, and to cast her headlong to eternall perdition, laughing & making great sport thereat; whiles the poore wretch lyes depriued and despoyled of all helps. And after these words, S. Anselme spurd on his horse, and commaunded them not to molest the poore creature; when by & by hauing escaped the dāger, she skippes againe into the meadowes & woodes from whence she had fled.

Another day, the holy Father seeing a boy in the stretes, hol­ding in his hand, a certaine little Bird, fast tyed by the feete with a long thrid, taking much pleasure to let the thrid go and come now and then, and in the midst of its flight to pull it backe on a sudden agayne, and let it fall often to the ground. Whereat S. Anselme tooke compassion on the poore creature, and much desired to see the bird at liberty; when behold on a sudden the thrid brake, and the bird flew away, and the boy cryed. S. Anselme reioyced the while, & cal­ling to his companions: haue you (sayd he) taken heed to the sport of the litle Boy heere? Whereto the others answering yea, he then replyed: And now such manner of sport for all the world, the an­cient aduersary makes euery day with many sinners; he holds them [Page 347] so entangled in his snares, and playing at his pleasure, precipitates them now into this, and then into that vice. As for example, some be giuen to auarice, or els carnallity, or to some other such like mi­series: To these will it happen now and then, that being touched with pennance and compunction, they make reflexion vpon the e­uill life which formerly they haue lead, for which they are moued to teares, & for that time make good purposes to amend themselues. And now it seemes verily to them, they are loose already, & at full liberty: but yet with the thrid, or lyne of euill custome, in the ve­ry loose and iumpe, as it were of their flying away, they are sudden­ly pulled backe agayne by the Deuill, and made to fall as before in­to the same sinnes. And this thing happens very often, nor do they euer come to get forth of so abominable a seruitude, till with some great violence of theirs, & with the efficacious help of diuine grace, the same lyne comes once to be broken asunder. With such holy do­cuments as these, the holy man, dayly excited himselfe, and others, to the custody of the hart, and purchase of vertues.

But to returne from whence we haue digressed. King William, after he had vnworthily banished from his presence the venerable man, so that S. Anselme, seeing now all things to passe continually from ill to worse, without hope of any present remedy, through the occasion of obieyning his Episcopall Pall, resolued to go to Rome, & to recurre vnto the Pope for help and counsaile, who in those daies was Vrban the second; for this end he went to demaund licence of the King, and after many repulses, affronts, and iniuries receyued at his hands; did finally obteine it, with condition neuer to put foote into England more. Heerupon, with great feeling and teares, taking his leaue, first of the Monkes, and then of the Clergy, and people, he went to Douer, and there embarqued himselfe for France: but in the midst of his course, behold a contrary wind arose, in such sort as the mariners began to protest, that vnles he would needs be drowned, of necessity they must be fayne to turne backe agayne from whence they came. This newes, did much afflict the good Archbishop, en­forcing him to say with sighs: Since then, it pleaseth the Almighty God of his iust iudgments to send me againe backe to my passed mi­series, rather then to let me go whither I had intended to arriue, let his diuine Maiesty do with me what he thinkes best, & gouerne and dispose of euery thing, according to his good pleasure. With these words growing tēder, his eyes were all bathed in teares; when [Page 348] through diuine Clemency, the wind suddenly began to come about so as with a prosperous gale the ship arriued in France at a place cal­led Whitsand: where they landing, was discouered another wonder, to wit, a leake in the barke of two foote broad, which through the merits of the holy man, amidst so great a tempest, and storme, had receaued no water.

As soone as it was known in Court, that S. Anselme was now on the other side, King William with impious boldnes, caused his possessions and goods to be seized vpon in his name: he cut of all the Acts & decrees by him made in the same Dioc [...]sse, & with strā ­ge iniuries & wrongs stuck not to molest, and euen sucke out of the Church, for himselfe and his hungry flatterers, as much bloud, as he could. In the meane tyme, the Seruant of Christ being arriued at Ly­ons, there rested himselfe a while, & from thence passed safe to Rome, being euery where receyued of al, with much honour & reuerence; and especially of the Pope himselfe, causing chambers to be proui­ded him in his owne Pallace; and admitting him to audience, and kissing of the feet tooke him vp, and deerely imbraced him; & in the presence of all the Prelates, spake so much good of him, as the hum­ble man being confounded thereat, had not the hart to lift vp his eyes from the ground, much lesse to endure such māner of discourse. Wherefore with good opportunity he declared the state of the En­glish Churches, and particularly that of Canterbury; when the Pope with gracious words promised, to take the businesse to hart, & pro­uide for the same in due tyme.

S. Anselme being at Capua, miraculously causes water to spring vp in asto­ny soyle. And goeth with the Pope vnto the Councell of Bari, and thence to another. Chap. 16.

IN the meane tyme, by reason it was then Summer, it seemed good to the Pope, that S. Anselme, being a person of so tender cō ­plexion as he was, should retire himselfe from that ayre, into a vil­lage of the Benedictin Monks, called Schiana, not far from C [...]pua. This village, was seated on the top of a high and pleasant hill, but de­fectiue of water: in somuch, as they could get none at all, but at one Well only, which was there by, on the ridge of that hill, & this also but at certaine houres of the day, it remaining afterwards dry, in so much as the Guardian of the place with the inhabitants thereabout did suffer very much. Now the said Guardian cōceiued a great hope [Page 349] that though the sanctity of S. Anselme some remedy would be easily obtained from Heauē for so great a difficulty. And therupon he de­termined to dig a well in his owne house, howbeit the place being craggy and stony of its own nature, was very vnapt for the purpose: but yet before he would put hand to the worke, he prayed the Man of God to affoard his benediction to the enterprize, & to be the first to open the Earth with his holy hands. Whose request S. Anselme did not resuse, but for his Hosts consolation went in person to the pla­ce designed, & making his prayer for a happy successe, with a pick­axe strooke the earth three tymes, and then gaue place to others, to finish the worke. When it was not long, ere there sprung vp a most limpid and excellent water from the stony soyle, which being en­closed within a pit of a small depth, there followed after a perpe­tuall aboūdance from thence, inough to supply, not onely the ne­cessityes of all those parts thereabout; but euen likewise to cure the diseases and infirmities of many, who had faithfully recourse to that succour: which thing, being once diuulged, gaue no small credit of more then human power to the B. Anselme, and from that tyme for­wards it was worthily called, The Bishop of Canterburies Well.

Heere now remayned the Seruant of God, a pretty while, re­collecting himselfe, and greatly attentiue to diuine contemplation and serious studies, to his most extraordinary delight; as seeming to him in a certayne manner, he was now returned to his won­ted monasticall life againe: where (among other things) he finished a Booke intituled: Cur Deus homo, which heertofore he had begun in England. In those dayes was Capua besieged by Roger Duke of Pu­glia; who moued with the fame and neighbour-hood of S. Anselme, sent to inuite & pray him to vouchsafe to come vnto him. The ho­ly Man went presently, and with his presence, humility, and cha­rity, so edifyed the Duke, and gayned so the minds of the whole ar­my vnto him, that whersoeuer he shewed himself, he was blessed & glorifyed of euery one: in so much as many Saracens, being moued with his good example, & the good entertainement he gaue them, were euen ready to be conuerted to the holy Fayth: and had beene so indeed, if through diabolicall suggestion, they had not been hin­dred, by a Count of Sicily, who at the instance of Duke Roger, had trained, and conducted them to that Seruice.

After this, came likewise Pope Vrban himselfe vnto the campe, and the siege being ended, S. Anselme very earnestly besought him, [Page 350] he would please to discharge him of the dignity, & Pontificall cu [...]e, and to affoard him the fauour to let him retire againe to his ancient quiet and religious liberty: but all was in vayne, while the Pope esteemed him more worthy of a higher degree. And a litle after con­ducted him with him to the Councell of Bari, where S. Anselme by word of mouth, conformable to the doctrine he had written alrea­dy, left the Greekish pride, and perfidiousnes much abased, & con­founded, not without the vniuersall approbation of the Fathers, & most cleere confirmation of the Catholique Fayth. From thence, he returned to Rome with the Pope, who calling another Councell, in that Citty vpon the ensuing Feasts of Easter, S. Anselme was there also, & illustrated not a litle, the sayd assembly with his presence and authority, where with the consent of all the Prelates, and par­ticular consolation of S. Anselme, was thundred forth the sentence of Excommunication, as well agaynst the Laity, that presumed to giue the Inuestitures of Bishoprikes, as agaynst the Ecclesiasti­ques themselues, and others, who receiued them at their hands, or durst consecrate any persons by such wayes, intruded into those dignities. The Councell being ended, S. Anselme hauing obtayned good leaue, departed for Lyons, with resolution to remaine there with the Archbishop Hugo, his most intimate friend, hauing now quite lost all hope of euer returning into England agayne, whiles K. William liued.

Newes commeth to S. Anselme, how K. William was sl [...]yne, & King Hen­ry had succeeded. He returnes welcome into England: where after some troubles passed ouer, he dyes blessedly in his Sea of Cāterbury. Chap. 17.

SAint Anselme being arriued now, at Lyons, while he attended to his wonted exercises of vertue, and assisting the Archbishop, & that Diocesse; behold two Monks from England with tydings, that K. William vpon the second of August, being a hunting, was shot through the hart with an arrow, and had presently giuen vp the ghost. Whereat S. Anselme was very sory, & most bitterly lamenting affirmed, he would willingly haue giuen vp his owne life, to haue deliuered his King from so sudden, and dreadfull an end. And a litle after, arriued diuers Posts to S. Anselme, with letters from K. Henry his Successour and the Nobility of England, both Ecclesiasticall, and Se­cular, intreating him to returne backe againe with all possible di­ligence, for that the whole Kingdome expected him, with excee­ding [Page 351] desire, and that all publique businesses were differred, and put off vntill his comming.

Whereupon S. Anselme without delay, tooke his iourney towards Normandy, and crossing the Seas, the first thing he did, he declared to the new King, in plaine termes, what had lately been determined in the sacred Coūcel of Rome in the matter of inuestitures of Bishops. Whereat K. Henry being greatly troubled made instance to S. Anselme that for reuocation of such a decree, he would returne agayne vnto the Pope, called Paschalis, being newly elected in place of Vrban thē deceased: to which request S. Anselme made answere playnly, that it was not to be sued for, or possibly procured by any meanes; & yet notwithstanding K Henry vrging him, that at least for his satisfactiō he would leade with him, another Embassadour thither, whome for that purpose he determined to send to his Holynes, S. Anselme o­beyed, and being receiued by the Pope, and the whole Court with great honour, his companion the Kings Embassadour after he had laboured in vayne for that which his Lord pretended, returned into England without effect, and S. Anselme remained in France. for that he heard K. Henry was exceedingly displeased for the ill successe of his affayres in the Court of Rome, and had impioussy seized vpon the Archbishoprike of Canterbury, & despoiled S. Anselme of all his goods.

Howbeit after a while the same K. Henry, being touched with the feare of God, and true pennance, restored S. Anselme into the pos­session of the sayd Church, and very honorably receiued him againe into peace & grace. Which conuersion of his, how gratefull it was to the diuine M [...]iesty, did soone appeare by a glorious victory, which he got agaynst his Brother Duke Robert, with other persona­ges, who had reuolted from him; through which victory K. Henry did remaine absolute Lord of Normandy. And in signe of gratitude, caused a Parlament to be called at London, in which, to the extraor­dinary consolation of S. Anselme there present, and of all good men, he renounced the custome of his Predecessours, concerning the In­uestiture of Churches, leauing the free disposition therof to the Pope and his Delegats, shewing him selfe heerin particularly, to be a true and obedient child of the holy Apostolique Sea.

Now S. Anselme, waxing dayly more, and more grieued with old age, and diuers infirmityes, especially of the stomacke, came to such weakenes, as that not being able to celebrate Masse, made him­selfe to he carryed euery day to the Church to heare the same, and in [Page 352] short tyme the malady increased so much, as it cleerely appeared, there was litle hope of his life. His benediction then was required by the Bishop of Rochester, for all that were present, as also for the King and Queene themselues, with their children, and the whole Kingdome besides: and he hauing giuen it, with much deuotion most sweetly bowed downe his head, and one of his familiars, ta­king the Text of the Ghospell, began to recite the Passion of our Lord, and comming to those wordes: Vos estis, qui permansistis me­cum in tentationibus meis, & ego dispono vobis, sicut disposuit mihi Pater meus, regnum, vt edatis & bibatis super mensam meam, in regno meo; the good Archbishop, began to fetch his breath more thicke then ordinary. Whereupon the standers by, being aware of the approach of his last houre, after the due rites, and Sacraments applyed, taking him in their armes, they layd him downe, according to the manner of those tymes, vpon a Cilice, and Ashes; where he rendred his blessed soule to the Creatour, vpon Wednesday in Holy weeke, in the morning being the 21. day of Aprill, in the yeare 1109. or as o­thers would haue it 1080. and the 13. of his Bishopricke, and the 76. of his age.

Being afterwards sockt, and reuested with his Pontificall or­naments, he was decently layd forth in the Church, and buryed with most solemne Exequies, and with the sorrow that behoued, for the losse of such, and so great a Prelate. Many other, and great miracles, besides those that we haue touched, are recounted of him, the which notwithstanding altogether with me, make him not so venerable & worthy of eternall prayse, as two only Qualities which he had, among others, in an excellent degree; to wit, his Discretion, and Assability with all. Most noble vertues without doubt, and such (as we haue sayd) that he aboue all other gifts, should be adorned withall, who desires to haue open, and manifest to him, the Soules and consciences of his subiects, and would seeke by due meanes, to lead them to some good point of Perfection, and Sanctity.

FINIS.

S. OTHO.
THE ARGVMENT.

THE Altar deckt with Purple
Sal. I [...] ­chi vpon those [...]ords Num. 4. Et togent alta­ [...]e purpura:
did display
The fire that came from heauen which vnder lay
As in its mansion vnextinguished,
And by it selfe conseru'd, and nourish'd.
Those that Christs flock appointed are to feed,
And gouerne it, must take attentiue heed
The inward man doe with their Robes agree,
And like to that like fire do signify;
Euer conseru'd Heau'ns loue, which drawne from thence
Their nobler soules should purge, and quintessence.
This in my Rule I fostered, this my Hart
Did purify and cleanse my better part
From worldly cares, and sensuality,
And fruitefull made in acts of Charity.
My selfe of all the wretched'st I esteem'd,
And worldly ioyes, I like those Meteors deem'd
Compos'd of grosser substance, yet exceed
The starres we thinke, and greater wonder breed.
Preferment me abased, rays'd more high
Deiected more, more low in dignity.

THE LIFE OF S. OTHO BISHOP OF BAMBERGE.

Otho being well descended, his Father hauing left him poore, goes into Poland; whence being sent Embassa­dour to the Emperour, is preferred by him to be Chan­cellour. Chap. I.

OTHO, who was after Bishop of Bamberge, a Sueuian by nation (whose proper place, and Surname, is not knowne) was borne of the Count Bartold, and of the Countesse Sophia his wife; more noble of bloud, then rich in sub­stance, & goods. Who after they had bred with diligent care, and with the help of a good Mai­ster, brought vp this sonne, dyed; and the gouernement of the house, fell into the hands of another Sonne, whose name was Fre­dericke, at such tyme indeed, as in forraigne parts, as it happened, Otho was busyed at his booke. Where he hauing with good ap­plause attended to the study of humanity, and to some part of Phi­losophy, and wanting sufficient meanes to proceed any further, by reason of the short allowance, which his Brother and other friends [Page 171] affoarded him, he resolued, to the end he might not be grieuous & burdensome to them, to passe ouer into Polony, where was as that tyme a great scarcity, and want of learned men. Heere then, for the teaching and instructing of youth, and withall likewise for his greater profit, he set vp open Schoole. And with this manner of life, comming shortly to be well knowne, not only for a pious and a learned, but euen also for a wise and discreet Man; he pur­chased to himselfe, besides an honest, and competent meanes to liue, much reputation, and fauour also with the principall person­nages of those Countryes.

There was added also to the learning and integrity of this ser­uant of God, a maiesty in his countenance, and such a garb in his behaviour, and so noble a dexterity in his conuersation, as that after he had in diuers occurrences handled, and negotiated affai­res of no small importance, he was by the Duke of Polony (for as yet, there was no Alteza, or Highnes of a King) sent in weighty affaires vnto the Emperour Henry the fourth, his Cousin. Who was likewise so pleased with the carriage, and prudence of Otho, as that the Embassage being ended, with the good leaue of his Cousin he retayned him with him, with some honourable title, among his Chaplaines: and a little after, the dignity of the great Chancellour being voyd, he most graciously conferred it vpon him. In which charge, Otho carryed himselfe so faythfully to the Prince, and with so much courtesy and humanity towardes others, as he made a no­table increase of loue, and credit with persons of all sortes.

S. Otho is preferred by the Emperour to be Bishop of Bamberge; and after some difficultyes is by the Citizens ioyfully receaued. Chap. 2.

THERE was in those dayes introduced among Christians an abuse of much preiudice to the holy Apostolike Sea, (and I would to God, there were not as yet some reliques thereof, to be seene likewise in these our dayes) that many Princes, and especial­ly the Emperour, vnder the name of inuestitures, bestowed the Churches at their pleasure; and when a Bishopricke was vacant at any tyme, the Chapter would send to Caesar, the Pastorall staffe & ring, beseeching his Maiesty to vouchsafe to prouide them a Suc­cessour. Whence it came, that many personages, the children, & nephewes of Barons, and great Lords, vnder diuers colours of ser­uices [Page 172] done, would follow the Court of Caesar, to be promoted to some Bishoprike, or other, as it chaunced to fall. Now Robert the Bishop of Bamberge, a noble Citty of Franconia, being then decea­sed, and the sacred Pledges caryed vnto Court with the wonted supplication, Henry answeared, he would take tyme, for the space of six months, to thinke of a new election. In the meane while in Bamberge, were made continuall prayers, and pennances for that effect.

The terme being ended, it was signified them by the Empe­rour, that now, he had found a sufficient Pastour for that Church, though for the present he suppressed his Name, while that good people, continued still more feruent then euer in redoubling their deuotions. And among others, on the Vigill of Christmas day, was a solemne procession ordayned (where none was absent) from the Cathedrall, to the Church of S. Michael, on the Hil, taking that glorious Archangell for intercessour, with the diuine Majesty, to obtayne a Prelate, of the sufficiency and goodnes, which they de­sired. And on the other side they sent Embassadours to Henry, to sollicite the expedition: & in fumme neglected not any thing that concerned the happy issue of so important a busines. And the di­uine Clemency, accustomed to heare the prayers of such as concurre on their parts, and manfully to set hand thereto; was pleased with the piety and industry of Bamberge, in putting into Caesars mynd, to put the designes in execution, as soone as might be. Thereupon, sending for the foresayd Embassadours to come vnto him, he spake to them, in the manner following.

How deere to vs (Embassadours) your Church is, and euer hath been, from hence you may easely gather, that wee haue thought it not good to giue you a Rectour, till after a long & ma­ture consult thereupon; and that surely with good reason: Foras­much as the said Church, as you know, hath beene founded by our Progenitours, and adorned, and furnished of all things that seeme to appertayne to the splendour and mantenance of Christian Religion, and (which is more, and which cannot be affirmed but of few other Seas) the same ornaments, furnitures, and ancient riches, are kept very safe, and entire, vnto this day; so as reason would, for the custody, and administration of them, should be pla­ced ouer them, not an ordinary man, but one who were sage, pru­dent, and zealous of the honour of God.

[Page 173] And the Emperour proceeding to manifest more at large, this good disposition of his, towardes the Communalty of Bamberge, some of the Embassadours, being wearied already with such long and tedious ambages, could not hold themselues, but they must needs ingeniously demaund of him, where, and who he was, whome his Maiesty had so destined for the gouernement.

Then Henry cheerefully looking about: Behold him, sayd he, and taking Otho by the hand, that was (as we sayd) of a venerable aspect, and decently clad in a Clericall habit; This, sayd he, is your Lord, this is your Preist, and Bishop of Bamberge. There could not happen to the Embassadours eares, a more strange and vnexpe­cted thing then it. Whence being astonished, and confounded, they began priuily to looke one vpon another, and to cast there eyes from tyme to tyme on the face of Otho. Whereof some of Caesars court being aware, who now for a long tyme, gad greedily expected to aspire to that seate and Liuing; with glaunces, nods and whispe­ring began to stir vp the Bambergians to shew themselues not well satisfyed with such a nomination, and resolued not to accept it by any meanes. So as at last, with a sad countenance and free liberty, they turning themselues to Caesar, sayd: We hoped your Maiesty, would haue deputed to vs, some Prelate, who had been one of the most markable, and illustrious of the Court. Now for this man, we know not eyther, who he is, or whence he came. Then Caesar replyed with a seuere looke. We our selues, through long cōuersatiō and infinite proofes haue had full, and perfect notice of this Subiect, his faythfullnes, his iudgement, and longanimity: his diligence, in small matters, and sufficiency in great, are not vnknowne to vs. Nor would we haue you to thinke but the losse of such a Minister must needes redound to the notable preiudice of our own seruice. From whence we see, as euery one may perceaue, the sincere affe­ction we beare to your Countrey, so as we in this election so much premeditated, are not to be altered in our iudgement. And who­soeuer shall seeme to haue the boldnes to oppose this our decree, shall infallibly incurre our high displeasure.

Otho hitherto had knowne nothing of any such deliberation made: Whereupon, as one astonished with a sudden blow, falling prostrate at the Emperours feet, began to powre forth a floud of teares. The Embassadours ran readily to reare him vp. He then ha­uing taken a litle breath, refused the charge with might & mayne: [Page 174] esteeming, & proclayming himselfe to be wholy vnworthy there­of: and affirming with all, that so high a degree became rather some other more noble, ancient, and well deseruing of the sacred crowne, then him. By occasion whereof, Caesar, re-entring agayne into Otho's prayses, among other things, made this publique de­claration, how this had beene the third Bishopricke, which the seruant of Christ had refused; how first he had offered him, that same of Augusta, then that of Halberstad, nor could euer hitherto seeme to fasten any one vpon him. From whence, very euidently appeared the modesty, the humility, and merits of such a persons through diuine dispensation reserued (as it should seeme) for the benefit and behoofe of the Citty of Bamberge. And with this, & many other Elogies, and prayses, putting the ring on his fingar, and the Pastorall staffe in his hand, so adorned he giues him to the Embassadours.

At sight whereof, with a sudaine inclination of minds, was immediately raysed a fauoutable cry, and applause of the whole multitude. The Embassadours beholding things to fall out thus, as truly from God, approaching to S. Otho, their Father, and Lord, saluted him cheerefully, and with Christian vertue, very reue­rently adored him; When as Henry sayd agayne, Accept him then with a good will, and vse him with that loue and veneration, as he deserues: because I call him to witnes who knoweth all things, that I know not a man in all the world, to whom more truly, and with greater reason so ample a charge as this may be conferred, then to him. And for my part, as long as I liue, and wield this Scepter, whosoeuer shall but touch him, shall touch the very aple of myne eye. In this manner then, and by such meanes as these, came S. Otho to be forced to the Bishopricke, but yet full of anxiety and scruples the while, as well for other very graue respects, as also, for the controuersies sprung vp, as we sayd before, by reason of inuestitures, betweene the Roman Church, & Empire. And yet on the other side, considering, that his being now so often called to such a charge, could not choose but proceed from the diuine Wil, he feared least persisting in the negatiue, he might hap to incurre that dreadfull sentence, Noluit benedictionem, & elongabitur ab eo.

Amidst such streights and perplexityes as these, he finally de­termined with himselfe, to recurre as soone as might be, for ayde and light to the Apostolique Sea, and made an expresse vow ne­uer [Page 175] to admit of the Bishoprike, vnles at the instance of his flock the Pope himselfe should inuest, and consecrate him with his owne hands. With this resolution, he kept the Feast of the Natiuity of our Lord at Ments in company of Caesar, and from thence, dismissing a part of the Embassadours, he stayed in Court for vrgent reasons about some fourty dayes space: Which being ended, he tooke his leaue of Henry; and through his expresse commandement, accom­panyed to Bamberge, by the Bishops of Augusta, and of Herbipolis, & of other principall personages besides, he made his solemne entry on the day before the Purification of the most blessed Virgin. The Monks and Clerkes, and all the Nobility, went forth to meete him in or­derly procession, with psalmes, and hymnes, and with rich orna­ments and deuout reliques. Nor would the people, and meaner sort, suffer themselues to be vanquished with such offices of obse­quiousnes. While euery one, leauing their shopps, & staules, ran striuing to kneele before him, and to demaund the benediction of their holy, and so long desired Pastour. In which feast, and solem­nity we may not passe ouer in silence one thing, that shewes very well that euen in the Courtiers life, who will but affoard any tyme to spirituall things, may make a notable purchase of religious vertues.

S. Otho remembring his Vow, goes to Rome, where he is consecrated Bi­shop by the Pope himselfe. Chap. 3.

S. Otho, as we haue seene, had spent the greater, and better part of his yeares, in the seruice of secular Princes, and liued in the exteriour, a cōmon life, and without any apparent singularity in him: And yet performing, according to occasions (which want not) intense acts of temperance, and humility, and of contempt of himselfe, in short tyme he became very rich in those habits, which more gallantly adorne and deck the soule, then doe all the Mitres, and Pontificall robes set forth the body. Whereof, he gaue a most clere example in the aforesayd day of his entrance so in Pontifica­libus. Because, that in comming to approach to Bamberge, as soone as he descouered a farre off the Cathedrall Church, being dedicated to S. George, he not only, according to the custome of that Bisho­pricke, dismounted suddenly from his horse, but also putting off his hose and shooes publiquely in the hart of winter, went bare foote [Page 176] and bare legg on stones, and yee through the presse of people vnto the Church, where the sharpnes of the cold, hauing (not without danger of his health) now possessed already, as it were, the vitall parts, and a hot Bath being suddenly applyed to him for present re­medy, he suddenly called for cold water, when putting his legges thereinto, with one rigour, he expelled the other: and then besids the accustomed ceremonyes, hauing deuoutly made his prayers, and with the holsome signes, with his sacred hand giuen his pa­storall benediction to the people, being tyred and spent, at last re­tyred himselfe into his lodging. After which, the first and princi­pall care of S. Otho, was to render his vow, and to giue due ac­count of his actions to the Bishop of Bishops, and generall Superin­tendent of the whole Church of Christ.

And though he well perceiued the danger he incurred therein of offending Henry, there being nothing, that more touches Princes to the quicke, then the point of Iurisdiction; yet for all that, prefer­ring euer a good conscience, and a chast feare of God, before any o­ther respect whatsoeuer, he first reduced the Clergy, and people of Bamberge to his opinion; shewing them the obligation that was of acknowledging the supreme power of the Pope of Rome. Then by letters, hauing obteined leaue of the Pope himselfe to kisse his seete, he went with an honourable traine of his followers, and familiars, and of the principall of his Church, to the Court of Rome, the Pope (who was then Paschalis the Second) then residing at Anagni, a Citty in Latium. Where S. Otho arriuing within the Octaues of the Ascen­sion, after the kisse of his holy feete, very faithfully declared to the Pope, the whole order and progresse of his promotion, without cō ­cealing any thing of moment: and to accompany his wordes with deedes, without more a doe puts the ring and staffe at his feete, and humbly craues pardon of the offence, succeeding meerely by ano­thers violence, rather then of his owne inclination, demaunding withall pennance, and Canonicall censure for the same.

On the other side, the Procuratours of Bamberge, do neuer cease to beseech the Pope, he would daigne to confirme, or to say better, renew the election, made by Henry, & not to depriue their Countrey of so exemplar, and behoouefull a guide, Maister, & Sup­porter. To which speeches of theirs, Paschalis giuing a benigne ans­were, commaunds S. Otho to resume againe the deposed pledges: & he still shewing himselfe backward; The feast of the Holy Ghost [Page 177] (sayd the Pope) drawing neere, we will remit the controuersy to him. And after some discourses, the Bishop, and the others returned to their lodgings, with the Apostolicall benediction, but yet with a diuerse disposition of mind, and quality of thoughts: The subiects with a firme hope of obtayning as much as they desired of the Pope, and the Prelate himselfe with a purpose to relinquish the Bishop­ricke by all meanes possible. And being all that night, and the day following intensly fixt in contemplating the reasons, that were of eyther part: finally pondering the malice of the tymes, the encom­brances, troubles, and molestations, and daungers of the Episcopall state, the disobedience, contumacy, and insolency of the inferiours, and in summe, all the asperityes, and difficultyes of such a charge, he determined with a full and firme resolution, to reduce himselfe to a priuate life, and calling his companions and domestiques to him very plainely vnfolded to them his whole deliberation, and with­out delay being dispatched of the Pope, and Court, put himselfe on the way towards Germany.

But scarcely had he made one dayes iourney, when a Post ouertakes him from his Holynes, who calls him back. Which thing was an incredible disgust, and extreme trouble to S. Otho; while he prudently ghessed what was like to ensue therof. But being thē ouercome by the precept, and encouraged by the prayers, and ex­hortations of his followers, with feare and trembling he returned to the Pope agayne, and without being able to resist any longer, on the day of Pentecost, while the Masse was sung, with great iu­biley of the Bambergians, and vniuersall ioy of the whole Court among other demonstrations of charity and esteeme, had likewise the priuiledge to haue caryed before Him and his Successours for euer, the Crosse and Pall, eight tymes a yeare; Whereas his Predeces­sours, had them caryed, but foure tymes only. Which fauour he accepted with great thankes-giuing, not so much for his owne res­pect, as for the loue of his Espouse, whose exaltation for the diuine seruice, was worthily most deare vnto him. But yet more glo­rious to S. Otho, and farre more fruitefull to Mankind, were the guifts that befell him in the rites of the mysticall vnction, being powred vpon him from the large and munificent hand of the Ho­ly Ghost, as a vessell well disposed, and most capable of them. Tho­rough which, being fortifyed with new breath, and agility, and more enflamed continually to ech pious and holy worke, without [Page 178] suffering himselfe by any meanes to be enticed by those obiects, and allurements, which like to Syrens detayne a man far from his home, and residence; taking his leaue agayne of the Pope, as soone as might be, he returned back to his beloued flocke.

S. Otho built, and founded many Monasteries, both little and great. He was hospitable, abstinent, and zealous of soules, and imployes himselfe in the conuersion of Pomerania. Chap. 4.

BEsides the singular wisedome, which in all affaires S. Otho shewed, as well temporall and profane, as spirituall and Ec­clesiastical; were the great testimonyes of his singular piety, and magnificence, the fifteene greater Monasteryes, and the fiue lesse, of diuers orders which in sundry places of that Prouince were ere­cted, adorned, and founded by hym: With condition they should all remayne vnder the protection, and direct dominion of the Ca­thedrall of Bamberge. And in the same Cathedrall, and those other Churches of the sayd Citty, for ampliation of the diuine seruice; he increased the rents, recouered the alienated goods, reedifyed the ruyned buildings, and lastly on euery side, made very notable emprouements, being things without doubt so much more admi­rable, as he was more sollicitous euen at that tyme also of the inte­riour progresse of soules, and of the necessary prouision withall, for mayntenance of the body. Wherein expressing the figure of perfect Benignity, he spared from himselfe whatsoeuer he could, the better to supply the commodityes of others, affecting as well parsimony in priuate, as magnificence in publique, and aboue all things farre off from any shew of superfluity, and those sumptuous dishes, which vnder coulour of state and decorum, are cōmonly afforded the greater and richer Prelates.

Nor was he therefore in his dyet, or in the ordinary expences of his howse any whit scarce or miserable, but how well furnished soeuer his tables were, with a rare & noble habit of temperance he would rise often tymes from the table with an appetite; distributing the while to the bashfull poore beggars, and to sicke folkes, the dainetyest meates which were dressed for him. And to come to some particulers in this matter: On a fasting day, there being once set before him a goodly Pickrell and well seasoned, he was not on­ly not pleased with the dish, but shewed himselfe disgusted and [Page 179] strange thereat. Whereupon the louing Steward, as taking com­passion of his Maisters extreme abstinence, began modestly to ex hort, and pray him to refresh himselfe a litle therewtih, and to en ioy that blessing, which the common Lord had destined for him [...] But the blessed Bishop, with eyes not allured and vanquished wit [...] that present food, and eares shut to the prayers and enticement made him, sayd to him: What hast thou layd out vpon this fish heere? and the other answeared, some two crownes. God forbid (replyed S. Otho) that my belly should me so deare: Go too then, & goe thy wayes presently, and cary it to my Iesus (meaning by that word some needy, sick, and diseased person) as for me, that am thanks be to God, so sound and able, this loafe of bread, shall suffice. Such were his delicacyes amidst so much riches. Through which, and other most excellent qualityes of this man of God [...], and principally, for the great zeale, which he had of his Neigh­bours good, his fame being dilated through all parts, a noble oc­casion was offered him of dilating of the Ghospell.

The Duke Boleslaus ruled the Poland nation at that tyme, a per­sonage of much valour, and singular piety. This man, hauing with the ayde of the Bohemians, and Hungars, subdued Pomerania, that lay drowned in Paganisme; was much enflamed, through heauenly sparks, to the conuersion of that people: but as the same, in those tymes, besides the seruitude of the Idols, by nature also was very barbarous and fierce, the good Duke, could not find any labourers to cultiuate that land, so wild and sauage as it was: and yet not ceasing for all that, to thinke of the saluation of those, whome the diuine Maiesty had committed to his gouernement, at last the per­son of the Bishop of Bamberge, came into his consideration, now li­uing (as we haue sayd) very laudably in Polony, with whome he was so well acquainted, eyther by sight or heare say, as (among o­ther gifts) he knew, he had the skill of the Pomeranian tongue: and promising himselfe with good reason, all help from the charity of S. Otho, he besought him by letters and messages, he would be plea­sed to permit him some little absence from his flocke, now a long tyme so increased and instructed in sound Religion; to affoard some part of himselfe vnto a people drowned in Idolatry, and miserably tyrannized by the powers of darkenes.

The prayers and perswasions of Boleslaus, were not in vayne: Like a generous Falcon that discouers its prey, so was S. Otho im­mediately [Page 180] inflamed to the spirituall purchase of that Prouince; and yet distrustfull of his proper forces, he recommended earnestly the whole busines to the diuine Goodnes, through which, though he well perceiued the vocation to be approoued; yet neuerthelesse to proceed with the more stable & well gouerned designes, he would not seeme to vndertake the enterprize, though otherwise holy, without first hauing the consent and dispatch of the Pope of Rome. By whome being encouraged to so noble a Conquest, and prouided of necessary facultyes for the purpose, he puts himselfe on the way; from thence passing through Bohemia into Polony, with three Priests only for his helpfull assistance, he arriued in Pomerania; being ho­nourably met, in the Confines thereof, by Christiernus Prince of those Countreyes, who at the instance of Boleslaus, against the will of his Wife, and Subiects, had been now already baptized.

The great labours, and difficulties of S. Otho, in conuerting the People of Pomerania: with baptizing the VVife of Christiernus, and Wen­ceslaus his Sonne. Chap. 5.

IT is no easy matter heere to number, much lesse to vnfold the labours, trauailes, and toyles of S. Otho, while with infinite pa­tience and sweetnes, he seekes first to purchase to himselfe the good will of the people of Pomerania, and then likewise to let them see the darkenes wherein they lay as buryed, through ancient errour; now awaking them with the help of the light of nature it selfe, to the knowledge of the Creatour; and now proposing the Articles of the Catholike fayth vnto them, and with apt comparisons, and examples, shadowing and figuring the ineffable misteryes of the most holy Trinity. And on the one side, shewing the conueniency and necessity of the Incarnation, and Passion of the Sonne of God; and on the other, the necessity of obeying the Precepts, and of imi­tating his actions, and in doing pennance. To which effect, the diuine Catechist, adding, and prouing with liuely reasons the eter­nall rewardes and punishments proposed for the merits of ech one, he endeauoured with all his power to roote out the fabulous opi­nions through diabolicall illusion, and long course of tyme so roo­ted in their mindes, and withall to pull them from their impious worship, wicked ceremonyes, and sacrilegious feasts of the Idols; the which, how much more accompanyed with carnality, pa­ [...]ymes, [Page 181] and riotousnes they were; so much stronger an arme was needefull for so hard a separation, and so bitter a diuorce.

But aboue all, was this wise proclaymer of the Ghospell made more vigilant, with the care he had of the perpetuall edification of his Neighbours, and with the gouerning not only of himselfe, but also of his companions and familiars; so as neyther in their facts, words, and carriages, might appeare any thing that might seeme to destroy with scandal, what he endeauoured to edify with doctrine: and with these, and such like meanes, S. Otho did proceed with the enterprize so farre, as within few dayes, came aboue seauen thousand persons to the sacred Baptisme: whereunto, for a cōplete ioy was added not long after, the wife also of Christiernus himselfe; and moreouer the Prince VVenceslaus, who was so giuen, and addi­cted to worldly pleasures, as it was necessary, not without excee­ding trouble, to go by little & little a weeding away some foure & twenty concubines from him, and to leaue him contented with one lawful, & only Consort. For conseruation of which purchases, the seruant of God hauing erected Temples in those Prouinces, and ordayned, as much as the scarcity of subiects would permit, Pastours and Priests; he passed from thence more inward into the Countrey, where he dealt with inhabitants so inhuman, as would not endure by any meanes to be diswaded from their ancient cu­stomes; but insteed of complying with the zeale of the Messenger of Christ, did exercise their natiue fiercenes against him, with scornes [...]niuryes, with throwing of dirt vpon him, & rudely smiting him withall: vntill being vanquished at last through his vnheard of [...]eekenes and holsome aduices, most humbly crauing pardon at his hands for so great pertinacity and boldnes, they accepted li­kewise of the sweet yoke of Christ.

Among which occupations and paynes of his, S. Otho not for­getting a whit his first and deerest vineyard: & fearing least through [...]is too long absence from it, the same might hap to suffer some do­ [...]age, setling affayres in those countryes the best he could, he made a progresse, as short as possibly he might vnto Bamberge: where [...]he fame of his so glorious actions, hauing already arriued, he was [...]eceiued as a Prelate truly Apostolicall, and that though full sore against his will, with more exquisite honours, and greater vene­ [...]tion then euer: and hauing with his presence, and oportune ex­ [...]ortations comforted that people there, and promoted, or amended [Page 182] rather, according as need required, the publique discipline; he returned very soone agayne to the tender plants of Pomerania. And heere encouraging such, as were running before, prouoking the flow, and confirming, and rearing vp the wauering, he attended more at ease, with due meanes, to establish the happy culture of those lands. And hauing now reduced matters to good tearmes, and being finally rich with merits, and full of benedictions, he re­turned agayne to his proper dio [...]sse. Where while he attends by all manner of wayes to represent in himselfe the forme of a faythfull vicar, and seruant of Christ, there occurred to him an accident worthy of feare, and wonder, as shal appeare in the next Chapter.

After a notable accident happened, S. Otho dismayd, desires to be dischar­ged of the Office, and to be receaued into a Monastery: but he is denyed. Chap. 6.

IN a Church of a certaine village, called Buchback, which S. Otho visited, he found that vnder the Aultar, within a litle chest of leade, were layd very many and most precious reliques, sealed vp. Which he not holding to be in so worthy a place, as became them, determined to translate them, some other where with more veneration, and decency to be kept by Religious persons. There being then fasts, and deuout prayers made for that intention, he returned thither, with an honourable troupe of Clercks about him, and appointed some of them to breake the seale, and to take forth the chest: but none of them daring, through their innated piety and reuerence they bare vnto it, to lay hands thereupon, he himselfe full of feruour, couragiously takes hold of the mallet, and hardly had giuen it two or three blowes, when from the chest it selfe, there flowed forth a manifest streame of bloud. The standers by being amazed at the spectacle, began suddenly to fall downe to the ground, and with teares to begge mercy of God, and suc­cour of the Saints. The Bishop himselfe giuing ouer the enterprise, being full of confusion and feare for the matter, retires to Bamberge, where, eyther for chastisement of his too much confidence, or els, for matter of new crownes, being seized on by a grieuous infirmi­ty, and desirous to be assisted in spirit (since for the body he cared not much) he caused Father VVolfran Abbot of S. Michaels, to be [...]nt for, to come vnto him, a person of rare qualityes: and while [Page 183] this so great and faythfull freind of his sate familiarly by him, and with the hopes of heauen, and other sweet discourses, sought to [...]itigate his dolours; S. Otho one day hauing found some little [...]uce with his malady, with an humble countenance, turning himselfe to him.

Father, sayd he, you must vnderstand, how I now for so ma­ [...]y yeares hauing beene suddenly raysed to Prelacy, and from the [...]oyse and vanity of the Court, being yet full of spots and dust, without passing the purgatiue way, hauing purchased the ensignes of perfection, which is, as much as to become a Doctour before one goes to Schoole. And I, though enforced in a manner vnto it by him, who had reason to command me; doe stand yet in some doubt, whether then, I made due resistance or no to such a charge: and do verily belieue, that besides those ancient remorses of con­science, these new scourges of the eternall iustice, haue thus light vpon me. And now since the common Lord, with equall benig­ [...]ty, seemes to punish me so, and giue me space to looke backe into my former offences: I am resolued to differ no longer the delibeta­ [...]on I haue often made with my selfe, to discharge me of the Pasto­rall office, so much aboue my feeble and weake forces, and in a priuate life to reduce me to Monasticall discipline. And since a­mong all the congregations which I know, I find none more con­ [...]rmable to my designes and behoofes, then yours of S. Michael; I doe therefore most earnestly beseech you, Father, to vouchsafe to accept me in the name of our Sauiour Christ into your family, and [...]o present vnto him this small sacrifice of my selfe, and being cloa­ [...]ed though vnworrhy with your habit, to admit me into your Conuent; and ruling me in all, and in euery thing, as the other subiects, to conduct me with diuine assistance to the glorious victo­ry of my passions, and to a full mortification of my proper will. You know well inough the bands of streight friendship & amity, which are betweene vs, and I do very well remember the charity you haue euer shewed me in all occurrences. But now assure your selfe, that in affoarding me this benefit which heere I request at your handes, you shall farre exceed all the seruices, and courtesies which you haue hitherto vouchsafed me.

Such wordes spake the Bishop, with voyce and gestures well able to demonstrate they came not from any sudden fit of passion, but from a resolute and stable purpose: and the Abbot being asto­nished [Page 184] at so new a demand, not to constristate the sicke man, for that tyme would by no meanes deny him, but rather with a cheer­full countenance, commending the good desire he had, made shew to accept of his prompt Obedience, reseruing the execution of the rest, to his better health. In the meane while, the feruorous No­uice, finding himselfe to be somewhat better recouered, and not seeing the houre of fullfilling his vow to come, hauing disposed as secretly as he could, the thinges belonging to him, without de­lay requires the habit of Religion; and makes new instance to be sent into the Monastery so conualescent and weake at he was. But the discreet Superiour on the one side being edifyed at so great hu­mility of his; and on the other, in much suspence for the impor­tance & quality of the busines, calling after prayer some graue & experienced men to consult, he proposed the Bishops request; and all hauing well examined the matter, did answere it to be without doubt, to the seruice of God, that a man of so eminent vertue, & behoouefull to so great a multitude, should go forwardes rather to shine on the Candlesticke of the Church, as a burning and resplen­dant light, then by aspiring to a priuate life to hide himselfe vnder a bushell, within Cloisters, though otherwise holy, and laudable in it selfe.

With this answeare, the Abbot being assured, and confirmed in his former iudgment, goes his wayes to S. Otho: who like vnto a weight that approached neerer to its center, longed so much the more for subiection, pouerty, and solitude, as the confidence was greater, which he had conceaued already of obtayning his intent; and approaching to him with due reuerence, demanded of him, if he held still his purpose to maintayne the Obedience with deeds, which he had promised him with words: and he cheerefully ans­wearing, that for the loue of him, who to the eternall Father had obserued it to death, he was readily disposed to keep it, without exception. Then (replyed the Abbot) on behalfe of the same Lord, do I command thee to perseuere to the end vnder the charge of the administration thou hast in hand, and couragiously to go for­ward in the way begun to the glory of God, behoofe of the holy Church, consolation to the faythfull, the support of Widdowes, Pupills, and Orphans, and to continue thy life in good workes, & in summe, to doe what thou dost, and to execute the office thou art in, to gayne at the Prince of Pastours handes the eternall life, and [Page 185] reward a hundred fould. Because, that if we would but weigh thinges indeed with equall ballances, what Monke liues at this day vnder the Sunne, of so much abstinence, and of so great perfe­ction, whose merits and pouerty, may seeme to stand in compari­son, with the care and solicitude, thou hast of so many soules, and with the sweet dispensation of so great riches? So as thou mayst quiet thy selfe, with the authority of him, whome thou hast taken as guide and consellour in this behalfe. And let the diuine honour and publike vtility be preferred before thyne owne particuler gusts and contentments.

With such reasons, S. Otho being lastly conuinced, as an e­nemy of selfe-loue, and farre from all pertinacy, without more re­plyes, did bow downe his head; and putting a fresh the most bitter chalice of gouernement to his mouth, with new breath, and with redoubled purposes he began to giue himselfe wholy to the spiritual and temporall help of his Neighbours.

S. Otho was exceedingly giuen to hospitality. He dyed blessedly: And his body being buryed in the Church of S. Michael, was translated after­wardes. Chap. 7.

FOrasmuch, as among Episcopall parts and conditions (as hath been sayd) S. Otho knew well, that Hospitality was one of the cheifest, he endeauoured to send before him as much corne, vi­ctualls, cloathes, and monyes, as he could possibly procure, by the hands of the poore, but now especially, feeling himselfe to be so loaden with yeares, and neere to the tearme of his life. So as like to an Oliue tree, euen stooping, as it were with abundance of [...]es, he gaue himselfe freely to ech state and condition of mor­talls. You might haue seene there, whole squadrons of Pilgri­mes, very decently receaued into the chambers and lodgings of S. [...]. To the desolate Widdowes, forlorne Orphans, and the needy and necessitous Clerks, and Monkes, stood his granary open day, and night, his Purse, and Wardrobe neuer shut; but like a wise merchant, in the short mart of this transitory tyme, he attended to barter and exchange terrene for heauenly, frayle for eternall and incorruptible ware. In summe, besides the secret almes of ech day there was not in all those partes, a Church, Conuent, Hospitall, or pious place of any sort, which he visited not, restored, and roy­ally [Page 186] prouided of what was necessary, for the Maiesty of pure Reli­gion, and continuation of Christian verity. And it was an admi­rable thing to see, how so much giuen away, and so much empting, he continually should find no bottome, as if the great Lord, and his carefull Steward, should seeme to striue togeather, the one to supply, and the other to distribute with a large hand, all manner of goodes, gold, and siluer, and what not?

Amidst such actions as these, truly worthy of the lawfull Suc­cessour of the Apostles, the blessed Man being now arriued to the end of his dayes, maturely composed the affaires of his Diocesse, and hauing made a pure and deuout confession, and after the holy Oyle, receauing with great feeling the holy Eucharist; being in­uironed round with a company of Clerks, and Religious, most sweet and deare vnto him, who in that last passage came all to re­commend him to their common Creatour, he peaceably yielded vp his soule, well fraught and replenished with good workes, and full of honours, and heauenly graces.

As for the mourning and great concourse of people wherewith his Exequies were celebrated, it importes not much to treate ther­of; while euery one may sufficiently gather how great a desire of his presence, might so louing a Father, and so vigilant a Rectour, seeme to leaue behind him. He was praysed then with a solemne Sermon by the Venerable Embrichonus Bishop of Herbipolis, and car­ryed vnto his Sepulcher into the Temple of S. Michael (while Ba­rons, Counts, and Marquesses succeeded by turnes to conueigh the hearse) vpon the first day of Iuly, in the yeare of our Lord 1139. and of the administration of his Episcopall charge, the 37. The translation was made afterwardes vnder Pope Clement the III. on 89. yeare the last of September, on which day is celebrated his me­mory, as eternally consecrated vnto immortality; euen by the lear­ned penns of the noblest wits. Among which, Iohn Trithemius affir­mes, that (besides what we haue spoken of aboue) this S. Otho, was no lesse in his death, then life most illustrious, and famous for many and most euident miracles.

FINIS.

S. BERNARD.
THE ARGVMENT.

THE eye, that is vnblemished, and free
From colours, their defects can better see.
Soules not forsaken, better can descry
The Worlds deceits, and note her Vanity,
He that the world abandons, this doth gaine,
Thinges dark to others are made cleare and plaine
To his vnstained soule. I well could sound
Her deep impostures by experience found,
And them display to others, whome I taught
To slight her, and to ends more noble brought:
I triumph'd ore her and her Prince, and lead
Thousandes most happy to be vanquished:
Gayning heereby eternall liberty,
And by their thraldome freed from slauery.
If thou the world wilt conquer, her contemne,
And this contempt shall gaine a Diademe.

THE LIFE OF S. BERNARD ABBOT OF CLAREVALL.

Of the Family and Parents of S. Bernard: with a nota­ble vision his Mother had before his birth, which gaue great hope of his future Sanctity. Chap. I.

IN the partes of Burgundy, is a place which is called Fontaine, obscure heertofore and vn­knowne, but deseruedly famous and renow­ned, after it had so affoarded to the world, that mirour of vertue and light of Sanctity, which now to the glory of God, we beginne to des­cribe. In that very place, was an honourable Knight, called Tesselinus, who according to the Euangelicall pre­cepts, being contented with his paye, and farre from all insolency and rapine whatsoeuer, so applyed himselfe to Military discipline, as he forgot not the profession of Christ. This man had a wife, both chast and fruitfull, by name Aletta de Monte Barro, who a­midst the familiar and transitory cares of the world, keeping her mind still fixed on eternall goodes, did increase so much in deuoti­on, that as many children as she brought forth into the world, [Page 189] (which were in number some six Sonnes, and one Daughter) ta­king them all one by one in her armes, she suddenly offered them to Iesus; and from that tyme forwardes, as thinges made sacred, in a certaine manner, would she nurse ech one at her owne breasts, instilling into them, togeather with the milke, the feare of God, & Christian piety. And after they came to be weaned, would she feed them with grosse, and more common meates, & keep them wholy from all pampering, and childish sports, as if she had of purpose trayned them to a monasticall life. Nor was the proiect of the ver­tuous Mother any whit in vaine, since finally all of them, one by one (as we shall see in the progresse of the whole narration) tho­rough solemne vowes of Religion, came thence to be the Seruants of Christ. Of these, was S. Bernard borne in the third place, whose glorious merits (as they report) euen iust in a manner as of S. Do­minicke, were through diuine ordination foretold, and prefigured ere he was borne into the World.

For as the Mother was resting one night in her bed, it seemed to her in sleep, she had a little white Dogge in her wombe, which made a great barking; wherat the poore wretch being exceeding­ly sad and disconsolate, demanded of a venerable Monke the true signification thereof. Who suddenly conceauing with the spirit of Prophesy, answered her: Feare not, Madame, all is well, there is an excellent Dogge, to proceed from you, which both with his barking shall faythfully guard the flocke of Christ, and with his medicinall tongue, shall heale the diuers infirmities of many and many a soule. Aletta being glad at such an Oracle, gaue infinite thankes therefore vnto the Creatour; and from that tyme after­wards applyed her mind with particuler diligence to bring vp that child. So as at last being deliuered of him, she was not content, as she had done with the rest, to offer him to God only with priuate and domestique ceremonyes, but in imitation of the blessed Anna the Mother of Samuel, carrying him in her armes into the Temple, with a singular affect of Charity, did dedicate him to the diuine seruice. After this, she diligently attended to the nursing and tray­ning him vp, and as soone as he seemed to be capable of discipline, sent him presently to the Church of Castiglio, vnto approued Mai­sters there to learne, as well good literature, as manners.

The child, as he was elected by the diuine Prouidence, and fra­med for high and great enterprizes, so was he likewise of a rare wit, [Page 190] and of an excellent inclination withall. Whence it came, that as wel in his studyes in short tyme, he left all his companions behind him; as also in solid vertues, he beganne to giue forth those buds, which in progresse of tyme shot vp to such a height of perfectiō, as they did. There was seene to be discouered in him, euen in those very ten­der yeares of his, a meruaylous maturity in all thinges: As for ex­amples sake, to recommend himselfe often to God, without omit­ting the while, the exercises of the Schoole; very seldome to go a­broad; to keep silence, and modesty at home; to shew himselfe be­nigne and louing to all: and if any money chanced to come into his handes, he would presently giue it freely in voluntary almes: but aboue all, he obeyed his Elders with great reuerence. With such behauiour as this, the Child became most gratefull in the sight of God, and Men. And euen in that very tyme, he also gaue forth a very notable signe of his Predestination. Because, that being fallen sicke on a tyme in his bed, through a grieuous payne of the head, there came a Witch vnto him, who promised him to cure him of the head-ach. But he was so farre off from admitting of any such cure at her hands, as that not without the astonishment of all there present, he beganne at the first sight of her, to cry out vpon her with all his might and mayne, and with a holy disdayne very suddenly draue her away thence. In this manner, the chast Disciple of Christ conserued purity, and increased in learning, when through diuine reuelation, the Catholicke Fayth was both established in his breast, and also an extraordinary flame of Charity, enkindled therein, as shall appeare more cleerely heereafter.

S. Bernard as yet a youth, had an admirable vision in sleep: He shewes a no­table example of Chastity. And his Mother dying, he after some difficultyes resolues to follow the diuine counsayles. Chap. 2.

ON the night of the Natiuity, while S. Bernard was in the Church with others attending the diuine Office, falling sud­denly into a slumber, he had the vnspeakable grace, to behold the manner by which the Sauiour and Spouse of human generation, went forth heeretofore from the intemerate chamber of the Virgin Mary, with a firme perswasion, that he euen iust at that houre, was truly and really borne. From which sight, it cannot be expressed, what iubiley, and spirituall sweetenes S. Bernard tooke. And hence [Page 191] it was, that as he had the holy Church, and all the articles pro­posed by it, in the highest veneration that might be; so, as long as he liued afterwards, he had a particular ioy in this solemnity, and peculiar feeling of this sacred mystery: and (as partly may be gathe­red in his Homelies) he did always seeme to discourse thereof with admirable gust, and a blessed fluency of conceipts and words there­upō. Through this fauour, being exceedingly confirmed, he passed ouer the first part of his age, without any rub at all, or great contra­diction. But comming afterwards in the beginning of his youth, there wanted no probations, so much more grieuous, as they were full of allurements & flatteryes.

Though S. Bernard of himselfe, were of a tender complexion: yet was he of a good stature withall, and of lyneamēts very well in shew, and liuely withall; so as more then once he had hapned to be importunely courted, and molested by lasciuious women, but still in vayne. Because that most noble and precious iewell of Chastity, was euer kept by the holy Youth, with so much iealousy, as that he hauing one day, for a very little space, vnwarily set his eyes on a womans face; as soone as he perceiued the daunger, falling into rage with himselfe for it, in the depth of winter, immediately he stripped himselfe, and entred vp to the necke into a Poole hard by, of most cruell cold water: where with much maceration he remay­ned so long, till he had fully extinguished in himselfe all sinister in­tentiues of mind, & body.

In this meane while, Aletta the mother, after she had sweetly liued many yeares with her husband without iarres, and had had many Children by him, well and religiously brought vp, leauing them all aliue, came to the end of her dayes; which through the iust retribution of God, was answerable to the life she had led. For that hauing liued (as much as the band of Wedlocke, and care of the house, would suffer) in continuall abstinences, prayers, and vigills, she fell grieuously sicke, & being now through the malady brought into extremes, hauing receiued the Sacraments, with much deuo­tion, while the standers by were reciting the Psalter about her, she went still a long with them, with a weake voyce; and when she could do no more rherewith, at least, she would follow on, with the gestures of her Countenance, and with the motion of her pale lips, vntil such tyme, as being now abandoned of all naturall heate, when rehearsing the Litanyes, they came to those wordes, [Page 192] Per crucem & passionem tuam, lifting vp her hand, and making the signe of the Crosse, she happily expired. A Matrone surely most noble, truly pious, and worthy to be imitated of all those who in coniugall state, hauing the body in power of the husband, with the soule do seeke to serue and please Christ only.

S. Bernard being thus depriued of such a guide, began now on all sides to be continually more cruelly assaulted, then euer. The flower of his age proposed to him sensuall delights, exhorting him mainely, not to leaue things certayne, for perillous, and the pre­sent for those to come: and that heereafter when he would doe pennance, he should want no tyme in his elder age, exaggerating withal the diuine clemency, which knowes very well our human frailty; and putting him in mind moreouer of the merits of Christs passion, whreupon very safely he might build himselfe. On the o­ther side, his freinds, and companions, who being affrighted with the difficultyes of vertue, had entred into the spacious way, inuited him no lesse thereunto, with diuers persuasions and examples. Nor was the world behind, to offer him riches, possessions, & pallaces. Besides which, the very qualityes themselues, wherewith he was endowed, of wit, of learning, and of a gratefull presence suggested to him, sundry hopes of honours, dignityes, & withal an immortal name. And all these fantasyes as so much fuell on the fire, the aun­cient aduersarie alwayes enkindled in him, and that so much the liuelyer as he was of a quicker discourse, and of a sharper appre­hension. Who perceiuing himselfe so enuironed on all sides with such subtle nets, precipices, and snares, and iustly fearing the trea­sure, which he bare about him as shut vp in his breast, very sud­denly determined to secure the same, and that by no other meanes, then by the counsayls of the eternall Wisedome.

S. Bernard after many difficultyes resolues vpon Religion, and drawes as Vncle, and two younger Brothers to the same course. Chap. 3.

THere remayned now to S. Bernard only, to find out how, and in what māner he might put his good purpose in effect. Wher­of while he went discoursing with himselfe, the religion of the Cistercians came into his mind, being founded heeretofore by the venerable Abbot Robert, vnder the rule of S. Benet, with addition of some constitutions, and confirmed by the Pope, in the yeare of [Page 193] our Lord 1098. This Congregation now, as is wont to happen in beginnings, was at that tyme but of small renowne, and had but one only Monastery, within a certaine remote wood: whereunto very few had entered, through the straitnesse of the Enclosure, and asperity of life. But the feruent young man, and freind of the lowlynes and pouertie of Christ, iudged it straight very apt for his designes, which were to suffer, and to be hidden, and farre off from all occasions of vaine glory. In such thoughts was S. Ber­nard much perplexed, and in great suspence, and gaue besides, diuers other signes of inclination to retire himselfe, while his more dome­stique and neerest freinds (which in such occasions are wont to be the greatest enemyes,) endeauour to disswade him from it, and the­reby gaue him very shrewd encounters. They alleadged to him the delicatenes of his complexion, that could not frame to the austerity and labours of cloysters; they proposed to him manie other wayes of seruing God, and of helping soules, without going so to submit himselfe to a perpetuall seruitude; and stuck not to put scruples in­to his head, with burying such & such talents in a desart, which to the glory of God, and light of human kind were cōmitted to him: and how much better were it, that following the course begun of learning, and of higher sciences in a quiet life, he should become a famous Doctour, & honour to his parents, a glorie to his Countrey, and a succour to the world?

With these, and other such like reasons his deerest freinds went about to recall him from his purpose. Of all which (as the Saint manifested afterwardes) there was none made so great impression with him, as the desire and commoditie to prosecute his studyes. This only respect did giue him a shrewd blow, and had euen al­most quite ouercome him. Whence they may take faire warning, who haue had a vocation of God, and learne with what caution and custody they are to keep it, and not to communicate the same, but to some person who is very spirituall and chosen of a thousand; following heerein that wary Merchant of the Ghospell, who ha­uing discouered a treasure in a field, hides the same, and sells what­seuer he possesseth to purchase that field: which aduertisement not so fully obserued by S. Bernard, had well nigh depriued him of so great a felicity.

But besides the diuine Clemency, and his good nature, he was helped not a little also by the memory of his blessed Mother, who [Page 194] had alwayes with so many aduises and motiues incited him to per­fection, and not to fall into tepidity, to the seruice of God, and not to vanity of the world, to the verity and humility of Christ, and not to the pride and swelling of secular wisedome.

With these thoughts and holesome aduises sustayned he the battayle, yet so, as the good youth went still wauering with him­selfe, vntill one day taking his iourney to visite his Brothers, en­camped with the Duke of Burgundy at the siege of Grancium, he felt himselfe so afflicted and tormented with the foresayd assaults of the spirit and sense, as that finding no rest, he retyred himselfe into a Church by the streetes side, and there with a shower of teares, and with deep sighes vnfolding his afflicted hart in the fight of him that created it, he perseuered so long in praying, and imploring help, and light from heauen, as that finally all doubt and perple­xity being taken away, he felt himselfe fortifyed in the course of perfect vertue, as being now without feare of euer seuering any more, he resolued with himselfe to reduce thereunto as many as he could. Nor was his enterprize in vaine awhit, while the Highest most powerfully cooperated withall.

The first assault he gaue (being arriued to the Campe) was to his Brothers, and an Vncle of his by the Mothers side, by name Vi­ [...]ricus, a famous souldier, and very wealthy in worldly substance, and Lord of a Castle which is called Iuiglio. This man meeting with S. Bernard, and being conuinced with the spirit that spake in him, lead the way to his Nephewes. For that immediatly after him, Bartholomew was taken, being not able to resist the inflamed exhor­tations of the Saint; and in the meane while Andrew shewed him­selfe to be somewhat difficult, but in that very instant, the Mother appeared to him (& S. Bernard sees her also) who with a cheere­full countenance, seemed to reioyce at those happy beginninges. At which aspect Andrew yielded himselfe, crying out: I see our Mother; and so he promised to S. Bernard to do what he would. These two were his younger Brothers.

S. Bernard through his powerfull Eloquence, inuites and allures the rest of his Brothers to follow his example: with other notable Persons. Chap. 4.

AFter these, the valiant Chaptaine, not doubted also to assaile his eldest Brother, by name Guido, though the matter were [Page 195] difficult, not only for his being now in good yeares, and encom­bred with great affaires in the world, but euen likewise, being now marryed a good while agoe, with a Gentlewōman of a noble house, and hauing had some children by her. Neuerthelesse S. Ber­nard stucke not to set his hand, and though Guido at the beginning seemed to oppose, notwithstanding afterwards entring better into himselfe, and wisely considering heerein, how the affaire of his eternall saluation was handled, in being as it were wholy impossi­ble to be happy in this and in the other life; he determined also on that very day to preferre the hope of future goodes, before the pre­sent commodities. And how much more he was encouraged the next morning, when as entring with S. Bernard and others into the Church, he heard those wordes of S. Paul recited: Fidelis est Deus, quia qui coepit in vobis opus bonum, ipse perficiet vs (que) in diem Iesu Christi, I remit vnto the pious Reading: for it seemes no other, but that Guido's ioy could be very great, in respect he heard this promise, in the very tyme of his wauering in purpose, as it were, to come from Heauen. Likewise S. Bernard and the rest, could not but receaue exceeding comfort heereby.

There was only one doubt yet left, whether Guido's wife would giue her consent, or no. And yet howsoeuer, if she denyed it, he determined with a generous and pious mind to disperse what ri­ches he had to the poore, and labouring with his handes to liue in the state of pennance, and to maintaine himselfe and family with his owne labours. But S. Bernard deliuered him from that anxie­ty, affirming for certaine, that the Wife very soone would eyther yeild consent, or end her life. And indeed the same succeeded, for that she shewing her selfe somewhat difficult in that busines, was seized on with so grieuous and bitter an infirmity, as that acknow­ledging the hand of God vpon her, she resisted no longer, and per­mitting liberty to her husband, allowing good meanes for her Daughters maintenance, became likewise her selfe a Nunne, to the exceeding great consolation of Guido her Father; and in that reli­gious course she perseuered euen to her dying day, not without the wonder of all. Guido in this manner being quit of all temporall cares, had leasure to attend very fully to the spirit.

It was not so easy a matter to encline Gerard to this, the se­cond Brother. This man, besides that he was a braue Souldiar, was also very wise according to the world, and likewise benigne [Page 196] and beloued of all. This sudden mutation of his Brothers pleased him not awhit, he interpreted the same to a certaine mobility and leuity of mind; and in summe after he had disputed a good while, he peremptorily denyed to consent euer to alter his profession. When S. Bernard wholy full of fire and zeale, putting forth the fingar to his side: I see well (sayth he) that tribulation only is to giue you vnderstanding. The day shall come, and that ere long, that a launce entring through this side of yours, shall set open the doore of your obstinate hart vnto the holesome counsaile, which now you will not accept from me. And so it fell out; for a little while after being encompassed by his enemyes, he tooke a blow with a launce in the same side, and being taken prisonner, and dragd through the streetes, began as one besides himselfe to cry out, I am a Monke: I am a Cistercian Monke: and sayd nor amisse, for that he had no sooner his liberty againe, but he went to submit himself to the sweet yoke of Christ, with the great ioy of S. Bernard, and the rest, who most ardently thirsted after his saluation.

The Beniamin remayned, who was the youngest of all, by name Ninardus. This same did the others thinke good to leaue in the world for a stay of the house, and for the more consolation of their old Father: but he neither would be excluded of the heauenly benediction, because that Guido meeting him one day in the market place togeather with some other boyes: Go too Ninardus (sayd he vnto him) all our goods are like to fall vpon thee. To which wor­des the child answered not with a childish iudgement: Belike then heauen is for you, and the earth for me: there is no equality in that partition. And so after some dayes he also dedicated himselfe to the seruice of Christ. In the meane tyme, it pleased S. Bernard to goe vp, and downe the neighbour-places for new conquests. Going forth then in the name of our Lord, he began to preach in diuers places, of the instability of human things, of the vanity of honours, of the shortnes of pleasures, of the miseries of this life, and of the rewards and punishments of the other: and this with such an elo­quence, and grace, and efficacy withall, as like a deuouring flame, he transformed into himselfe what ere he met withall. And final­ly the matter passed so farre, as the Mothers hid their children, and Wiues their husbandes, and friends diuerted friendes from listning to the reasons and discourses of the feruorous youth, least happily against their will they might be rapt away with that impe [...] [Page 197] torrent of celestiall Eloquence. But for all that they could not hin­der him so, but he returned to his country with a precious booty of choice men. Among whome also was Hugo de Marcone, a person very notable for nobility and riches, who after he had made in Re­ligion very excellent successe, was assumpted to the Bishoprike of Auxerre.

S. Bernard, and his deuout Companions retired themselues into the Mona­stery of Cisterce, with the Exemplar life which all lead, but chiefly S. Ber­nard. Chap. 5.

THis troupe of new souldiers of Christ, assembled themselues in Castighone, where though in secular habit, yet liued they all in the same house in common with so much peace and concord, that as it is reported of the Primitiue Church, of all that multitude there was but one hart and soule only. And through the great ve­neration wherein they were with the people, there was hardly found any one, that durst approach to looke into their actions: and if perhaps any entred into their lodgings, in beholding the Fra­ternall vnion, and order, and distribution of tyme, and Offices, the spirituall conferences, the singing of Canonicall Houres, & other deuout exercises; they acknowledged the diuine assistance to be there without doubt, and eyther they remayned there also with the same intent, or at least departed thence compunct and ful of good desires, calling that Congregation Thrice happy, and fortunate.

In this manner while the domesticall affaires of some of them were in handling, they remayned in the sayd place some six mōths at least. But perceauing afterwards a manifest danger in a longer aboad there, especially for that in fine, two being miserably sedu­ced by the Diuell, were fallen backe; it seemed good to S. Bernard and the others, to stay there no longer: so as all impediments being remoued or cut off, calling on the diuine assistance they repayred to the Monastery of Cisterce some fifteen years after the sayd house began. The number of these new disciples of Christ were about thirty, a very seasonable supply no doubt to that Congregation, which now already through the foresayd occasions was euen al­most brought to nothing.

Whereupon, the Abbot Stephen who gouerned at that tyme, being Roberts successour, and those few which as yet were remay­ning [Page 198] with him, receaued incredible comfort, with a firme hope of a long posterity, according to a certaine reuelation had a little before by one of those first Monkes; to whome being anxious a­bout fayling of the Order, at the end of his life, was represented an innumerable multitude of persons, who at the fountaine neere vn­to the Church were all washing their owne garments. By this meanes (through diuine grace) was Cisterce restored. And to this good worke was added another, to set vp at Villeo a place hard by, a Conuent for the wiues of as many of those Nouices as concur­ring piously to the promotion of the diuine seruice, had beene con­tent to acquit their husbandes of the coniugal band, and by conse­quence to offer vp themselues also in Holocausts to the Creatour of all, to whose diuine Maiesty, how gratefull that sacrifice was, may well be comprehended by the notable increase, which the sayd Conuent of Nuns made in a short tyme, as well of number of subiects, as of meanes to liue.

But to returne to the Saint, as soone as he saw himselfe in the schoole of Christ, the first thing was to plant in his hart an immo­ueable perseuerance, in speaking within himselfe, at what tyme eyther case inuited him, or labours deterred him: Bernard, Ber­nard, to what end didst thou enter in? And for repressing of vnprofitable appetites for the soule, because he knew well, how much the cu­stody of senses auayled, he was so wary and diligent in the heed thereof, and especially of his eyes, as that after a whole yeare of his Nouitiate, when he went from thence, he knew not as then, whether the seelings of the chamber were painted, or of fret-worke. And though he had entred so often into the Church, where there were indeed many windowes at the vpper end, he neuer thought there had been more then one. Besides, he kept himselfe at all tymes from all leuityes and sports, and from all those things which are wont to slacken the soule. Much laughing, a thing so proper vnto man, was seldome in him; and when it was, it was without excesse, and forced as it were, vsing it sometymes, nor to seeme froward in things wherin commonly others hardly could forbeare. He was moreouer exceeding sober and vigilant; refection was a torment to him; at his rising from table, he would allwayes make examen vpon what he had eaten, and if he had found he had pas­sed the boundes in any thing, he would not let the fault be vnpu­nished. He had sleep in horrour, as a resemblance of death, and [Page 199] that repose which, enforced through extreme necessity, he was wont to take, was superficiall only, and so small, as to any but him, would haue giuen no refreshment at all. Whence if he saw any of the Religious to sleep vndecently, or snoring, he could hardly endure it, saying, such an one slept like a secular.

But such excesse of watchings and fastings could not chose, but bring also exceeding hurt and detriment to his health, since in progresse of tyme, his stomack together with the diminution of na­turall heate, came very much to be depriued of the retentiue fa­culty: and the tongue and palate, the body being of so noble a tem­perature, thereby came so to loose the tast, as that among other things, through imprudence of him that serued, for some dayes he liued of sheeps-suet, insteed of butter, drinking some tymes very oyle insteed of water, his eyes not looking vpon it. And these vn­ctuous meates, he would hardly endure to be set before him, euen in tyme of conualescency: for ordinartly hefed for most part on no­thing else then bread, dipt in hoat water, or some broath made of pulse, or else a little milke: and if perhappes sometymes he were fayne to tast any wine, the cup would returne from his mouth a­gayne, as if it had not been touched at all.

The continuation of the rare Vertues of S. Bernard: with an example or two, of the deepe attention of his mind to heauenly things. Chap. 6.

FRom this mortification of the flesh, though otherwise but litle rebellious or disobedient to the spirit, and by such manner of recollecting of the interiour powers, came that blessed soule of S. Bernard in short tyme to square it selfe, and to be purifyed in such manner, as like to a polished and lucid glasse, it receaued right well, the rayes of eternall Wisedome, and he not only purchased a most excellent habit of meditation and prayer, but euen mounted also anone to a very high degree of contemplation, by meanes whe­reof being abstracted from exteriour operations, and liquifyed with ineffable sweetnes, in a deep silence, he would vnite himselfe, with most chast embraces of the highest good. Besides, in the very mechanical occupations themselues, through a certayne priuiledge, he had the grace, together with the whole outward man, to attend to the worke in hand, and with interiour to deale and discourse with God, satisfying the conscience with the one, & with the other [Page 200] feeding the will. For indeed S. Bernard was none of those, who vn­der pretext of contemplation, eschew trauayle, or els for priuate gust, forgo the publique good: so as hardly with greiuous and most irksome maladies could he be drawne from the Quire, where with grauity and wonderfull modesty he would perseuere in praysing and blessing God. In the labours of the hand likewise he abhorred all liberty, or any manner of exemption at all: as if he euen but then entred into the Monastery.

Going once with the Monkes to reaping of corne, and not knowing well how to vse his sikle, he was bid to sit downe, and rest himselfe; whereat he being sad, prayed with such feruour to God, that he might not be vnprofitable, as that changing on a sud­den his manner, he began to reape so readily and dexterously, as if all his life he had neuer practised any thing els. True it is, that in the exercises which required much strength of lymmes, as in car­rying of burthens, in digging and deluing the ground, and other such like workes, when through his delicate complexion he was ready to sincke vnder the same, he would get himselfe to some seruices lesse difficult, but yet more abiect and vile; so recompen­cing in that manner the paynes and trauayle of the one, with the basenes of the other, and shewing himselfe alwayes as might be e­quall or rather inferiour to his companions. And these rules he did keep in thinges which were imposed by the Superiours, either to him in particuler, or to the Conuent in generall. But when the ministery was not common, and the obedience exacted no corpo­rall application, then S. Bernard being abstracted from visible thing he would be so absorpt in the attention of the mind, as in him all operation, and all sensitiue memory, as it were seemed quite to be extinct. To which purpose are recounted two notable examples.

The one, that he hauing as it were, all day trauayled along the Lake of Losana, and his companions at night discoursing ther­of, he demanded of them very seriously, what Lake was that they talked of?

The other example was, that he being to visit the Monkes of Chertosa, there was brought him in hast by a stranger or secular a steed well appoynted, and hansomly furnished, wheron the holy man being mounted, and come to the Charter-house, was hardly wellcome, and intreated with much reuerence by the seruants of God: who remayned all exceedingly edifyed with their ghest; faue [Page 201] only with the furniture of his horse, while to them it seemed, such quaintnes therein, gaue no good odour of pouerty: so as the Prior himselfe could not hold, but must needes breake a iest thereupon to one of S Bernards companions, who with religious zeale soone told it to the Father: and he turning himselfe on the one side to the Priour, and on the other to the horse; made shew with great since­rity also himselfe to wonder at such trappings, ingenuously con­fessing, he neuer had perceaued the same. At which wordes, the good Priour in a manner remayned confounded, for hauing him­selfe at first sight noted a thing, which the other well mortifyed in the sense of the eyes, and attentiue to the interiour, could not once discerne in so great a iourney, and space of tyme.

Besides which, the diuine man, not only in commodious and easy things, but euen likewise in publique mortifications was farre off from all manner of noueltyes: in so much as hauing for some yeares very secretly worne a cilice, being an austerity not com­maunded by the institute, and the same by accident being discoue­red, he layd it suddenly aside, not to seeme singular to men, or eminent among others. And this was also the occasion, that how­beit pouerty was euer grateful to him; yet shūned he as much to be wholy careles of the exteriour habit, and to seeme vncleanely, which in a manner is wont to turne away mens eyes from one.

The very same may be sayd of the Saints learning and grauer studyes. He was wont in the fields and woods, treating with him­selfe and God only, to receiue frequent lights from heauen: and in prayer and meditation to penetrate the highest Misteryes of Diui­nity. Whence to his more confident and dearest freindes, with a religious iest he affirmed sometymes, he neuer had other Maysters, then Beeches and Oakes. Neuerthelesse, that the world might not thinke he had been taught miraculously, he fayled not to read, and read ouer agayne whole bookes at tymes, and in the very reading was accustomed with particuler delight and profit of spirit, to stick vpon the text and words of the sacred Scripture, with leasure ru­minating vpon them, and therewith deducing rare and strange conceipts, and therewith afterwardes helping himselfe with that copy, elegancy, and dexterity, as his diuine treatises & discourses shew. And notwithstanding with much humility also, he would consider the studyes and interpretations of the Fathers and Catho­lique doctours, not comparing euer his opinion with theirs, but [...] [Page 204] the Monkes her brethren, & especially the Abbot, whose most ex­cellent vertues so rung in the eares of men. Putting herselfe then in order, with a greattrayne of seruants and ostentatiō of apparell and iewells, all gorgeous and glorious she went to Clareuallis: but had a farre different welcome from that she expected. For that S. Bernard vnderstanding the gallantry, and pompe, wherewith she came, being all enframed with zeale, sayd; this snare of the diuel, this ruyne of soules, shall not come in my sight. Andrew being one of the yonger brothers, & then at the gate of the Monastery, seeing his sister so braue and gorgeously attired, with a seuere looke and bitter voyce, stuckeno [...] to call her among other things, A painted sepulcher, the others, through the example of S. Bernard remayned retired, and hid from such aspectacle. Wherupon the poore wretch compunct, and wholy confounded, & melted in teares, answered, sighing deepely from her hart.

Though I be a sinner, yet Christ, he dyed for such; & because I acknowledge my selfe to be miserable, I doe therefore approach vnto the good for helpe and counsayle: if my brother despise my flesh, let not the seruant of God y [...] abhorre my soule. Let him come then, and commaund me, for I am ready to execute what­soeuer he shall appoint me.

The Saint laying hold of such a promise, fayled not to come forth vnto her. And since it was not in his power to part her from her husband, at least he aduised her of the daunger she was in, by following so her senses, and exhorted her, that abandoning those vanityes; while tyme yet serued, she should attend to do pennanc [...]: and in summe, she should set continually before hereyes, for glasse and patterne, the life and manners of Aletta their Mother, since she had liued with her some while, and that she must needs remember her very well.

The wordes of the seruant of God were of no light moment: they enkindled in that breast as in a solid and substantiall matter, so tenacious and burning a fire of Charity, as returning home, not without the astonishement of as many as knew her, she cha [...]ged her manners on a sudden, and the whole care of the body she turned to the dressing of the mind: she likewise her selfe attending to watchinges, prayers, fasts, and almes, and that not for a few dayes only (as commonly is wont) but with such constancy and longani­mity, as that her husband himselfe now holding her in veneration, [Page 205] and not daring to hinder the course of so great vertues, at the end of two yeares, giue her leaue to retire, and consecrate her selfe in the Monastery of Villeo whereof we haue made some mention a­boue. Where the happy woman liuing to the last, with exceeding edification, shewed her selfe to be not vnworthy, either of the bles­sed stocke she came of, nor of the happy braunches that encompas­sed her round about.

The strange vocations of diuers persons, of seuerall conditions and state, to Religion, by the meanes of S. Bernard. Chap. 8.

IN the meane tyme, the Cistercian family, according to the vi­sions, made a notable increase, and multiplyed in such manner, as in the space of few yeares, there was plenty of them through di­uers Kingdomes and Prouinces. And now at this tyme the resolu­tion of such as tooke the habit grew not (as sometymes it happens) through temporal necessities, or humane dessignes, but sprung (for the most part) from supernall and generous motiues, partly fortold, and partly also obtayned through the prayers of the Saint, as may cleerely appeare by some, for example sake, which we will heere put downe.

At the fame of the man of God, came a troupe of gallants to vi­sit him, being all very dissolute yong men. Now, Quinquagesima was a tyme, when the Catholike Church, all sad, for the bitter fall of our first Parents, exhortes mankind to holsome pennance, & when euen the faythfull thēselues (O lamentable case) partly allu­ted with sensuality, and partly quite transported with the torrent of euill custome, attend more then euer to wantonesse, feastinges, and banquets.

These Nobles, being violently set vpon the same custome, and wholy enflamed with youthfull heate, while they remayned in Clareuallis, went seeking a fit place somewhat neere to the Church for their marshal sports and turneaments. The thing was much dis­pleasing to the Abbot, wherefore with instance he prayed them for the present at least to desist from such exercises, and to make him a guift of those few dayes of Carneual. The vnbridled youths stopt their eares vnto so reasonable a request, remayning stiffe in their foolish purpose; then replyed the Saint: I trust in our Lord, he will graunt what you deny me. After this, calling for a cup of Wine, he first blessed it, & then inuited the Gentlemen to pledge [Page 206] him, and tast of it (which he called the wine of soules.) They all drunke cheerefully thereof, some few only excepted, who tooke the inuitation in ill part, for feare some hidden power, and en­chantment, as it were, might be in that wine, that might aliene their mindes from more gratefull and pleasant thinges. Nor was the suspition altogeather in vaine: for scarcely had they taken their leaue of the Abbot, and were gone out of the Monastery, when being touched and prickt with new inspirations, they began to discourse togeather of the continuall perills and foolish glory of the world. With which discourse they were so enflammed, as imme­diatly without more adoe, they all agreed to returne to the cloy­ster, and humbly demaunding admittance into Religion, they con­tinued there couragiously, enduring many labours with much fortitude and patience: a change surely worthy of much admiratiō, but yet no lesse marueylous are these that follow.

The Saint being once to make a peace of much importance, in going to Mentz a principall citty of Germany, the Archbishop of that Metropolis, vnderstanding of the approach of so great a man, sent a principall Clerke called Mascolin to meet him with honour, and to receaue him worthily on the way. This man arriuing to the presence of the Saint, and hauing reuerently declared to him how he came from his Lord the Archbishop to wayte vpon him, S. Bernard stopt, and fixing his eyes a while on the Clerke, sayd to him, he was sent by another Lord to serue him. The German was troubled at the answere, and not penetrating awhit what he meant thereby, affirmed againe, that he came being sent by the Metropolitan himselfe; the seruant of God on the contrary, reply­ed: You deceaue your selfe, the Lord that sent you indeed, is yet greater then he, to wit, Christ himselfe. Then finally the good man vnderstanding what he aymed at: Your Paternity thinkes perhapes (replyed he) that I intend to be a Monke? God forbid the same as yet neuer came into my thought. Notwithstanding the Saint forbare not to rehearse againe, that by all meanes that must fall out which God hath disposed of him, and not what the Clerke himselfe hath thought, or not thought of. What more? He had not finished his iourney, but he resolued with himselfe to leaue the world, and a little after in company of many other honourable and learned men, gayned by the Saint in that iourney, he came to exchange his habit in the Monastery of Clareuallis.

[Page 207] A more notable successe yet was that other of Henry brother of the King of France. This man being come to deale with the glo­rious Abbot, about certayne temporall affayres, the treaty being ended, desired the Monks might be assembled to salute them all together, and to recommend himselfe (as he did) vnto their prayers. With this occasion, that wise Pastour entred into some spirituall disourses with the Prince, and in the progresse of conuersation together among other things, he sayd to him: I hope Syr, you shal not dye in the state you are now in at this present; but that very soone you shall know by experience, how efficacious the inter­cession is which you haue requested of these poore seruants of God. Nor was it long ere the prophesy was verifyed. On that very day through diuine inspiration, Henry did determine to follow by the streight way the stepps of Christ, & without delay he put his pur­pose in effect: his family and the Nobles that accompanyed him thither, lamented him no lesse, then if that Royall youth had layne dead before them, and extended on a hearse.

But among others on Andrew Parigino could by no meanes brooke it, being greatly affected to Henry. He was euen mad with anger, and seemed to let fall from his mouth curses, banninges, and all whatsoeuer greife and rage could suggest vnto him; when Henry on the other side (that yet loued him well) beganne earnestly to intreate the Saint, he would seeke aboue all others to conuert this man. To which S. Bernard answeared: Let vs let him alone for the present, for the poore man is now full of bitternes. Nor doe you take any thought thereat; I can assure you he is yours. With these wordes Henry being enflamed with new hope, and greater desire began to instance anew the blessed Father to delay no lon­ger to giue him the assault. Then S. Bernard replyed with a seuere countenance: What ayle you? Haue I not told you already, he his yours? The standers by hearing the discourse betwene them, and Andrew himselfe among the rest, who being obstinate in his māners, and farre from changing his habit, and doing pennance, bowing downe his head (as he confessed afterwards) sayd within him­selfe to the Abbot: Now I see thee very well to be a false Prophet, I know for certaine thou hast sayd one thing, and the contrary will fall out: Go to, go to, let me come to the Court once, and on my credit, the King shall vnderstand of all, and I will make thy lyes appeare to the world.

[Page 208] While this wretch makes these accounts alone with himselfe, they being in suspense, expected what would be the issue of the matter. When seeing him the day after to depart from thence with­out any thing done, the fayth and credit in some began to stagger, and the former conceipt which they had of the seruant of God: but our Lord permitted not the temptation to continue long; for that Andrew being now on his way, though his conscience began to sting him a little, yet for a while went he on cursing the Abbot, and Monastery, where he left his Maister, and wishing the whole Clareuallis might sinke, with as many as were in it. But these bra­uado's and stiffnes of his lasted that day only; for being arriued to his lodging at night, he was so inwardly gauled with such stinges, as that being not able to resist any longer, without attending so much as till day, he leapt from his bed, and speedily returned backe to Clareuallis agayne, where deposing the old man, with his won­ted manners and fiercenes, he put on the new, to the great conso­lation and wonder of all.

Certaine noble Gentlemen yielded vp themselues to S. Bernard: wherof one hauing a temptation afterwards, was happily by him quit therof. Chap. 9

IN those dayes certaine Flemings sped very well, who besides they were of a Noble bloud, and well learned, had likewise a great desire to attend to perfection, but could not well determine what schoole was fittest for their purpose; and in this suspense of mind stood wauering, vntill S. Bernard about some publique af­faires happened to goe into those partes of Flanders. And as his Name was now famous already, at the appearing of such a man, sprung a notable light in the mindes of those disconsolate louers of wisedome, so as without more delay they made choice of the Ab­bot of Clareuallis for Maister and Superiour, supposing he was de­stined thither by the diuine Prouidence for their saluation; selling and dispatching then ech one their busines, and laying aside the vayne designes, and deceiptfull hopes of the world, they went ioyfull with S. Bernard towardes Burgundy, who then likewise had finished his affaires. In which iourney there happened an acci­dent not fit to be let passe.

It is an ordinary thing, likely in all beginners in the diuine ser­uice, and not yet experienced inough in desolation or substraction [Page 209] of grace, and spirituall vicissitudes, when that gust of sensible de­uotion comes once to faile them, and that pleasant light which puts them hastily on, to loose on a sudden all courage quite, and to fall into pusillanimity of spirit, and sadnes of hart. The occasion ther­of do Wisemen say to be this: the Rationall substance cannot en­dure to be straitned, and some delight eyther heauenly or terren must be. Now the soules, as being raysed aboue themselues, with some tast of supernall pleasures, do easily renounce the visible ob­iects: so when through diuine dispensation, that ioy is taken away from them, finding themselues depriued of this also, and not ac­customed to expect with patience the returnes of the new Sunne, it seemes to them they are neither in heauen nor earth, and are as buryed in a perpetuall night; so as like babes hauing lost the breasts they languish and sigh, and become tedious, and irkesome chiefly to themselues.

The same happened on they way to one of that company cal­led Gaufrid. This man being suddenly growne arid, and full of in­teriour darknes, began to bethinke himselfe of his freinds, parents, and goods, which he had left behind, and thereby was assayled with so strong a temptation, as being not able to dissemble it in his countenance, one of his more confident and intimate freinds was aware thereof, and dexterously approaching to him, with sweete and benigne speach in secret, sayd to him: What is the matter, Gaufrid? How happens this I pray you? go to, tell me, for it seemes to me you goe pensiue and sad, more then ordinary? Then Gaufrid answered with a deep sigh: Alas brother, I shall neuer be merry more in all my life. The other being with that word moued to pitty went suddenly, with fraternall zeale, to acquaint their common Father what passed, who vnderstanding the daunger, began to pray for him in a Church thereby, and Gaufrid in the meane while being ouercome with sadnes, reposed his head on a stone, and there fell a sleep: but long it was not ere both arose, the one from prayer with the grace obteyned, and the other from his sleep with a face so cheerefull and serene, as his freind much admiring at so sudayne and great a change, could not hold, but freindly vpbrayd him with what he had answered him a little before. Then Gaufrid sayd: if I told thee before, I should neuer be merry agayne, I now affirme [...] thee, I shall neuer be sad more. And this same Gaufrid after­wards, in the Nouiceship being desirous of the eternall saluation [Page 210] of his owne Father, recommended him to the Saint with much af­fect and confidence. And he sayd; doubt not, sonne, but thy Father shall be a good Religious man, and I my selfe after his death shall bury him with these armes: and so it fell out, that old man being entred into Religion, and growne very perfect in vertues, fell greiuously sick, at such tyme as S. Bernard was farre from Clareuallis, in which infirmity of his he grew dayly more sicke then other, ly­ing in extremity for some fiue monthes continually togeather, vn­till the Abbot returning, with his assistance he sweetly rendred vp his spirit in his armes, and with his owne handes buryed his body with his wonted Charity, and performing of due exequies.

Another tyme, being gone to Chalon in Champayne to deale with the Bishop of that Citty, he thence lead with him at his returne a good number of excellent subiects: and such manner of purchase [...] with the help of the diuine hand he made happily from tyme to tyme. Besides which, there wanted not daily many, that being al­lured by his Name, and glutted with the deceipts of the world, came voluntary of their owne accord to submit themselues to the obedience of so great a guide. Whence no wonder is it, that from the garrison of Clareuallis, should be sent after (as we haue sayd) so fit supplyes, as there did, to so many partes of Europe.

S. Bernard deuinely admonished, changes his stricter hand vpon his Nouices, to a milder way, with the good fruit that came thereof. Chap. 10.

IT remaynes now to see, what manner the diuine man tooke in guiding and gouerning the Soules, recommended and commit­ted to his care by the Prince of Pastours. It is then to be vnderstood, that in the first yeares of his Prelacy, in measuring others feruour by his owne, he was something more rigid and seuere, then good and moderate gouernement would seeme to beare. For that in re­ceiuing of Nouices into the Conuent, he was wont to bid them (a­mong other things) by way of Enigma, to leaue the body without, and to enter only with the spirit. Through which saying of his, some of the simpler of them, remayned so astonished, and terrified therewith, as they were after not able to vnderstand the sense and meaning of those wordes, though the Saint himselfe explayned the same. In the confessions which he heard of his Monks, with a bitter countenance he abhorred any manner of defect; esteeming euery [Page 211] light fault in Religious, as a mortall sinne. In his Sermons, or as we say Homilyes rather, in the speculatiue, he often soared so high, as the hearers vnderstanding, would loose the sight of him: and in­steed of being fed and refreshed, would come to be dry and arid. And for the morall, he required so curious & exact perfection of all, as the poore disciples, besides hope of gayning it, came to loose the de­sire & will of procuring it.

With these and other such proceedinges, the greater part of the Monkes, especially of the yonger of them were soone oppres­sed with a certaine sadnes and timidity withall, which both tooke away deuotion, and hindred their profit in solid vertues. Among which inconueniences was yet this good besides, that the Monks through the great opinion they had of their common Father, would lay the whole fault thereof, partly on their owne te­pidity, and partly also on their poore wit, and small capacity, without euer once complayning of the Abbot, or opposing any thing which he sayd, or diminishing awhit the reuerence they bare him. It pleased God this humility of the subiects should get the vper hand vpon the Superiour: because, that he being lastly ouer­come and compunct in a manner at so much submission and mode­sty of theirs, began to assume to himselfe the occasion of losse, and to say within himselfe. O Bernard, how much better were it for thee to attend to the amendement of thyne owne imperfections, then so to disquiet with too much seuerity and importune discour­ses the soules more timorous of God, and more religious then thee? Now, are not these seruants of Christ, better able to walke with their simplicity, then with thy indiscretion? And to learne much better the spirituall doctrine, in one only meditation, in dealing with the Highest Wisedome, then by all the preachinges and ex­hortations thou art able to make them? Learne then at last, that the Abbot Stephen hath layd a pack-sadle on an Oxes backe, & that this gouerning of others is not thy talent.

With these thoughtes, the man of God began to enter into so great a bitternes and hatred of his actions, as he determined to re­tyre himselfe more then euer, and to abstaine from all pastorall functions, what possibly he might, vntill such tyme as had some cleere signe of the diuine will: nor was his expectation awhit in vaine, because it was not long, but there appeared to him by night a little child, cloathed all with eternall light, expressely comman­ding [Page 212] him, he should desist to propose vnto him, what his hart see­med to dictate to him, since it was not he that spake to them, but the Holy Ghost discoursing by his mouth. And togeather with an inestimable guift, besides, of a sweet & discreet maturity, whence he might learne to compassionate the weake, to temper himselfe to the capacity of the rude, and to condescend to ech what he might well do with the safety of Monasticall discipline.

Heereupon the rigourous Abbot, in this point being chan­ged as it were into another man, began with extraordinary ten­dernes, and solicitude to preuent the necessityes of ech one, and not only of the soules, but euen also of the bodyes, prouiding as much as possibly he might, that euery one being free, and deliuered from temporall troubles and molestations, might attend with the whole mind to the purchase of vertues, and to the diuine seruice. Howsoeuer yet to himselfe only, and his owne person, the man of God, not altered awhit his former customes, for that indeed in him (as is signifyed already) the appetite was naturally much subiect to reason, and had no need through force of chastisements & scour­ges to reduce it to seruitude. Whence came the flesh to be a great deale more weakned in him, and afflicted with sundry infirmities▪ in so much as the Phisitians were astonished, how the Holy Abbot amidst so many dolours, could attend to occupations of any sort; and resembled him iust to a Lambe being put to the plough: & he himselfe also at the latter end of his age, was finally aware thereof and accused himselfe for excesse of maceration of the body, and for destroying his complexion with austerityes, enfeebling the organ of the Holy Ghost, and consequently for hindering on his part the greater glory of the diuine goodnes.

But for these new proceedings of his which we spake of, it can­not be expressed, to what edification & publique commodity they redounded. Because (which are the effects of knowne loue) there sprung very suddenly a noble strife and contention, betweene the fatherly indulgence of the Maister, and generous feruour of the dis­ciples, being all (for the most part) well descended; so as by how much he shewed himselfe to them to be a lesse strict exactour, so became they ordinarily more rigid censurers of themselues, exten­ding themselues to the perfect obseruance of vowes and rule, not leauing a defect vnpunished, and holding the allurements and en­ticements of sensuality farre off from them. And the matter procee­ded [Page 213] so farre indeed, as not without some manifest perill of life, they went about in diuers kinds to take away all tast and relish of meate and drinke, as seeming to them a thing vnlawful, that he who hath layd vp his treasures and delights in heauen, should take any gust or pleasure in terrene things. And they were so rooted in such an opinion, as hardly with sundry examples and reasons, and with the authorityes of the sacred Scriptures themselues, could they be brought to vnderstand, that ech creature was good, being vsed in tyme and place, and with due moderation. Note this finally, they left that pernicious errour, but yet they wanted not matter of mor­tification. First the diuine offices were celebrated with greatest at­tention, and that for a good space of the day, and night. Moreouer the Monastery as yet not hauing any manner of rents, their holy pouerty was heere so much the more easy and familiar vnto them, as it was more straitly embraced and cherished of ech one. Heer­reto was added the straitnes and incommodity of the dwelling, which while they sought to remedy, their continuall labour of the hands at certaine houres appointed, affoarded them no leasure for slouth and idlenes.

The sage and prudent gouernement of S. Bernard, in guiding his Monkes: with his enflamed Charity to his Neighbour. Chap. 11.

AMong all the labours and trauailes of these blessed men, as there were many things of excellent example: yet was there none of greater edification to the beholders, then the continuall recollection and silence of so many seruants of God; so as, within the same habitation was ioyntly to be seene a noyse of a multitude, and a silence of a solitude, and that surely not without cause. For that as a man which is solitary, if he be inwardly vnruly and distra­cted, makes of his hart a very Inne or Market-place; so a number of persons well disciplined and composed, through meanes of good order and custody of the senses, represents in the thickest concourse of people a very desert or hermitage. This continuall discipline and custody of the monks, was to them an exceding help for the vnion with God. Whereto also they approached so much the neerer, as they had allwayes more liuely and admirable examples of all Chri­stian vertue before their eyes, in the person and actions of the holy Abbot. In whom was seene so burning a Charity, as he neuer pre­tended [Page 214] or wished ought, then the honour of God, and saluation of soules; procuring euer the one and other, with the forme and man­mer of his life, with heauenly conuersation, with prayers, with the labours of writing, and of interpreting the diuine Scriptures, and finally as occasion serued, with priuate and publique discourses.

For eloquence, it was a thing in the blessed man more An­gelicall then human, with so much sagacity would he discerne the peccant humours of men; with so much dexterity accommodated himselfe to their wits, docility, and manners. He would deale with the country people, as if he had continually been bred vp in a village: with the Nobles he kept all the points of good breeding: with the Ideots he would vse comparisons and conceipts of material and palpable things: with the learned and Sophisters he knew well in his tyme, to stand vpon subtilityes and acumens: and in summe had a great store and copious variety of bayts and hookes proportio­nate to the gust, forces, and nature of ech one. To this so excellent prudence of his in practise, and so happy and rare a faculty of spea­king, was adioyned another guift and priuiledge, indeed not affor­ded to many, to proue when need required his doctrine, with fre­quent, and great, and those euident Miracles. Whereof, besides what already hath been touched (not to go forth heere from our purpose) we shall discourse with our wonted breuity in its place.

But with the ardent Charity of the Saint, we spake of, he gaue vs likewise a most cleere demonstration, in the sorrow and com­passion he felt for the peruersenes, and fault of his Neighbours, es­pecially of such as he had vnder his gouernement: which in so great diuersity of nations and temperatures, may not seeme very strange that some disorder now and then should fall out; and that so much the rather, as the Religious state supposeth men not allready to be perfect, but studious, and (so we may euen say) scholers of perfe­ction, in as much as ech discipline and art (as the Philospher sayd) is in erring learned. In such occurrences then, the good Prelate, though touched in the soule with the sharpest stings: yet neuer­thelesse with familiar countenance and paternall grauity withall; would not hold in secret from rebuking the delinquent; who co­ming heereby to acknowledge the fault, and to shew forth true pennance, the man of God contented with the humble satisfaction, would comfort him, and proceed no further. And when the guilty shewed himselfe stiffe, and gaue a harsh answeare, he would sud­denly [Page 215] cease to striue or contend with him, not to put in some sort his pastorall authority in daunger. But leauing to the disciple new space to acknowledge his errour, with occasion he would returne agayne afterwardes to the same office of louing correction; or else when necessity required, he would betake himselfe to the counsel of the Scripture, which aduiseth, the foolish man not to be corrected with wordes. And when this last remedy at any tyme proued vn­profitable, it cannot be expressed what affliction and corrasiue the blessed Soule, would take thereat.

And if any perhappes should wish him not to grieue so much at it, since he had fully satisfyed his duty in the sight of God, & that he could by no meanes doe any more with one that through obsti­uacy would needes perish; the amorous Rectour would answere sighing, how these nor infinite reasons could quiet him, in behol­ding him as dead before his eyes whome he loued so much: & you would haue me (sayth he) to feele no griefe at so ill successe, as if in this reprehension and rebuke, I had for scope only the sauing of myne owne soule, and not rather the saluation also of that of my beloued? And what Mother is there, that howbeit on her part she haue vsed all care and diligence in her childs infirmity, if she see it dead, who can choose but lament and bewayle the same, conside­ring the while the paines she hath taken for it in vaine?

Such then were the bowells of this true follower of Christ, whence it would happen likewise, that if he had denyed any thing at the first to any indiscreet and importunate suiter, he could by no meanes deny him the second tyme. Forasmuch as euen by naturall instinct, his hart would not serue him to behould any one contri­state and afflicted, so as he neuer despised or made light reckoning of the trouble and perturbation of any one tempted: and how beit in its tyme he could shew, that he sought rather the pleasure of God, then that of men, and preferred truth and iustice before any other respect whatsoeuer; yet did he all with such regard, and so much circumspection, as euen to such as seemed offended with him there wanted not matter to remaine well satisfyed. Whence sometymes it happened, that such as these would become afterwardes more deuoute, and affected to the man of God, then euer.

Diuers examples of the meekenes and patience of S. Bernard: and how [...] Monastery of Clareuallis flourished by him founded. Chap. 12.

IT may not seeme strange, that so much piety to Rationall crea­tures should seeme to lodge in that sacred breast, since he wanted not tendernes and affection also to the very Beasts themselues. It fell out sometymes he should meet on the way with Hares hoatly pursued by the houndes euen at the heeles; or els some Fowle fly­ing from the hawke, which the blesled Man beholding, would straight deliuer them from the present danger with the signe of the Crosse, signifying to the hunters (as indeed it happened) that they pursued them in vaine. From this so burning a furnace of Charity, with reason proceeded that refined gold of his solid Patience, which he truly made manifest in the continuall tribulations, scourges, & infirmities, wherein he was proued by our Lord, from the begin­ning of his blessed conuersion vnto his last breath; in so much as his life was esteemed by such as familiarly conuersed with him, to be a lingring death, except only in occurrences of some great vniuer [...] benefit. For in such necessity through diuine dispensation he would seeme to haue gotten new forces, and extraordinary vigout. And euen with men also (though perhaps not so often) he had suffi­cient occasions to shew himselfe armed with inuincible sufferance and constancy.

He would speake as well through experience, as speculation, very learnedly of this most excellent vertue, and was wont to di­stinguish the subiect thereof into three manner of offences, to wit, of honour, of goods, and of the person: according to this diuision, let vs see briefely how he behaued himselfe in effect.

The great seruant of God had written on a tyme, to a Bi­shop being a principall Consailour in the Court, intreating hi [...] to giue certaine aduices and admonishmentes in a thing [...] some matters that went not well. Whereat the Bishop being [...] ­gely offended, wrote back a letter agayne to the most deuout S. Bernard, dealing with him at the very beginning as with an im­pious and wicked blasphemer. To which so sharp and bi [...] [...] ­proach, answered the seruant of Chr [...] with these wordes: I can­not beleeue now, I haue the spirit of blasphemy in me, nor was [...] euer any intention of myne to speake ill of others, and especially of [Page 217] my soueraigne Prince. And this Answere of his, he afterwards accōpanyed also with actions so louing, and with so much obser­uance towards him, who had so wronged him, as he gayned him at last, and made him his greatest freind.

After the enterprise of Sozia, which vnder the conduct of Lewes King of France, through wicked perfidiousnes of the Grecian Em­perour, had taken but ill successe, there were some that traduced the fame of S. Bernard, as who had beene the principall authour of that expedition. Whereunto being not able to giue a particuler account to euery one of his motiues, and of what had passed in the voyage, at least he prayed often for them all, being a great deale more sorrowful for their sinne, then for his proper infamy: & being not able to suppresse such murmurs reioyced at least, that those poy­sonous shafts of the slanderous ignorant, were aymed all at him­selfe (who did little respect them,) and much reioyced that the di­uine Maiesty and Prouidence, was come to be entire, and vn­touched by those impious people.

There were once 600. markes of siluer intercepted by the way from the seruants of the man of God, being magnificently assigned by the Abbot of Farco, to the behoofe and benefit of the Order. To which newes the Saint replyed with a cheerefull countenance: Blessed be God who hath deliuered vs from such a burthen: and he truly who hath taken away the money, in some sort deserues to be excused, since such a summe might well giue a shrewd temptation. The same tenour he kept of a serene mind, without contention, or strife at all, when there were taken from him, partly through de­ceit, and partly by force about some ten Monasteries, or places at least very apt to erect foundations for them.

A certaine Regular of another Monastery being tem [...]ted, and not sound in his vocation; hauing read some spirituall tr [...]ses of S. Bernard, went his wayes to Clareuallis to make instance vnto him, to receaue him among his: to whome the blessed Man sweetly an­swering, wished him to returne, not seeming good to him for iust respects to yield to his request. Why haue you then (replyed the wretch) Father, so extolled Perfection in your writinges, if you will not succour and help him, who desires the same? And being vrged by the infernal spirit, added: Now then if I had those books in my hands, I would surely rent them in a thousand peeces. To this, the Man of God answered: I do verily thinke, sayd he, that in [Page 218] none of them thou shalt find, Thou mayst not be perfect in thy cloy­ster: the amendement of manners, change not of places (if I well remember) I haue proposed, and commended in my bookes. Then went that frantique man quite out of his wits, and lifting vp sud­denly his most sacrilegious hand, he gaue so huge a cuffe on the eare to the holy Abbot, that his cheeke was presently swolne: wherat with reason the standers by being incensed began to rise vp to han­dle the Wretch as he deserued; but soone the Seruant of God pre­uented the same, exclayming and coniuring them by the name of Christ, not to touch him, but warily to lead him away, procuring by all meanes possible, he should take no harme. And thus the wretch all pale, and trembling escaped thence without the least punishment. Moreouer this defendour of the Truth, and promo­ter of the diuine seruice, wanted not his emulous, and persecutours, though he, through the eminence of his qualityes, and glory of his wordes and deedes, had very much ouercome their enuy.

With such a pest of men, the Iouer of Christ vsed this manner of proceeding: first according to the precept of the Ghospell, he would make feruent prayer for them; after that with might and mayne he sought to extingnish that malignant passion with all manner of submission, and good offices; in rendering benefits for iniuryes, honour and reuerence, for contempt and affronts, as he who had their saluation as deere as his owne, and felt particuler torment, at the scandall of those, to whome he had giuen no occa­sion at all: and the malice of others did excruciate him more, then his conscience seemed to satisfy him, it seeming a matter too diffi­cult for him to cure a malady, whose origine he could not disco­uer: and whensoeuer he was able to come to the knowledge ther­of, he tooke no greater pleasure then to roote it out, although he were thereby to haue his handes all mangled and bloudy.

The most holy Abbot was ariued to such a point of the loue of God, and of his Neighbour, through the continuall meditation of the life and passion of Christ, being truly become the forme and example of the flocke, which he had in charge, as that now with great reason was the good odour of Clareuallis spread, and dilated through out all Christendome; and in all partes (as we sayd aboue) with cost and diligence were the grafts of this happy plant both craued, and procured; nor were there only Monasteryes of S. Ber­nard founded heere and there, but euen whole Conuents likewise [Page 219] of other families, came voluntarily to submit themselues vnto his obedience, and to conforme themselues with all study to the rites and profession of the Cisterce, yea euen he himselfe whose princi­pall care was (as we sayd) to remaine hidden and vnknowne in that corner, and valley, was yet very suddenly more highly placed by the diuine hand, in the light, and sight of men, and obliged to dispense to the benefit of the world, the treasures and graces which he heaped vp togeather in his Cell. Whence Schismatikes were re­conciled to the Roman Church, Heretikes publikely conuinced, and Catholikes promoted, and established in peace.

A Schisme in the Church ariuing about the election of a Pope, was happily ended through the wisedome of S. Bernard. Chap. 13.

THe first achiuement the Saint happened to make for the good of all christendome, tooke occasion from the Schisme of Pierlonio the Roman, who after the death of Honorius, with euill practises, making himselfe a false Pope, and taking the name of Anaclete, opposed himselfe to the true and canonically elected Pope Innocent; in which so scandalous a diuision, both the one and the o­ther endeauouring as well with messages as letters to draw whole Kingdomes and Christian nations to their obedience, the world was put into a great confusion and perplexity, being as yet not a­ble to discerne which of these two fornamed Popes they were to acknowledge and adore for lawfull Successour of S. Peter, and vi­car generall of Christ. Vpon this then so important an article were assembled in diuers parties of Europe nationall Synods, and parti­culerly in France was called the Councell in the Land of Tampes, where to be able with the more light & more fauourable assistance of the holy Ghost to decide so great a difficulty, it seemed good to the King himselfe, and the more principall Bishops, that aboue all, the Abbot of Clareuallis should be called thereto, so great was the conceipt had euen at that tyme of the wisedome & spirit that spake by him.

Being inuited then on behalfe of the King, and exhorted withall by the other Abbots of his Order (to whome he was euer most obedient) he went his wayes thither, wholy full of feare and trembling, considering the waight and danger, and the other qua­lityes of the busines. And yet he felt notwithstāding great comfort [Page 220] in a vision which he had on his way by night, wherein was repre­sented to him a very great assembly of Ecclesiasticall persons, who with sweet harmony praysed and glorifyed God: from whence he conceaued firme hope, that soone after would follow the desired vnion and concord of the Christian people. When he came then to the place designed, and that the Councell was opened, the Faste [...] and deuout Processions according to Apostolicall custome being celebrated, in the same first Sessi [...]on, with iudgment and consent resolution was made, that the whole controuersy should be remit­ted to S. Bernard, the seruant of God, and nothing should be done therein but what he determined. Which charge truly as vntolera­ble, the man of God refused with great modesty, but won at last through the prayers and authority of that holy multitude, he ac­cepted the same, and buckles himselfe to the enterprise, so much mote stout and confident in God, as he was more dif [...]ident and weake in himselfe. So as inuoking the ayde of Heauen, & making a most exact inquisition and examine, first of the manner and order of Election, then also of the qualities and merits of the Electours, as of both the elected Popes themselues, he securely nominated & declared Innocent for the chiefe and true Pastour; to which propo­sition was not one in the whole Councell which opposed awhit, but suddenly singing a ioyful Hymne with the accustomed prayers and thankesgiuings, they all with one accord subscribed to the sayd declaration.

In the meane tyme Innocent, being not able to resist the power and fury of the adursaryes, going forth of Rome, and receaued with due honour & reuerence of all Tuscany, he came into France; and the glorious Abbot with the same greatnes of courage pa [...]ed ouer into England, where King Henry through the persuasion of some Prelates, declared and shewed himselfe very backward and hard to accept of Innocent. But the venerable Abbot after many rea­sons alleadged in vayne, at last full of zeale & fortitude sayd to him. What feares your highnes? doubt you to commit synne with affor­ding obedience to Innocent? Go to then, do but thinke as you ought to doe, to render accompt to God for your other synnes, and doe you leaue this to me, and I will take it vpon my charge. With such an offer made, that mighty King without more adoe, was satisfyed, and was so assured thereof, as he determined to goe forth of his kindome to goe meete, and humbly receaue Innocent, who [Page 221] through Prouence and Burgundy being come to Chartres, Henry came thither to kisse his feet, who with great common iubiley and giue him the Apostolicall benediction.

While many matters touching the diuine seruice, and the holy Church, were there handled and defined in the sayd place: behold the Popes Nuntio's to arriue thither from Germany with letters frō those Lords, and those Countryes, full of affectious prayers, that his Holines would daigne so much as to comfort those Northerne parts with his presence, since now all, through the example of France and England, acknowledged him for supreme guide, and head of the Church militant. But the Pope so soone could not affoard himselfe to those nations, being with so much deuotion cō ­tinually entertayned and desired by the Cittyes of France, through which hauing made his progresse a while, he intimated a Councell in Rhems, where likewise hauing ordayned many things to the ho­nour of God, he after with many solemne ceremonyes at the in­stance of King Lodouik the Father, crowned and annointed Lodouike the sonne, in the place of Philip his elder brother deceased.

In these and other actions, the Pope would neuer suffer the glorious Abbot of Clareuallis to depart from his side, yea diuers sup­plications of moment were presented vnto him, and he would af­terwardes propose them in the consistory, where S. Bernard was for­ced to be present, and to sit with Cardinalls themselues, vnderta­king the protection of the opppressed, and shewing continually fauour to what was honest & iust: after which the Councell brake vp, and the Pope going to meet with the Emperour Lotharius at Liege, was entertayned with much solemnity and great veneration. But al that ioy was changed very soone into sadnes and bitternes: because while it seemed to Lotharius he had a rare oportunity with­out trouble and difficulty to strayten the Pope, and draw him to his designes; he began to make suite to recouer agayne the inuestitures of Bishopriques taken away heeretofore from the hands of Henry his Predecessour.

Innocent with his whole Court being strooken with so harsh a proposition and so vnexpected, grew pale thereat, and stood as a man wholy voyd of counsayle, as seeming to him he met in Liege with a greater checke, then formerly in Rome it selfe: when the venerable Abbot with freedome of mind and meruaylous liberty counterposed himselfe as a solid wall to the demaund & pretension [Page 222] of the Emperour, and so well disswaded and discoursed, as he soone drew him from that couetous and ambitious thought. An exployt, surely, of a poore Monke truely glorious, and hitherto vnheard or; howbeyt perhapps for so happy a successe, may some prayse also be giuen vnto those tymes, wherein commonly the Si­gnors and Potentates of Christendome applyed themselues of their owne accord, or easily at least were brought to exalt & propagate the splendour and authority of the Apostolique Sea; whereas at this day (O vnworthy spectacle) it seemes as all were striuing to abate the same, to weaken, and euen to extinguish it quite. But heere let vs silence all odious and vnprofitable complaints.

Troubles arising in the Church through the faction of the Antipope, were by S. Bernard pacifyed, in fauour of the true Pope: with the miserable end of a cheife Party of the Schisme. Chap. 14.

INnocent being thus freed by meanes of S. Bernard from the anx­iety he was in, and hauing taken moreouer a firme purpose and a inuiolable promise of Lotharius to come with his army to Rome, as soone as possibly he might, to quiet the tumults there, and to place him in the pontificall Throne, tooke his leaue of the Church of France, and ioyfully went towardes Italy, making his iourney through Burgundy, and by the way was pleased to visit, and take Clareuallis for his Inne, where receiuing much consolation of the voluntary pouerty and abstinence, & religious conuersation ofthe Monks, he prosecuted his iourney, and arriuing at Rome, found Lo­tharius there ready with his army, by whom being brought through force into the pallace of S. Iohn Lateran (being the ordinary resi­dence in those dayes of the Popes of Rome) yet for all that, had he not the desired contentment to behold things pacifyed and quiet. Because the Anti-pope being obdurate in malice, and continually accompanyed with armed men, kept himselfe in hold, and all­wayes well fortifyed in Towers, and more eminent places of the Citty: from whence with sudden incursions and stratagems with­out euer entring into open battaile, or once seeking to come to a parley with Lotharius, he neuer left infesting both day and night the freinds and defenders of the Pope.

Whereupon the Emperour being now growne weary of the excesse, charge, and small fruite, returned into Almany agayne: and [Page 223] Innocent fynding no better remedy for so great mischeifes, went out of Rome the second tyme, and assembling togeather another so­lemne Councel in the Citty of Pisa, among other things publiquely declared Pierlonio excommunicate: of which censure, the miserable man was neuer absolued. Heere also S. Bernard, through obedience assisted the cheife Bishop, and was not only a helper and partaker of the whole affayres and counsells therein, but may be sayd more an arbiter and vmpier in the busynes. Which affayres being once dispatched, it seemed good to the Pope to send him to Millan, where the poyson of the Anti-pope hauing got in, the whole people were found to be in a most inextricable trouble and discord among them­selues. Nor was heere likewise the arriuall of the man of God in vayne. He soone reunited the whole Citty agayne, and reduced it to the deuotiō of the true Pope. From hence passing ouer the Alpes, he returned to Clareuallis, and being receaued by the Monks there with infinite iubiley, at their instance transferred he the Monastery into a more ample situation; wherof the fame being spread through out, there immediatly concurred so great almes from Princes and Prelates, and from other deuout persons, as in very short space, the building adorned withall commodityes was brought to perfection to the great increase of the diuine seruice.

At the same tyme the Country of Gascony, and especially the Church of Bourdeaux was fallen as it were into some afflictions and calamityes, from whence the citty of Milan had beene deliuered but a little before. Of th [...]e mischiefs Gerard Bishop of Angolesme was the principall occasione who with ambitious promises hauing gotten of the Antipope the, Legacy of Gascony, had drawne to their wicked designes not only a good part of the Cleargy, but euen many also of the Nobles, yea the Prince himselfe & Lord of those Countreys, called Count VVilliam, through whose forces, and other ill practi­ses of his owne, he had brought thinges into those tearmes, as that against all those that would not consent and subscribe to the electi­on of Anaclete, they openly proceeded with banishments, confisca­tion of goods, and with other inuentions, and examples of fierce and barbarous cruelty.

One of the chiefe of those that were persecuted, was VVilliam Bishop of Poytiers, a man well qualifyed and exceeding constant in defence of the Catholike Religion. This man with many iniuryes was expelled from his Church, and a Schismaticall and wicked one [Page 224] put into his place. The same happened in the Diocesse of Limoges, where insteed of a Catholicke Prelate, was placed one Abbot Ra­nulfus, who through diuine iudgment, payed full soone the punish­ment of his impious boldnes, since in a plaine and euen way being fallen from his horse, he pitcht his head so shrewdly on a stone, (which lay in the way) that dashing out his braynes, he dyed sud­denly.

S. Bernard hauing excommunicated Duke William, he submits himselfe: with the iust iudgement of God, shewed on the schismaticall Bishop of Angolesme. Chap. 15.

AS soone as Gaufrid Bishop of Chartres had notice of so great dis­orders and inconueniences, to whom the Legacy, and euen spirituall gouernement of Gascony was committed by Innocent, he was hartily sorry for it, and layng other busynes asyde, determi­ned to succour those Churches as soone as he could, which were in extreme daunger; and for that he knew well how noble an in­strument of the diuine prouidence the Abbot of Clareuallis was for such effect, he intreated him very earnestly to accompany and as­sist him in such an enterprize, And the man of God made no resi­stance thereunto. But only required, they might passe by the way of Nantes, where Ermengarda the Countesse had founded a Conuent of his Monks, and it was necessary for him to passe that way, to giue order (as he would quickly doe) to the affayres belonging to the sayd Monastery. Gaufrid and S. Bernard then put themselues on the way with an honourable trayne of Prelates, and other Catho­liques: and the matters being dispatched which were to be done in the Citty of Nantes, they entred into the cōfines of Gascony, where Gerard already with consent of the Count William, had intruded himselfe into the administration of Bourdeaux, and possessed the two Churches at once, of Bourdeaux, and Angolesme.

Now the Count vnderstanding of the comming of the Bishop of Chartres, and of the Blessed Bernard, as also of other Bishops and Religious with him, to treate with him in the affaires of Ecclesia­sticall matters, he thought it not fit for many respects to refuse that parly. They were all then assembled togeather by agreement in a place which was named Pertinaco, whereby the Seruants of God had fit oportunity to expresse their mindes to the full, and it was [Page 225] proposed (among other thinges) how vnseemely it was, that all France being now at the deuotion of Pope Innocent, Gascony should only diuide her selfe from the common communion and accord, & cause so great, and so miserable a separation and defection in the people of God: how he could not but know, that the Church of Christ is but one only, and whatsoeuer out of it, as found out of the Arke of Noe, must of necessity sincke and perish. They likewise re­duced to his memory the dreadfull euent of Dathan & Abiron, who for no other cause, then for making disunion, were swallowed vp aliue in the earth. To this they added other examples of manifest vengeance and wrath of God against seditious persons and Schis­matiques. Count VVilliam being moued with these exhortations & menaces, partly became flexible thereunto, offering himselfe to accept Innocent for lawfull Pope; and partly shewed himselfe obsti­nate and hard, being not willing by any meanes to restore the Ca­tholike Bishops againe so violently deposed, and sent into banish­ment, and that not so much through occasion of the publique cause, as for some particuler grudges which he had against them.

This article was disputed a good while in two assemblyes, & the second tyme S. Bernard perceauing, that nothing could be con­cluded by way of wordes, he straight recurred to more efficacious and potent meanes, as in such occasions he was wont to do. Wher­fore breaking off the discourse, he goes directly to the Altar, and prepares himselfe for Masse. Those only entred in, who were not forbid to assist at that dreadfull sacrifice, while the Count with o­thers being seuered from the Catholike communion, stood without at the gate. When he Priest of God, hauing finished the whole consecration, and giuen the Pax to the people, not now as a man, but as one of the spirits of the heauenly squadron, holding the most holy Sacrament ouer the Paten with flaming countenance and bur­ning eyes, not with a supplant visage, but with a power more then humane, going forth of the Temple, with a terrible voyce, thus thundred to the Count: Haue we not intreated you, and you des­pised vs? Besides, haue not this multitude of Gods seruants con­iured thee, and yet hast thou made no account thereof? Behold the Virgins sonne is come into thy sight, being the head and Lord of the Church which thou dost persecute. Behould thy Iudge in­to whose handes that soule of thyne is sure to fall. And now wilt thou seeme to contemne him like wise? Wilt thou also affront his [Page 226] his person, as thou hast his Seruantes?

At such a sight, and such words withal, the standers by being astonished and much amazed, began to inuocate the diuine suc­cours: but the Count himselfe perceauing the Priest to come tow­ardes him with the most sacred body of Christ in his hand, being ful of sudden horrour and trembling, fell flat to the ground, and pre­sently raysed vp by his Guard, fell downe againe, with quiuering nerues, without speaking a word, or lifting vp the eyes: but only with deep sighes, by the mouth and beard he put forth both foame & spittle, as he had been in a Epilepsy. Then the Seruant of Christ approaching vnto him, and touching him with his foot, comman­ded him to stand vp, and heare the diuine Sentence, in the tenour following: Let the Bishop of Poytiers come hither into this place, whome thou hast banished from his Sea: Goe thy wayes to him, & with the holy kisse hauing giuen the peace, doe thou thy selfe re­store him againe into his Church, & satisfying our Lord God, giue honour to the good Prelate for the iniuries & affrōts thou hast done him. Moreouer in thy whole dominion do thou then regather and recall againe into a true vnion all those who are now in discord & diuision: Submit thy selfe to Pope Innocent, & as the other are obe­dient to him, so do thou also affoard due obedience to his Holynes, elected by the diuine Maiesty.

The Count hearing this, and being conuinced and confoun­ded, as well through the worke of the holy Ghost, as with the presence of the sacred mysteries, he neyther could, nor durst an­swere a word, but seeing the Bishop of Poytiers present, went speedily to salute him, and receaue him with imbraces and signes of loue and peace, and without delay conducted him, and restored him to his Episcopall seate againe, with the same hand wherewith he had deposed him, and thrust him out. After this the holy Abbot oftentymes looked more sweetly & more familiarly on the Count, aduising him to beware henceforth of so impious and temerarious actions, and neuer more to prouoke the anger of God. Nor were the admonitions cast into the wind, since that Prince not only ab­stayned for euer after from troubling the Ecclesiasticall vnion and tranquility, but euen rather in processe of tyme, arriued to the termes of most excellent vertue & Christian charity, as the things that are written of him do sufficiently declare.

In this manner were matters in Gascony well pacifyed, saue [Page 227] only the Bishop of Angolesme continued still fixed in malice. Who yet soone after, through the iust iudgement of God was found dead one morning in his bed, with a terrible swelling, without con­fession, and the last rites. And though for that tyme, through the help of his deerest friends he was buryed in the Church, yet after notwithstanding by order of the Bishop of Chartres, were his ex­ecrable bones taken out of the sepulcher, & cast forth to the fowles of the ayre, and the rauenous beasts. Nor ceased heere the punish­ment, for as much as euen his Nephewes also with the whole race and kindred of the sayd deceased, being afterwardes banished out their countrey, went wandring into diuers partes, infamous and miserable.

S. Bernard is sent for to Rome againe by the Pope, to pacify the troubles there, with his ioyfull reception of all the Faythfull. Chap. 16.

IN the meane tyme S. Bernard hauing brought so noble an en­terprise to a wished end, with the exceeding consolation of his Monkes, returned to Clareuallis. Where while he was so farre re­moued from worldly contemplation of diuine thinges, and for the help also of others, being seriously occupyed in expounding of the Canticles of Salomon; behold new Letters, and Couriers from the Pope, who after the Councell of Pisa being returned to Rome, was yet busying himselfe to allay the tumults, & to reduce that Church the Mother of all Churches, to some tolerable state at least: but finding euery houre new obstacles, as well from Pierlonio himselfe within the citty, as without from Roger King of Sicily, who for pri­uate designes of his, did secretly fauour the Antipope and Schisme, he resolued to call the Abbot of Clareuallis once more for help and counsaile, hauing knowne already by so many proofes of what auaile in such difficultyes was the valour, and prudence, and sancti­ty of the man of God.

He sends him Messingers then with Apostolicall breifs, and in the same matter, many Cardinalls likewise wrote vnto him, he would be pleased once more to come to the Citty of Rome. Wher­upon S. Bernard though loth to leaue his study and Cell, yet pre­ferring prompt obedience before any iust respect whatsoeuer, pre­pares himselfe for the iourney, and causing his Monkes to be assem­bled togeather from diuers partes, after he had a good while sent [Page 228] forth deep sighs and sobs from his breast, at last tooke his leaue of them in this manner: You see, Brethren, into how great disorders, and tribulations the Church of God is now brought. And to say truly, the followers of Pierlonio are now, as it were throughout, by the diuine grace pulled away from that feygned Head, and so pesti­ferous a sect. And euen in Rome also a great part of the Cleargy & Nobility in their harts do follow Innocent, though otherwise throgh feare of some more potent, and of the common people withall corrupted by the Antipope, they dare not openly shew forth what they haue more secretly layd vp in their breasts. So as the West being now subdued, we may say, there remaines but one Nation only to be vanquished and ouercome: if you make but prayer with spirituall Iubily, Iericho shall euen fall to the ground, and you but lifting vp your handes with Moyses, Amalech be put to flight. Iosua victorious in the battaile, to haue full space of a complete victory very bloudy, commands the Sunne to stay its course, and is obeyed. And you likewise seeing vs, in the heate of the battaile, cease you not to affoard vs your ayde and succour with feruent prayers: and in the meane tyme, be you firme in the way begun, and holy pur­poses made; and howbeit in your selues, you be not conscious of a­ny great cryme, yet beware you esteeme not your selues in your owne iudgement to be innocent and iust, since to iustify, and iudge the cōscience, appertaines to God only: yea, by how much a man is more forward in perfection, so much the lesse presumes he of the strait & rigourous account of the diuine iustice. On the other side make you no reckoning of humane iudgements, eyther of your selues or others, but so keep you vnder the feare of God, that nei­ther you, in iudging by him, come to dash vpon some rocke of pride or vanity. You are to attend to an exact and continuall search into your selues, and of your selues; which doing, yet shall you alwaies repute your selues to be vnprofitable seruants, as our Lord com­mands. It behoues me to go, whither the chiefe Pastour appoints me; and since all this trauaile is vndertaken by me, purely for the seruice and glory of the diuine goodnes, I shall not fayle to beseech the same with much confidence, to take you into his custody and protection.

After these words, being accompanyed with aboundance of teares and deuout desires of that pious congregation, he puts him­selfe on the way towardes Rome, and being receaued, whereso­euer [Page 229] he passed as a man from heauen, with his arriuall he brought extraordinary ioy and comfort to the Pope, with all Catholiques. And without delay endeauouring with diligence to find out, whence so long obstinacy of the cōtrary faction proceeded, he soone came to vnderstand, how the Clergy though stung in conscience, yet through feare of loosing the benefices obteyned of the Antipope durst not forsake him: besides which, the respect they had of a vaine constancy and foolish reputation, filled their mynds with a cloud of obscurity; but for the popular sort, being likewise deceiued partly through couetousnes, and partly with a false religion, held it a great scorne, and iniquity to breake the oath of fidelity once giuen to Pierlonio.

S. Bernard endeuoured in vayne to withdraw the king of Sicily, from the part of the Anti-pope; through whose death peace was restored to the Church agayne. Chap. 17.

FRom these errours S. Bernard did endeauour, and not without fruite, to deliuer that blind people, when the Embassadours of Roger King of Sicily arriued at Rome, who with a dissembling zeale of the common good, made shew of being desirous to enforme himselfe fully of the truth, and to become arbiter of so great and pertinacious discords, though in secret (as we sayd) he were held to be a fautour, of the peruerse faction, and therefore craftily requi­red Anaclet, to send him Peter of Pisa, a most wise and eloquent man on his behalfe, and made instance to Innocent for the Abbot of Cla­reuallis, that these two as aduocates being to argue and plead in his presence, might giue him true notice of all, hoping by this meanes the lowlynes and simplicity of one poore Monke might be ouer­borne and opprest, through the eloquence and cunning of that fa­mous Doctour.

The sayd King was very potent, and was at that tyme with a puissant army in the kingdome of Naples, so as the Embassadours had no great difficulty to obtayne at Rome what they would. But through diuine disposition the matter had a farre different euent from that which the King thought of. Because that Peter and S. Bernard being arriued at his Court, after they had discoursed apart with him, and the principall Officers, there was finally deputed a certaine day to both the Procuratours togeather for publique au­dience. [Page 230] Now what successe was to follow of this duell, a certaine battayle fought betweene the sayd King, and the Duke Ranulphus, who was a Prince, and a very vertuous Catholike, gaue no small demonstration at that tyme. S. Bernard, with Charity had ende­uoured to hinder the sayd conflict, and to make peace betweene the two Christian armyes; and to Roger had manifestly threatned and foretold, that if he fought he should loose the battayle. But he finding himselfe to haue much odds, and aduantage ouer Ranulphus in number and forces, with haughtynes and pride contemning the aduises and protestations of the man of God, would needs by all meanes encounter and set vpon him, neer vnto the Citty of Sa­lerno: where, with the astonishment of all, there suddenly entring a feare into the campe, he was vanquished by the Dukes army, routed, and put to flight. And yet notwithstanding hauing reas­sembled together the vnhappy remainder, and with new succours made vp a Royall army agayne; he presents himselfe in Councell and Tribunall on the day assigned for the dispute, hauing first in priuate, with great promises and large offers set the Pisan Doctour on fire to purchase himselfe honour, in sustayning the cause of Pope Anaclete, and in that assembly of noble and learned men to stop the mouth of the French Abbot.

Peter then full of vayne hopes, and of high thoughts, appeared in the Court, where with much eloquence, and great memory and art, depainting forth first the fact, with handsome coulours, then alleadging and interpreting in his manner the decrees and Canons, he endeuoured to proue how the election of Anaclete had been most sincere and legitimate. On the contrary the holy man hauing heard the Oratour with much patience, began his discourse with great humility and modesty, and by little and little grew into so great vehemency and liberty of heauenly spirit, and with such pregnan­cy of reasons, and weight of Scriptures, and variety of examples, and comparisons, so defeated the foundations, and discouered the falshoods of the aduersary, as not only almost all the auditory then remained perswaded, but euen the Aduocate Anaclete himselfe of be­ing conuinced with the truth, and returned to himselfe, repented he had euer vndertaken the protection of the wicked and false Pope; and being afterwards further assisted with the priuate exhortations of the seruant of Christ, fayled not to reconcile himselfe to Innocent.

But Roger, how beit he could now pretend no ignorance, yet [Page 231] being ouerwhelmed with diuers passions, could neuer be brought to the sayd demonstrations and acts, which in a matter of so great importance ought publiquely to be done. Whence S. Bernard being satisfyed with his owne conscience, and remitting the rest to the diuine Iustice, returned back to Rome, and renewed agayne the interrupted labour of reducing the soules to the obedience of the Pope, & vnion of the Church, which till that time had been eyther seduced through opinion, or enchayned by malice. For so great a hurt and notorious a scandal, S. Bernard was exceedingly afflicted: but it pleased the diuine goodnes soone to deliuer him from that greife through the death of Pierlonio: who being seized with a pesti­lent malady, though he had three dayes space, to acknowledge his offences, yet obdurate & impenitent, he passed to render accompt to the eternall Iudge of his misdeed.

Being dead, his followers did presently substitute, and set vp an other Anti-pope, who yet being conscious of his owne weakenes, and the dangers which hung ouer his head; went by night to seeke out S. Bernard, who hauing louingly reprehended him, and made him to lay downe the ornaments vsurped, led him with his owne hands to the feete of Innocent, from whom benignly recei­uing absolution, he was admitted into grace. And from thence be­gan the Pope to giue dispatches without disturbance, to attend to reformation, and to take away the abuses introduced in tyme of the discord. For so ioyfull successe next vnto God, they all gaue the glory and honour to the Abbot of Clareuallis, & not without reason, since trauayling in the enterprise, into diuerse parts of the world, for more then seauen yeares togeather, finally in the Citty of Rome with the diuine helpe most happily concluded the same.

But the true disciple of Christ being not able to endure the hu­man prayses, applauses, & the extraordinary veneration wherein he was held of the whole Court and Citty, within the tearme of fiue dayes and no more, hauing got leaue of the Pope with all im­portunity, he suddenly went his wayes towards Clareuallis. And for asmuch as his Holines required some of his Monks to inhabite neere to Rome, he made choyce of them, and sent them at that tyme vnder the care of one Bernard of Pisa a good Religious man, & a per­son much honoured in the world, who not long after, Innocent being dead and his successours Celestin and Lucius, was with much approbation made Pope, by a new name, called Eugenius, and to [Page 230] [...] [Page 231] [...] [Page 232] him S. Bernard wrote those most learned bookes Of Consideration. In this manner then did S. Bernard cary himselfe in repayring the torne coate of our Lord, and reuniting to their head the members of the Church, with most wicked example so seuered and disioyned. And no lesse vigilancy and sollicitude shewed he in oppressing and roo­ting out heresyes, which discouered themselues in his tyme as shall presently appeare.

S. Bernard refutes and confounds Abaylard, a famous Heretike: with other heresyes arising at that tyme. Chap. 18.

THere flourished in those dayes, with great fame of much know­ledge, one Peter Abaylard, a person of an exceeding sharpe wit, but proud and haughty withall. This man (as it happens often with the proud) being deceaued by the Father of lying; began to dis­perse writings, full of new doctrine, and of pestiferous opinions: wherof S. Bernard hauing notice, through his accustomed goodnes and benignity, performed the office towards him of fraternall cha­rity; endeuouring that without preiudice and infamy of the writer, those blasphemyes might be amended. And truly Peter himselfe for the present, through the words and Charity of the Saint shewed himselfe to be so changed and compunct, as he promised to remit al to his censure and correction. But a little after, being vanquished through the blind loue & vaine persuasion of himselfe, he not only brake his word, but euen also taking his aduantage of the tyme, he went to the Bishop of Sans, in whose Church was presently a great Councell assembled, and before him very insolently complayned of the Abbot of Clareuallis, as of a slaunderer, and detractour, and made instance, the Councell being opened he might be cyted to yield account of the obiections and calumnies giuen out against his bookes, shewing himselfe to be prompt and ready to defend in pu­blique whatsoeuer was contayned therin. Nor did the Bishop re­fuse him: the tyme being come, he cites the Man of God to the Sy­nod to iustify the sayd oppositiōs. There came likewise thither Peter full of pride, founding himselfe in sillogismes, and his dialectical art: but well it appeares how vayne human meanes are against the di­uine power. Because, the designed day being come for discussion of those articles, S. Bernard in the presence of all those venerable Pre­lates and Doctours, produced the volumes of Abaylard, and with [Page 233] very strong reasons and cleere testimonyes of Scripture and holy Fathers, went manifesting and refuting one by one, all the proposi­tions, which digressed from fayth, and the Apostolique traditions. And such was the spirit, which in that Session also spake in the mouth of S. Bernard, as that Abaylard loosing in a moment his me­mory and discourse, full of shame and confusion with the wonder of all was strooken dumbe. There was giuen him space notwith­standing, and election, eyther to deny those writings, or humbly to amend himselfe, or els to answere (if he coud) to the obiections made. But he very hard to repent himselfe, to gaine (as they say) more tyme, resolued with himselfe to appeale to the Sea of Rome, howbeit, that sacred Congregation stucke not to reproue the do­ctrine, though forbore the person: and a little after came the sen­tence of the Pope, which declaring Abaylard to be a manifest here­tike, condemned him to silence, and his workes to the fire.

This disorder being thus remedyed, after some yeares againe there appeared another, through the fault of VVilliam Perretta Bi­shop of Poytiers, a man much versed in the diuine Scriptures, but temerarious & arrogant, in so much as he had the boldnes to medle with the mystery of the most holy Trinity, with many capriches & subtlityes neuer heard of before, and that with so much the greater common perill, as he was more pregnant and dexterous, to couer the senses with artificious and obscure wordes; in such sort, as the poyson had much spread it selfe before any could easily perceaue it. To these snares S. Bernard did most valorously oppose himselfe in the Councell of Rhemes celebrated by Pope Eugenius, wherein dis­puting continually for two dayes togeather against those impious dogma's, what with quoating and comparing places one with an­other dispersed and disioyned heere and there, with determining of equiuocations, distinguishing ambiguityes, inserting of consequē ­ces, and deducing of corolaryes; he draue out of darknes & caues, that whole antiquity, and exposed it so to the light, as there re­mayned no more any place for doubt.

And because notwithstanding all this diligence, some fauou­rers of VVilliam hindred that the processe could not he finished a­gainst him; S. Bernard with his great authority, caused a congrega­tion to be assembled of purpose, where with the consent and sub­scription of the Fathers of ten Prouinces, and of very many Bishops and Abbots, he framed, and added a new symbole, as opposite to [Page 234] the noueltyes of VVilliam, & with such means very easily wrought that these peruerse opinions should be vtterly prohibited, though no chastisement otherwise were inflicted on the Authour, since he was in the mind to enter into that dispute with this condition and protestation, that in case his sayinges were not excepted and appro­ued by the sacred Councell, he would be ready without pertina­city at all, to reuoke them quite, and so being demanded if he gaue his consent to the sayd condemnation, answered: Yea, and in full session retracting and detesting the etrours, he obtayned mercy.

No lesse horrible and pernicious, about the same yeares, was the impiety of a certaine Precursour of Martin Luther, called Henry, a most vile Apostata also, and euen possessed wholy with the like spirit of blasphemy; so as he doubted not to open his sacrilegious mouth against heauen, to discouer himselfe to be the enemy of Christ, to assaile, and to his power to destroy the Sacramentes and Ordinations, and the ancient rites of the ecclesiasticall Hierarchy. And as he had a good tongue, and knew well how to handle the people, and entice men to licencious liberty, he made such pro­gresse in some parts of Gascony, as now at last heere and there were Pastours to be seene without flockes, people without Priestes, Priests without due veneration, & finally Christiās without Christ himselfe. To children there was none to open the gate of holy Baptisme; the offeringes and suffrages of the dead were come into derision; the inuocation of Saintes, Excommunications, Pilgri­mages, the building of Churches, the keeping of Fasts, the conse­cration of Oyle, and summarily all the institutes and traditions of the Apostolike discipline were had in great despite and abominatiō.

At such vnhappy newes, a Legat being sent from Rome to those partes, in passing by Clareuallis, lead S. Bernard along with him, who being receaued by those people, with incredibie deuotion, he began to fructify among them, abiding particulerly in the citty of Tholouse: and euen in those very places, where the Minister of the Diuell had made his most abode, and done most hurt, there S. Ber­nard being assisted by the right hand of God, with Sermons, and preachinges, & with euident miracles besides, in a very few dayes made a notable purchase, in catechising the rude, confirming the doubtfull, reducing the erring, resisting & repressing the authour [...] and instruments of the malignity: in so much as in very deed they durst not appeare before him, much lesse oppose and stand against [Page 235] him. Henry himselfe at the arriuall of the Legate, fled presently a­way, & after he had hid himselfe heere and there for a good while, was at last apprehended and bound, and so deliuered into the hands of the Bishop of Tholouse.

Thus was remedy put to the infernall pest, which otherwise had spread and dilated it selfe through all those Prouinces.

S. Bernard settles peace and concord among Princes and states, and particu­larly betweene the Citty of Mets, and the neighbour Countryes. Chap. 19.

FRom such paynes and trauailes, suffered by the Labourer of Christ, in curing and recouering of Heretikes, may euery one imagine how much care and study he employed in preseruing and helping Catholikes. So as, it would be ouer long and tedious to recount how many great Princes, and other persons of ech state & quality, he instructed with great patience in Christian vertues, and from the vanityes of the world conuerted to the loue of heauenly thinges. How many Churches at variance and discord with their Pastours, how many Chapters and Colledges not without most grieuous scandall disunited from their head and in themselues, with his sweetnes and authority hath he reduced to peace and amity? To how many afflicted and distressed soules hath he giuen counsayle, succour, and comfort? How many fires already kindled of open warre betweene mighty Lords, and neighbour-people with like zeale and prudence hath he extinguished?

To which purpose, we are by no meanes to passe ouer in si­lence, the accord which he concluded with so great trauaile be­tweene the inhabitants of Mets in Lorayn, and some Neighbour-Princes thereabouts, by whom that noble Citty being prouoked with some iniuryes, sent forth to reuenge the same a great number of Citizens in armes, but with ill successe, because they being ta­ken on the sudden through the exceeding disaduantage of the place betweene the straits of Montefred and Mosella a famous riuer, & assai­led by the enemy, though inferiour in number, and put to flight, were about two thousand of them lost, partly by sword, partly in the waters, partly also by their owne confusion smoothered and crushed to death in the presse. Whence the Princes on the other side being rich with the spoiles, and proud of the victory, returned home with triumph. Nor yet lost the citty a whit of courage, while [Page 236] they seemed to be vāquished more through inequality of the place, then by the valour and skill of the aduersaries.

They prepared then anew on all sides, and doubtles there hung a cruell mortality, and a miserable wast ouer all those countryes. When the Metropolitan Archbishop of Treuers, for the fatherly care & sollicitude he had of his people, after he had tryed many meanes in vayne, he recurred for the last refuge to S. Bernard the great ser­uant of Christ; and being come to Clareuallis in person, prostrating himselfe very humbly at the feete not only of him, but of all the Monks also, besought & coniured him withall to vouchsafe to ap­ply some remedy to so great mischeifs and euills, since for such an office of piety in the world besides, was no other person found to be sufficient.

S. Bernard at that tyme approached neere to the end of his dayes and being ouercharged as well with old age, as infirmityes, kept his bed; yet notwithstanding most benignly promised his help, and (as we haue sayd aboue, is wont to happen in like cases) his forces being suddainly recouered for this affayre, he went his wayes in company of the Archbishop. When they arriued, they found the two opposite armyes, who attending on the banck side of the riuer, were expecting an occasion to come to a fresh battayle.

From so great a hazard, and so much hurt, sought S. Bernard with prayers and exhortations to deliuer the Christian armies, but wordes auayling litle, with the efficacious force of stupendious mi­racles, he filled those fierce and obdurate harts with such religion and horrour, as being finally mollifyed like wax, were all the con­trouersyes by common consent remitted to the arbitrement of the man of God. Whereupon he hauing brought the Procuratour of ech part vnder publique safe conduct, to a Parley in an iland of the Riuer, hauing now well vnderstood the beginning of the strifes betwene them, prescribed them conditions and articles of peace; the which without rigour were accepted, and in signe of accord, the Procuratours gaue ech other their hands, with louing imbraces, and those dark cloudes, and dreadfull lightnings of warre, were soone turned into a goodly calme of tranquility and concord.

And since we haue already often made mention of Miracles of the Saint, and sometymes also according to occurrences declared some of them; you must vnderstand, this matter affoards an infinite store of narrations: forasmuch as among other Authours the vene­rable [Page 237] Gaufrid Monk of Clareuallis, who was companion & Secretary of S. Bernard, affirmes for certaine and notorious, that in a village of Constance, called Dominge, in one and the selfe same day, with the only imposition of hands, in presence of a multiude of specta­tours, he gaue sight to eleuen blind, healed ten maymed, and eygh­teene cripples: and in Colonia Agrippina in three dayes he reared twelue cripples, cured two lame, gaue speach to three dumbe, and hearing vnto ten deafe men. So as certaine pious men ha­uing begun to note downe all such wonders of his, being after op­pressed with the multitude of them, and not being able with the pen, to set downe the store of effects in that kind, very soone gaue ouer the enterprize. Neuerthelesse there remaynes yet a faythfull and distinct memory of so many of them, as to goe about to set them heere downe one by one, would be a thing too prolix and far off from our scope. We therefore making choyce (according to out custome) of the more notable and of greater edification, shall reduce them to fiue heads; that is, to the grace of Cures; to power vpon deuills; to visions or apparitions; to the spirit of Prophesy; and to efficacy of prayer: which, though indeed it may be sayd, to run through all the other species, notwithstanding for that it wants not proprietyes also of its owne, we haue thought good to put it downe by it selfe a part; yea & taking beginning from thence, we shall tell what happened to S. Bernard, concerning one of his Monks lesse mortifyed, and lesse perfect then the rest.

The Iudgment of God, shewed vpon one, approaching to receiue the Sacra­ment at S. Bernards hands, without due preparation: with diuers other Miracles besides. Chap. 20.

THere was a Monk, that for a secret fault being suspended from the participation of the diuine misteryes, and beholding all the others to communicate on a very solemne Feast; the wretch for feare of shame and infamy, boldly also approacheth to the hands of the holy Pastour. Who not willing to expell him thence, the oc­casion being (as it was sayd) secret and vnknowne, turning him­selfe to God from the bottome of his hart, he besought him to put remedy for such and so great a presumption, and heerewith mini­stred to him also the Bread of Angells, as to the rest. But behold the hoast being receiued into his mouth, he could by no meanes [Page 238] let it down, though he striued neuer so much to swallow it. Wher­upon being wholy anxious and trembling, he kept it enclosed within his palat, vntill such tyme, as the Communion being past, with an humble signe he drew the man of God apart, and being prostrate at his feet with many teares declared to him what he suffered, & opening his mouth shewed him the hoastir selfe. When the good Father reprehending him for it, as it behoued, went a­bout to reconcile him againe, and the Penitent suddenly hauing receiued absolution without any difficulty swallowed the hauen­ly food.

Another entring a fresh into Clareuallis, to doe penance there of his life very dissolutly led in the world; found himselfe to be [...] and exceeding in deuout, while his companions with many teares, were cleansing themselues of their passed crymes. Being moued with this example to enter into himselfe, and trying in vayne to imitate them, he recurred with most inward affect of hart to the holy Abbot: who yeilding to so honest and pious a demaund, ob­tayned him from heauen such aboundance of teares, as from that houre the good disciple was neuer seene to be with dry eyes, and cheekes not dewed with teares. The like power though in a bas [...] subiect shewed the seruant of Christ with his prayers, once espe­cially among other tymes, when he returned from the Citty of Chalon. There was then a cruell winter and most bitter cold, so as all most all those of his company being shrewdly pinched with the weather, and busyed in defending themselues from the ayre (as it happens in that case) making much hast, heedlesly left him behind with two only in his company, one of which by chaunce alighting, his horse brake away from him in the open fieldes (as the Camel once escaped from S. Antony in the deserts) without commodity of catching him againe in hast, when the venerable Abbot turning to him that was lest with him, sayd let vs pray. And kneeling on the ground scarcely had they finished a Pater Noster, when behold the vnruly beast, with all gentlenes returning back, stood quietly at the feete of S. Bernard, and thus he who had lost him recouered him againe. A great expedition surely in regayning him so, but this other which followes was nothing inferiour.

S. Bernard in the Court of the yong King Lewes, negotiated a peace of moment, and secretly had the Queene his opposit therein though otherwise openly she shewed her selfe to be deuoted to him. [Page 239] This Lady was held to be barren, hauing now liued many yeares with her husband without issue, for which she with the whole Court, was exceedingly afflicted. Now she one day with the holy Abbot lamenting her selfe for such a disaster, with this opportunity he fayld not to aduise her, that if she would be comforted in her desire, she should cease to hinder the peace in treaty: which she did, and soone after the accord very happily succeeded. Then Lewes through suggestion of his wife, put S. Bernard in mind of the pro­mise made, and he faythfully acknowledged it; recommending the matter so feruently to God, as the Queene at the yeares end was brought to bed, with the extraordinary ioy as well priuate as pu­blique. That effect also was held very memorable, which now we shall tell.

S. Bernard being ready to depart the second tyme from Rome, procured with the Popes consent, some Relikes of Saints to carry with him; and visiting Churches for that end, he was offered by the Grecian Monks the entire head of S. Caesarius Martyr. But he of innated modesty, hauing respect as not willing to depriue those Religious of so noble a treasure, was content to accept as a fauour one tooth only. The Monks then endeauour to pull it forth, and being not able with their hands, they brake two kniues about it, without profitting a whit: it is fit (sayd S. Bernard) we pray to the glorious Martyr, he would vouchsafe to doe vs this fauour: he prayed vnto him, and after reuerently approaching to the sacred skull, without any difficulty he tooke out one, with two of his fingars, which before could not be stirred with the force of instru­ments. I will finish this part with the first of all the miracles which S. Bernard wrought.

The venerable Abbot, returned from a certaine Monastery cal­led Three fountaynes, which was in truth the first which he founded, & behold a Messenger in hast, comes running on the way very an­xious, acquainting him how in a Castle at hand, by name Firmita, a kinsman of his called Guisbert, lay in extreme daunger of death, hauing lost his speach before he was able to be confessed. This same was a noble & rich man, & withall a great vsurper of others goods, and of a very ill conscience. Whence through the iust iudgment of God, he was ready to depart this life without the viatique. At which tydings S. Bernard as soone as he had commodity of a Church did celebrate the Masse, and prayd for him, and at the same hower [Page 240] (as was knowne afterwards in reckoning the tymes) G [...]bert re­turning into himselfe, brake silence, and began with tear [...] to bewayle his sinnes: but scarcely had S. Bernard finished the Masse, but he fell dumb againe, and presently thereupon arriued S. Ber­nard with Gerard his brother, & Galdricus their vncle: and much in­stance being made to the Abbot by the friends and kindred that he would be pleased to pray for the sicke man; lifting vp his mind to God, and touched by the holy Ghost, he answered with all libe­ty: you know how much euill this man hath done, and how much he holds of other mens goods; let him, and his children make resti­tution, and renounce the wicked customes introduced, and satis­fy the wrongs he hath done to the poore, and so doing, he shall dye like a Christian.

The standers by were all astonished at these wordes, and at so firme a promise, not knowing yet the mighty power which God communicated to S. Bernard; and the brother and vncle were more affrighted then the rest, for feare least being deceiued by some illu­sion or craft of the enemy, he proceeded too farre to vndertake so much. But immediately the successe shewed the contrary: for that due restitution being made by the Gentleman and his sonnes; that tongue so tyed before began suddenly to be vnlosed, and G [...] ­bert being confessed with much contrition, not ceasing euer to ki [...] the Abbots hands, deuoutly receiued the most holy Eucharist, and adioyning thereunto the holy Oyle, with all the other ceremonyes that belong to that tyme, the night following, with great edifica­tion of all, and all with much hope of eternall saluation, he dyed.

In testimony of the Catholike fayth, S. Bernard cures all the sicke and in­firme, with holy bread: and miraculously heales one afflicted with the Palsey. Chap. 21.

LEt vs now come to his Cures: of which so great a number, w [...] will take two examples only, which to euery right iudgme [...] may suffice for a thousand. When the man of God went his waye [...] into the parts of Tholouse, to oppose (as we sayd) against the im­pious endeauours of Henry the Apostata, it chanced that he preach [...] in a certayne place called Sarlat: the sermon being ended, those good people came and brought him bread to blesse, which he lifting vp his hand, and making the signe of the Crosse in the name of God [Page 241] blessing it, sayd: By this shall you see, my Children, how true are the thinges which we instruct you in, and how false those which our aduersaryes seeke to let you vnderstand; to wit, if your sicke with tasting of this bread shall be all cured or no. At his word re­mayned the Bishop of Chartres there present in some suspence, and with good zeale fearing the proposition might be too vniuersall, modifyed the same with adding to the hearers: you must vnder­stand,] they shall be cured in tasting therof with a good fayth; When the holy Father confiding and secure of the diuine power replyed bouldly: My Lord, I speake not in that manner, nor do not add a­ny such condition thereunto, but I say in truth, and as the wordes sound, That as many sicke as tast therof, shallbe all freed of their infirmityes, to the end at least that hence all men, may come to ac­knowledge vs to be the vndoubted, and true Embassadour of the eternall God. According to the word the effect followed, as many as did eate of that bread, were all cured without exception: wher­of the same flew on a sudden through all the prouince, and so great was the concourse of people desirous to see and adore the seruant of Christ, as that in his returne from Sarlat to Tholouse, to shunne the presse, and to haue passage, it behoued him to turne out of the way with all secrecy.

At the very same tyme, and in the selfe same Countryes, there lay in the Colledge of the Clarks of S. Saturninus, one sicke of the palsey that was incurable, called also by the name of Bernard, so pined therewith and worne away as he seemed daily euen rea­dy to giue vp the Ghost. The Abbot of Clareuallis, was besought now by the Superiour & by the others of that place, that he would daigne to go & see that miserable wretch: The Man of God did so, he went in hast, and benignely comforted the sicke man, & hauing giuen him the wonted benediction, he went forth of the Cell with particular desire, that the diuine Clemency in confirmation of the Catholike doctrine, and confusion of the obstinate, would affoard some not [...]ble demonstration, in this mans extreme and euident perill Our Lord accepted the good will of his seruant. He had hardly departed thence, when he saw himselfe ouertaken by the Clarke; Who feeling his nerues on a sudden restored to him, and his ioynts confirmed, slipping out of his bed, followed the Abbot apace, vntill ouertaking him, at last he casts himselfe at his feet, kissing thē with much deuotion, and with affectuous thankesgiuing. Whereu­pon [Page 242] by chaunce, one of his Collegues meeting with him, who had left him the other day neere death, and with one foote in the graue, he was filled with so great horrour, as he was ready to fly from him, as it were from a Ghost; nor to stay vntil he were certifyed, & secu­red by diuers of the truth.

The same had happened doubtlesse to many others besides; but the fame of the admirable successe being sudenly spread, tooke away all suspition quite; and the people with the Bishop and Apostoli­call Legate, came striuing to behold and enioy so new a spectacle; and after went altogeather into the Church, to giue due prayses to Almighty God, through whose power he atcheiued al these things; the Clarke himselfe going before all, singing with full voyce togea­ther with the rest: Who being afterwards no lesse sollicitous for his spirituall health, then glad of his corporall, not only very willing­ly accompanyed the Saint to Clareuallis, but likewise submitting himselfe to his Obedience, tooke there the habit of Cisterce, & gi­uing good demonstration of prudence, and of Religion; was sent backe agayne by the glorious Father into his Countrey, with title of Abbot of the Monastery called Valdacque. This fact like wise was very famous, and stopt the mouths of all the Heretikes there abouts.

S. Bernard dispossesseth two women very grieuously infected with euill spi­ritts, in the Citty of Milan. Chap. 22.

LEt vs now passe to the power and command which the Saint had ouer wicked spirits; and in this so ample a subiect, we wil set downe like wise two only examples therof, which shall serue for sufficient coniecture, and consideration of the rest, b [...]ing able otherwise to say truly, that no person obsessed, or possessed through secret pacts, by those malignant and vncleane Substances, appea­red euer before S. Bernard for help, that was not quit and deliuered from the infernall tyranny. And though on euery side, and at all tymes, there were occasions to vse the exorcismes of the Church, notwithstanding during the schisme of Pierlonio, it seemes the ad­uersary of humane kind, had through diuine iudgment obtayned particuler licence in the citty of Milan, to seduce (as we sayd aboue) the followers and ministers of the Antipope.

Heere then besides many other signes, wrought through diuine power by meanes of this feruent Labourer: one morning as he was [Page 243] celebrating Masse in the Church of S. Ambrose, with an exceeding great concourse of people, there was presented to him by her pa­rents a little Girle of tender age, in whome the Diuell most tyran­nically raigned, and he was prayed with great instance to take pitty of that vnhappy Wretch, and deliuer her from so cruell torments, which appeared by the shreekes and cryes she gaue, and in her coū ­tenance and in all the partes of her body, with the exceeding hor­rour of the standers by. The tender hart of the good Priest was moued with these prayers, and such a spectacle: who sitting neere to the Altar, while the Quire was singing, called for the Patten whereon he was to make the Offertory, and with his fingar distil­ling some droppes of water thereon, he gaue it to the possessed per­son to drinke, and immediatly the Diuell not able to suffer that sa­cred Antidote, and that blessed effusion, by meanes of a foule and nauseous vomit, very hastily departed, and the Girle with infinit applause and admiration of the people was restored to her Parents safe and secure.

After this, vpon another day, in the selfe same place & houre, was a gentlewoman of mature age brought thither by many with mayne strength, in whose breast now for many yeares Sathan had remayned, and so disfigured and deformed her, as that being depri­ued of hearing, sight, and speach, in putting forth the tongue, like an Elephants truncke seemed rather a Monster then a woman; be­sides which, the face all soyled and vgly to see, with a stincking breath withal, shewed well the quality of the Ghest that kept pos­session. Being brought then into the presence of the Saint, he knew at first sight, through diuine permission, that enemy was of an euill and cruell race, and so inueterate and settled in her, as he would not easily be got forth of so gratefull, and so ancient a dominion. Then the seruant of Christ, turning to the people which were there in great number, bad them all to pray very attentiuely, & commanded the Clerkes to hold the Woman there as firme and im­moueable as they could: but she with diuellish force resisting and kicking withall, with her foot came to strike the Priest himselfe, who not regarding the same, entred into the consecration in such manner, as looke how many signes of the Crosse he made vpon the hoast, so many in turning himselfe he made vpon the possessed per­son, with the incredible rage, and dolour of that fiend, as by the gnashing of teeth, and sundry, and those strange, gestures and roa­ringes [Page 244] and struglinges she made, most manifestly appeared.

After which the Pater noster being sayd, the Priest began againe to giue a more shrewd assault to the aduersary, with likewise hol­ding the Paten, with the body it selfe of our Lord ouer the Ma­trons head, and sayng: Behold heere, O wicked spirit, thy iudge; behold the supreme power, now resist, if thou canst; behold him, who being to suffer for our saluation, affirmed that then the Prince of this world was to be banished hence; heere is that sacred body, which being taken from the body of a holy Virgin, extended on the Crosse, put into a Sepulcher, and risen from death, ascended tri­umphant into heauen. So then in the power of this Maiesty, O ma­lignant spirit, I do commaund thee to leaue this his seruant, & not dare to molest her more. That sayd, and the hoast (according to the vse) being deuided into three partes, he gaue the Pax to the Mon­ster: which peace and health diffused by him, through all the con­gregatiō with particuler influence did euen penetrate into the soule and body of the possessed, because the vniust and pertinacious pos­sessour went forth immediatly from her, declaring thereby of what efficacy and value the Sacrament of the Altar is, especially being handled with the purity and fayth it deserues. And it may be well belieued with good reason, that this Diuell with whome so much tampering was vsed, was one of the cheifest of the Hellish squa­drons, since others of a lower rancke not only vsed to fly away ve­ry fearefully from the coniurations vsed, and presence of the seruant of Christ; but euen also from his Stole, though he himselfe had by [...] distant farre off, as from an obiect intollerable to him, and a most grieuous punishment. Such, and so great was the sanctity of S. Bernard.

S. Bernard with prayers deliuers a soule from paynes: with other notable Visions besides, that happened to him. Chap. 23.

IT followes now that we touch something of the Visions, i [...] which, either he appeared to others, or others appeared to him. And be that the first, which himselfe afterwards was wont to tell vnto others. A certaine Monke of a good intention but of harsh con­uersation, and lesse compassionate to his neighbours then he oughe to haue beene, in the Monastery of Clareuallis came to the end of his dayes, and a little after appeared to the holy Abbot with sad coun­tenance [Page 245] and a miserable habit, signifying that matters went not very well with him. Being asked the particuler, he added with dolourous accents, that he was giuen vp into the power of huge, and cruel Elfes; he had scarcely sayd so much, when being pushed with a fury, and chased away from the face of the seruant of God, he suddenly vanished. Then the Saint with a sigh and compassion as behoued, sayd, calling after him with a loud voice: I command thee in the name of the Highest, to returne to me againe within few dayes, to tell me how thou farest. From hence applying him­selfe to help that soule with prayers and sacrifices, he neuer gaue ouer vntill such tyme as the dead himselfe appearing once more according to the precept giuen him, did comfort him with the hap­py newes of his deliuery.

S. Bernard found himselfe on a certaine tyme in a strange man­ner to be grieued and oppressed with an excesse of cold humors, so as a gush of fleame continually running from him, soone brought that body, nigh worne and spent already, to a manifest point of death. His children and other Deuotes doe gather about him, as it were to prepare the exequyes, and he being in excesse of mind, seemes to himselfe to be brought vnto the Tribunall of Christ, where the ancient aduersary was likwise present most outragious­ly accusing him. The accusation ended, and space giuen to the ser­uant of Christ to plead & defend himselfe, not shewing the while any signe of perturbation at all, thus answered: I do confesse I am not worthy of eternall glory, nor of the heauenly kingdome; but my Lord who possesseth the same by a double title, that is, by pa­ternall inheritance, and painefull purchase, contenting himselfe with the one of the two titles, of the other makes a liberall guift to me, and in vertue of this deuotion, I doe with reason aspire there­unto. At which answere the enemy was confounded, that forme of iudgement and tribunall vanished, and the man of God without a­ny more returned to himselfe againe.

Another tyme he beheld himselfe at the Sea side, expecting a ship to passe ouer, the ship came & approached to him: but being to leape therinto, it suddenly gaue backe; so did it thrice togeather, and at last leauing him on the shore, it went away without retur­ning any more: so as S. Bernard easily gathered, that the houre of his passage was not yet come, notwithstanding his dolours con­tinued so much more sharp and irksome, as he had lesse hope to be [Page 246] hastily rid thereof. Now it happened in the euening, that all the other Monkes going according to custome to the lesson which was made of the collations of the ancient Fathers, the two only assistants of the Abbot remayned there, and he being continually more af­flicted and tormented with the malady, bad one of them to go into the Church to pray for him. There were three Altars in the sayd Church, one of the Blessed Virgin, and at the sides thereof two o­thers, to wit, of S. Laurence, and of S. Benet; making prayer then at all three, euen at the instant the glorious Mother of God accom­panyed with those two Saints, with such a suauity and serenity, as may rather be imagined then described, entred into [...]e sicke mans Cell, so manifestly, as he, with full and perfect knowledge could easily distinguish ech person. Thence she approaching to him, and touching softy all the places of the paines, immediatly all malignant qualityes vanished, that rhew matique spring in the same moment being quite dyed vp, whence grew the dolours.

Diuers examples where S. Bernard in his life tyme appeared to many, re­mayning in places farre remote. Chap. 24.

THe foresayd apparitions were made by others vnto S. Bernard: now follow some of him to others, of which number one was to brother Robert of the order of Cisterce. This man at such tyme as the venerable Abbot remayned in the Citty of Rome, fell deadly sick at Clareuallis. In that state appeared to him a yonge man like to the infirmarian, commaunding him to goe along with him, and so doing he was streight conducted to the top of a high mountayne where Christ was encompassed round with Angells, who sayd to his guide: looke well to that man there; and withall he put a mes­sage into the sickmans hart to deliuer the Conuent of Clareuallis. The morning being come, he sits vpright in his bed, whome e­uery one held to be quite dead, and calling for Don Gaudfrid as then Priour, that was afterwardes Bishop of Langres, among other things sayd cleerely to him: Our Lord commaunds you to erect great buildings to contayne the multitude of people, which he is to send you, and for the same end giue order that our Brothers who haue care of the possessions and tenements be mindfull of modesty, and endeauour to giue good example to seculars, for wo be to him, through whose default any one should come to fall. From hence [Page 247] twenty dayes being passed, the sicke man still remayning quite forsaken of the Phisitians, S. Bernard appeared to him in his cell in spirit, paternally visiting him, sung there the mattyns with a good number of brothers, and passed all that night with him: and the morning being come, Robert without any more adoe, arose vp sound, and faithfully recounted the manner how he escaped so great a daunger. A notable euent surely; but this other is no lesse wor­thy of memory.

The seruant of God lay sicke in Clareuallis, more worne and de­cayd with labours and infirmityes, then yeares; how beyt he ceased not to attend to the gouernement of his Monkes, and to feed them with the word of God, and to rise likewise euery day to celebrate Masse, which he neuer omitted but of meere necessity, reuiuing his afflicted members with the feruour of spirit. In this while it so happened, that he was fayne to send some person of quality into some more remote parts of Germany about matters of importance. For which enterprise a German Monke was elected, by name Hen­ry, whom with many other subiects the same holy Father some six yeares before in his returne from Constance, had induced to the di­uine seruice. This man entring into so long a voyage, especially in the midst of winter, as one with reason indeed feared many di­sasters, and aboue all he doubted, least the venerable Abbot might come to dye in the meane tyme, and he remayne defrauded and depriued of his last benediction. But the holy Father blessing him for the present and saying: Goe thy wayes in Gods name, for thou shalt returne safe, and shalt further find me as thou desirest: and so sent him away full of comfort.

Being arriued in the territory of Strasburge, as he was passing ouer a riuer all frozen with Ice, his beast stumbled, and he without remedy fell quite ouer head and eares in the water. What could the poore wretch doe heere being plundged beneath in the waters, aboue couered with Ice, & both back and sides being dashed with the current? He had surely no comfort but meerely the promise of the holy Father, by whom indeed he was not deceiued. Because in that agony he saw him before him, and was so full of consola­tion withall, that now he selt not the violence of the riuer, nor any difficulty of breathing, nor finally feare, nor any manner of disease at all. Heereupon forsaking the beast he was on, through diuine power, he found himselfe to be pushed softly against the [Page 248] streame without any force of his to the same breach, which with his fall he had made, where taking hold with his hands on the edge of the Ice he escaped; he returned very safe and sound to Cla­reuallis, and for a full accomplishment of ioy and contentment, had the wished fauour to see his most deere and desired Maister againe, to whom he shewed himselfe very gratefull and obsequious, not only as long as he liued, but euen also after the death of S. Bernard in frequenting his sepulcher, and there most deuoutly making his prayers.

Surely a large matter of discourse for him that would compare this with other such like meruayles. But let vs, leauing this arti­ficiousnes to Oratours, content our selues with the naked & simple truth. Besides what hath been sayd, it is also reported for a thing most certaine, that the vigilant Prelate in the gouernement of his order through diuers Monasteryes very farre asunder and remote from him, gaue many commissions and precepts of things, which through human meanes he could no wayes come to vnderstand, in so much as though absent in person, notwithstanding (as it is read likewise of S. Benet, and other seruants of God) with the spirit he seemed to be present at the actions and proceedings of his Monkes. The which reuelations albeit Deuines ascribe to the gift of Prophe­cy; yet we restrayning the sense of this word, and applying it only vnto presage and prediction of future things, shall demonstrate, that to S. Bernard also (among other titles) this same so precious a guift was not wanting.

Some examples of the admirable guift of Prophecy, and discretion of spirit in S. Bernard. Chap. 25.

THat troupe of choice young men, which, as at the beginning we mentioned, S. Bernard in the citty of Chalon purchased to our Lord, were almost all of them in worldly wisedome the dis­ciples of one Stephen of Vitreo, a person very famous in those dayes and Country thereabouts. Now being come to Clareuallis, while they were yet kept by the man of God in an Inne, as it were in their first probation, and instructed by litle and litle in the rules of the diuine seruice, comes in Stephen of Vitreo, beyond all expectation, and demaunds to be likewise receiued into monasticall discipline. It is the manner of those who haue newly left and forsaken the se­cular [Page 249] hopes and affayres, to feele incredible iubiley of hart, when they behold some others to doe the like; whether it be, through that new zeale which the beginning of spirit subministred to them; or els for that they take delight to haue their election approued by the iudgment and example of many: so as at the vnlooked for ap­pearing of no ordinary subiect, but euen of their owne so famous a Maister, it cannot be told what great contentment those good Brothers tooke, and what ioy they made both priuate and publike. But the mind and iudgment of the wise Abbot in this point was so farre otherwise. Who by diuine aduise knowing suddenly the quality of his vocation, first sighing held his peace, then in the presence of all, he sayd: This man is sent hither by the euill spirit, he comes without a companion, and without a companion he shall goe his wayes againe. At this speach of his, they were astonished and amazed, who euen now could not containe themselues for ioy: neuerthelesse not to scandalize those tender plants S. Bernard was content to admit Stephen vpon tryall, especially making large pro­mises to obserue very punctually the rule, and to execute with all promptnes whatsoeuer should be ordayned him. But it was not long ere being ouercome with the tediousnes of silence and of soli­tude, being affrighted with the rigour of the obseruance, & weary of the exercises, and mentall labours, he was seene to be drawne forth of the Oratory by a vile Black-more, as heeretofore was that Monke of Cassin. From hence after some six monthes were passed, repenting himselfe of the good begun, he endeauours to attempt, and to stirre vp others, according to the manner of Religious men ill grounded & mutable, who being resolued to leaue the banners of Christ, and to returne to the leekes of Aegypt, thinke to couer their shame with the multitude of companions, and to diminish the infamy by communicating the fault: but neither he, nor he that set him a worke could effect the same. Because all those soules, through the preseruatiue infused into them by the faythfull & pru­dent Steward, still remayned where they were, firme and immo­ueable, and according to the protestation of the holy Pastour, that vnhappy Stephen de Vitreo did but trauaile in vayne. He entred a­lone, and alone went forth againe. Nor was the prophesy which followes much vnlike.

Three yong men hauing taken the habit together in Clareuallis one of them through instigation of the deuill, within a litle while [Page 250] after returned to his vomit againe. Whereupon the Fathers being so much more anxious for the health of the other two, in their pre­sence treated of this matter with the holy Abbot. Then he looking in the face of both those Nouices, answeared plainely: This man shall neuer haue temptations of moment. That other shall haue ma­ny, but shall finally preuayle. The one then with a prosperous gale went allwayes forward in religion. The other being encompassed with tribulations, and assayled with perillous assaults, after he had wauered more then once, and turned his back as it were, yet being sustayned by diuine grace, and through the memory of the Saints promises, victorious at last was crowned with perseuerance. Of these kind of Oracles this same that followes was so much more famous, as it was published vpon a greater occasion, and in a place more notable, and with persons more illustrious.

Lewes the old King France, being greiuously offended with some Bishops of that kindome, suffered himselfe to be led so farre into p [...]sion, as to expell them by force from their Churches and Cittyes. Whereupon S. Bernard, wrote many letters to him to ap­pease him, whose coppyes are yet kept to this day. It chaunced the while, the seruant of Christ being present, that many of those Bishops, to mollify the Kings mind prostrate with all humility on the ground, and imbracing his feet, were not all able to moue him to pitty. The man of God touched with this spectacle, and full of a holy zeale stuck not the day following to giue a free and stout reprehension to the King himselfe, for hauing in that manner despised the submission, and prayers of the Preists of Christ, and clearely made protestation of that which was reuealed to him, that night. This thy obstinacy shall cost thee the death of Philip thy el­dest sonne, and sworne Prince. I haue seene thee, in company of thy yonger sonne fall prostrate at the feete of those Bishops, whom but yesterday thou madest so small accompt of: Collecting thence, that soone thou shalt loose Philip, and for substitution of this other, thou shalt sue to the Prelates, whome now thou vsest so hardly, Which was not long ere it came to passe. Philip dyed, and the Father being humbled, wrought by al meanes with the Ecclesiastical state, that Lewes the second borne might be accepted for Successour, and be annoynted with accustomed ceremonyes. And so much may suffice of matters sayd or done by this admirable man aboue all force or terme of nature: of which subiect notwithstanding, though per­happs [Page 251] by vs too sparingly and scantly handled, yet it is much harder for vs to find an end, then how to beginne.

The great Humility of S. Bernard in auoyding worldly prayses and hhnours, and the pious shift he vsed to acquite himselfe thereof. Chap. 26.

OF all that which we haue hitherto written, or left vntouched, two things doe most astonish me. The one how S. Bernard amidst so great variety of vniuersall businesses mainetayned him­selfe allwayes as Lord and Maister of himselfe, without neglecting euer the custody of his hart, and continuall examine of his actions; and alwayes walking therein so vigilant and prouident, as if euen then from the shade of the Nouiciate he had past forth into the dust, & sunne of Christian warfarre. The other wonder is, how among so many fauours from heauen, and applauses of men, he neuer a­bandoned the confines and center of holy Humility; and this seems to me to be the principall cause why continually from the diuine hand were showred vpon him so excellent guifts, and so rare and incōparable graces: because that euen as there is nothing which of its part, more dryes vp the fountaines of the diuine benignity, then Pride and Arrogancy, in whose company Ingratitude goes hand in hand: so is there not a nearer and more apt disposition, to be­come capable of that souueraigne liberality, then Modesty, and to thinke humbly of ones selfe. With which as we see also in human thinges, a deuout will, and a solicitous care of thankes-giuing goe commonly vnited. The great seruant of God would discourse high­ly, as well of this as of other heroicall vertues, and among other ce­lestiall sentences he was wont to vtter, he would say: The true humble man desires not to be held for humble, but vile and abiect, and that surely with reason, since to the magnanimity of the Gen­tils corresponds, though in a more eminent degree, the humility of Christians, whose property is to hide and conceale their owne prayses as much as may be: though humility outwardly be obscure and neglected, yet inwardly being quaint and well deckt, it shines so after, as all, eyther first or last, in fixing their eyes thereon, doe admire it without end. But how S. Bernard despised from the hart to be prized & reuerenced of the world, may be manifestly known by that which I shall tell.

Perceauing before hand, how they went about to make him [Page 252] a Bishop, he very dexterously procured that the other Abbo [...] of his Order, vnto whome (as hath beene sayd aboue) he had made pro­fession to owe obedience, should obtaine an Apostolicall Bre [...]e, wherein it should be commanded them, that if it happened, the Man of God were requested of their Congregation for any Prelacy forth thereof, they might deny it by all meanes, and not seeme at the petition of others to despoyle themselues of such a guide, and so great a Pastour. And this preserua [...]iue of his, was very efficacious, because that S. Bernard indeed with full confent of all the Citize [...] & Clergy was first chosen Bishop of Langres, then of Chalo [...], anone of Rhemes, and of most noble Cittyes in France & Flanders. Moreouer also in Italy he was required for Archbishop of Milan, and of [...]: and from all these Cōmunityes and Republiques had come Embas­sadours for the same effect. With whom to diminish the opinion of sanctity, which is wont to grow of such refusalls; the seruant of Christ would answere no more, but that he was not of his owne power, but subiect wholy to the Cistercian Abbots; they might goe vnto them, and he would doe what they should determine. So as remitting all to those Fathers, they without respect through common accord gaue allwayes a precise and peremtory repulse.

The great Honours affoarded S. Bernard by all sorts of people: with the [...] blessed end he made. Chap. 27.

THus had S. Bernard fully his intent to put off the marks and En­signes of Honours, but yet could not with this so escape and free himselfe from the glory of them, which like the shadow (ac­cording to the ancient Prouerbe) followes men flying, & men fol­lowing it, flyes. Because notwithstanding all the repugnance he could make, and felt therein, he was allwayes in such credit and reputation, as it may securely be affirmed, that the maiesty of one poore and simple Abbot seemed to paralell with the crest and alti­tude of any degree, title, and dignity whatsoeuer. And peraduen­ture when the ancient and moderne historyes be all turned ouer, there shall not be found any, who yet liuing in mortall flesh was so much reuerenced in presence, and renowned so in absence: for­asmuch as not only priuate persons, or some Communityes, but euen Kings. Princes, and Popes also would recurre to him in their greatest difficultyes, to him put their strifes and controuersyes of [Page 253] most importance to compromise: and finally from him expected nothing, but succour, iustice, and truth. Not only from neighbour Prouinces, but euen from the furthest parts of Europe, as from the vtmost confines of Spayne, Ireland, Denmarke, Sueueland receiued he Letters full of reuerence, and louing presents also, in signe of memory and deuotion.

Wheresoeuer he went, he was reuerenced of all, as sent from Paradise, and with great fayth the infirme, and afflicted with any calamity soeuer, were presented to him for succour. Bread & water by him blessed, were kept as certaine Antidotes against all euills, and with great industry were sought for from the furthest parts. The shreds of his garments, or whatsoeuer he had worne, were held for holsome, and venerable Reliques. It cannot be expressed what concourse and multitudes of people there were, wheresoeuer he was, or went any way. He could not appeare in Rome, but the people and Court would be about him. In Milan and in other places of Lombardy, he was constrayned for the great presse to shut vp him­selfe in his Inne, and to be seen by the people at grates and win­dowes to giue them his benediction. In passing ouer the Alpes, when he went, or returned from Rome, whole troupes and familyes of shepheards and swaynes, would descend from those rocks and [...]ops of mountaynes to meete him, crying out aloud a farre off, and [...]imbing vp the clifts, & shewing themselues on the highest places [...]here to haue his benediction, and from thence retire them agayne vnto their Cotages, making great ioy and vaunts for being worthy [...]o behold that angelicall face, and for their good to haue the Saints [...]ight hand extended so vpon them.

In the Citty of Spire, the Man of God hauing wrought some [...]otable wonders, there came so great a multitude of people about him, as Conrade himselfe King of the Romans, was forced to lay off [...]is robe, to carry him with his owne armes out of the Church for [...]eare he might be oppressed and smothered in the croud. And when he passed into Mets for the pacification we mentioned aboue, he was one day among others enuironed by such number of people, as it was needfull for his followers to embarque him with great dexterity in the riuer of Mosella, and there in resemblance of the Sauiour of the world, he ceased not to exhort and assist the people. And this was the last of the publike actions of S. Bernard.

For that peace, being made in that Prouince, and the minds of [Page 254] men reconciled among themselues, returning to Clareuallis he felt himselfe to grow sicke of a mortall infirmity, wherein yet euery day he approached to the end of this life, with so much sweetenes of spirit, as if now already sayling in the port, by little & little, he were taking downe the tacklings, and striking sayle. And be­cause the Monkes with teares and prayers besought the diuine Ma­iesty, not to take away their louing Maister from them he tenderly complayned with them, for prolonging by that meanes his exile, and depriuing him of the desired sight of his Redeemer and Lord: finally he became so feeble of his stomacke, through fayling of the natural heate, as that blessed soule being not able longer to vphold and gouerne the worne and decayd members, flew directly to tho [...] mansions of heauen, whereon he had euer his eye fixed, on the 20. day of August, in the yeare of our Lord 1153. leauing by his meanes founded more then 160. Monasteryes of the family of Cisterce, a­mong which, in the Conuent only of Clareuallis liued 770. seruants Christ. He was deposed some two dayes after his departure, with a litle case on his breast, wherein the Reliques of S. Thadeus the A­postle were conteyned, being sent him that very yeare from [...] ­rusalem, the man of God so ordayning it, with hope and intention to be vnited with the Apostle in the day of the Resurrection.

The mourning and concourse of people at so dolorous a new [...] the preparation of the Exequies which followed; the intercessios made at his shrine, were a matter more easy for the pious and p [...] ­dent Reader to imagine, then for vs to describe. The holy Father (as his most sweet writinges demonstrate) had a perpetuall and most singular deuotion towardes the most blessed Virgin, the Mo­ther of God. In so much, as with reason it is belieued, how from that inexhaustible treasure of celestiall riches, he drew the talents and graces, which made him so graue and composed in his person▪ so acceptable to the diuine Maiesty, so helpfull, so wise, and ad­mirable to the world.

FINIS.

S. HVGH.
THE ARGVMENT.

PHysitians say, Diseases faster grow
Whose mouing causes our complexions feed:
Whome most we trust, most dangerous is the Foe,
Spite is more fell, atty [...]d in freindships weed;
And sooner it procures our ouerthrow,
Then that which doth from open foes proceed.
For armes, or lawes, or friends preuent the one,
The other God himselfe must shield, or none.
More dangerous are allurements which we loue,
And with our perills do like serpents warme:
Worldly delights, neglecting those aboue,
Because most present, most our soules do harme.
This I discouering plainely, euer stroue
To free my selfe, and others from the charme
Of that Enchauntresse, whose endearments bring
Eternall griefe, paines euer torturing.

THE LIFE OF S. HVGH BISHOP OF LINCOLNE.

The Parentage and Minority of S. Hugh: with his Vocation, & entrance into the Charter-house at Gre­noble. Chap. I.

THe blessed Hugh, whose life and manners we take in hand, was nobly borne in the partes of Burgundy. His Father was a valiant Cap­taine, fearing God, and liuing well contented with his Pay. There was not farre off from a Castle of his, a Monastery of Canon-Regu­lars, to whome he was much deuoted. Heere as soone as he was depriued of his Wife, he placed his sonne, who was about some eight yeares old, that from his tender yeares, vnder spi­rituall standarts, he might accustome himselfe vnto Christian war­farre. S. Hugh was very willingly receaued by those good Fathers, and put ouer to a venerable old man, who was to instruct him in learning, and religious discipline. This man with a reuerent gra­uity, first premonished him to beware of licencious & light sports, and to endeauour to anticipate the benefit of tyme, with maturity of manners, and sometymes would say vnto him: Hugh, I trayne thee vp for Christ, these sportes become thee not. And his admonitiōs were not in vaine: the holy Ghost found such disposition in him of wit [Page 257] and purity, as he was soone replenished with wisedome, and vn­derstanding, whence in short tyme, he came to be very gratefull to God, and most deare to men. In the meane while, the Knight his Father touched with heauenly inspiration, leauing the world, retyred himselfe into the same Monastery, and there attended to the seruice of God vnto his liues end.

But S. Hugh, as soone as he arriued to the nineteenth yeare of his age, at the instance of the whole Conuent, hauing taken all the holy Orders, except Priesthood, was applyed by Superiours to the help of a certaine Parish, in which office he bare himselfe in such sort, as euery one framed a high conceit of his sanctity & prudence: but our Lord willing to lead him to a life of stricter obseruance, & of greater merit, disposed that his Priour, going for deuotion as he was wont, to visit the Charter-house of Grenoble, tooke S. Hugh in his company, who making his prayer, and now entred in the Cloi­ster, in beholding partly the solitude and silence, partly also the semblance and manners of the Monkes, felt immediatly such an ar­dent desire of passing vnto the same Rule to enkingle in his breast, as not being able by any meanes to conceale, or endure the flame, he began presently to make secret practises, and to intreate the Fa­thers one by one to vouchsafe to admit him into their Institute.

His Priour was aware heereof, and calling him aside with do­lourous sighes and teares in his eyes: O my beloued Sonne (sayd he) I see well now, and perceaue too well, I haue brought thee hither to my great mishap, and the irreparable losse of my whole flocke. And as soone as they returned home againe, he discouered all to the Chanons, and especially to the Father of S. Hugh, intrea­ting him with great feeling, to put some remedy to so great a crosse. This being once vnderstood, they runne presently to the younge man, and more fully informed themselues of the nouelty from his owne mouth, and finally pressed him so hard, as they made him to promise with an Oath, that he would not forsake them. To which purpose, by how much S. Hugh condescended against his will, so much more troublesome and sharpe prickes of conscience, and scuples felt he in himself: on the one side, the touches of a more high vocation ceased not to molest him, and with reason feared he to constrist are the holy Ghost, in resisting so: on the other, he was opposed against by fraternall charity, and the promise he had made with an oath. S. Hugh being assaulted a good while with this con­trariety [Page 258] of spirits, after many prayers and considerations, was satis­fyed at last, that he was not tyed to the obseruance of his word and promise, which hindered him from the greater seruice of God, and his own perfection. With this resolution being now returned very quiet againe to the Charter-house, he did so efficaciously a new ex­presse his desires, as those Religious men admiring so constant a ter­uour of his, without more delay admitted him.

S. Hugh is made Priest; then Procuratour of the house of Grenoble; and lastly sent for into England by the King there. Chap. 2.

THe souldier of Christ, being now entred into a new warre, beginnes to feele new battailes, all which notwithstanding through diuine succour to him, were a subiect to him of glorious triumphes. Especially he was molested day and night by the con­cupiscible part, neuerthelesse to conserue his Virginity, he ceased not to macerate his flesh with abstinences, vigils, scourges, & other mortifications; yet sometymes refreshed with consolations againe, and with heauenly sweetnes, with which meanes, and with hum­ble and continuall prayer, at last the fiery shafts of the enemy were quite extinguished. A midst these labours, the tyme of Priesthood approaching, a venerable, old man (whome S. Hugh according to the custome of the Order, through charity & submission deuoutly serued) demanded of him, if he were willing to be a Priest or no! Whereunto he hauing sincerely answered, that for his part there was nothing in the world he desired more; to whome the old man replying with a seuere countenance. And how darest thou aspire to a degree whereto none, how holy soeuer, but through constraine is worthily aduanced? At this reprehension S. Hugh being terrifyed falling flat on the ground, with teares in his eyes, suddenly craued pardon; at which humility of his, the Maister being tender, and touched with the spirit of prophecy sayd: Rise vp my sonne, rise vp, do not trouble thy selfe, I know very well with what effect, and with what intention thou vtteredst such wordes: and I tell thee moreouer, and affirme it to thee without all doubt, that ere long, thou shalt be a Priest, and within a certaine tyme after shalt thou be a Bishop also. At which presage of his, the good disciple ful of blushing, and confusion held his peace, and a little after being promoted to the dignity of the Altar, prepared himselfe with most [Page 259] exact diligence to the sacrifice, and with the same continuing to ce­lebrate, not only slackened not, but augmented his spirituall ex­ercises, and his accustomed mortifications, whence he tooke such a weaknes of stomacke, as euer after afflicted him sorely; for the o­bligation of the rule, and the publike assemblies of the Quire, the Chapter, and the like, was he euer the first, endeauouring in all thinges, yea euen in the least, to edify as many, as conuersed with him.

In this manner, hauing passed in his priuate Cell, and priestly ministery about ten yeares, the principall Procuratourship of the house, being a charge amongst those Religious of no light impor­tance, was by Superiours imposed vpon him, and which to S. Hugh layd open a new field to exercise his excellent Vertues in. Because he vnderstanding very well, how from his care and vigilancy, de­pended the Religious quiet, and contemplatiue life of the others, abandoning quite for the loue of Christ his owne consolations, at­tended with extraordinary care, vnto all the partes of Oeconomy, and of a perfect Steward, making prouisions in good tymes, pre­uenting the necessityes of euery one, and especially of the sicke; surueying, and reuiewing the accounts of the Officialls and Fa­ctours, improuing continually the possessions, defending and con­seruing the rights and rents, and all in such manner, and with that maturity, as well gaue the world to vnderstand, how farre he was from all particuler interest.

For these so rare qualityes, in short tyme his fame was spread euen to the remotest Countreyes,; and Henry the second King of England, who in those dayes, was vpon founding a Monastery of Carthusians at VVhitam, & through the ill condition of that neigh­bourhood, could not bring the matter to any good passe: after he had with small fruite applyed two Priours of the Order vpon the enterprise; being finally moued with the constant relation of the worth, and sanctity of S. Hugh, not fayled to send in post, to that end, very honourable personages to the aforesayd Charterhouse of Grenoble (and among them Reginald Bishop of Bath) to require him for this office. To which purpose, those Fathers being assembled togeather, there followed an earnest dispute among them, while to some it seemed not iust or reasonable, for any ones sake whosoe­uer to depriue their owne house of so firme a propp, & others iud­ging on the contrary, & with liuely reasons demonstrating, how it [Page 260] became not Christian charity, and the Euangelicall profession, to haue the eye fixed vpon the commodityes only of one family, and to keep that vertue enclosed in so little a space, which might be extended for the benefit and saluation of foraine nations, with the great augmentation of the diuine glory.

Among such contentions had for a while, to and fro, of no light moment, that Part preuayled at last which would the pu­blike and vniuersall, should be preferred before the priuate; and that they ought not, with so harsh a repulse prouoke the displeasure of so great a King. In this manner S. Hugh, being otherwise an e­nemy to Prelacy, and who protested himselfe to be wholy insuffi­cient for such a charge, was by Superiours constrained to take it v­pon him: and not without much teares, departing from his deere Cloister in company of the sayd Embassadours, he arriued sale & sound at the coasts of England. From thence without going to the Court, trauayling by the neerest way to VVhittam, the first thing he endeauoured to do, was with a cheerfull countenance, and with fit exhortations to comfort those few afflicted Monks whom he found there: and being afterwards sent for by letters vnto the Kings pre­fence, through diuine fauour he had such grace in the eyes of that Maiesty, as that after diuers discourses thereof, he brought away both for the present and future necessities, a very large prouision of all thinges; and besides could tell how to vse such dexterity with that people, and so to purchase their loue and good opinion, as that from harsh, contumacious, and froward, in short tyme they became very gentle, obedient and tractable: whereby very easily both the Church became more enriched through diuine offices, & the house to be the better accommodated for the sustentation of the Monkes, and for the splendour and ornament of the place the fabricque to be finished; while S. Hugh laboured thereat with his owne handes, and carrying, for example and publique edification, stones & mor­ter on his shoulders: in so much, as many seculars being inuited, partly by his sweet and sanctifyed manners, & partly also through a gust of a retyred life, and of the commodity of the buildings there, abandoning the cares of the world, and renouncing the proper li­berty, came thither to consecrate themselues vnto God, & by vow to oblige themselues vnto monasticall discipline.

The King with his whole army at Sea, is deliuered, by commending himselfe to the prayers of S. Hugh. Chap. 3.

THe king of England, tooke no small cōfort at these proceedings, he reioyced much, in that he was not deceiued awhit in his iudgment in the election of such a one. And (as he was a wise and prudent King) hauing very often familiar and long discourses with the Priour, the more he diued into him, the greater esteeme made he, not only of his prudence, but of his piety and perfection also, holding it a great happynes, to haue such a man in his Kingdome, and placing a good part of his hopes in his deuout intercessions & suffrages: as among other tymes, he cleerely shewed, when as returning with a great Army, from the enterprize of France, he was suddenly assayled with so cruell a tempest, as the fury of the winds illuding all the art of the Mariners; they all betooke them­selues, as many as were with him, according to custome, to vowes and prayers; and the King notwithstanding perceauing the waues to grow more rough, brake forth at last into these words: O if my good Hugh of the Charter-howse, were now aware of this, & would make feruēt prayer for vs, as he was wont, the diuine mercy would not be so slow to our succour. And a little after, with other sighes he gaue not ouer, but added: O blessed God, whom the Priour of VVhittam truly serues, vouchsafe through the merits and intercession of thy faythfull seruant, with the eye of pitty, to reguard our di­stresse, and afflictions. And behold the inuocation was scarcely fi­nished, but a calme began, in such sort, as the whole company, with as many as sayled with them, yeilding thanks without end to the diuine Clemency, very happily arriued at the wished port.

The newes whereof on a sudden flew into all parts, and the name of S. Hugh, grew to be in so great veneration, as Henry had not in his whole kingdome besides, a man he esteemed more, nor in whom he reposed more confidence: and the number of those Re­ligious went multiplying euery day more & more; in the manage & instruction of whom, S. Hugh shewed very well, how excellent a guift he had in gouernement. Because, that pursuing his ancient thoughts, the first thing he endeuoured effectually, was that men might know cleerely, that nothing was more deer vnto him, then the quiet and consolation of euery one. To works (as need was) he [Page 262] adioyned words, and efficacious and discreet aduises. But aboue all things he pressed them, through the example of his owne man­ners; being so habituated in treating with God, as his familiars also in his sleep, should heare him vnawares to pray, & say his Psalter. He was besides, as much as publike occasions permitted him, much giuen to sacred reading, and was wont to say, how the diuines Scriptures to all Religious, and especiall to such as leade a more solitary life, are delights in peace, armes in warre, foode in tyme of famine, and a medecine in infirmity: so as, when according to the custome of the Order, he eate alone, he had allwayes, on a litle table, the scripture open before him, or some holy Doctour: though otherwise, he was so diligent in the custody of his senses, as when he happened on holy dayes to take his refection with the rest, he would neuer hold his eyes from the table cloth, his eares from the pulpit, and his mind from God. This holy man was exceeding ca­refull, that, for his sake or any of his, no person should receiue any agreiuance and scandall.

And to this purpose, we may not conceale, how the King ha­uing taken from a certaine rich Monastery, and well furnished with bookes, the new and old Testament, written by those Re­gulars, with great labour and diligence, and bestowed it on the Fathers of VVhittam, as yet not well prouided of such necessaryes: as soone as S. Hugh had knowledge therof, from one of the aforesaid Monastery, he answeared with a sad cheer: thus stands the matter then. The King would haue depriued your Church of your labours and trauayles, so fruitefull, to accommodate and enrich vs by such meanes. We cry you mercy with all our harts for the losse you haue sustayned for our sake, though in truth til now we were neuer made acquainted therewith. Take yee then the Booke agayne, and if your Fathers will not receaue it, I will without more ado; restore it my selfe, to the party that caused it to be brought hither. And further, if they be willing to accept the same, I will cause the matter to be kept secret by all meanes. This modesty of his pleased them exceedingly, and as they remayned much edifyed thereat, so they came to contract a great frendship with the Family of VVhittam.

S. Hugh is made Bishop of Lincolne, and how stoutly he de [...]eanes himself in his Pastor all charge. Chap. 4.

NOw approached the tyme, destined by the diuine prouidence, for the exaltation of his faythfull and wise feruant. The Sea of the Citty of Lincolne had now beene vacant for some eighteene years, and those of the Chapter being moued at the losse which the flocke suffered so without a Pastour, laying finally aside the strifes and contentions risen amongst them, resolued with the approbation of the Metropolitan of Canterbury, to goe a sufficient number of them to the Court of the King, vnder whose protection, and su­perintendency, the election being celebrated with wonted cere­monyes, they agreed vpon the person of the Priour of VVhittam: whereat Henry, being extraordinarily ioyfull, sent the newes thereof presently to S. Hugh, as he thought most ioyfull tydinges. There also arriued together, the letters and messages of the Arch­bishop himselfe, who congratulating with him for such a dignity, did liuely exhort him not to resist so honourable a iudgment of the Canons, and so manifest a signe of the diuine will. His freinds li­kewise generally encouraged him to it, with reasons and impor­tunityes.

But S. Hugh, now experienced in the chast gouernment of soules, weighed all things with a more iust ballance, and who knew very well, how great temerity it was, in a stormy sea to take volunta­rily in charge with so much hazard a barke repleate with the bloud of Christ, with might and mayne endeuoured to withdraw him­selfe from the enterprise: alleadging besides his owne insufficiency, the election to be likewise inualid, as well for being prosecuted forth of the Diocesse, and practized with the fauour and authority of the King & Archbishop, as for that the voyce of the Priour of the great Charterhouse was not concurring thereto, without whose ap­probation, he could by no meanes accept such a charge.

These and many other things of like tenour, the man of God replyed: hoping the Electours eyther mooued through equity, or disdaining the repulse, would easily turne the designes to the other part. But through diuine dispensation he remayned much deceiued of his conceit. Because the same humility wherewith he thought himselfe vnworthy of such a manage, & the earnest instance which [Page 164] he made, that it might be transferred vpon some other, inflamed the Chanons to extoll and aduance so great submission, & so great ver­tue; so as to take away from S. Hugh all excuses and occasions, being a new assembled togeather in the same Citty & Cathedrall Church of Lincolne, with like consent they ratifyed the decree as at first, and besides sending for that purpose vnto the great Charter-house of persons of quality, they brought backe in ample forme, not leaue only, but so expresse command, as for S. Hugh there was no euasion.

With this dispach went all the fauourers of that creation very glad and triumphant to the Monastery, and taking the sad and so­rowfull Priour from his Cell, they lead him with great ioy to the Cathedrall Church. In which act appeared very well how great a friend he was of pouerty both of body and mind, because being not able to hinder so noble a concourse, which came to accompany him, reteyning at least in himselfe, the desired lowlynes, he would neuer permit some few cōmodityes of his, for his owne vse, should be carryed by any: but rather putting them behind him on the cropper of his horse would needes conuay them himselfe publiquely to the Bishops lodgings, and by no meanes before consecration; he would admit eyther title of Prelacy, Pontifical robes, or attendance of seruants.

Finally being afterwards annoynted, and placed with solemne rites, in the Pontifical Throne, he felt himselfe as a choyce and dis­posed vessell, to be replemshed with so great a plenty of celestiall gifts, and particularly of the spirit of fortitude, as from that tyme he made a purpose to spare no labours, to shun no perills, nor yeild to intreaty or threats, where the diuine glory, or good of the Church might take place: and for this very respect, he liked not those rich Presents, with the fresh gratulations sent vnto him from the king; and so it was necessary for him to make such a resolution. Because there passed not many dayes, but that the King Raungers of the fo­rest (so they call in those countryes, the ouerseers of the forests and of the chaces of the kings) relying on their fauour in Court, and on the custome now vsurpt a good while, vpon light occasion layd hands vpon a Clerk, and condemned him in a good summe of mony. Whereof S. Hugh being fully enformed, with reason (sayd he) these people are called Foresters, as it were standing forth of the king­dome of God. Heerupon calling to a Consult, certaine excellent Doctours, and such as feared God (whereof, from the tyme he [Page 265] was first assumpted to the Chayre, he had made prouision with good care) and by the common opinion of all, hauing giuen due premonishments already to the delinquents, he courageously pro­ceeded to excommunicate the head of that company.

K. Henry tooke this act of the Bishop very bitterly; but yet to sa­tisfy himselfe better of his disposition, dissembling the matter for the present, he requested of him by messengers and letters in post, a Prebendary then vacant in the Diocesse of Lincolne, in fauour of a certaine Courtier; while some freinds of S. Hugh laboured it much, that he might take occasion thereby to mittigate the anger of the King, & to returne into grace with him: but the souldiour of Christ, hauing read the petition, sayd: These vacant places are not to be conferred vpon Courtiers, but to Ecclesiastikes rather. The Kings Maiesty wants not meanes to reward his seruants: nor is it iust, to depriue such of their rents, who serue the king of heauen, to bestow them on those, who wayte vpon the Princes of the earth. With this answere he dispacht away the messengers of K. Henry, & being intreated at least graciously to absolue the Raunger, he could not be brought therunto.

Vnto such, and so open contradictions of the Bishop, the King being accustomed to be obeyed as a becke, brake his patience at last, and sending for him, after the vpbreading him with so many graces & fauours don him, he cōplayned bitterly for so hard a mea­sure from him. And the venerable Bishop, being not troubled any thing thereat, with a graue and sweet countenance withall, de­monstrated to him, how in the whole affayre he had regard, next to the seruice of God, principally to his eternall saluation: which incurred manifest danger, when through his occasion, eyther the oppressours of the Church remayned vnpunished, or sacred bene­fices were rashly bestowed. And briefly S. Hugh could so wisely iustify that fact, as the King being a man otherwise discreet, and a freind of iustice, remayned satisfyed, and restored the blessed man into his ancient freindship agayne. After this the Raunger shewing himselfe sorowfull and penitent for his ill deportments; S. Hugh gaue him, not without the publike chasticement of the verge ap­pointed by the Canons, the desired absolution, and further assisted him in spirit: in so much as of a troublesome aduersary, he had him euer after a freind much deuoted to him, and in busynesses occur­ring a most faythfull sollicitour. With the same courage of mind S. [Page 266] Hugh endeuoured, to extirpate many inueterated abuses from that administration; among which was that very markable which we shall speake of in the next Chapter.

S. Hugh reformes certaine abuses: K. Henry dyes the while, and K. Ri­chard succeeds, which some passages besides. Chap. 5.

THe Clergy was wont euery yeare, to present the King with a precious Mantle, at the charge of the people; and the care of going heere and there, to make the collection, the Clergy had taken vpon them, reteyning afterwards, and diuiding among them as it were for their paynes, those moneyes which amounted ouer and aboue: and that to the extreame disgrace of their Order, and most greiuous scandall of the people. The new Pastour, could by no meanes endure this custome amongst them: and hauing effica­ciously made the Preists, to acknowledge the shame, and impiety thereof, he likewise obteyned from K. Henry authentique Patents, wherein he renounced such a guift, and ech right, which vpon any apparence he might pretend thereunto. The Magistrats & Eccle­siasticall Iudges, in criminall causes touching that Court, were wont to condemne the delinquents for the most part, in mony: whence it followed the rich not caring much for such penaltyes, perseuered most impudently in their sinnes. S. Hugh therefore op­posed himselfe maynly against this inconuenience, by changing the losse of mony into corporall afflictions, or into publike notes of infamy, or els when the case required it, also into excommunica­tions; the which thunder as we shall presently see, came neuer from the hands of the Saint without admirable effects.

K. Henry in the meane while, after diuerse trauailes of mind & body, departed this life, with much hope and many signes of pre­destination. There succeeded him Richard his sonne: who by how much he shewed himselfe lesse propitious and freindly to S. Hugh, so much greater and more ample a field he gaue him of exercise, & of glory. This King imitating his Auncestours, passed ouer to the warre in Fraunce, and in processe of tyme, as it happens, the Pay­maisters of the Campe being out of money, he resolued to send back the Archbishop of Canterbury whom he had then with him, into England; that by the fauour and help of the Clergy, he might seeke to get from his subiects the greatest quantity of mony he could pos­sibly [Page 267] procure. The Archbishop obeyed, and calling an assembly in a fit place, he found none that openly durst oppose, but the Bishop of Lincolne: who detesting the impious contentions betweene Chri­stian Princes (especially at such tymes, when the warres of Egypt, and enterprise of the Holy-land, waxed hoate) demonstrated with solidgrounds, how vnlawfull it was, without very iust and vrgent necessity, to squize the substance of the poore afflicted subiects.

To this voyce of his, consented, though but timerously, another Bishop only, whose name is not expressed. For all the rest, they striued to please the King. Who being certifyed by the Archbishop of what happened in the said Congregation, was so troubled the­reat, and enflamed with rage, as that suddenly he gaue order to a principall Officer, as he loued his life, with a sufficient preparation without delay, he should vtterly ruyne and destroy both those ob­stinate and rebellious Bishops. The Cōmissary was not slack in o­beying. But the matter succeeded not so happily with one, as with the other. Because the timerous Bishop, at the first noyse of the Court, abandoned his Church, and the sacred goods without resi­stance were all confiscated. But the blessed Bishop, vpon the ap­proach of that profane and rauenous troupe, calling on the diuine assistance, prepares for Excommunication, & caused all the Parishes to ring their bells, with such confidence, and with such a presence of vndaunted courage, as the Courtiers who held him a Saint and fauourer of God, being terrifyed and confounded, returned backe without doing any thing. And some few dayes after being passed ouer, the other Pastour at the intercession of his friends, was recalled from banishment, and the King by this tyme being retur­ned from France, he went very suppliantly to meet with him, and with teares to aske him pardon, and with humble promises not to contradict any more. But the disposition of S. Hugh was quite o­therwise, as shall appeare in the next Chapter.

How S. Hugh admonished King Richard of his abuses: and what effect the admonishment tooke. Chap. 6.

S. Hugh putting his confidence in iustice & reason, remayned still immoueable in his residence, the Court being especially at that tyme farre off: but afterwardes bethinking himselfe of the precipi­tous nature of the Prince, and the ill offices he had done already, [Page 268] and which a new were like to be done by him, and how at last, the fury would come to fall vpon his poore people; laying aside all feare, and all respect of death or affronts, he determined to goe in person to the Kinges presence, and to pacify him by those meanes which were conuenient to the diuine glory, and quality of the tymes. With the ayde of prayer then, putting himselfe on the way, he was no sooner come to his iourneyes end, but some of his prin­cipall friendes, and zealous of the honour of God, came to meet him, intreating him most earnestly, and coniuring him withall, that by no meanes he would appeare before the King, nor giue him occasion to renew in him, the slaughters, and cruelties heeretofore happening, with so much infamy of the Kingdome in the person of the glorious Martyr S. Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury.

These and other thinges to this purpose, with much affect represented those vertuous men, wherewith while S. Hugh was nothing moued, one that loued him more tenderly then the rest, neuer left intreating him, he would be pleased at least, to stay vn­till such tyme, as he might preoccupy the mind of K. Richard, with fit offices, and so dispose him with prayers & reasons, as he might not looke awry vpon him. To such an offer, the Bishop answered, full of vndaunted courage and fraternall charity: Would you then, to saue my selfe, I put thee and all thy family in hazard? And what greater gust could my enemyes haue, then to take occasion to ca­lumniate thee as partiall to me, and enemy of the Crowne? That sayd, without more ado, he passed into the Kinges lodgings, and finding him by chance hearing of Masse, in his Chappell, he ap­proached to him with a cheerfull countenance, and demanded of him (according to the vse of that Country) the holy kisse of vnion and loue. And the King disdainefully answering: No, thou de­seruest it not; yea but I doe, answered S. Hugh, and that especi­ally after so long a iourney: and withall taking him pleasantly by the Robe, endeauours to hang on him with so great ingenuity, as K. Richard changing his bitternes to a sweet countenance, was won at last, and kissed him.

At such a sight, the Prelates and Barons standing by, remay­ned astonished. And so the Masse went on: and in the meane tyme the seruant of Christ, without putting himselfe into the company, or taking vp a feare among the Bishops, most humbly betooke himselfe to a meaner place. The King noted the act, and arguing [Page 269] from thence, how S. Hugh was as litle in his owne eyes, as mag­nanimous and great in common causes, began to hold him in so great veneration, as that euen at that tyme, the Deacon coming according to custome, to present him the Pax, he commaunded in signe of reuerence, it should be giuen first to the Lord of Lincolne.

The Masse being ended, S. Hugh resoluing to giue K. Richard a fraternall admonishment, for the more decency, and liberty, he sweetely tooke him behind the Aultar, and there being both set downe together, with a gratefull aspect began to examine him, saying: how is it with your conscience? Now you are of our parish, and we are to render a streight accompt of you before the dreadful Iudge. My conscience (answeared the King) reprehends me of nothing, saue only, that I cannot beare any good will to such as stand but ill affected to my Kingdome. Then S. Hugh with a great vehemency sayd: what is this thou sayst? And is it not true, that thou goest euery day without feare imposing new greiuances vpon thy people, oppressing the poore, afflicting the innocent? And moreouer the publique fame runs, that thou keepest no fayth, nor the Sacrtment of Matrimony. And thinkest thou these to be matters of no moment? At this voyce of the Bishop, or rather of the Holy Ghost which spake in him, the King being terrifyed, was fayne to hold his peace. Whereupon with like fortitude, S. Hugh reproued him of diuers faults, which the King endeuoured partly with ex­cuses to purge himselfe, and partly craued pardon, with purpose of amending his life.

S. Hugh hauing giuen this [...]dmonition in secret, gaue after accompt in pub [...] [...] rust motiues that moued him to take, in matter of new tributes, the protection of the multitude commit­ted to him, and spake in such manner, as not only the rest of the auditory, but euen Richard himselfe remayned satisfyed, holding it for a great happynes, that the tax went no further. S. Hugh taking afterwards, a courteous leaue, returned back vndaunted to his flock: and Richard turning himselfe to his followers, sayd, that if al the Bi­shops were like to this mā, no power could preuayle any wayes vpō them: to which opinion they all agreed with one consent, because S. Hugh through his frequent victoryes so got, was by a surname called, The mallet of the King. And if for the seruice of God, he shewed himselfe so couragious and bold, it may easily be gathered, how immoueable he remayned in like encounters with other persons of [Page 270] meaner ranck, and with the ordinary sort, as appeares in the next Chapter.

How stoutly S. Hugh carryed himselfe to all sortes, to the greater honour of God. Chap. 7.

IT chaunced to S. Hugh more then once, in sundry places, to be barehead, among speares and naked swordes, reprehending the armed themselues, like a Lyon, of their impious and wicked in­deauours, they remayning amazed and astonished the while at so great a freedome. Vpon a tyme he met on the way with a company of Sergeants & catchpoles leading a malefactour to death: & being moued with the prayers of the vnhappy wretch, who in that ne­cessity most earnestly recommended himselfe vnto him, he gaue order presently to the Ministers to vnloose him, alleadging that where the Bishop was present with the faythfull people, there was the Church, & that the liuing stones deserued no lesse priuiledge and exemption then the dead. The enterprise was not in vaine, though otherwise perhaps more worthy of applause, then imita­tion and practise. The officers being moued at the maiesty of the Prelate, making some protestations only for feare of the King, left the guilty wholy free, and infinitly obliged to him, who beyond all hope had giuen him his life.

Of this so great a hart, and couragious constancy of S. Hugh, if one seeke into the causes, besides the vnction of the holy Ghost, there may many be brought. And among these the naturall gene­rosity of the man, inflamed also from tyme to tyme with the insti­gations of his old Father by vs named aboue, and the two naturall brothers of his, braue Souldiours, and valiant Champions of the Catholike Church. These men would come sometymes to visit him at Lincolne, and by letters as occasion serued, would exhort him allwayes to stand firme in his purpose, and not to yield awhit, eyther to the headlong multitude, or furious Tyrants. And gaue him moreouer to vnderstand, they had rather see him dead, then for any terrour to commit any thing vnworthy the Episcopall degree, and honour of his family. Besides which, S. Hugh helped him­selfe much, with his frequent reading the liues of the glorious Martyrs, and Confessours of Christ, especially of such as for defence of the diuine worship, & of the sacred Constitutions, haue promptly [Page 271] exposed themselues to all punishments. And then from his dayly sacrifices the while what comfort he felt, is a thing not easily to told: in which mistery he was so diligent, as he preferred it before all other thinges whatsoeuer; and was so grounded in that verity, as it seemed in some manner he had some cleare euidence therof, as appeared in a case which followes, in a village of those parts.

Where a certaine Preist, of very dissolute manners, hauing no feare at all to celebrate that diuine Sacrament, and to handle with his impure handes the dreadfull King of Maiesty, as he came to the breaking of the consecrated Hoast, saw manifestly the most holy bloud to proceed, and fall from thence: at which sight being af­frighted & contrite, he tooke dexterously the precious liquour in the Chalice, and changing his manners, gaue himselfe to sharp pen­ance in so much as euery one was astonished. By this occasion the miracle came to be diuulged, & the Preist himselfe to giue God the glory, gaue publique account thereof, in shewing also the bloud it selfe to euery one that was desirous to be better satisfyed in the mat­ter. It happened, that the Bishop of Lincolne, for certaine affaires of his, was to passe that way, and with that occasion it pleased him to vnderstand and confer some spirituall thinges with the Priest, the fame of whose strange mutation and singular austerity of life, ran euery where: falling then into diuers discourses with him, a­mong the rest the good man gaue account and information to the Bishop of the beginning of his conuersion, intreating him withall he would be pleased to contemplate with his eyes that venerable relique it selfe; which S. Hugh not only refused to do, alleadging the certainty therof had need of no such probation, but euen repre­hended such of his family, accepting the inuitation, of little fayth, & too much curiosity. And it is a thing well knowne, that in recom­pence as it were of so great a stedfastnes, the Sauiour himselfe, in the sight of some Religious men appeared many tymes in the Hoast informe of a most beautifull child vnto S. Hugh himselfe, while he celebrated the Masse.

Besides this, the Blessed Man tooke great spirituall forces, from the liuely and more then human conceits of the holy Psalter: wherein what gust he receaued, and how obseruant he was of the tymes and determinate houres of the diuine Office, may in part be gathered at least, by that which we shall speake in the next Chap­ter.

The good successe S. Hugh had, through his deuotion to the Canonicall H [...] ­res: and how dreadfull his Ecclesiasticall Censures were. Chap. 8.

VVHile S. Hugh, was trauayling on the way, vpon publike affayres, with some Prelates and other Ecclesiasticall per­sons; he chaunced to arriue vnlooked for, at a certaine place much infested with men distracted of their witts. His companions being aduertised of the daunger, full of dread, consulted with themselues what to doe, and resolued at last, to passe those wayes by darke, & with all the secrecy that might be. With this resolution remayning in the Iune, about midnight they rise, and their horses being made ready in hast, they go to the Bishop of Lincolnes chamber, who was now euen ready to say his Mattyns, and with much instance, they sollicite him, to prouide for his safety by the opportunity of the darkenes. And he answered, What should I goe hence without saying of my Mattins? Then they replyed, there would be tyme in­ough for that afterwards, since the present necessity affoarded no delay, and they had need to go away suddenly, if they would not be taken by those Beadlams.

Then S. Hugh with his Breuiary in hand, Stay they that will stay, and feare that list to feare, sayd he, for my part I am determi­ned not to go forth, till first I haue payd this duty. And so performed it, saying his Office with ease and attention: And after that, with his family, getting commodiously on horsebacke, he met with no misaduenture at all: whereas those wary and cautious people in ta­xing him for superstitious and improuident, so preferring human respects before the diuine glory fell (as it often falls out) into the same net they so carefully shunned.

To all these so efficacious and potent helpes, he added another surely of an excellent vertue. He retired himselfe at least once a yeare, to the Cloyster of his beloued VVhittam, & there vnder the common Rule, without any other difference, but only the sacred ring on his fingar, he attended all the vacant tyme he had, as from a high tower, to suruay the vanities of human thinges, the shortnes of life, and immense greatnes of eternall Beatitude. And casting his eyes withall vpon the infinite difficulties of spirituall gouernement, and the horrible precipice wheron all Prelacyes stand; and as at the beginning he had auoyded with all his power the Episcopal digni­ty, [Page 273] so many tymes afterwards he sent letters and agents to his Holy­nes, beseeching him with much importunity to be disburdened of the administration, and restored to his Order, from whence he was taken against his will.

But since his supplications were not only not heard, but euen the Sollicitours themselues came backe sometymes very shrewdly checkt from the Vicar of Christ, & rather other cares for the vniuer­sall good imposed vpon him; S. Hugh being enforced to obey, pre­pared himselfe for new labours, and new battells, nourishing still with the foresayd meanes in his breast, a burning desire of satisfying the highest in all things. Whereby in difficult enterprizes, were e­qually matched in him a security of mind, and such a confidence, as that amidst the greatest difficultyes of all, yea euen the daungers of death it selfe, neyther lost he the peace of his soule, nor the conueni­ent repose of his body. So as being one night for some graùe acci­dents transported in imagination, into diuerse thoughts, which tormented him without fruite, after he had thus roued with his fan­tasy a pretty while, at last was aware thereof, and smiting his breast with a deepe sigh, be began to reprehend himselfe sharply, for not suddenly remitting all anxieties vnto the diuine Prouidence, but being troubled and grieued for thinges so happening, as if the direction of them had depended on his owne knowledge and care: and scarcely was the day come, but calling for a Confessour, he declared that sinne with much contrition, and surely not without reason, especially the hand of the Highest so concurring with him, by wonderfull effects, as well in other actions as particularly in Censures: Wherof some euents which happened in this matter, will purchase a firme beliefe. Certaine rebellious and conturnacious fellowes being by him giuen ouer vnto the power of the Diuell, vanished immediatly, nor were euer seene more.

A Souldier, who at the instigation of his wife, vniustly vsurped the goods of another, and being often reprehended for it by the holy Bishop, with diuers pretexts and falshoods still couered the same: this man being excommunicated by him one day, was on the next night following strangled by the infernall enemy: and yet for all that, another pursuing the same vniust suite, being gone to bed well fed & merry, continuing sleep with death, payd the fee of his iniquity.

A Deacon for hauing calumniated others of high treason against [Page 274] his Maiesty, being worthily condemned by the Bishop, by diuers colours and policyes vsed, obteyned the absolution therof from the Metropolitan himselfe, which S. Hugh knowing to be vayne, and sur­reptitious, stucke not to renew the Censure; and to the end it might appeare which of the two, was the true sentence, it pleased God, that the Deacon within few dayes after, most miserably ended his dayes. A certayne yong woman, who in presence, & agaynst the re­prehension of the Bishop ceased not to spit in her husbands face, be­ing stifled by a Diuell, very sudenly expired.

A vertuous Clerke, through the faction of the more potent, be­ing quite depriued of his right which he had in a Church, after he had without any profit at all, gone to suite a good while both at home in his Country, and at Rome abroad, and consumed his sub­stance therein, tooke finally resolution to recurre to the Bishop of Lincolne: who being well informed of the cause, and mooued to pitty vpon the trauayles of the suppliant, resolued through diuine instinct, no doubt, to thunder against all those wicked & sacrilegi­ous men, although they were not of his owne iurisdiction. An ad­mirable thing. The bolt was no sooner shot, but some of the impi­ous company, hauing lost their senses became furious; others ended their life vnprouided; others lost their eyes with excessiue torments, and finally, the Heauenly vengeance ceased not, vntill such tyme as the Client of S. Hugh, was restored to his Benefice againe. This also, was of much consideration which I shall presently tell you.

Seauen of the Kings Court, hauing by stealth taken out a thiefe from the holy Church-yard whither for feare of iustice he had fled to saue himselfe, without the Bishops consent, hung him vp. The seruant of God resented the matter as was fit, and with his wonted armes chastized them straight. And they from others example like­wise fearing the worst, very sorrowfull and compunct, cast them­selues at his feet all crauing pardon of him, one excepted; and hauing obteyned the same, vpon condition, that among other satisfactions, being halfe naked (it being then winter) they should carry on th [...] shoulders the man that was hanged for a good distance vnto the said Church-yard, whence so temerariously they had taken him forth, and there bury him with their owne hands. So did the six penitent, not without publike scorne and a great deale of trouble the while, and had no other hurt, that ensued thereon. When lo, the seauenth proud and pertinacious wretch, after seauen yeares, came also [...] [Page 275] last, to prostrate himselfe in the sight of the Bishop, declaring to him a strange story of the hurts and domages befallen him in this while, as well in his honour, as in his goods and person besides, and hartily craued absolution at his hands, for mitigation at least, if not an end of so great miseryes. The conuersion & supplication was not in vaine. when S. Hugh not to add affliction to affliction, absolued him with a light pennance, and restored him agayne to the Communion of the faythfull.

The sweet manner of behauiour which S. Hugh carryed towards all: VVith his Charity, and Prudence in the manage of things. Chap. 9.

IN these and such like affayres touching the honour of God, and Ecclesiasticall immunityes, S. Hugh would shew so much rigour and seuerity, as may seeme perhaps to be attributed, to a certaine as­perity or harshnes of mind, and rusticity of manners, if otherwise he had not alwayes vsed much humanity, & still reteyned the won­ted bowels of Mercy. At Table, and Feasts, he shewed himselfe very soberly pleasant and merry, & would exhort his friends to the same cheerefulnes, with giuing thankes to the giuer of all good. As for [...]nquets, sports, and musicke, if he could not auoid them some­tymes, he would make vse of them, eyther to refresh himselfe, for new trauayls, or for a tast of celestiall delights. Not only, in the pu­blike preaching of the Word, but euen also in familiar conuersation, would he loose no occasion, most sweetly to allure men vnto solid vertues, and through their amendment, very manifestly appeared the profit thereof. His conceipts were efficacious and liuely, and fit­ly accommodated to each condition and quality of persons. Of which kind, may serue as a certayne patterne, that with diuers de­monstrations he would giue Religious to vnderstand the necessity they haue, of fighting continually with themselues, and ascending alwayes to the top of perfection. Vnto seculars, & especially to such as traffike, aboue all things would he inculcate faith and truth in all things, without which of necessity all human commerce must vtter­ly perish. The women, he was wont to incite to diuine Loue, in putting them in mind particularly of the singular priuiledge, & the inestimable fauour done to that sexe, by the soueraigne Maiesty, in vouchsafing to take flesh and become the sonne of a woman: and whereas man had neuer the honour to be called the Father of God, [Page 274] [...] [Page 275] [...] [Page 276] a woman yet hath had the grace, & preheminence to be named the Mother of God.

In this manner, he stirred vp alwayes mortals from slouth and tepidity, and was most vigilant in encountring with the first ori­gines of discords, and maintayning peace, as well in priuate as in publique; hauing among other guifts so great a iudgment and light touching the point of equity, as that not only neere at hand, but also from remote countryes, and euen from Rome it selfe (as we in­sinuated aboue) there came controuersyes delegated to him, of no light importance. He was wonderfully beloued and reuerenced by his Chanons, though for their sakes he would not swarue from righteousnes; and with his prudence, and sweetnes he knew how to manage them so, as he neuer pretended any thing from the Chapter, which he obtayned not at last; he had likewise very admi­rable successe in the highest affaires of the Kingdome, and among other his actions, was remarkeable that peace, which he concluded betweene King Philip of France, and Iohn King of England, being the immediate successour of his brother Richard, who in punishment of the troubles brought vnto Ecclefiasticall persons, within a few yeares of his Crowne, was miserably slaine in battaile.

And to the purpose of this pacification of his, it seemes not good to passe ouer in silence, how S. Hugh returning from Normandy, with the accord established, happened by the way to lodge in a Monastery of his Carthusians, called Arneria: and some of those Fa­thers familiarly crauing he would make some particuler relation of the sayd expedition, and quality of the articles; Saint Hugh mor­tifying such a will in them, sayd: These secular businesses may well be declared by Bishops indeed, but should not be curiously enquired into by Monks. So tenacious was he at all times of Monasticall discipline & of cha [...]t silence. This also was a matter of much edification, in this great Prelate that hauing lost (as we haue sayd) through excessiue absti­nence all appetite, was vexed with most bitter gripes of the cholike, yet fayled he not for all that, to employ himselfe when need was, with a most exact diligence, in consecrating, or rehallowing of Churches, and administring the Sacraments, especially of Confir­mation & of Order, obseruing euer the Catholike rites in al things, & beginning sometimes before day, perseuering therin some houres of the night following without any refection at all. He spared not to bestow a good part of his tyme, in informing himselfe of the be­hauiours [Page 277] of the people and Clergy, of the necessiryes of the poore to relieue them, in & visiting and louingly comforting the sicke.

But though he shewed himselfe most pittyfull and beneficiall to all, yet felt he a singular tendernes of affect towardes the infe­cted with leaprosy: he would goe into their Hospitalls in person, and after that in common he had giuen benigne consolations and fatherly aduises to that wretched people, he would approach to ech one in particular, and humbly inclining himselfe vnto them, he abhorred not to kisse their loathsome vlcers, and lastly refreshed them with conuenient almes. The Chauncellour of Lincolne, called VVilliam one day was present at such a spectacle, who being first a­stonished at so great humility, and afterwards doubting some vaine glory in the Bishop, began to tempt him, with saying: S. Martin with a kisse only cured the leaprous, but you, me thinks, doe not so. Towhich iest of his, S. Hugh made answere: S. Martins kisse eured the leaprous in flesh, but the kisse of the leaprous euen cures my soule. He was wont also, most ordinarily to wash secretly the feet of thirteen poore folkes, and to serue them at table. And finally his workes of piety were so notable and famous, as he was univer­sally called the Father of Mercyes; and euen sucking Babes, as it were, through naurall instinct would stretch forth their little armes to call, and imbrace him.

How S. Hugh addicts himselfe to bury the dead: with a strange progno­sticate of his owne death. Chap. 10.

VVHat meruayle is it, that S. Hugh should shew such cle­mency and compassion to the liuing, who vsed such Cha­rity and sollicitude towards the dead, and that not only to their soules, but euen likewise to their corps; he no sooner vnderstood that there lay heere or there any body vnburyed, but setting, as a new Tobyas, all other businesses aside, he would goe thither in hast, and with due exequyes, according to the condition of ech one he would commit them to the earth. And he was so giuen to this holy occupation, as that being sometymes inuited by the King himselfe vnto dynner, he would let him expect some whole howers together, vntill his worke were finished: and while the messengers came in one after another, to sollicite him, with saying, the King yet differred his dynner for his sake, and remayned still [Page 278] fasting, S. Hugh freely would answere: Why doth he expect me? For better it were an earthly King should eate without me, then for me to consent that the commaundement of the King of Heauen should be contemned. My food is to fullfill the will of the eternall Father.

It happened one day, that he buryed a most stincking & cor­rupt corps of a drunken and dissolute sinner, to which none durst approach without stopping the nose; and yet S. Hugh went about to handle him without any auersion at all, vntill he had layd him and couered him with earth: the standers by being amazed therat demanded of him, whether he felt not any noysomnes or loathing from the corrupt corps, and he answering, that he felt no offensi­uenes thereat, and how they were deceaued with their owne ima­gination; being full with new wonder, they ceased not to glotify the diuine Goodnes in his Seruant.

Newes being brought him one day, of the death of a bitter persecutour of his, he suddenly puts himselfe in order to goe vnto that house of mourning, and to be present at the hearse: and being told for certaine, there were traynes layd for him on the way, and therefore by no meanes he should go thither: I deserue well, in­deed, answered he, to haue fetters at my feet, and bolts on my legges, if I should once but neglect such a visit. And so causing the rest of his trayne, to stay behind, he went thither but with two only familiars of his, and there arriued without any stop or hinde­rance at all, and procuring a decent funerall for him that hated him so much, and placing the body in a vault, be returned home agayne replete with ioy and merits.

How acceptable these and the like exercises of S. Hugh, were in the sight of God, was euen manifested also in this present life, with the precious guifts of healing infirmityes, and expelling the wicked spirits, and quenching flames. In the meane while, from his indispositions, from his trauailes, and yeares, S. Hugh continu­ally feeling himselfe to decay, attended with more feruour the [...] euer, to prepare himselfe for that passage, whereto in this short & vncertaine course of mortality, all the cares and studyes of men, should be most intent and fixed. A notable presage of the end of this Saint approaching, were the actions of a certaine Swan of an extraordinary greatnes, which on the selfe same day whereon S. Hugh being created Bishop entred into Lincolne, was now like­wise [Page 279] come from parts farre remote vnto a certaine Castle, whither the Bishop afterwards resorted sometymes for honest recreation: and when he arriued at any tyme, that white bird would imme­diately fly to receiue him: and where to others it shewed it selfe very shye, and coy; to the Bishop only it would be most domestike, and giue forth infinite shewes of welcome; it would take meate from his hand; it would thrust, as in a poole, the head and neck, within those large and ample sleeues of his, and not contented therewith, leauing the fresh waters, and its accustomed haunts, would stand all night a watching, and keeping centinell at his chamber doore. Moreouer it had taken vp a custome, as often as the Bishop was to retyre thither, to be very iocund, to cry out, and flap with the wings, in so much as the keepers of the castle, as they had been aduertized by some harbinger, would be accited thereby to prepare the chambers, and to put all things in order a­gainst his coming. Now the last tyme that S. Hugh came thither, the amourous Swan leauing its accustomed dauances, would so hide it selfe, with the head drooping, and with other signes of sad­nes, and frowardly sequestring it selfe from his sight, which it was neuer to behold more; as the seruants were fayne to take it, and bring it in by force. And thus much of this new prognosticate.

The death and funeralls of the Venerable Bishop, not without some miracles accompanying the same. Chap. 11.

IN those dayes was assembled at Lincolne, a most famous nationall Councell: and S. Hugh being then in the Citty of London, vpon vrgent occasion, with purpose to hye himselfe as soone as possibly he could to the sayd Assembly, being there ouertaken by a suden & vehement feuer, was forced to keep his bed; and yet in despite of the disease, re-enforcing his prayers vnto God, and to the most blessed Virgin, and deuout colloquyes with his Angell Guardian, and with the Citizens of Heauen; he ceased not withall to afford gratefull audience, with holsome admonitions to as many as came to visit him. Being admonished to make his will: It greiues mee (said he) for this custome of making wils, introduced into the clergy. I neuer had, nor haue at this present any thing, that is not wholy of my Church: and yet that the Fiscall may not lay hand thereon, let all be distributed to the poore, as soone as may be, whatsoeuer [Page 280] may seeme to others I possesse. Heereupon the Feast of S. Mathew being come, wherein he remembred he was consecrated Bishop; he caused the celestiall Viatique, and the Sacrament of Extreme vnction also to be ministred to him, as thinking very probably, that immediately he was to depart: but it pleased our Lord to dif­ferre the same, vntill the 17. day of the next moneth, in which space he ceased not from deuotious for himselfe, and exhortations for others; and moreouer with the spirit of Prophecy, very cleerely foretold, the great disasters, which soone after, were to happen to that Kingdome, and particulerly to the Clergy.

The foresayd terme being afterwards arriued, the holy Bishop being interiourly certifyed of his departure, caused besides his Chaplyns some Monks and Preists to be called to assist him, and seeing them all to weep bitterly, he sought with interrupted speeches, but graue and affectuous withall to comfort them, and laying his right hand vpon ech one, he recommended them to the diuine custody. And now his feeble voyce began quite to fayle, when he willed, that the flore being swept, a crosse of hallowed ashes should be formed thereon, and that a seruice should be sayd in manner of a Quier, whereat being present with great attention, as soone as he came to that verse of the 90. Psalme: Clamabit ad me & ego exaudiui cum, cum ipso sum in tribulatione, causing himselfe to be lifted from his bed, he stretehed his withered and frozen mem­bers (being mindfull of the Passion of Christ) vpon the sayd Crosse, and presently beginning the Canticle of Simeon very happily ex­pired, in the yeare of our Lord 1200. of his age 60. and of his Episcopall charge the 15.

In this manner it pleased the Prince of Pastours, to put an end to the trauailes of his most faythfull Coadiutour, of whose pas­sage into heauen some persons worthy of credit haue had vndoub­ted reuelation. The body being spiced with Balme and other o­dours, was in pontificall habit exposed in a Coffin ready to be car­ryed, according to the order left by him, vnto his Church: but through the infinite concourse of people, which pressed in, to touch or at least to behold more neere that sacred Treasure; there succee­ding by turnes very Honourable personnages to carry the corps, the way became to be so taken vp, and stopt the while, as it was there fayne to stay for no lesse then six dayes. In approaching to Lincolne, the two Kinges Iohn of England, and VVilliam of Scotland, [Page 281] who then were present, came forth to meet them with a most noble trayne, and both being desirous to submit their shoulders to the ve­nerable Beer, the Scottish King among others (who loued him deerely) powred forth a floud of teares. After that, in the Ca­thedrall were the solemne exequies celebrated, with the pompe that became both the dignity of the deceased, & the quality of the standers by, among which two crowned heads, three Archbishops, fourteene Bishops, more then a hundred Abbots, very many Earles and Barons, drew the eyes of the people vpon them; the diuine Prouidence so disposing, that the promptnes and perseuerance of S. Hugh in taking so great care to bury the bodyes of others, was thus recompenced with so magnificent and glorious a Sepulture. To this were added for greater splendour, new & famous miracles, which to recount throughout, were a thing too long: it may suffice for example only to add heere also, that within few dayes at his mo­nument, were cured six Palsey men, three blind receaued their sight, and two dumbe men recouered their speach. Moreouer the deposition, customes, and heroicall prowesse of the Saint, were af­terwards not only celebrated with a liuely voice, by that age, but by many Writers also registred with a faythfull pen, to the glory of God, the memory of him, and the noble example, & incitement to posterity.

FINIS.

S. ANTONY OF PADVA.
THE ARGVMENT.

RIch LVSITANIA, yields thee vitall ayre,
And first of others shines with such a gemme
Thy countreyes Father; thou dost her prepare,
Thou dost dispose her vnto Heaun's diademe
By doctrine and example; they declare
How gratefull was such charity to them.
Thou Solons doctrine well dost ouerthrow,
Shewing the Countrey to her brood may owe.
Padua adopts thee hers, whose spacious Fanes
Could not containe thy happy audience:
The larger fields, and open spreading plaines,
Did seeme prepard for such a confluence:
Thy heauenly doctrine sweetly entertaines
The hearers, charm'd with golden eloquence.
A second Orpheus, whose commanding Lyre
Euen senselesse thinges do follow, and admire.

THE LIFE OF S. ANTONY OF PADVA. Taken forth of Laurence Surius.

Of the family and youthfull age of S. Antony: and how he became be of the family of the Chanons-Regular. Chap. 1.

THE marueilous Mysteries of the diuine proui­dence, are discouered as it were, through the whole pilgrimage of S. Antony, commonly cal­led of Padua; and so much more worthy to be renowned by the world, as through the solli­citous cooperation of this most noble Confes­sour, they are seene to be accompanyed with the cleere examples of an Apostolicall spirit. and of ech Christian vertue. The blessed man was borne in the famous Metropolis of Portugal, which is called Lisbon, K. Alphonsus raigning in those partes the second of that name, in the yeare of our Lord 1195. His Father was called Martin Boglion, his Mother Mary Tauera, both of ancient and very honourable families, dwelling right ouer against the great Church dedicated to the Mother of God, wherein the Reliques of the glorious Martyr S. Vincent are kept with much veneration. From so noble a couple, in the flower of their youth sprung forth [Page 284] this blessed Bud, and in Baptisme was named Hernando.

In the first rudiments of learning and Christian manners, he was with diligence instructed by the Priestes of the sayd great Church; so as an exact education being added to an excellent in­clination, vnder the protection of the most Blessed Virgin Mary, and that most inuincible Martyr, he came very soone to bring forth most euident signes of his future greatnes: because, as it is likewise reported of some others elected of God in their childish age, being farre off from childish thoughtes, he tooke pleasure in imitation of his Parents, to frequent holy places, and to distribute almes to the poore, as he was able, that saying of Iob well suiting with him: Ab infantia mea, creuit mecum miseratio. With these passages of his childish innocency, being come to the dangerous & ticklish point of youth in choice of an estate of life, he felt himselfe not a little to be allured by sensuality, with enticements of flatteryes: but preser­ued doubtles by the diuine Mercy, very generously withdrew his foot, resolued to follow by the sharp way, the guide of reason, and splendour of honesty.

And to secure himselfe the better, with perseuerance, with a voluntary holocaust he dedicated himselfe to our Sauiour Iesus Christ, in the Monastery of S. Vincent of the Chanons-Regular: which Monastery howbeit scituate forth of Lisbone, yet was it not so farre, but many, as it happens some for loue, some for curiosity, came to visit the new souldiour of Christ: whence he perceauing himselfe to be disturbed in his deuout exercises, obtayned with much difficulty to be remoued from thence, some three dayes iourney, into the Monastery of the Holy Crosse of Conimbria, where yet to this day that Order flourisheth, to the great benefit and or­nament of that Citty. Heere the feruorous disciple of Christ, be­sides the learning and diligent obseruing the holy Ceremonyes, so imployed himselfe in the grauer studyes, as he alwayes reserued the better part of his tyme and trauaile for spirit: nor suffered he (as often it fals out with they vnaduised) the vehemency of specula­tion should come to oppresse or diminish deuotion, but with a sage temper, helping himselfe with the sacred Scriptures, partly for finding out of deep senses, partly to enflame himselfe with diuine loue, and making no lesse often acts of the Will, then of the Vn­derstanding, he arriued within a little while, to so high a degree of perfection, as he had no greater thirst, then to spend his bloud for [Page 285] the Catholicke fayth. And in this so laudable a desire of his, he be­came much more confirmed, through the occasion we shall present­ly declare.

The occasion that moued S. Antony to endeauour to change his Rule, and what it was. Chap. 2.

THe venerable Family of Fryars, which through Christian hu­mility doe call themselues Minours, was by the Eternall Pa­stour newly founded, to the help and reduction of wandering soules. The head of these was the most blessed Francis of Assisium, who with the approbation of the Sea Apostolike, and with the example and profit of his holy manners and speaches, trauayling into diuers Countryes, and especially into the vtmost confines of Spayne, had with admirable increase spread his name, and ministery, by the many residences of his children. And by this way had sought with all industry to prouide for the extreme necessityes of the af­flicted Christianity. After this being not able to suffer the other so great a part of the world to be seduced by the fabulous lyes of the Mahumetan perfidiousnes, he very freely determining to bring, to his power, some light and succour to those miserable nations; and when he should be able to profit no more, with a glorious end at least, to lay downe his life, in confirmation of the Ghospell.

Into which enterprize hauing put himselfe more then once, but through diuers impediments, being not able euer to prosecute any thing; at last, assembling together, two squadrons of choyce workemen, with one of Eleuen, he himselfe passed from Ancona into Egipt, where vnder Damiata, the Christian army was encamped against the Saracens: the other of Six, he sent vnder Fryer Vitalis an Italian, into the land of Granata, and of Andaluzia, being tiranically handled by Miramolinus King of Morocco, a great vpholder of the name and sect of Mahomet. These two expeditions concerning the litle fruit they wrought, with those blind and obstinate people, had in a manner the same successe: but for the dealing with Apo­stolicall persons they were farre different. Because S. Francis passing boldly from the Christian tents, vnto those of the Saracens, was by the Soldan (though for that tyme he resolued not to accept the Ghospell) more then once, yet graciously heard, and with diuers courtesyes and fauours much honoured and entertayned, not with­out [Page 286] the infinite wonder of the standers by.

But the troupe, which vnder Vitalis went into the West, by his order continued their way, and with incredible fortitude prea­ching the truth of Christ, and accusing the vanity of the false Pro­phet, not only in Seuill of Andaluzia, but euen also in the Citty of Marocco it selfe, and in Affrica, and confirming their doctrine with workes aboue nature, they were first scorn'd, pelted, & ouerwhel­med by the people, with stones, cudgells, and prisons: and af­terwards by Miramolinus himselfe (to reuenge the iniuryes of his Ma­homet with his owne hands) very cruelly slayne through the strokes of a Semiter, in the presence of his people. Whose bones now re­nowned with new and euident miracles, being diligently gathe­red by the meanes of the Infant Don Pedro, the King of Portugals Brother (who was very acceptable at that tyme in Marocco to Mira­molinus himselfe) and decently conuayed to the Church of the holy Crosse of Conimbria, caused in that deuout people, diuerse motions of Christian piety, but in the Chanon Don Hernando, through holy emulation increased so the thirst of Martyrdome, as he could find no rest by day or night; and he was much more rouzed vp, being taken with the triumphall palmes of those valorous Champions, thē was Themistocles awakened from sleepe through the Tropheyes of that other Athenian there. In fine, the enkindled flames of cha­rity at this spectacle increased so in him, as Hernando being not able to contayne the same, with full resolution, determined to passe likewise ouer himselfe into Mauritania, and preaching couragiously the fayth of Christ, to purchase to himselfe, a precious death for the glory of Christ, and saluation of Soules.

Now by this tyme, he was made Preist, and had arriued to the age of 26. yeares. He was for his singular vertue and rare talents, so deere to his whole Congregation, as diffiding wholy to get leaue of the Abbot for such an enterprize, concealing his purpose vnder the pretext of choosing a more austere and strict rule, he determined to passe into the new religion of the Fryars Minors, holding for certaine, that thence he might more easily compasse his desired enterprize. Wherefore making very feruent prayers there­upon, at last he found out this way to execute his designe which followes in the next Chapter.

S. Antony is admitted into the Conuent of the Fryars Minors, where he pursues his intent, but all in vayne. Chap. 3.

AMong other Conuents of S. Francis, dispersed through the kingdome of Portugall, there was a litle one vnder the prote­ction of S. Antony the Great, without the walls of Conimbria, where those Fathers philosophizing rather with life and manners, then with questions and disputes, gaue themselues to let the world vn­derstand the vanity of things present, and solid hopes of voluntary pouerty. Some two of this Conuent, from tyme to tyme, were wont to come to the sumptuous and rich Monastery of the holy Crosse, according to their institute, very humbly to craue Almes: So as Don Hernando, taking them one day aside, with a liuely affect of Charity vnfolded vnto them, as to two Angells of Paradise, his holy purpose, and besought them, keeping it secret where need was, to deale with their Superiours, about his admission into their Order, but yet with expresse condition to send him by obedience, as soone as may be vnto the land of the Moores, to worke some fruit in the conuersion of Gentils. Euen from that tyme, was the name of Hernando famous for learning and goodnes; so as the Fryars Minors, tooke it to be no small fauour so to enrich themselues with such a purchase. Wherefore the busynes being concluded on their parts; on the other Don Hernando began to craue humble licence of his Prelates, who made a very strong resistance for a tyme; but his prayers were so continuall and vehement as they finally preuayled. So as deuoutly taking the habit of S. Francis from the Minous in their Cloyster, he went his wayes thence with such displeasure of the Chanons, as he heard at his going forth, such a bitter taunt in the way of iest cast forth by one of them, as this: Goe your wayes now, perhaps you will be a Saint in that Religion. At which words (sayd he) with a cheerefull countenance: VVhen that shall be, I beleiue you will giue praise and thanks to the Redeemer for it.

In this manner passing into a new habitation and institute; the first thing he did, was to lay aside all secular habits, and quite to forget his fathers house, & to be also himselfe the more vnknowne, and quite forgotten of the world, from the title of that litle Church, or to say better, Oratory of the Minors, in changing his name, he caused himselfe to be called Fryar Antony. From thence renewing [Page 288] his supplications to God, and his Superiours, and preparing him­selfe continually with fit meditations, to each cruelty of punish­ments that might be, it was not long ere he was sent into the de­sired parts of Marocco; where as in a most certaine field of battayle, he hoped to obteyne by dying for Christ, a glorious victory.

But soone appeared very euident signes of the inscrutable dispo­sition of our Lord; who accepting herein the good will of his seruāt, had preordeyned him for other labours, and to other merits. Be­cause, that in the very beginning of his departure, being oppressed with a greiuous malady, he was constreyned for the most of that winter to keepe his bed. Where, though after many profers and endeuours made in vayne, he coniectured, the diuine Maiesty was no wayes propitious to his purposes; yet by the beginning of the next yeare, hauing scarcely recouered any forces, he valiantly be­gan afresh to make proofe of himselfe, and to sayle towards Affrick. But the barke had hardly hoysed sayle & departed from the hauen, when behold a contrary storme of the South-west winds, by force, transported the Mariners to Messina of the Iland of Sicily.

This aduenture gaue S. Anthony much more matter to reflect vpon the interpretation of the diuine will, and had yet a more eui­dent signe therof. As soone as he landed he vnderstood by the Fryars Minors there resident, how of late a generall Chapter was intima­ted of the Order, at Assistum, and therefore it apperteyned to him also, as a Preist, not hindered by any lawfull cause to goe thither. Through this citation ioyned with passed accidents, he came to be satisfyed, it was not the diuine pleasure he should aspire to preach to the Mahometans or Gentils. From which barre of exclusion, the wary Merchant went about to make a double profit, one of his owne confusion, accusing himselfe of too much boldnes, and pre­sumption in himselfe; the other of a stable purpose, to suffer him­selfe heereafter to be wholy guided by the Creatour, by meanes of his Ministers; without making choyce on his owne head, of this or that manner of procuring the diuine glory. And withall, since it was not permitted him to expose himselfe for the holy fayth, vnto the fury of the people, to the cruelty of Tyrants, to the scourges & kniues of the mercyles hangmen, he determined to offer vp him­selfe, another way to Christ, in a liuing hoast, vpon the aul [...] of Religious iustice, by mortifying the flesh with whips, fastings, prayers, and vigils, slaying and annihilating the will and vnder­standing, [Page 289] with perfect obedience, and full contempt of priuate respect.

How S. Antony goes hiding his talents for humility sake, and is vnknowne to men. Chap. 4.

S. Antony going with such designes in his breast vnto the Con­gregation of Assisium, since by reason of his celebrating of Masse euery day, and reciting the canonicall howers, his Priestly dignity could not be hidden, he endeauoured at least with all care to con­ceale the nobility of his bloud, the force of his wit, and the variety of learning which he had; which so cunningly he did, as with the whole Chapter, he remayned in opinion of an Idiot or simple man, and not apt, eyther for subtilityes of speculatiue learning, or ma­nage of practicall matters. Whence it followed, that the assembly being dissolued, while distribution of subiects (according to the vse) was made, and the Superiours requiring to haue some this, some that man, along with them vnto their residences, S. Antony remayned alone without being required or requested of any. Meane while the diuine man exceedingly reioyced, in beholding him­selfe, in imitation of his great Maister and Sauiour Iesus, without fault of his to be slighted and neglected of all. Yea rather to make continually more intense acts of Christian humility, approaching with great humility and submission to the Minister of the Prouince of Romania, called Fryar Gratianus, he did reuerently beseech him, he would daigne to intreat Father Generall, he might take him to him, to instruct him with other Nouices, in the ceremonyes and obseruances of the Order.

Nor was the petition made in vayne. For Fryar Gratian being moued with the modesty and solitude of the person, come thither from parts so remote; tooke him benignly along with him, vnto his owne Diocesse, and a little after, at his new instance permitted him to retire himselfe into the hermitage of Monte Paulo, with some others. Where S. Anthony being prouided of a narrow Cell, in fa­sting with bread and water, and perseuering in holy contempla­tions, and manfully resisting the temptations of the Diuell, pre­pared himselfe vnwittingly, vnto the admirable exploits and en­terprizes, which for the benefit of Christendome, God was pleased to worke by his meanes. Being afterwards called from the deserts [Page 290] to the Conuents, he departed not awhit from his firme delibera­tions, to vse and cause himselfe to be dealt with by others, as the meanest & most ab [...]ct of all: whence the tyme which he had spare frō the aultar & Quire, he spent cheerfully in sweeping the house, in seruing in the kitchim, and in doing such offices, which ordina­rily are held in most scorne, and are most abhorted of human pride. And in such ministeryes, he continued hiding, shrouding, and concealing himselfe from mortall eyes; when it pleased him at last, who beholds the hidden things, to his eternall glory, and salua­tion of many people & nations, to manifest him to the world, with the occasion following.

How S. Antony is discouered by his talents, to be singular, and is declared Preacher. Chap. 5.

IT was now the tyme of Ecclesiasticall Ordinations; and there­fore Father Guardian hauing destined some Fryars to the Citty of Forli, he thought good to lead them thither in person himselfe, & would needs haue S. Antony also along with him being Priest alrea­dy, as we haue sayd; and as reason dictats vnto vs, and the Portugall Chronicles themselues doe cleerely demonstrate, howsoeuer more moderne Authours being mooued by one ambiguous word only of Surius, haue after affirmed, that S. Anthony went thither to be enrol­led with the others into the sacred warfare. With this family then, for the same effect, went some Dominicans a long like wise: a Reli­gion instituted as it were, by the eternall Father at the same tyme of the Franciscans, for the greater help of the Catholicke Church, and for supply, of men for the continuall preaching of the word of God.

These two companyes, though diuerse in habit and meanes, yet in will and end very conformable, being come to Forli, were lodged both in the same place: and not for to giue ouer their spiri­tuall exercises, the houre of their conferences arriued, the Guardian of the Minours made great instance to the Father of the Preachers, that according to their institute they would be pleased, for the com­mon consolation to discourse something of matters concerning the diuine seruice, and for the purchase of vertues. Whereof those ver­tuous Fathers excusing themselues, through the shortnes of tyme, & wearynes of the iourney; the Guardian being doubtlesse touched [Page 291] with some hidden inspiration from Heauen, contrary to the opini­on of all, turned himselfe to S. Antony, and suddenly imposed vpon him to make them a Homily, and to say something of edification. To which precept the seruant of Christ very modestly opposed a while, but the Superiour and the rest vrging him to it, at last not to breake with Obedience, recommending himselfe to God, he began to discourse, but rudely at the beginning, and without any shew of learning in him; but in the progresse of the discourse, the Holy Ghost without doubt, so guiding his tongue and hart, ere he was aware, he entred into so great a variety of allegations of the diuine Scripture, into so great sublimenesse of mystical senses, & aboue al, into so great an accesse and ardour of charity (which euen cast forth flames from his countenance and gesture) as all the Auditours re­mayned partly inflamed with heauenly affects, partly also astoni­shed with wonder, as of a man that knew no more then his Breuia­ry, that neuer handled as it were any bookes, and from whose mouth scarcely euer came forth any Latin word.

But he, to whome, as well the memory, as also the creature it selfe, serued as a Booke layd open, and in so long an intermission of study and reading, had yet neuer fayled from treating familiarly with the benigne Giuer of Wisdome, gaue forth to vnderstand in that act, how much richer are the treasures of the mystical & sweet, then the scholasticall and sterile Theology. Besides their astonish­ment at this so sudden an eloquence, such indeed as all confessed they had neuer heard the like; they had a singular esteeme & con­sideration at his so rare humility, since whereas others, hauing scarce got a smatch in learning, can hardly conteyne the vnbridled will from appearing in Pulpits, and hunting after vayne prayse and applause of the people: he though very well instructed already, with infused and purchased learning, and besides endued by nature, with those parts which are required in a Christian Oratour, had euer held his peace, & was euer more willing to heare then speake, and striued as much to abase himselfe, as others doe to procure high degrees, and to be notable and famous in the world.

It was not long ere the Blessed Father S. Francis had newes thereof, who tooke extraordinary contentment therein, and gaue infinite thankes therefore to the diuine Goodnes. And howbeit he might without more adoe haue deputed S. Antony vnto the holy Function of Preaching, as who had beene well studyed already of [Page 292] himselfe; yet by reason of his so long intermission now from his said studyes, and not to giue matter of murmure vnto others, he de­termined to make him renew and refine his mystical Theology, vn­der the direction of the Abbot of S. Andrew in Vercells, a man very famous in those dayes for learning and sanctity, and who among o­ther signes of profound Science, had lately translated the workes of S. Denys Areopagita, out of Greeke into Latin, and illustrated the same also with his explications and comments. S. Antony then being recō ­mended to this Doctour, with another English Fryar called Adam de Marisco, within the space of a yeare, they both made such profit in the knowledge of celestiall things, and arriued to such a height and eleuation of mind, as it seemed to the sayd Maister, he had two Angells in his howse, and that he had learned of them rather then they of him. With this so happy successe, S. Francis was more con­firmed in his opinion already conceiued of S. Anthony, and with great hope, of much profit to the world, declared him Preacher, & commaunded him very confidently henceforth to apply himselfe to the ministery of the Word or God.

How S. Antony mollifyed a Tyrant with his sharpe reprehension, and brought him to reason. Chap. 6.

THis excellency of preaching, was not only discouered in the blessed disciple of Christ; but as true humility is capable of all graces, and mother of all vertues, he shewed himselfe very soone, how exceeding sufficient he was for confessions, and apt withall for disputations against Heretikes, and for Scholastical chayres, & for writing of bookes very profitable for the whole posterity, and (being a thing very hardly to be coupled with such [...]) he shewed likewise no small skill and dexterity in gouernment. To all which prerogatiues, as by an irrefragable seale and patent, the diuine Clemency had annexed the spirit of Prophecy, with the priuiledge of frequent and manifest miracles. Of ech one of which guifts according to our purpose, we shall declare the cheife of them with breuity.

And first, for his preaching, we must know, there was so bur­ning a zeale of the glory of God, and the saluation of men, planted by inch solid and deep rootes in the soule of this louer of Christ, as that being suddenly pushed forth of his stand, like a generous [Page 293] steed, he began to discurre through villages, Boroughes, castles, and Cittyes, leauing steps imprinted of holy customes on all sides, and exciting miserable mortalls, from base and terrene cares, to high and celestiall thoughts. And this his zeale of Charity, he en­deauoured allwayes to keepe liuely and flaming, with the breath of prayer, and with matter of consideration, keeping also it from all humidity of sensuall pleasures or disordinate affections. Whence followed among others, two inestimable aduantages, to wit, a great credit with the auditory, and a singular energy of discourse: the one of which conditions, more auayles to perswade with, then all the artificiousnes, and figures of Rethoricall art that may be: the other how behouefull for a Teacher of truth, and Embassadour of the King of Heauen, may be easely comprehended of euery one.

By this meanes he came to be free and rid of those bands, which are wont to inueagle the mind, or restrayne and tye the tongue of others. So as neyther the force, nor malignity of the Mighty was able to dismay him, nor flatteryes or offers of freinds to bow him, nor the winds of popular applause to puffe him vp. Without all ex­ception of persons, as well in publike according to occasions, as in priuate, the magnanimous Interpreter and Messenger of Christ, ceased not to hammer & breake the wils growne obdurate in vices, and that with a presence of a couragious hart, as that many fa­mous Preachers, who came to hear [...]him would euen tremble; and some amazed at the lightning and flashes he sent from him, would couer their face; others agayne, through doubt of some perilous ac­cident, would retyre themselues. Which thinges to be no whit exaggerated, nor feigned may sufficiently be seen by that, which happened to him, with that famous Tyrant Ezelinus, of the Citty of Padua, and of a great part of Marea Treuisana.

This man vnder a rationall figure, hauing the hart of a Beare, and Tigre, seemed to thirst for nothing more then human bloud. Persidiousnes and impiety both, were in him as conuerted into na­ture: robberyes, rapines, destructions through fire & sword, were euen sports and recreations to him, and (as to the Captayns of mis­chiefs it happens) he was allwayes wayted on by Souldiours and Sergeants, neyther in auarice, nor cruelty, nor lust much inferiour to him. Now this bloudy wretch, only to terrifye the people, without cause, made many noble Cittizens, to be slayne in Vero­na. Saint Antony tooke such sorrow, and indignation thereat, at [Page 294] that going boldly into the presence of that monster, and those Ser­geants of his, began with a loud voyce to cry out against him, say­ing: VVhen wilt thou cea [...]e, thou fierce Tyrant, and rauenous Dog, [...] so the bloud of innocent Christians? VVhen wilt thou termine or m [...]gate euer this so great inhumanity? Know then, there hangs a dreadfull punishment of the diuine Iustice vpon thee which shall not leaue vnpunished the homicides, the robberyes, the extorsions, and wicked slaughters thou committest.

These thinges the Seruant of God vpbrayded him with to his face, first in generall, and then after in particuler, descending into circumstances, with so much vehemency of spirit, with so much sparckling of the eyes, & feruour withal, and with so much weight and liberty of speach, as that most rauenous Wolfe became now of a sudden a most meeke Lambe, & in the presence of as many as were there, pulling off his girdle with his owne handes, & putting it a­bout his necke, cast himselfe at his feet, very humbly crauing par­don, both of God and him, and offering himselfe most ready to per­forme whatsoeuer pennance the Venerable Father should impose vpon him. Whereupon the Blessed Antony being somewhat pacify­ed, and the penitent confirmed with sweet admonitions in his good purposes, not only without any hurt at all, but rather with a great deale of reputation and honour, and grace withal, came from him: the people remayning the while much admiring, and amazed be­yond measure, how Ezelinus at the first sound of such rebukes and reprehensions, had not caused him to be hewed in peeces, and cast forth to the beasts with a looke only. To take away the wonder, he yet wholy confounded, and euen pale for feare, sayd: Let it not seeme strange to you my Maisters, what heere I haue done, because while that same Religious man spake in that manner, I manifestly saw most liuely rayes of diuine splendour to come from his face, which so dazeled me, & filled me with such feare, that euen doubt­les me thought, I should euen haue beene swallowed into hell. These wordes indeed Ezelinus spake, and such feelings he shewed for the present: but as the promises proceeded from seruile feare, & not for the loue of vertue, after a short remorse, returned the Bar­barous wretch to his former custome, accusing himselfe for hauing yielded so basely, to the boldnes and menaces of a presumptuous Fryer, and perhaps also a dissembler and hypocrite. Yet neuerthe­lesse, remained that more then humaine countenance so engrauen in his memory, and that Maiesty, wherewith he was terrifyed, [Page 295] as to him it seemed very hard to belieue, that without some hea­uenly concourse, and the hidden merites of so couragious a repre­hender, so strange and vnusuall a thing should befall him.

After the Tyrant had beene thus perplexed in mind a prety while, wauering in himselfe, he resolued at last to cleare himselfe in that point of the goodnes & sincerity of the Fryer, with the touch­stone as followes. Taking then forth of his treasury a rich Iewell, he gaue it to some Ruffians, of his, to carry it to S. Antony on his be­halfe, with faire and amorous speaches, but with expresse order, that if he accepted the same, as a false & couetous man, they should suddenly hew him to peeces: and if he should refuse it, they should with all respect abstaine, as from a person truly holy and accepta­ble to God; nor for whatsoeuer he should say vnto them, they should take any reuenge vpon him, but without any reply at all returne backe againe. With such commission those Russians being come to S. Antony, and intreating him with the greatest courtesy they could, to accept of that small charity, which Ezelinus sent him, and to remember him only in his deuout prayers; by so liuely ex­perience they presently knew what he was, since with a seuere looke & shew of anger, he thus answered to the message: God for­bid, I receaue in signe of liberality the very bloud of the poore of Christ: for which shall Ezelinus, ere he be aware thereof, make an exact accompt to the diuine iustice: and get you hence also with­out delay, least through your iniquityes eyther the howse ouer­whelme vs with a sudden ruine, or the earth come to swallow vs vp with a horrible rupture.

Whereat those miserable wretches, with bowing downe the head, went silently and fearefully away to giue account to their wicked maister of the whole successe; who being cleared in this manner of the suspitions falsely conceaued by him, touching the seruant of God, from that tyme forwards held him in the esteeme he ought, and gaue order to his souldiers, they should let him say of him what he listed himselfe: and though the Tyrant, through his inueterate custome in sinning, was neuer conuerted from his lewd wayes, yet certaine it is, that the memory of S. Antony serued him often tymes for a bridle, and through feare and reuerence of so great a man, he forbare afterwardes to commit many outrages, which he had otherwise effected without respect. These then and the like assaults, the couragious Champion of Christ, would not [Page 296] fayle to make at any tyme when need required. Though indeed no merueyl it be, that for the defence of the truth, he should not feare the face of any man how angry soeuer, who with so much desire heretofore had sought to drinke of the chalice of the passion.

The excellent guifts, and talents of S. Antony, especially necessary to so notable a preacher, as he was. Chap. 7.

LEt no man thinke by the former Chapter, that S. Antony shew­ed himselfe to be so rigorous and terrible to all. He wanted not iudgment to discerne the difference of his Auditours, nor skill and practize to deale with the rich, with the poore, with the noble and ignoble, according to the capacity, and nature, and state of ech one. And how beyt the principall foundation of his preaching was placed, as we haue sayd, in frequent prayer, and continuall abne­gation of himselfe; neuerthelesse he tooke light and nourishment of sound and sincere knowledge from the auncient Doctours, sacred Councells, and diuine Scriptures, wherein he was so versed and dexterous, as it is affirmed for certaine, that when by any misfor­tune, they might hap to be lost, he alone from the Cabinet of his memory, was sufficient to recouer them agayne, as heeretofore Esdras had done, and to put them faythfully in writing.

Wherof among other persons of authority, Gregory the Ninth his Holynes, gaue truely a most cleere and graue testimony; for that S. Antony being come to the Court of Rome (for this likewise was a notable exployt of his) to oppose the designes and endeuoure of Fryar Elias, and of others, who sought to wrest the Rule, and enlarge the Religious discipline, he not only laboured efficaciously in this matter, but preached also to the Court, and people of Rome, in diuers places and tymes, with so great abundance of true and profund conceipts, with such subtilityes, and art in discouering the origens and causes of vices, and in appling apt remedyes to each one, and with such sharpe and sound interpretations of the Psalmes and the Prophets, and of all historyes & Oracles, and diuine precepts as the Pope himselfe being astonished, besides infinite other prayses afforded him, with a Pontificall spirit daigned to call him, The Arke of the Testament. There were added to these so rare guifts of a Christian Oratour, a dignity of aspect, a grace in his gestures, á sweetenes and cleernes of voyce, and all in so eminent a degree, [Page 297] as he seemed to be an organ for honest delectation, and for a hole­some mouing of soules, framed by the hand of God himselfe. And that which more increased the wonder, was so great a variety, quaintnes, and propriety in the Italian tongue, in a man trayned vp in Prouinces so remote, and come into Italy being of yeares so mature, and so late brought forth to the light of the world, and to the eminency of Pulpits.

Whence it is not very easy to explicate the concourse of people of all conditions, that assembled together at the sound of that cele­stiall harmony and diuine Trumpet: in shutting vp their shopps, leauing their traffikes in the market places, and the noyses of the Pallace, and taking vp places before day at the sacred audience, with such hast and strife withall, as many tymes the seruant of God was constreyned to abandon the Churches and Cittyes, and goe forth into the spacious playnes, and there from the higher bancks to breake the bread of the diuine word vnto the hungry multitude. And he howbeyt corpulent by nature, and much subiect to swea­ting, and diuers infirmityes, left not for all that, to expose him­selfe with great promptnes, and without sparing any labour, or trouble where the greatest need was, & hope of a more certaine & copious haruest.

Now who were able to set downe what fruite followed, to the glory of our Lord and saluation of men? Who could number the rancours and enmityes deposed, the restitutions made, the Con­cubines forsaken, the processions, disciplines, fasts, the pious works both common and particuler instituted for behoofe of body & soule? Many contemning the vanity of the world, though rich and po­tent otherwise, eyther dedicated themselues to the diuine seruice in Religion, or the better to assure their conscience, very freely sub­iected their whole substance and their life it selfe, vnto the dispose of the faythfull seruant of Christ; the good and faythfull through his discourses would depart from him very full of consolation of new courage and purpose afresh. The sinners chasing away dark­nes and sleep, astonished at the diuine prouidence, acknowledging their perilous estate, and the greiuousnes of their synnes, as woun­ted Harts to the fountayne, so ran they to the tribunall of Confes­sours, with teares and sighs.

How S. Antony mountes into the Chayre of Theology, and was the first of his Order, that read in those Schooles. Chap. 8.

VVE may not seeme to passe ouer in silence, how 22. Thee­ues being accustomed to rob and murder trauaylours in a certaine thick and obscure forest, and then after vnknowne in the Citty, to appeare in the habit of Honourable persons, being lastly moued with the fame, which ran euery where of the Angelicall preaching of S. Anthony, resolued to goe all at once to heare him. And found the report of him to be nothing false, but rather remay­ned so mollifyed and softned, at his fyery speaches, as the sermon being hardly finished, they went al one after another, to cast them­selues at the feet of the Preacher, with most humble confession, crauing absoluion at his hands, and promising amendment. Of whome being graciously heard, and with fatherly admonitions being encouraged and instructed, they retired themselues to per­forme the pennances imposed vpon them.

By which example, may easely be estimated without more ado, how great, and how vnusuall effects, that instrument of the diuine goodnes occasioned in the harts of men. So as S. Bonauenture in the second translation of the Saint, which was some thirty two yeares after his death, finding that happy tongue, through the di­uine will, wholy fresh and red, with good reason exclaymed: O tongue, which hast euer blessed God, and taught others to blesse him like­wise, it appeares now manifestly of what merit thou wast before our Lord: and so kissing it deuoutly he placed it in a decent Reliquary, for that purpose. But returning to the matter of the spirituall purchase, and most burning zeale of S. Antony. It is surely a merueilous thing, how the man of God, notwithstanding the occupation of the pul­pit, and other trauayls of no light importance, employed himselfe very willingly in hearing confessions, and with so much prudence, and longanimity applyed himselfe to looke into, and to cure the wounds of soules, as sometymes from morning, to late in the eue­uing, he had no tyme to restore his weary and afflicted body eyther with meate, or repose at all.

The Heretikes moreouer and the Heresiarks being manifestly conuinced by the wisedome and spirit that spake in him, were con­streyned opēly eyther with base silence to confesse their perfidious­nes, or with wholesome compunction to accept the truth. Though [Page 299] indeed he combated against such a plague, [...]ot only from aloft with long and continued speaches, but euen also in meetings and assem­blyes in schooles, with syllogismes and distinctions, and with other arts which Logick teaches. Which perticularly is seen in the Citties of Arimini, Millan, & Tholouse. From which things grew also another effect of no small consideration, as well for the common benefit of all Christendome, as for the especiall increase and reputation of the Fryars Minors.

The sayd Religion, as we mentioned, was lately founded by the most Blessed Father S. Francis, in profession and spirit, rather of Christian pouerty and humility, then of erudition or learning. Which though they were not despised, or in contempt with him, yet was he very circumspect and cautious in admitting them into his Institute, being desirous that his Fryars should preach rather with example and good works, then with precepts, and words: nor lightly would he giue them leaue to study, as fearing not with­out good reason, least through weakenes of humane nature, much reading might extinguish deuotion, and the wind of curio­sity destroy the building of Charity. From this caution of the ho­ly Father, and simplicity which commonly appeared in his chil­dren, sprang vp an vniuersal opinion in the world, that the Fryars were certainely but silly, and good men only; but ignorant meer­ly and litle apt for discouering the deceipts of the auncient aduer­sary, and iudging the quality of synnes, or distinguishing between leaprosy and leaprosy, and by consequence vnable to cooperate with the diuine prouidence in the conducting of soules.

Now some Fathers being desirous to cancell this note, as zea­lous of the fame of their Order, and of the glory of Christ, made great instance vnto the Blessed Antony, he would take the paynes to read and explicate the more grauer sciences, and set vp in the Reli­gion of the Minors a Schoole also, whence as from a noble and per­petuall Seminary, might issue from tyme to tyme sufficient worke­men for the Vinyard of our Lord. To which so honest requestes, howbeit otherwise he would willingly haue condescended, yet hauing some notice of the mind of his common Father and Superi­our, he could neuer be brought to accept the enterprise, vntill such tyme, as he had expresse faculty and commission from him, with a letter of the tenour following: To his most deere Brother Antony, Fryar Francis sends greeting. I am content that you read Diuinity to [Page 300] the Fryars, but in such sort, that (according to the aduise of the Rule) neither in you or them, the spirit of holy Prayer may be ex­tinguished.

Heereby, all excuse being taken away, S. Antony did at last begin to satisfy the continuall desires of the Fryars, and he was the first, who in that, venerable Family euer held the Chayre; begin­ning in Mompelier in France, and prosecuting afterwardes in Bologna, and then in Padua. To which Citty, whether it were for the cle­mency of the ayre, or for the humanity and disposition of the inha­bitants, he bare very speciall affection: and with this his new la­bour of interpreting the diuine mysteries, he came both to illustrate the Order of Minours, and to affoard the militant Church a fit sup­ply of the choicest fouldiours. Amidst these so noble and fruitefull cares of his, the Seruant of Christ, could not also auoyd that same of gouerning others, in diuers degrees, and places of France, and Italy, where he was (according to the institute of the Order) both Guar­dian and Minister. In which dignityes, howbeit he shewed affa­bility, and such iudgment, as he was both reuerenced and beloued of his subiects: yet to the end he might more readily attend to spiri­tuall workes, and for the greater common good, it seemed well to Pope Gregory the IX. through singular priuiledge, to discharge him of all superintendency of Conuents, or of Prouinces, which do ne­cessarily bring with them diuers distractions and thoughts of tem­porall matters. And besids the office of confessing, conuersing with the Neighbours, and preaching, the same Pope would haue him to put his sermons into writing, that the profit might not only deriue to the present and liuing, but euen also to the absent, and posteri­ty. Whereupon retyring himselfe a new into the Citty of Padua, being a place for diuers occasiōs very apt for al exercise of learning, he went forward in putting those bookes to writing, which are now read in print, & which to the studious of christian eloquence, serue as a copious and rich storehouse for any subiect whatsoeuer.

A certaine Prophesy of S. Antony fullfilled, of one Philip a Martyr of Christ. Chap. 9.

HItherto we haue spoken of the actions of the Saint, which are imitable of ech religious person. It remaynes now to touch some thing of the more admirable. And to begin with prophecy, [Page 301] whereof two no lesse certaine then famous predictions, sufficienly declare, how much this so precious a gemme shined in the blessed S. Antony. There being a woman at Assisium now ready to be brought to bed, she deuoutly recommended her selfe to his intercession, who for charityes sake had been to visit her. To which request, through the hidden instinct of God, he manifestly answered forthwith, she should be of good cheere, that she should haue a happy labour, and haue a sonne, and that which more imported, he was desti­ne by diuine prouidence, first, to be a glasse of vertue in the Reli­gion of S. Francis, and then also with effusion of his bloud, and greattorments, for Christ should purchase a palme of a glorious mar­tyrdome. There was nothing of all this that infallibly fell not out. The happy Babe was borne without hurt of it selfe or mother, and in the sacred Baptisme, tooke the name of Philip. And passing his first yeares in Angelical purity, of his owne election became a Fryar Minour. Hence fortifying himselfe in the loue and feare of the eter­nall God, through a heauenly inspiration, was moued to the pil­grimage of the holy Land, and arriued at Azotus, euen iust at the tyme, when that Citty, was by treason taken by the Saracens, and the Christians that were there, to the number of two thousand, were all publiquely condemned to death.

Through which so cruell a sentence, Philip fearing least some being affrighted might come to abandon the holy fayth, requested as a fauour at the ministers hands of the Souldan there (and obtayned it without difficulty) to be the last executed of all. Whence the Mahumetans being brought into some hope, that he would renoūce in the meane tyme; found themselues at last to be far deceaued of their expectation. Because the cruell spectacle being now begun, Philip endeauoured with all feruour & fortitude of mind to comfort all the Christians, to suffer freely, speaking aloud, he had a reue­lation of our Lord, that he was to enter that day into the kingdome of Heauen, with more then a thousand Martyrs; through which so high a promise these faythfull people being exceedingly comfor­ted, did voluntarily, yea euen cheerfully present their bare necks, to the sword of the bloudy Executioner.

Which thing the Souldan noting (who beyond measure abhor­red the name of Christ) entered into such a fury, as he suddenly commaunded, that with all the sortes of most exquisite tormentes that might be, should his temerity and boldnes be punished, that [Page 302] durst so disswade from the worship of the Great Mahomet. Whereu­pon a troupe of hangmen, assailing Philip without more ado, and in the sight of the whole company of Christians, went first to cut of his fingars ioynt by ioynt, in which so sharp and prolix a torment, he neuer ceasing to exhort and enflame the Christians, in such wise as neyther being enforced with menaces, nor won with flatteryes, they all cryed out, with one accord, they would follow by all meanes the stepes, and counsails of the couragious Philip. The Soul­dan continually more enraged, caused him to be fleaed aliue to the nauell, and afterwards that blessed tongue to be cut out, whereof being depriued & torne in all parts, he ceased not for all that with signes and gestures, and much more with example to enflame those sacred victimes, vntill such tyme as he was beheaded with them, and that alltogether ascended to the eternall Country, leauing euen to their enemyes behind, an euident signe of their felicity, since the bodyes being kept a good while, in the same place vnburied & vncouered did not only not giue forth the least ill sauour, but ra­ther yeilded a most sweet odour. And in this sort came that to effect which had now for so many yeares before, without all doubt, or ambiguity at all, already beene prophesyed by S. Antony.

Another example of S. Antonyes prophesyes, which happened in another Martyr. Chap. 10.

NO lesse memorable then the former, was a certaine reuela­tion, which S. Antony manifested cleerely being Guardian at that tyme in the confines of Aquitan, in a Citty, which being in a more high place, the Frenchmen called Le Pay, and the vulgar Italian Val Poggio, and was aunciently by the Latins called Anicium. In this Citty among other Inhabitants, was a certaine Notary, very Catholike in fayth, the worldly in his dealinges, and more practized in taking of Suretyships, then discerning of spirits, more aquainted with plying the Iudges, and Aduocats, then frequen­ting of Churches and Sacraments. And yet S. Antony on a tyme, meeting him one the way, with a low duck, & vncouering of the head, made him an extraordinary reuerence and obeysance. Which thing the Notary, being guilty of his owne quality, and not tyed through any freindship to the poore Fryar; at first attributed the same to errour or simplicity, afterwards perceiuing him to persist [Page 303] in the sayd obseruance, when he saw him a farre of, endeuoured to shunne him. But meeting full on a tyme where he could not auoyd him, and the Fryar saluting him againe with the accustomed, or ra­ther with greater signe of honour then euer, he holding the same as an act of scorne and derision towards him, began with anger, euen grinding his teeth, and drawing out his sword withall, and to cry out, saying: If thou hadst not been a Fryar, I had now a good while since euen thrust this same in thy sides.

But tell me, thou rude, base, and errant Iacke: What is the mat­ter thou scoffes me thus to my face? To whome the seruant of Christ answered with all submission; Brother, trouble not your selfe, I do reuerence you with my hart, and do honour you withall fidelity that may be: the reason is, for that I hauing greatly desired, & beg­ged as a fauour of our Lord, to spend my bloud in his holy seruice, haue neuer been worthy, nor hath he byn pleased to heare my suite. But indeed of you, he hath reuealed to me, that you shal one day dye a Martyr; Whence I am constrayned with a sweet enuy, to hold you in the esteeme and regard I doe: and doe most affectuously in­treate you, that when you shall come to that glorious conflict, you would be mindfull of me poore wretched sinner. At which words the Notary being pacifyed, conuerting choler into laughter, went his wayes iesting at the matter. Nor long it was, but the effect did really succeed.

Because the Bishop of that Citty, preparing himselfe to go vnto the holy Sepulcher, the Notary being touched with supernall mo­tiues, resolued to accompany him thither, as he did. And being ar­riued at Palestine possessed by the Saracens, the Bishop happened to fall into dispute, of matters concerning the holy Fayth. In which conflict those barbarous people shewing themselues very bold and iusolent, against the honour of Christ, and the Bishop being timo­rous in defending the same, and in opposing their blasphemyes; the Notary could by no meanes brooke such indignities, but couragi­ously entred into the quarrell, & without any respect a whit indea­uoured to discouer & accuse the vanity, fraud, & ambitions of their wicked Mayster whome they adored: wherupon the Mahumetan [...] being all enraged tooke the Notary, & for the space of three conti­nuall dayes, hauing satiated their greedy desires, with mangling and scourging the victorious warrier of Christ, at last they led him to death: and he remembring very well, what had been told to [Page 304] him by S. Antony, declared it to the Christians about him, and with infinite consolation, stretching forth his neck, to the seruants of impiety, and washing his stole anew in the bloud of the Lambe, went immaculate to the heauenly banquet. And thus, with the stupour, and amazement of all, came the Oracle to be verifyed.

Of sundry apparitions of S. Antony, made in his owne person, vpon seuerall occasions. Chap. 11.

THe apparitions of God, made to S Antony, & of him to others, are worthy of eternall memory. Being one day receaued as a Ghest, by a certayne Knight, no lesse deuout then illustrious, he had a lodging appointed him, farre from noyse, where he might the better attend to study, and contemplation. Now, while the Knight passes in the night by the house, he sees a most bright splendour to proceed from that chamber, whereat meruei­ling much, he secretly approches to the doore, and looking through the key hole, beholds vpon an open booke before S. Antony, a child of a celestiall beauty; who sending forth rayes more bright then the Sunne, threw himselfe tenderly about the necke of the blessed man, and imbraced him without end, and S. Antony likewise him, with ineffable ioy and affection. Amidst these chast imbraces the most sweet Babe shewed him how his Host was standing at the doore, & beheld al things remayning in a rapt. S. Antony not enuyed him so happy a sight, letting him enioy it at his pleasure, vntill such tyme as the glorious child did vanish away, when lastly he opened the doore, and with a thousand prayers coniured him to keep the matter in secret vntill his death. So promised the Knight and ob­serued the same: and as soone as the Seruant of Christ was quit of the bandes of his body, he vnloosed the same of silence, and began to proclayme the aforesayd spectacle, and to affirme it with oaths and teares togeather, with so much gust as he could neuer be satis­fyed with recounting it. And hence it is, that the images of the Saint, are seene so depainted with a child in his armes, sitting on a booke, for a difference of others of his Order. In this manner was S. Antony among other tymes, as then made worthy of the presence of our Sauiour.

And he also, as we sayd more then once, affoarded himselfe in seuerall places, vnto diuers persons at once, and that allwayes [Page 305] eyther for the diuine seruice, or for edification, and the helpe of neighbours: as particulerly happened to him in France, while he was preaching first in Mompelier, in the great Church, after in Li­moges in S. Peters, which they call of the Quadrino. Because S. Anto­ny being in the pulpit, and remembring suddainely, he had forgot to substitute one in the Quire of the Conuent, who should supply his part, that belonged to him; suddenly by diuine power, not fayling neyther the people assembled, nor pulpit, was present with his Fryars to sing his Lesson, and Antiphone.

At other tymes his Father being falsely accused in Lisbone, for intercepting the monyes of the Fiscall, and then agayne for killing a yonge man, which by certaine wicked men, was of purpose put into his garden with many signes of bloud vpon him, S. Antony in the meane while being certifyed by diuiue reuelation of what had happened at both tymes, from places and Prouinces most re­mote, was found to be present in the same moment in the Citty of Lisbone; and as for the monyes he made the Magistrates to vnder­stand, that the Kings Treasurers, though fully satisfyed heertofore, yet maliciously had denyed the receipt thereof, and acquittances giuen. For the homicide, it pleased him to demaund it publique­ly of the dead himselfe, whether his Father (though sentenced al­ready for it) were guilty of the said wickednes: whereto hauing answered no, without the vrging of S. Antony to name the ma­lefactours, he demaunded absolution of the seruant of God, for a certayn excommunication he had formerly incurred, and interces­sion for his synnes; which hauing obtayned in the sight of all the multitude, he fell downe dead into the sepulcher agayne. And thus S. Antony conserued his innocent Father in his goods, honours, and life.

Moreouer, the seruant of Christ, was wont to shew himselfe cleerly in the night in sleep, to some inueterated in sensuality, and other vices, who for feare or shame durst not to lay open their enormious synnes to the Priest, and vpbrayding them their of crymes, and circumstances thereof, now to admonish them with sweetnes, and now to constreyne them with seuerity and menaces, to repayre to this or that Confessour, as he esteemed most for the purpose, & so with the Sacrament of penance they had tyme, to de­liuer themselues from the power of the diuell: which euen the pe­nitents themselues related afterwards, not without the great mer­uayl [Page 306] of euery one. So as neyther in this also may the blessed S. Anto­ny be accompted inferiour to S. Nicholas, to S. Ambrose, to S. Fran­cis, and others, of whom it is read, how they had the same very fa­uours from the Almighty in diuerse occurrences. And since we haue newly made mention of penitents, we may not fold vp in silence, how efficacious the words of S. Antony were concerning that holsome Sacrament.

Other notable examples, of the efficacy of S. Antonyes preaching, not with­out manifest miracles. Chap. 12.

A Certaine Cittizen of Padua by name Leonard, confessing vnto him, among other iniquityes discouered, being very contrite, that he kickt his Mother on the belly so hard, as he threw her to the ground. For which the Saint reprehending him most grieuously, in processe of discourse sayd to him: How that foot which had had the boldnes to strike the belly, whence he came forth, deserued to be cut off. The wordes were not spoken to a deafe man: the abso­lution receaued, Leonard goes his wayes home, and interpreting the sillables as they sounded, taking a hatchet really in hand, he cut off his foot, and presently being seised with a mortall sooning, began to cry out aloud; to these cryes the vnfortunate Mother full of feare came suddenly in, the Chirurgians are sent for, the wound is swathed with little hope of remedy or cure, the neighbours run in, one cryes, another weepes, all are astonished.

The wofull woman, scarcely yet recouering breath, goes her wayes with her haire disheueled to the Saint, and with woma­nish plaints, & bitter sobs, charges him with the death of her deare sonne. The Blessed Antony, with the newes thereof remayned ex­tremely disconsolate and afflicted, and not content to haue dischar­ged himselfe with iust excuses, he went immediatly to the lodging of that simple man, and there sending vp enflamed prayers to God, he tooke vp the foot cut off, and laying it to the stump of the legge, with the benediction of God so vnited the same, as the yonge man without griefe or scarre remayned safe and sound. The fame of so great a miracle dilated it selfe throughout, and thankes were ren­dred to the diuine goodnes on all sides. These and other such like shinges befell S. Antony in Confessions.

But turne we now to his Preaching againe, we may not let [Page 307] passe, how the Crusado for the holy Land being proclaymed, vn­der Gregory the IX. and a most ample Iubiley published for such an intention in Rome, there assembled together an infinite number of people from all parts of Christendome, as Greeks, French, Almans, Spaniards, English, and of other nations: by all which, the blessed S. Antony was heard to preach at once, ech one in their proper lan­guage, as in the Citty of Hierusalem heeretofore the Apostles were heard on the solemne day of Pentecost; that supernaturall effect be­ing renewed, with the astonishment of as many as heard the same.

In Arimini, the Citty being full of Heretikes, S. Antony ende­uoured cheifly, and not without much trauayle to reduce the He­resiarcke Bonuillus, or (as some would haue it) Bonellus to a better mind, who for thirty yeares continuallly had persecuted the Church of Christ: and after his amendment, notwithstanding many others yet remayning most peruerse in their obstinacy, and shutting their ears vnto the truth, after that S. Antony with many prayers in vayne, had inuited them to a Sermon, there being a great number of them as then forth of the wals, where the riuer called Marechia discharges it selfe into the Sea; with great cōfidence in our Lord, he begins to call the Fishes vnto the word of God, since men of reason & redee­med with his precious bloud, would by no meanes seeme to harken to him. And incredible thing had it not been euident: he had scarce giuen forth the commaund, when an innumerable multitude of fishes of sundry formes and bignes, were seene to appeare on the waters of the Sea and riuer, which euen of their owne accord came in by sholes, and with heads erected accommodating themselues to listen to him; in so much as the lesser put themselues neer to the bancks side, and then the greater and bigger in order, with so good­ly and fayre a dispose, as a more pleasing sight could not be seen.

To these squadrons so well ordered, the blessed S. Antony lif­ting vp his voyce began to vnfold vnto them the benefits vouch­safed them from the Creatour, the guift of swiftnes and colours, and of their beauty in particuler; the medicine subministred from them by Toby; the tribute, and food of our Lord himselfe: the mi­stery of the Resurrection represented in the Prophet Ionas. For which reasons with many others besides did S. Antony exhort them to yeild God thanks. To which aduise of his those Marine troups▪ since they could not by words, with sundry motions at least did sig­nify their obedience, stooping with the head, sporting with iubily [Page 308] and shewing a will to honour the messenger of Christ. Nor would they depart from the place, vntil they were licēced thence, through his holy benediction. And so in the meane tyme the concourse of spectatours being now continually growne greater; the man of God taking then occasion, vpbrayded those obstinate and peruerse men of their malice and impiety, since in acknowledging the high Creatour, admitting so his holy law, they would so manifestly suffer themselues to be vanquished by beasts; whereupon the He­retikes at last remayned confounded, and the Catholikes conti­nually more confirmed, in the holy doctrine and veneration of the Sea Apostolike.

Other miracles which S. Antony wrought in the sight of Heretikes, to the conuersion of many, and confusion of others. Chap. 13.

MOst famous was that which happened in the exequyes of a certaine publike Vsurer, now buryed allready: at which ex­equyes, it belonging to the blessed S. Antony to make the sermon, he tooke for text that saying of our Sauiour: Vbi est the saurus tuus, ibi est & cor tuum. To which purpose with accustomed liberty he inueighed against the disordinate loue of gold and siluer, and wei­ghed the inestimable domages which grow from thence: finally to let them see with their eyes themselues the truth of that sentence, turning himselfe to the neerest parents of the dead: Go your wayes (sayd he) by and by, to the chest of the miserable wretch, and there within shall you find his very hart it selfe: which they did without contradiction, and to the great terrour of them, and of the whole land, in the midst of his monyes they found the said hart, as yet not wholy cold. We shall now ad another of no terrour awhit, but of meere consolation.

S. Anthony being Custos at Limoges, after he had passed through France still preaching heere and there, chaunced to discourse with the inhabitants of Burges. But the presse was so great of such as came to heare him, as that the Canons of the Church, putting themselues in procession with the whole Auditory, went forth of the gates of the towne, into the open fields: where while the man of God puts himselfe to discourse in an eminent place, behold there gathered to­geather very blacke clouds in the ayre, which threatned a terrible [...]pest; for feare wherof the people flying from thence & beginning [Page 309] to shift for themselue, S. Antony sayd with a loud voyce: Bee of good cheere my maysters; stirre not a foot, there shall not a drop of water light vpon any of you. The people obeyed: and behold suddenly a mighty storme of hayle and rayne to fall from heauen, which enui­roning the Auditory as a wall, did not wet the breadth of a palme in the whole circuit, but left the people dry & vntouched. Whence followed many prayses vnto God, and extraordinary credit and re­uerence to S. Antony.

And now to speake something likewise of meruails succeeding in his disputations with Heretikes: It is reported for certayne, how the diuine man being at Arimini on a tyme, or as others would haue it, in the Citty of Tholouse, a malapert minister of Sathan▪ of the Sect of Berengarius, being not able to maintayne himselfe in a controuersy of the most holy Sacrament, agaynst the reasons alleadged by S. An­thony, sayd finally vnto him. Thou confoundest me with words, as more learned then I; but not because they haue more foundation of truth. But let vs come to some more cleere experiences in effect; Whence I may be certifyed indeed, that God is really present in the consecrated host, and I promise and sweare vnto you (when it shall succeed) that I will confesse to be vanquished, and belieue this ar­ticle, in the manner as you teach it.

S. Anthony accepts the condition, nor doubts awhit to put the quality of the tryall to his owne choice. Let vs do it then in this manner replyed the Heretike. This day will I beginne to keep my Mule without meate, & after three dayes againe shall I bring him forth so hungry into the market place, togeather with a pecke of oats for the purpose. And at the same tyme thou likewise come thi­ther with thy azime or host, and if the beast in presence of the one and other shall forbeare to eate the oats, and turne to bow vnto thy bread, I am content also to adore the same, without more adoe. In the name of God sayd S. Antony let the matter be published through the Citty. The third day being come, both parties repayre to the market-place, with such a thronge of people as euery one may iudge. Heere S. Anthony sacrificeth vpon an Altar set vp for the purpose, and before he communicates, conuerting himselfe to the principall Cittizens, with lighted torches about him, holding the Host in his hand replenished with fayth, [...]es to the brute beast, which now was senting the oats, & commands him in power of that God there present, that l [...]uing the prouande [...] now taken out [Page 310] of the sacke, & set before him, to come presently to his Creatour, and acknowledge and adore him in the sayd Host.

The Priest had scarcely ended these wordes, when the Mule despising the prouander, with headbowing, humbly approaching to the most holy sacrament kneeld downe to adore it, to the infinit iubiley of the good, and holesome conuersion of that wretched Sa­cramentary. In this manner was a very strange experiment brought to passe, vnworthy indeed of so high a mystery; but yet nothing preiudiciall, nor perilous to the life of S. Antony.

How S. Antony escaped the treacheryes of his enemyes by secret poyson, and of the opinion he gayned with all men. Chap. 14.

SOme others of the same kind with the former, found out ano­ther more wicked proofe, and by so much more dangerous, as more hidden; who being not wone with the former passage, but more exasperated rather with the sayd miracle, determined with poyson to murder the seruant of Christ. Inuiting him therefore to dinner (whither he refused not to goe, being desirous to help any manner of wayes) vnder colour of charity, they present him with poysoned meat; which fraud being suddenly knowne in spirit, he reprehended them with loue & grauity for such impiety: but those obstinate and peruerse men, insteed of being compunct, and peni­tent therat, vnto their hidden deceits added a manifest impudency, and boldly thereupon began to say: How Christ had promised his faythfull Disciples, that neyther the poysonous, nor fatall drinkes, should seeme to hurt them. Whence if he would but tast thereof, he should soone doubtlesse confesse that saying of the Ghospell to be false. At which wordes S. Antony recollecting himselfe, and on the one side, holding the taking of such food were a meere temp­ting of him that had reuealed the danger vnto him; and fearing on the other, through the wicked disposition of those Calumnia­tours to occasion some discredit to the sacred Scripture, was resol­ued at last to eate, and drinke the same without exception, if they would promise to returne to the Catholik fayth, when as he should receaue no hurt thereby. To which condition they yielding assent, his word was performed, as well without the hurt of his person, as with the glorious purchase of those mindes seduced.

These, and many other thinges, which for breuity we let passe [Page 311] were wrought by the Blessed Anthony in the name of Christ, be­yond all course & compasse of humane power: which being mat­ched with a singular innocency of manners, and with a solid, liuely and enflamed eloquence, may not seeme strange they should fru­ctifye so much, not only in the harts of the meaner and poorer sort (which ordinarily is wont, very willingly to accept the word of God, & without difficulty to rayse the affect from visible things) but euen also in the minds of the rich and potent; who so rarely imbrace the seed of the Ghospell, and be so hardly weaned from false delights, and designes, to aspire with paynes, mortifications, and almes to the future felicity. And yet many of this condition rendred themselues to the battayls of this great Captayne, and com­mitted wholy to his discretion and gouernement (as we sayd) both their goods and liues.

Among which, a principall Baron of Padua, being called Tisone Campo San Pietro, may not seeme to be reckoned in the last place. This man after he had serued long in the warres, wherein he had beene a chiefe Commander, retyring himselfe to his house, and laying his armes aside, at the intreaty of the Blessed Antony, with the good example of the whole Citty, gaue himselfe to spirit; and conceauing feruour and zeale to help his subiects, obtayned of the Blessed Father to vouchsafe to come into the Land of Campo S. Pietro (from whose dominion, tooke the noble family of the Tisons that name) to cultiuate & instruct the rude people there in Christiā Religion, and in the feare of God. Which S. Antony refused not, especially for that there was in that place a little Conuent of Minours, that was maintayned by the almes of Tisone himselfe. True it is, that S. Antony being arriued there, to remaine more re­tyred, would not abide continually, neither among the Fryars, nor lesse in the Pallace of his Host, but vnder a Nut-tree of an vn­measurable greatnes, from whose truncke grew forth six great branches in manner of a crowne, causing three litle Cells to be set vp, one for himselfe, and the other for two Fryars and companions of his (in which worke Tisone himselfe with singular piety did la­bour with his owne hands) whence S. Antony was wont after his exercises of prayer and contemplation, to preach vnto the people; which assembled to that heauenly food, from the neighbour coun­tryes thereabout; but yet descending at the howers of refection and rest, he remayned in the Conuent.

[Page 312] Amidst these things the diuine man, although by his old Insti­tute he shunned, and had all worldly glory in much horrour; yet through the greatnes of his merits, he was arriued to that venera­ti [...]n with the people, that euen peeces of his poore cassock were se­c [...]etly cut off for deuout Reliques; & when the word Saint was but named, for excellency sake it was cōmonly vnderstood of him. And yet he notwithstanding continued in austetityes, macerations, & vigils, not that his flesh now tamed and subdued allready, had need thereof; but to afford therein a perpetuall example, and edi­fication to seculars. Who ordinarily not hauing iust weights to bal­lance the integrity of vertues, are wont, and accustomed to valew and prize perfection, by the exteriour afflictions and penances they discouer in Religious.

The Death of S. Antony, with the sequels thereof: and his speedy Canoni­zation. Chap. 15.

VVIth such manner of strictnes of life accompanyed (as we haue sayd) with an extraordinary weake complexion, and many labours, and trauayls withall, came the seruant of Christ to be so feeble, as being surprized in Campo San Pietro with a gree­uous infirmity, he soone, and directly told it likewise to one about him, that he was now arriued to the terme of his short dayes, and hoped ere long to go, & enioy those places without terme or mea­sure of tyme. And withall not to be troublesome in his cure, either to that small Oratory of Minors, or the lay Families there, though he were with the most affectuous prayers that might be, coniured by all to abide with them, yet causing himselfe to be layd in a Countrey cart, he went to Padua. And considering that in the Mo­nastery of Sancta Maria Maior, within the wals, he should too much be molested with visits, he diuerted to another place, which is cal­led Arcella, of Franciscans indeed, but yet somwhat forth of the Citty.

Heere now being oppressed with the malady, with all deuo­tion he receiued the holsome Sacraments, and with hands ioyned together, and lifted vp, not without extraordinary feeling he recited the seauen Penitentiall psalmes, and a deuout hymne to the most Blessed Virgin, whose protection with particuler ser­uice he had allwayes sought to rely vpon. From thenceforth he begins suddenly to lift vp his eyes, and to fix them on heauen; & [Page 313] being demaunded what he looked vpon? I behold, sayd he, my Lord Iesus Christ and after a short repose, among a thousand bene­dictions and pious teares of his deerest freinds, he yeilded vp his spirit to the Creatour, with all the tranquility and serenity that might be, in the yeare of our Lord 1231. and the 13. of the month of Iune, on a Friday, he being then but 36. yeares of age, whe­reof 15. he had spent in his Fathers house, two in S. Vincents of Lis­bone, 9. at the holy Crosse of Conimbria, and about some 10. in the Order of S. Francis

After the passage, that blessed flesh, which through euill vsage, was before so horrid to see, so rugged, dry, and wrincked to be touched, became in a moment so white, soft, and plump, as if it had been of a tender and delicat child. His beloued freind & maister the Abbot of Vercells, whom we mentioned aboue, at that tyme, was much afflicted, with a disease of the throat. And euen loe, the same day, when S. Antony dyed, being in his chamber alone at prayer, he saw him suddenly to appeare before him; and after mutuall sa­lutation, & imbraces: Behold (sayd he) my Lord Abbot, hauing left my Asse at Padua, how I goe in hast to my Country. And saying so, with a light touch only, he cured his throat, and so vanished. But the Abbot stedfastly beleiuing, that S. Antony was really passed by to Lisbone, going forth of his chamber, began to enquire of hi [...] familiars, where he was; from whom not gathering any thing, at last returned into himselfe, and coniectured by that vision the hap­py departure of the man of God: whereupon, making new dili­gence by letters, he found the encounter of howers and moments to be iust the same, as he himselfe did afterwards testify.

In the meane while the Fryars of Arcella, fearing some tumul­tuous concourse would be at the body, endeuoured to keep the de­parture of the seruant of Christ very secret, but in vayne. Because the very innocent boyes, through hidden instigation of the spirit, began in many troups to goe crying through the countryes: The holy Father is dead, the Saint is dead. With which voyce the people being awaked, on a sudden they shut vp their shopps, and laying all other businesse aside, put themselues in armes, with great ef­fusion of bloud, while one part stood for retayning the sacred trea­sure in Arcella, and the other to conueigh him into the Citty: but after many and perilous bickeringes betweene them, by the hum­ble prayers of the Fryars, & the authority of the Magistrates it was [Page 314] obtayned, that as himselfe being neere to death had requested, he should be carryed to the Church of Sancta Maria Maior, and so he was accompanyed thither by the Bishop, the Clergy, and by per­sons of quality in good order, with such aboundance of lightes, as the whole Citty seemed to be on fire.

Heere the high Masse being sung by the Bishop, began con­tinually new and stupendious miracles to manifest themselues in diuers infirmityes of soules and bodyes. To which fame, with in­credible feruour, continued a long tyme, whole troupes of Pilgrims to resort thither, not only of those confines, but of Italy also, and as it were of all Europe, with such a number of large guifts, and pre­cious offeringes, as they were fayne to appoint chamberlaines and keepers for the custody of them, of the chiefest, & most honoura­ble persons of Padua. With the help whereof, and with that more­ouer which the Citty it selfe adioyned thereto, changing the title of the Temple (which was first of Iuno, & after of the Blessed Virgin Mary) in honour and inuocation of the Saint, was built in the same place, one of the magnificent and sumptuous Churches of Christen­dome. Lisbone it selfe being the natiue Countrey of the Saint, con­curred in a manner with the deuotions of the Paduans, in making by command of the King, of one part of the House, where he was borne, a fayre little Church as we sayd, and of the other a Hall, where the Ancients with the Senate, vnto this present day, are wont to assemble to deale about matters of the Common wealth.

But aboue all, Pope Gregory the IX. himselfe, who before in Rome had with so choyce an Elogy commended the doctrine of the seruant of God, concurred to the exalting of his glorious me­mory. So as scarcely had a moneth passed ouer from the death, or to say better, from the natiuity of S. Antony, but causing a most ex­act inquisition to be made of his life, and miracles, with the high approbation of all the Cardinalls, and Prelats of the holy Church, he canonized him solemnly, and enrolled him among those spirits, who arriued in the eternall country, doe securely enioy the bea­tificall vision of God, there making intercession for others, who being on the way, are yet doubtfull continually of their progresse and tearme. Through which iudgment and approbation of the Sea Apostolike, was enflamed in all Christendome, a new desire to accumulate honours vpon the sacred depositum, & a liuely sayth in presenting supplications to that glorious soule: the Paduans yet in [Page 315] this part shewing themselues most remarkable of all; who being constant in their auncient piety, follow in celebrating euery yeare the day of the deposition of the Saint, with most exquisite pompes, psalmes, panygeriques, & other triumphs, truly belonging to the immortall merits of the noble Confessour of Christ, and particuler protection he affords that famous Citty: whence he renouncing in a manner his proper Country, hath been pleased to accept, the perpetuall sweet Surname of Padua.

FINIS.

S. THOMAS OF AQVINE.
THE ARGVMENT.

THe
An all [...] to the Rose called in He­brevv, Loues [...]haddovv. Cant. [...].
Tree that beares the dainty Cyprian flower,
Vnles oft prun'd by skillfull workemans art,
Growes wild & fruitlesse: Loue doth loose his power
And vigorous force, vnlesse our Soules do dart,
And force it oft, with often acts on high;
Or feeble soone it growes, and soone doth dye.
The smiling leaues ech other seeme to kisse:
Giue heau'n thy Loue; Loue shall from thence descend,
Cropt, bruiz'd, distill'd more sweet by farre it is:
Troubles make ours more gratefull in the end,
And oppositions nobly borne away,
Crowne our afflictions with a nobler Bay.
Oppos'd by Friends their force I ouerbore;
My wish at last obtayning to enioy,
Heau'ns Loue I found in me augmented more,
While more to gaine it, I my Loue employ:
By painefull acts this Passion I dilate,
And keep my soule by weaknesse in her state.

THE LIFE OF S. THOMAS OF AQVINE.

Of the Parents, and education of S. Thomas: with the signes of his futnre greatnes. Chap. I.

SAINT THOMAS Doctour, for the excel­lency of his learning, surnamed the Angelicall, was borne in the Citty of Aquinas, in the yeare of our Lord, 1224. His Father was Landol­phus Count of the sayd Citty of Aquinas: his Mother Theodora, daughter of the Count of Thean, being both of a noble and illustrious house. The birth not only of the Saint, but also his Religion was foretould by a venerable Hermit, who liued in those Countreyes, called Bonus; who visiting Theodora neere her childbirth, saluted her, saying: Be ioyfull Lady, for you shall shortly haue a sonne, who for his singular qualities shall be renowned through the world, and shall take the habit you see heere depainted: It was euen the habit of S. Dominicke, the which, at the foot of the Mother of God, in a little image, he wore for deuotion hanging about his necke. Theodora answered: Gods will be done. After which, the child being borne into the world, and called in sacred Baptisme by the name of Thomas, soone gaue very [Page 318] manifest signes of the learning and sanctity which in tyme were to shine in him. Because on a day while the Nurse was making him a bath, he snatching vp of his owne accord a peece of paper from the ground, held it fast in the hand, and the Nurse going about to take it away, he began to cry, and to be so troubled at it, as for a last re­medy she was feigne to wash him, with the same in his hand.

Wherefore the mother being aduertised, to cleere and satisfy her selfe the better of the matter, opened his hand by force, and ta­king away the paper from him, they found there written the salu­tation of the Archangell Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, and that with so much more wonder of theirs, and of all the standers by, as they could lesse coniecture, how such a writing could come into his handes. The little Child in the meane tyme, with signes neuer cea­sed to reach after it, and to cry and sob for the same, vntill to quiet him they were forced to yield it him againe: and he not to haue it taken away any more, putting it in his mouth, on a sudden swal­lowed it vp. This same, as we say, was held of the wise, and of men of good vnderstanding, for a great and certaine presage of ce­lestiall knowledge, and of the rare vertues, which in progresse of tyme were to ripen in Thomas: it being not likely that a child in the swath-bands, without diuine operation could be so enamoured with the words, which were the beginning and fountayne of all the mysteryes of the new law, and of Christian piety.

Nor this signe only of future fruites, was seen in that noble bud, but as often as a booke, or ought els but like to a booke, was pre­sented to his sight, with childish endeauour he would reach after it, and take it in his hand, turning it vp and downe, and looking on it without end; so as to comforte him, when need was, and to still him and dry his teares, there was no more efficacious way, then to put a paper or booke into his hands, to play withall. A midst such hopes, being now arriued to fiue yeares old, that he might be the better conserued in purity and vertuous manners, he was according to the laudable customes of those tymes giuen to the ve­nerable Monks of Monte Cassino, to be trayned vp: vnder whose care were likewise many children of Lords and Princes besides. Not had the Maister any difficulty at all, to direct this happy plant vnto immortall and diuine things; since the child of his owne accord, shewing himselfe to be aliened from base thoughts, and from all curiosity whatsoeuer, did euen tyre him with high and profound [Page 319] questions, whereof one was, to demaund often, what God was? Besides that, keeping himselfe from company of the lesse modest & deuout, he would voluntarily recollect himselfe, with the wiser & more prudent sort, and more addicted to spirit: yea it is affirmed for certaine, that euen at that tyme, he would spend two houres of the day, in sundry deuotions, and yet not fayle to be at schoole, or to do whatsoeuer the Maister appointed him besides. In breife, out­stripping his yeares by many degrees, with his iudgement he be­came a patterne of indust [...]y, of obedience, and of all goodnes.

Whereupon the Ab [...]ot of Monte Cassino, for feare least Count Landolph & Theodora, should transferre him from the arts of peace, to those of warre, as they had allready done with the other two elder sonnes of theirs, very instantly perswaded them, that they would not smother such a wit in the tumultuous exercises, & occupations of chiualry, and depriue the world, and the Church of so great a help, as such beginnings without doubt seemed to promise them. Great was the authority of the Abbot with all men, nor lesse ef­ficacious were the reasons alleadged by him. Thomas his age (which as yet not passed ten yeares) afforded a large field for great desig­nes. The neighbour Citty of Naples, being the auncient and gra­cious receptable (as Strabo testifyes) of sublimer witts, and [...] the liberall arts, being in loue with so great a Student, seemed as it were, ambitiously to stretch forth the armes, to inuite and enter­tayne him.

All these occasions, through diuine disposition concurred to­gether, to mantayne Thomas so studious of speculation and learning: so as being cōueighed from the Country to the Metropolis, & from grāmer to the grauer studyes, vnder famous Doctours, he studyed the Mathematikes, Logike, and Philosopy, with such profit as in short tyme, his name began to resound through the whole Vni­uersity, extolling with the lustre of his Bloud, and splendour of his parents, the singular qualityes and rare ornaments of his person. At which glory afforded him, was yet the wise and chast youth not puffed vp a whit, but rather endeuoured he with all force, to stand firme in the knowledge and meane esteeme of himselfe, and amidst what varieties so euer of human accidents, to hold his inten­tion fixed and centered in God only: and by how much more knowledge he got of the Creatour by the meanes of creatures, and from Tyme learned Eternity, & from transitory things the stable [Page 320] and eternall, so much greater desire was enkindled in him, to se­quester himselfe from the vulgar, and with a generous contempt of the world, of purpose to attend to the contemplation of the first cause, & to cultiuate wholy that part of himselfe, which he knew to be more worthy, and more like vnto God. Such was the end & scope of the good youth, but in the election of the meane, he could not yet resolue, but remayned in the same perplexity, vntill a cleare day was added to the vncertaine light of the passed inspira­tions, through the occasions we shall presently declare.

How S. Thomas enters into the Family of the Dominicans; and how he beares himselues therein. Chap. 2.

THe sacred Order of the Fryars Preachers, now flourished in those dayes, that was founded by the glorious Father S. Domi­nicke, and there were, euen at that tyme also, as euer after haue been, many men of excellent learning and singular vertue amongst them. Now S. Thomas hauing friendship with one of these, namely with Iohn of S. Iulian, began ingenuously to conferre with him of his stu­dyes and labours. Whereupon being often present at his disputes, & discourses, and of others of the same Family, he came by little and little to affectionate himselfe to their Institu [...]e, while it seemed to him, he could no wayes better imploy the talents he had from God, then in the company of men wholy giuen to the extirpation of He­resies, and defence, and exaltation of the Catholike Fayth. But per­happs the better to examine his spirit, or not to trust to much too himselfe, he differred (as the vse is) his resolution yet longer. When Iohn easily perceiuing what the noble youth reuolued in mind, he determined to spurre him on, & with good opportunity sayd to him one day: It seemes to me Thomas, when I cast myne eyes vpon thee, and thy labours, and trauayles, thou aspirest to no vayne, or transitory rewards: but if thou wilt attayne thy purpose, Know assuredly my Sonne, that perfect wisdome and true felicity, is not got amidst the distractions, intrications, & labyrinths of the world. The recollection of the soule, and the repose and solitude, which are found in Religious, is the next disposition to apprehend the truth with, and to receiue continually new rayes and influences from heauen. This way, as you well know, haue the greatest lights of Christendome held; who sequestring themselues from busynesses [Page 321] and po [...]rbātions, & cares, haue attended to Philosophize in good earnest, nor haue reguarded any more the peoples ta [...]ngs, then the bawling of so many Curres. Wherefore do thou also with like ex­amples not fayle to disentangle thy selfe. This habit heere now ex­pects thee a good while, and if thou resoluest but to accept the same, my mind giues me, nor am I a whit deceiued, that by thy meanes our Lord will worke some notable exployt.

Such was the first assault and battery which Iohn gaue him, and not in vayne. Since that finding now at first the walls to be shaken with this discourse, he proceeded on to leuell them with the earth, and to take all obstacles quite away: and S. Thomas easily conuinced, gaue vp the hold, saying: Father, I would not haue you thinke me to be so cold, and so poore a louer of the chiefest good, as that the peoples talke, or any other respect whatsoeuer, should put me off, from following it with all my forces. Your exhortation, hath not found me alienated a whit, from such manner of designes, since now already I haue thought with my selfe long since, to retire me. And now only to resolue of the place, I had need of some louing directi­on, and prudent counsayle. To which office of charity, since it hath pleased our Lord to make vse of your person, assure your selfe I re­ceiue your words, as come from the Holy Ghost. Whence I pray, let there be no delay made: Doe you deale with the Superiours, for I will not depart hence, til the busynes be concluded. Iohn could haue wished for no better newes. Soone shall you be satisfyed, re­plyed he then; and going in hast to the Priour, without any dif­ficulty, but rather with a great deale of ioy of the whole Conuent, he brought the busynes begun, to a very good passe; and Thomas was put into the habit, with the due ceremonyes, being then of seauenteene yeares of age.

Now seeing himselfe, to be thus shut vp in the Monastery, & esteeming himselfe to be sufficiently fenced against the clamours of his freinds, and Citty: considering the state he had entered into, he began to frame his life, according to the obligement of his vo­cation; holding it a great scorne if after the leauing of such hopes in the world, he should not so carry himselfe in Religion, as euery one should not rest satisfyed of the course he had vndertaken. Then partly through the internall motiues, which he felt in his breast, partly the exteriour examples & aduices of the Fathers with whom he liued, he went on more encouraged euery day, not to forflow [Page 322] any thing, that might any wayes promote him to the top of perfe­ction, which he had proposed to himselfe. And howbeyt in ech vertue through diuine grace, and with the continual vse of prayer, he laboured to become excellent, yet with particuler application he endeuoured to goe forward in holy humility, as well for ack­nowledging it to be the Mother of all good, as also in seeing an ex­traordinary necessity imposed vpon him, to shew forth himselfe more meeke and humble to all, by how much the ornaments and habilityes he had receiued from God, were more apt to moue enuy, and to make him more haughty and proud. And forasmuch as he well knew, there was no more direct, and speedy way for the a­foresaid vertue, then the perpetuall subiection and mortification of the proper will & iudgment, he gaue himselfe to obserue obedience aboue all things: and euen from the first beginning so ordered he, & composed the mind, as that neither in words nor deeds, would he once digresse from the Superiours dictamens, nor from the orders, and rules of his Religion: and therefore he attended to read them, as he might euery moment without difficulty be putting them in practise. Besides which, knowing how important sobriety and ab­stinence were to restrayne passions, and to conserue the vnderstan­ding cleere, and quick-sighted, he determined to giue no place to superfluous nourishment & sleep; whence, eyther the flesh might kick through too much pampering, or the mind be ouercast with fumes and vapours. Finally, he euer abhorred all idlenes, not suf­fering any houre vnfruitfully to passe away, and leauing withall, as litle place as might be to the temptations, and subtilityes of the ancient Enemy.

Theodora the Mother heares of S. Thomas his entry into Religion; & labour [...] to draw him from it, by all meanes possible. Chap. 3.

IN the meane tyme Count Landolph dyed, after he had suffered many troubles and losses, for defence of the Sea Apostolike, by Frederick the Emperour: who being now with his army in Tuscany, vnderstanding of the death of the Count, sent for his two eldest sonnes, the one called Arnold, the other by the name of his Father, Landolph; and vnder the shew of honourable seruice in warre, kept them for hostages, that in defending the cause, and part of the Pope, they might not follow their Fathers steps. The widdow Theodor [...] [Page 323] being now in these tearmes in the Citty of Aquinas, had newes of the election of life, which her sonne Thomas had made in Naples; and remembring withal the prophesy of the good Hermit, she endeuou­red to satisfy her selfe, with what the diuine prouidence had or­dayned: yea she began to render thanks to God for it, as became a Christian, and vertuous woman; but was enflamed notwithstan­ding with such a burning desire, to behold and imbrace her desi­red sonne, as without delay she trauailed to Naples, with the mind (as the writers say) to examine the counsails of the young man, and that if she found them to be reasonable, and well grounded, to en­courage him to perseuer in the diuine seruice, rather then to alie­nate or diuert him any manner of wayes.

Neuerthelesse, the Dominican Fathers, not to expose so new and worthy a subiect to the hazard of his vocation, vnderstanding of the Countesse comming, made hast to send him to Rome; from thence to passe vnto Paris. When Theodora had notice thereof, it cannot easily be expressed what anger and disdayne she conceiued for it, and laying all other thoughts aside, she posted to Rome; and not finding her deere pledge there neyther, she presently wrytes to her sonnes in the Campe, to send forth assoone as may be, to way-lay the Roman passage, and apprehending their Brother on his way to France in a Fryars habit, by any meanes to send him to her. This message to those Souldyers (who as yet had heard no­thing of the newes of S. Thomas) was both sudden, and vngratefull to them. They being no lesse enflāmed with choler then the Mo­ther was, with the Emperours consent, they went scouring the Country with a good band, vntill by diuine permission, they found the Pilgrim, through wearines of the iourney sat downe with fowre others, at a cleere fountayne somewhat neere the Bourge of Aquapendente, and running furiously vpon him, first they tryed to pull away his habit, by force; but that not becoming them to doe, they tooke him lastly, and sent him bound to his Mother: who receiuing him with sighs and sobs, caused him to be carryed for the present to Rocca secca (a place that was seated, on the top of a hill neere to Aquinas) to see if heereafter, with more leasure, she might draw him to her designes.

This boldnes of Theodora, and of her elder Sonnes, with reason displeased the Pope, when he heard the same from the Fathers of S. Dominicke, and would surely haue proceeded against them with [Page 324] censures & excommunications, if the sayd Religious for auoyding scandall, and to shew themselues rather to be friends of peace, had not pacifyed the matter, in leauing all to the diuine iustice. But Theodora yet not contented with what she had done, being retur­ned to her countrey, beginns afresh to lay a cruell assault against S. Thomas, saying among other thinges, that which followes: When thy Father of happy memory, and I thy vnfortunate Mo­ther first sent thee to Monte Cassino, and afterwardes to study at Na­ples, we had verily thought, that the conuersation of such, euen so held in esteeme for sanctity and learning, as the Fathers of S. Benet were, and the others of S. Dominicke, would haue bred and nouri­shed in thee nothing but piety and reuerence due to a Mother, at least humanity and discretion, to be shewed of right to euery one: but now with these deportements of thyne, thou makest me doubt that these new Orders insteed of meeknes and ciuility do but teach men to put on the habit of fiercenes & cruelty: yet when I am pre­sent at their preachinges, I do heare them commend both with rea­sons, and with authority of sacred Scriptures, the obseruance, and honour due vnto Father and Mother, and the care which euery one ought to haue of their domestiques. If these moderne Deuines, to purchase in publique an opinion of sanctity, and in secret to at­tend to their priuate interests, do but celebrate Mercy in the Pulpit, and in their Cell approue inhumane, rigours, and of harsh manners, and if so it be with them; then surely it is to be thought a goodly sanctity to lye so in the Pulpit, to deceaue the Auditours, & with trim and colourable speaches of piety to inueagle and entice the vnwary youth, to make them afterwardes in Cloysters, to become very sauage and brutish, arming them, and setting them on against their owne Mothers, sometymes more iust and timourous of God, then euen the Preachers themselues.

And likewise if it be true, as I haue alwayes vnderstood, that to haue respect to Parents, both by diuine Law and naturall instinct, be straightly imposed on euery man; what excuse canst thou seeme to alleadge, my Sonne, for not casting thyne eyes hi­therto, on so great calamityes, as now haue partly happened to me, and partly also, are likely to arriue anew, and euen hang ouer my head? Tell me? Where is thy Father, who hath left me a Wid­dow, surcharged so with yeares, amidst so grieuous stormes & ad­uersities? Where are thy Brothers, who being accused for being [Page 325] too fauourable, and followers of the Pope, are violently detayned by Cesar? Yet so great losse, and miseries might in some manner be suffered by me, if there were but any hope yet left vs of better. But these differences which raigne so betweene the Emperour and the Pope, and the sinister conceit, wherein we are with the most po­tent and stronger part; alas, how I feare it will redound at last, to an vtter ruine of our house, and our whole Citty. One comfort only remayned vnto me, in thy person, while thy wisedome and rare partes seemed to promise me, they would shortly rayse thee to so high an estate and dignity, as thou only mighst suffice to remedy all these losses and perills. But most vnhappy we, that euen we applyed thee to study and deuotion, while now thou art become an idle spectatour only of the calamityes, and troubles of thy dis­consolate Mother, Brothers, Parents and Friends, and lastly of the flames and ashes of all the afflicted countrey. To which I see well thou art likely to giue vs some goodly succour surely, with those horrid garments I see vpon thee, and with thy flying so, into the dens of France, there to reioyce thee, and to laugh at our death and Exequies.

The Answere of S. Thomas to his Lady Mother. Chap. 4.

THese words Theodora accompanyed with weeping, and anger withall, but yet not entring into menaces, hoping that her Sonne being mooued to pitty would be able to make no more resi­stance against her. But he being resolute and firme as a tower, did seeke indeed to comfort her, but as farre as duty would and no fur­ther, and gaue her accompt of his doings in the manner following. If so many ruines as you say Madame, are like to befall our house, neyther you nor I can tell which way to remedy them, since for the future it rests in the hands, and will of God. Nor to me appeares, we are to expect so much euill frō the diuine Goodnes: & if in very deed our sinnes, and those of our Country seeme to merit the same, what better meane can I take, to pacify the Heauenly wrath, then to dispoyle me of my selfe, and to offer me vp as a full and perfect Holocaust to his Eternall Maiesty? If I should haue remayned with you in the world, or now returne to it a new, what should I doe but increase with my presence your misfortunes, laments, & woes? And is it possible that our Citty should be reduced into so il tearmes, [Page 326] as that the only safety thereof, should be [...]ounded in a poore youth, of little knowledge and of no experience at all? And yet when ne­cessity shall require it, I shall be ready to succour it with my life and bloud.

But where are the flames? where the fires you exaggerate so much? For my part I do see none present, nor do I know whence they are like to come. And if indeed (as I sayd) they were to be feared so, for our owne sinnes; it rests not in my power but in Gods only, to exempt vs from them. And when you would rely on hu­man succours, haue you not other Sonnes, as more auncient in yeares, so of much more prudence and worth then I? Are they not continually with the person of the Emperour? Who, supposing he haue some suspition of our bloud, yet will it be no hard matter, for them with their seruice and loyalty (which is wont to soften & re­lent euen Beares and Lyons) to pacify him so, that his ill conceipt may turne to a good opinion agayne, and his hatred be conuerted into grace and protection. Nor would I haue you say heere, Ma­dame, that I am quite depriued of affection and of common sense, and that from the Seruants of God I haue learned to be in human & sauage: these are but fables meerly. I contemne not your sighes, I take no pleasure (as you please to say) in your tribulations and af­flictions. God calls me another way, him must I needs obey rather then men: and you consider not the great danger, the while, you put me into, through your so obstinately opposing his holy will. And since you tearme me hard and sauage, for sequestring my selfe from the snares of the world, what manner of loue shall I call yours? how pious, how benigne, how motherly, so to pull me from the midst of the hauen of tranquility, to expose me to the ra­ging winds and furious tempests of the world? But in summe, you deceiue your selfe Madame, if you thinke with your artificiousnes to draw a soule into basenes and mire, that hauing through the grace of God already tasted some fruite of the spirit and true vertues, hath now at last in scorne and loathing what pleasures soeuer the sense and flesh can promise. And well may you with violence retayne this body of mine with you, and make it consume in prison: but that euer the mind should be aliened from Religion, and should lay aside this poore habit, and courser garments, while I breath you shall neuer obtayne the same.

The perswasions vsed by S. Thomas his sisters. His answere to them, and what followed thereof. Chap. 5.

VVIth this so free discourse of S. Thomas, the Mother now satisfyed, that by way of perswasions, or prayers, she should profit but little; so as being much exasperated thera [...], with an angry contenance she betakes her selfe to protestations & threats: but finding him continually more constant and impregnable, very sad and heauy she parts from him, leauing him still shut vp in the Rock with a good guard. A litle after to [...]ee if the enterprise would succeed better with others, she commaund two daughters of hers of sharp wits, and of excellent speach to goe vnto him, and to try by all meanes to bow that obdurate hart. Nor stayd they a whit (as the human Nature is more prompt to the execution of euill then good) to make tryall with all industry that might be. Apparelled then very sumptuously, and with the most gorgeous ornaments they had, they went both of purpose to see him, shewing them­selues with amourous lookes, and premeditated words, to mer­uayle much, how he could once let such a folly enter into his head, and by whom he had been so deceiued, and induced, as to forget his greatnes so much, and the splendour of his so illustrious and an­cient a Family, of so many and so famous Predecessours of his. He should consider a litle, if the habits and habitation [...] of the meane, base, and obscure people, become persons of so noble bloud: if it were sufferable, that a yonge man elected by God, for high enter­prises and affayres, to gouerne states, to rule vassalls, with so much dishonour of him, and his freinds and parents, should goe hide and bury himselfe in cloisters. And therefore by all meanes, he should chaunge his mind, and turne the same, to take to himselfe some noble and bewtifull Spouse, to liue (as men of iudgment doe) ac­cording to decorum, and to procure by all meanes, the greatnes & glory of the house of Aquinas, for these were atcheiuements worthy of him.

At which suggestions of theirs S. Thomas fetching a deep sigh: Cease, answered he, from such vanityes, for you are not to deale heere with a Reed, to be shaken with euery wind, but with a Re­ligious man and seruant of Christ. The noble bloud you so much vaunt of, if not accompanyed with solid vertues and diuine grace, [Page 328] is no more then a foolish fantasy? And where the goodnes & friend­ship of God is found, what need is there of nobility of birth? As for the exteriour habit, I haue a great deale more occasion to see you, or rather to bewayle you, to behold you so braue and gallant as you be. And know you no [...] how this quaint workeman-ship of yours, springs but from the diuell▪ & serues for nothing else, but to put the honesty of body and soule in hazard? And much better is it, vnder a poore, and course mantle, to couer a can did and pure spirit, then with superfluous ornaments of the body to shew a mind not so Christian or modest as it ought? And it appeares, Sisters, you re­gard not so much the eyes of Christ, as those of men. And this per­happs were a lesse euill, if together with humane arts heere, were not mingled also the diabolicall. You see not the spots which by this māner, you put vpon the soule, & thinke belike, you wretches as you are, with your silks, gold, and iewells, to deceiue the [...]ight of the most holy Trinity, and of all the heauenly Court. And what suppose you at last to deriue from terrene loue, but a perpe­tuall succession of sorowes and troubles?

Looke vpon our Mother, in what torments she is now, & how vnhappy a life she confesseth she leades. Let her goe on, forsooth, gathering the sweete fruites of the world, and do you follow her li­kewise if you will, hauing still before your eyes the continuall pu­nishments she hath, and the infinit dolours she feeles. These are the gaynes your worldly industryes procure you. To this finally, doe those dressings of the body point; to those proud thoughts of vayne glory▪ of vayne nobility, of vayne honour. I would to God, he would so open your eyes a litle, as that transcending the heauens and starres, they might penetrate into the inmost bowers of the blessed spirits, where you should behold, very liuely tragedyes of your perdition, and folly, most perfectly represented. And if in that fortunate number, were some of our Auncestours to be found, whose [...]ame you seeme to extol so much, whence thinke you▪ would they receiue a more gratefull and sweete spectacle, eyther of me, that labour withall my forces to imitate them, and who therefore treading vnder foot all mortall care, and contemning all human reputation, & g [...]t with this habit to be able more freely to follow their stepps; the of you, who forgetting their examples, do spend the time in chats, & attend to flesh, without any reckoning of the soule, and doe seeme to giue your selues to nothing els, then to kindle [Page 329] your selues an euerlasting fire?

With this discourse accompanyed with truth & spirit, S. Thomas did so mortify the boldnes of his Sisters, as for shame they held their peace. And the one of them being touched with partic [...]er feeling, afterwards continued a good life, and holy conuersation, vntill such tyme as moued by God, imitating her Brother she made a vow of Religion, and being reclused in a monastery of the Nunnes of S. Benet of Capua, laudably perseuered therein vnto her death. But S. Thomas in the meane tyme making a vertue of necessity, & a Cell of his prison, spent the tyme in prayer and study as he was wont, esteeming it to be no small happynes to him in those persecutions, to see occasions cut off, of wandering abroad, heere and there, & the distractions, which a more free, and common life would bring with them.

How S. Thomas is prouoked by his Brothers agayne; then tempted by a woman; and lastly escapes out of prison. Chap. 6.

S. Thomas continued not long thus quiet and secure, because Fre­derick the Emperour, being passed with his army into Puglia; the two Brothers, of whom we haue aboue made mention, vpon that occasion came to Rocca secca, renewing their auncient pur­pose, of diuerting S. Thomas, by all meanes possible, from his way begun: and since that neyther with terrours, nor flatteryes they could preuayle with him, being enflamed with rage, they doubted not furiously to teare off the sacred weed from his back, and leauing him so halfe naked in the place, they departed thence full of wrath and indignation. Then the disciple of Christ, taking compassion of their youthfull errour, & praying most earnestly for those soules, endeuoured to peece vp agayne the torne habit, the best he could with his owne hands, and thanking God for the victory obtayned, now returned agayne to his wonted occupations; when besides all expectation, he was surprized with a new assault, more fierce then euer; a wanton woman, set on by the Brothers, and brought in of purpose to tempt him: But he, as one that knew well the daunger of such manner of battayles, snatching suddenly a brand out of the fire, chased away that monster from his chamber, and shutting fast the doore, at the same instant drew a Crosse on the wal with the same stick, before which hauing prostrated himselfe, most [Page 330] humbly besought he our Lord, that if by chance that hellish fight had left in his imagination any manner of blot whatsoeuer, he would vouchsafe of his infinite mercy to take it away quite, and to graunt him besides so much help and fauour, as he might be able very perfectly to preserue his chastity to his death, which in Re­ligion he had deuoutly promised.

The diuine eares were not deafe, vnto so iust & seruent prayers. The Champion of Christ thereupon being growne very weary, fell into a short sleepe: when two Angells from heauen appeared to him, telling him his prayers were heard, & for a testimony the­reof, they guirded this loynes with a belt, so strongly, as that through payne therof crying out aloud, it made his keepers to enter, into him, to whom notwithstanding he would not discouer what had happened, as neyther reuealed he it afterwards to any others, vntill the article of his death, when it seemed to him, he was then obliged in cōscience not to bury so cleere an act of the diuine good­nesse in perpetuall obliuion. But after that accident, if some great necessity for the glory of God or behoof of the neighbours required it not, he kept himselfe wholy from all couersation with women, as from basiliskes, and serpents.

For two whole yeares he had now been shut vp in that prison; at the end whereof Theodora, being now growne weary, & partly also being gauled with touches of her conscience, calling for some of the Fathers Preachers vnto her, she secretly gaue order to them to come at a certaine houre of the night, vnto the foot of the wall against the chamber of S. Thomas, and that he descending by a cord from the window, or a false ladder, they might carry him away in the name of God. The occasion of this secrecy was, as well the feare of offending her other Sonnes, if without their consentes he had been openly let goe, as the respect of her owne reputation, which seemed to be in danger, if after so many contentions, and so much adoe, her sage practizes should manifestly be vanquished at last, by the constancy and reasons of a youth only. For this enter­prize Iohn of S. Iulian was chosen, whome we mentioned aboue, being the deer father & Maister of S. Thomas, & who heertofore tru­ly was wont by the tacite consent of Theodora to visit him in prison. By this man, and other his companions being led away to Naples, not without the common Iubiley of all, from thence they sent him to Rome, by order of Superiours, and from Rome in company [Page 331] of the Generall of the Dominicans he went to Paris; and from thence againe within few monthes, being sent to Colen, he began with great contentment, to heare Albertus Magnus, holding it to be no small happynes to him to haue met with so famous and excellent a Maister, and with so cleere a glasse of all religious vertues.

S. Thomas is graduated, and made Maister of the Chayre: and how he ca­ryes himselfe therein. Chap. 7.

BY occasion of such a Doctour, S. Thomas gaue himselfe to heape vp new treasures of wisedome, and to attend the better to so noble a purchase. He imposed on himselfe in the meane tyme, a Pithagorean silence, in so much as he was come into contempt for the same with the rest of his fellowes in the schoole, & was brought into such a conceipt amongst them of a slow and grosse capacity, as by a surname they called him the dumbe Oxe. But the diuine Proui­cence suffered not so rare a light of wit, should be hidden long. It came into the mind, to some of the more curious, with diuers de­mands to tempt the vnknowne learning of the youth, & to breake in some sort that pertinacious silence of his. There was explicated at that tyme in Schooles the booke of S. Denys Areopagita, de Diuinis nominibus, a very high matter, and full of deep mysteryes. Vpon the lessons S. Thomas then being cunningly examined by more thē one he gaue such accompt thereof beyond all expectation, both by his pen, and by word of mouth, that Albertus would needs oppose, and proue him also; ordayning in the first disputations, he should be Respondent in very difficult questions.

This did S. Thomas refuse at first, of his innated modesty. But Albertus continually making more instance, he thought good, to resist no longer: and recommending himselfe first very humbly to our Lord God as he was wont, he answered after, with such a­cumen of wit, and with so much dexterity withall, as that Alber­tus being full of astonishment exclaymed at last: Thomas, thou see­mest to me rather a Moderatour, then a meere Respondent. And thereu­pon turning to the Auditory. My Maysters (sayd he) you call him a dumbe Oxe, but certainely he shall one day giue forth such lowings, as shall be heard throughout the whole world. With his so cleere a testimony made so publiquely of him, it was not possible for him any more, to remayne eyther retired or silent; but yet he alwayes conserued [Page 332] himselfe farre from any arrogancy at all: whence he came euery day to be so much the more admirable to all, and was by vniuer­sall consent held no lesse then a Saint. Thus being in Colen for some tyme, he was by the instance of Albertus Magnus, recalled to Paris by the Generall of the order, there to take the degree of Bache­lour vpon him. To which degree being promoted against his will, they applyed him presently to expound the Maister of Sentences; wherein (hauing kept for this intention very strict vigils, and fasts, and made his prayer) he came off with it in such manner, as that the Rectour of the Studyes, determined very soone to make him a Maister in Theology, with all the solemnity that might be.

S. Thomas vnderstanding thereof, and esteeming himselfe very farre vnworthy of that name, began afresh to find excuses, and to alleadge particulerly his age, which as yet had not finished the thirtith yeare, yet for all that he was fayne to obey. And in such extremity of his, recurring (according to custome) to the armes of prayer, he begins to craue the succour of the Almighty God; vn­till such tyme as being once perplexed, among other things, about the Theme he should take in that publike act, a venerable old man appeared to him in sleep, and sayd to him: What aylest thou Thomas, that thou weepest, and so afflictest thy selfe in this manner? He answered, they enforce me to take the name & office of Maister vpon me, wherto I know my selfe, to be insufficient: and being among other things at the beginning to make a discourse, I know not what Theme to take. Then, replyed the old man: Be of good cheer my Sonne: It is the will of God that thou accept the degree. For Theme thou shalt take that verse of the Psalme, Rigans montes de superioribus suis, & de fructu operum tuorum satiabitur terra. That sayd, the old man vanished, and S. Thomas yielded many thanks to God, for being so benignly comforted by his immense goodnes. Being now made Maister, he went forward in explicating the sa­cred Theology with great applause, hauing alwayes an eye to the profit, & capacity of the schollers, rather then to his owne reputatiō or proper gust. In his manner of interpreting he had an easy, cleere, and distinct methode. He fled new opinions, and the vnusualf manner of phrases and words. In disputes, he kept himselfe from moderate contentions, and extranagant acts or clamors, maturely yeilding to others obstinacyes or pertinacityes, and choosing rather for the glory of God, and edification of the Neighbour, to appeare [Page 333] sometymes lesse learned, then little modest. Wheresoeuer he read, but especially in Paris, and in Rome, he had alwayer his Schoole very flourishing, both for number and quality of hearers, Doctours, Bishops, Cardinals: and it is a notable thing, that with all the cre­dit and authority he had gotten, yet neuer slacked he his dilgence, being otherwise one of so great a naturall wit, as he had few his e­qualls, and of so happy a memory withal, that in a manner, as often as he had but once seene any thing, he would faythfully retayne it for euer; and of such vigour of mind, as that which is recounted of some Ancients for so admirable a thing, he would yet doe more in dictating, in diuers matters, vnto three or foure Scribes at once, & yet that rich floud of wisedome would neuer be diminished.

Of S. Thomas his Speculations in studyes: with his Rapts, and Extasies in Spirit. Chap. 8.

IT would be too long, and a superfluous thing to make heere a Catalogue of his workes so many, and of so great note, wher­with he confirmed the Catholike fayth, & rooted out, and opprest many heresies, partly increased already, and partly new growne vp: ech state and quality of persons he would instruct with holsom aduises and precepts, and finally illustrated the sacred Thology, and brought it againe to its ancient dignity, reducing and submit­ting all other sciences to its Empire, which through the fault of some impious Sophisters seemed heeretofore to dissent and rebell, from it. But as he would touch the point in euery matter, so he see­med to haue a speciall grace, in treating of the most excellent Sa­crament of the Altar, and not only in Prose, but in Latin time also, according to the customes of those tymes; in so much as for the e­minent doctrine and piety contayned therin, the Catholike Church euen to this day, singes no other Office, or Masse on the day of the great solemnity of Corpus Christi, then that which he composed, at the instance of Pope Vrban the IV.

And it is most certaine, that in Naples, being once much ele­uated in mind, and present in person before a Crucisix, our Lord spake to him in that image: VVell hast thou written of me, Thomas; VVhat reward then wouldst thou haue? VVhen he answered: surely nothing, O Lord, but thyne owne selfe. Two notable parts concurred in the glorious Doctour, which are hardly coupled together; as quicknes [Page 334] in apprehension, and patience in speculation. Forasmuch as he not only acutely penetrated and distinguished at once, but would also diue into the deeper inuestigations, as that very often he would come to loose his senses. When on a tyme, being in such an abstra­ction, a cole of fire, lighting on his leg, and agayne the flame of the candell, which studying he held in his hand, euen touching his flesh, a prety while, he stirred not awhit, nor was moued any more thereat then a meere stone.

That same likewise was memorable, which happened to him, at a Feast with S. Lewys King of France, at such tyme as he wrot that noble Summe against the Gentils: in which matter he was then so absorpt, as that amidst the Royall dishes of the King, forgetting himselfe and the standers by, he suddenly cryed out: The Manichies are conuinced; and seeming to him, that he was in his Cell, cal­led to Fryar Reginald his companion, to dictate to him as he was wont. But after awaked by the Dominican Priour who sate by him and crauing pardon with some confusion, he was comforted and excused by the wise King, at whose beck one was suddenly called that might faythfully note those new conceipts. Nor les [...]e memo­rable was the excesse, which he suffred towards the end of his life, remayning in the Castle of his Sister, where he was for three dayes abstract, as it were, from his body, and returning on the last to himselfe agayne, he confessed to the aforesayd Reginald (but vnder the seale of a secret, vntill his death) that he had notice of [...]ore things and of more excellent misteryes in that space only, then euer he had in all the labours, & watches he had endured till that tyme.

And surely is it not to be past ouer in silence, that he being a­dorned with so great guifts by nature, and besides that, so great a friend to labour, yet to make new profit euery day in sciences, he depended so much on God, as that before his entring vnto study, he would allwayes recommend himselfe very ardently to the eter­nall wisedome, as if he had expected all successe from heauen only, and by no other wayes. An industry truly, very worthy to be imitated of ech Student: Because that such as without hauing re­course to God more then so, do confide & in their proper guifts, by how much they goe forward, and proceed in learning, so much are they puffed vp in their soules; in such wise, as being thence blinded whence they might haue had light, they stumble them­selues, and draw others withall into their miserable errours and pe­pestiferous [Page 335] opinions. But the Angelicall Doctour (as I sayd) did quite the contrary, nor was he deceiued awhit of his hope: since many conclusions, being otherwise doubtfull and obscure, by this only way he drew forth from the deep abysse (as they say) of truth, as we shall cleerely make appeare by the example following.

The Saint explicated the oracles of Esay, and being come vnto a passage, whence by human help he could no wayes acquit him­selfe; according to his vse he recurred to diuine, and gaue himselfe to fast and pray for that intention, so many dayes (taking besides S. Peter and S. Paul for intercessours) as that those glorious Apostles at last one night appeared to him in his Cell, and there sweetly confer­ring with him, a prety while, put light into him, and so quit him of al perplexity. In the meane tyme, Fryar Reginald was in the ante-chā ­ber as he was wont, and though he heard the voyces, yet nothing vnderstood what they sayd. The vision then being vanished; S. Tho­mas called him in to write, and dictated the whole declaration to him, so largely, and without stop, as if he had been taking it forth of another booke in order. The dictates being ended; Reginald, who had heard confusedly the murmure aforesaid, did most ardently thirst, to haue a distinct notice thereof, and therefore lying prostrate on the earth, besought him not to hide or conceale it from him, and that with so much affect, and with so great instance withall, as the seruant of God (vnder the condition and seale as before) ingenuous­ly discouered it to him.

Besides that, this so frequent prayer anailed him much, to main­tayne his spirit alwayes very cheerefull and fresh, which of its na­ture with much speculation is wont to be arid and dry. Howbeit the holy man togeather with the assiduity of prayer, would vse also other potent and generous remedyes. Whereof the principall was, to approach to the foūtaine of all graces, the sacred Eucharist; wher­to he was so deuout, that besides his saying euery day Masse, he would afterwards humbly serue another. And as in preparing him­selfe to that banket of the Angells, he would add particuler study and attention; so after in rendring of thankes, he would suddenly be [...]pt into ex [...]sies, and being liquefyed in celestial sweetnesses, ere he were once aware thereof, would be wholy bathed in teares. He was exceeding sollicious moreouer, in procuring the protection and fauour of the Saints, and especially of the glorious Virgin and Martyr Ag [...]s, whose reliques he had alwayes hanging at his breast [Page 326] with so much fayth, as that one day touching Fryar Reginald there­with being dangerously sicke, he recouered him straight. He was wont also at tymes to help himselfe, with the reading affectuous & morall bookes, especially the Collations of Cassian; wherein he knew likewise the Patriarke S. Dominicke to be exceedingly versed, and to haue gathered thence incomparable helps for discretion of spirits, and solid vertues.

By which meanes, in so great an abundance of heauenly guifts, how he kept himselfe humble, and magnanimous both, through his whole life (being qualities not so disioyned from themselues, a [...] some thinke, but deere companions rather, and indiuiduall Sisters) may be easily gathered, by the acts that immediately follow.

Some notable Acts of Humility of S. Thomas, with the like; and particularly his deuotion for the soules in Purgatory. Chap. 9.

SAint Thamas now ripe for glory and age, by this tyme passed to the Cloysters of Bologna, addicting himselfe to most deep consi­siderations: when a certaine Fryar, new come from forren parts, & hauing leaue of the Priour, to goe forth into the Citty for some bu­sinesse with the first Companion he could meete with, by chaunce lighted on S. Thomas, not knowing him by sight, and willed him in behalfe of the Superiour, to goe a long with him: at which voyce, the Imitatour of Christ, as sent from an Oracle, not only obeyed without delay, but also being after not able to go so fast as the other, through a lame legge which he had, with incredible patience he suffered some rebukes for the same; vntill such tyme as being adui­sed by Seculars of the person whome he intreated so ill, being wholy confounded thereat, and excusing himselfe of his ignorance, very humbly craued pardon of him for it. Whereupon S. Thomas being demaunded of the same Gentlemen, wherefore he had so aba­sed himselfe, he made answere with a graue countenance: Religion (forsooth) consists in Obedience, and obedience for one man to submit him­selfe to another for God, since God himselfe for our sake would subiect himselfe to Man.

From another thing, we may likewise gather, the loue which the Saint had of his owne proper subiection; Which is, that he not only, in his owne Order, abstayned alwayes from Prelacy and go­uernement, but euen likewise abroad, being called by Pope Clement [Page 337] the IV. to the Archbishopricke of Naples, he so refused the same, as he supplicated withall, and as much as he durst tooke hold of the chiefe Bishop, beseeching him not to offer him any dignityes. What shall we say then of the regard and caution he had, not to attribute any good to himselfe? In so much as to the honour of Christ, and for the help of soules, vpon good occasion he confessed sincerely, being then of good yeares, amidst so much celebrity and humane prayses, so many Magistrall Chayres, so many Preachinges, lessons, disputes and so many publique Acts maintayned, and so great variety of compositions and labours, he had neuer felt in his soule the least gust, or complacence of Vaine-glory.

From this so chast a loue and feare of God, and from this care which the Seruant of Christ had of himself, sprung the fruit which he wrought with others; and from his conuersation in Heauen, followed his dealing securely with men. In his preachinges (as we haue sayd also of his Lessons) he attended more vnto profit, then pompe; he attempered himselfe to the reach of the people, and a­boue all, conformed his life with his wordes. Whence he came to be heard with so great concourse, veneration, and silence, as he had beene an Angell descended from Paradise. And sometymes our Lord God would concurre with euident miracles, as it happened once on an Easter day in the Citty of Rome at S. Peters, where he descending from the Pulpit, a certaine woman, now troubled and afflicted a long tyme with an incurable fluxe of bloud, approached vnto him in a presse of people, and touching him by the hemme of his Cloake with much fayth, she was immediatly made sound, and as strong as euer.

His priuate discourses also were of marueilous efficaay, wher­in he studyed alwayes to insert vpon good occasions, some thing of edification, and if perhaps in any graue matter, it were needfull to perswade, or to examine out the truth of any thing with reasons, there was hardly found any that were able to make resistance a­gainst him, as may easily appeare by the action following. Being once present at the feast of the Natiuity, for certaine occurrences, with the Cardinall Riccardo, at Molara, a place somewhat neare to Rome, there met also by good happe two Iewes, by how much richer in substance and more learned in the ancient Law, so much the more were they addicted to flesh, and more obstinate in their perfidiousnes. Hauing taken in hand then to treat with those two [Page 338] soules at the instance of the Cardinall, after an encounter had, with a long dispute, he conuinced them in such sort, that hauing both by accord taken the space of a night to thinke vpon it (while he in the meane tyme was praying for them) at last they yielded, and the infant Iesus now corporally borne in a vile manner, was spiritually borne anew in their hartes. So as repenting themselues of their life past, and comming forth of darknes into a cleare light, they were both baptized with the common ioy and gladnes of all.

This singular Man had a notable zeale of the saluation of all; but yet notwithstanding his familiar freindshipps were restrayned to few. One of his deerest and beloued was, the Seraphicall S. Bo­nauenture; & to this purpose it is recounted, that going once to visit him, at such tyme as the Saint was writing the life of S. Francis, finding him in an extasy, and with the body eleuated in the ayre; he stopt awhile, and turning to his companion sayd: Let vs suffer one Saint to work for another. One quality also was seen in him, very proper for perfect men, that he being so rigid & seuere to himselfe, was yet exceeding benigne and mercifull to those, that synned out of human frailty, in taking compassion vpon their defects, yea wee­ping also alike for them, as they were his owne. And besides had a pious and officious memory of the faythfull departed, so as his Sister, once being dead appeared to him in Paris, crauing succour at his hands to be deliuered from Purgatory. And he as well by him­selfe as others, afforded such helps, and suffrages togeather, as a litle after he being in Rome, she returned to him, to let him vnder­stand, that now she was quit of her paynes, & for euer blessed, be­holding the face of God. Vpon this occasion, S. Thomas required of her some newes likewise of his of two Brothers, both deceased: & she answeared, that Landulph continued yet in Purgatory, but Ar­nold reioyced now in heauen; and thou soone shalt be also in our company, but with a great deale more glory, for thy labours endu­red in the seruice of the holy Church.

The death of S. Thomas, with his funeralls, and what happened there upon. Chap. 10.

AS this great Seruant of God, had so much charity towards e­uery one, so he was ordinarily esteemed and loued by as ma­ny as knew him, but especially he was gratefull and acceptable, to [Page 339] three seuerall holy Popes, Clement the IV. Vrban the IV. & Gregory the X. The first whereof, as hath been sayd, endeuoured in vayne to make him Archbishop of Naples: the second helped himselfe much by him in writing things of great importance, and especially in confuting the errours of the Greeks: the third hauing intimated a Councell at Lyons in France for weighty necessityes of the Catho­like Church, among the cheife, called for S. Thomas thither; and heere with, not thinking thereof, he hastened his end, and the re­ward of his labours. Because being then at Naples, not wel disposed for health, to obey the Pope, he put himselfe on the iourney with­out delay: and being arriued at S. Seuerine a Castle of his Sisters, there fell sick. From thence, being yet not well recouered, sustay­ning the weakenes of his body with the forces of the mind, against the will of his deerest freinds, he went forwards, vntill such tyme as he fell into a relapse at Fossa noua, a place of the Cistercians in the Diocesse of Piperno, in so much as he felt (and so told Fryar Reginald in secret) that now approached his last day.

Heere he was receaued by the Abbot, and the other Monkes with the greatest Charity that might be, who the more they la­boured in curing and seruing him, in carrying among other things some fuell from the wood, on their owne shoulders, being then the tyme of winter, so much more was the sicke man sorry and trou­bled, to haue them suffer so much for his sake, saying with great feeling: And who am I, that the seruants of Christ, should trauaile so much for me? Nor would he likewise in that space be found to be idle, because at the instance of some of them, who desired some yssue of his noble wit, he briefely expounded the Canticles of Salomon, fore­seeing his passage out of this life, and aspiring vnto the Eternall Canticles. And for that now his forces began to fayle him, he de­uoutly required the most holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, which being brought by the Abbot, withall the Conuent, though now reduced to extremes, yet he leaped from his bed, and cast him­selfe on the ground with many teares.

Being afterwards demaunded (according to custome) if he be­lieued indeed the true Sonne of God, for our saluation borne of the Virgin, dead on the Crosse, and then risen agayne, to be contay­ned in the sacred Host, with a cleere and confident voyce he sayd: I wholy beleiue it, or rather more then certainely I know, this to be IESVS CHRIST true God, and true man, the Sonne of the eternall Father, and of [Page 340] the Virgin Mother. And as I beleiue it with a pure hart, so doe I also with sincere mouth confesse the same.

That sayd, very reuerently he receiued the Viatique, and the day following he craued the extreme Vnction, remayning all­wayes in his perfect iudgment, so as himselfe did answere very punctually to euery thing: and finally with hands vnited & lifted vp to heauen-wards, recommending his spirit to the Creatour, he happily departed, in the morning on the seauenth day of March, in the yeare of our Lord 1274. which was of his vocation the 32. & the 50. of his life. At this his passage, besides the Cistertians, were present many Dominicans and Franciscans, being come at that tyme to visit him from sundry Monasteryes. The Bishop of Terra­cina, likewise was there present. But the Nephew of the Saint, running thither at the report of his danger, now finding him de­parted this life, and being not able to enter into the Monastery, obteyned with much prayers, the sacred corps might be exposed at the gate that he might behold the same. Heere arose a great and vniuersall playnt for the losse of such a personage. Yea the writers doe affirme for certaine, that the beast it selfe which he was wont to ride on, breaking the halter by force wherewith he was tyed, ran thither at the same tyme also, to the Beere or hearse, and there in the presence of all, falling to the earth, fell suddenly dead. Whereat the standers by being astonished did glorify God, and carrying the body into the Church of S. Thomas, with such and so great veneration they buryed it, as cannot easely be xe­pressed, and that before the high aultar. He was of complexion very corpulent, though he were so strict an obseruer of fasts and ab­stinence. He was of a very delicate flesh, sensitiue, and conue­nient for the most excellent temperature of his organs; of stature straight and tall; of the colour of wheat; of eyes most modest; for strength robustuous, his head somwhat great, and bald in diuers parts.

Of two notable presages of S. Thomas his death before hand. Chap. 11.

SOme notable signes did prognosticate the death of this our Saint. Because, he lying at Naples, so indisposed as he was at first, be­fore his departure to the Councell, a most bright starre was seene by two honourable persons of the house of Coppa, who were then with [Page 341] him, to enter in by the window, and to rest a good while vpon the Saints head. Besides this, some three dayes before his death, appea­red a Comet ouer his Inne at Fossa-noua, and when he gaue vp the ghost the same vanished away. Moreouer at the very same houre that he was in his passage, a Dominican Father of great vertue, by name Fryar Paul Aquilin, in the Conuent of Naples, saw in his sleep, how S. Thomas reading in the same Citty vnto a great Auditory, S. Paul entred into the Schoole, with a great troupe of Saints in his company, and the Angelicall Doctour being willing to descend from the chayre, the Apostle commanded him to proceed in his les­son: and at last demaunding of the same Apostle, whether he had penetrated the sense of his Epistles or no; he answered: Very well truly, as much as humane vnderstanding in a mortall body can pos­sibly arriue to. But I wil lead thee into a place, where thou shalt vn­derstand them much better: and heere with taking him by the gar­ment he lead him out of the Schoole. And Fryar Paul began to cry out with a loud voyce: Help Brothers help, because Fryar Thomas is taken away. At which cryes of his, many in hast running in, & re­quiring wherefore, he declared vnto them the whole vision in or­der. The houre was noted, and diligent inquisition being made thereupon, it was found, that at that very instant the blessed soule departed from the body.

Many miracles afterwards of health, and of other supernaturall effects, ensued to the perpetuall prayse and exaltation of the Saint, which would be too long & superfluous to relate in this place. But howbeyt by such euents, is discouered in a manner the greatnes of the merits and rewards of the man of God; yet more euident testi­mony therof, gaue another vision, which Fryar Albert a Dominicā of Brescia had afterwards, being a man very famous alike both in san­ctity and learning. This man being giuen to the doctrine of S. Tho­mas, and much deuoted to his diuine vertues, had now a great while desired to know, what degree of glory he was to haue in Heauen. With this ardent desire, being once in prayer with teares, before an Aultar of the most Blessed Virgin, after many enflamed sighs and feruent prayers, there appeared at last two persons vnto him, no lesse venerable in aspect, then for ornament and splendour admi­rable: the one in Pontificalibus, with a Miter on his head, another with the habit of the Dominican Fathers, with two very rich chaines about their neckes, one of gold, the other of siluer, and a [Page 342] Carbuncle on the breast, which with its rayes did illumine the whole Church. The rest of the garments besides were powdred & beset with most noble Pearles, Diamonds and Rubyes.

Then he in the miter sayd: Brother Albert, what lookest thou on? I am Augustine, the Doctour of the Church, sent hither to let thee vnderstand the glory of Thomas of Aquine, who is now-heere present with me, in following the Apostolicall traditions, and il­lustrating the Church of Christ. That same so resplendant iewel which thou seest at his breast signifyes a most right intentiō, which he hath had continually in teaching and defending the Catholike fayth. Those other pretious stones heere and there, do shew the multitude and variety of bookes he hath written, and put to light for the help of soules. In summe we are both equall in the essential of glory; for the rest he exceeds me in virginall purity, and I him in Pontificall Excellency: which saying they vanished away. Of this singular chastity of the holy Doctour, besydes what hath been sayd allready, there appeared very euident signes thereof in his fu­neralls.

Of the diuers translations made of the holy Body of S. Thoma, and where it rested at last. Chap. 12.

A Litle after the corps of S. Thomas was enterred, the Abbot of Fossa-noua with others of the Conuent, fearing that such a treasure would be taken away from them, especially since Fryar Re­ginald, by Notary, & witnesses now had consigned him as in depo­sito; in the midst of the night, they secretly conueighed him into the Chapell of S. Steuen. But S. Thomas appeared to the Superiour in sleepe, threatning him much, if he carryed it not backe, into the place agayne. Whereupon being terrifyed, he went with some lay men vnto the sayd Chapell of S. Steuen, opened the sepulcher, from whence proceeded an odour so fragrant, as presently drew thither all the rest of the Monks, in whose presence, that chast lodging of the holy Ghost, was found to be wholy and throughout entire, together with the garments. Being a thing somuch the more to be wondred at, as the place was more humid, and the body (as hath been sayd) more full and corpulent. Replenished then with all consolation and meruaile atonce, they honourably conueighed him back where he was at first. And the day following hauing a [Page 343] scruple to sing the Masse of the dead for him, through diuine instinct they celebrated Masse, of a Confessour not Bishop.

This first ranslation was made 7. monthes after his death: he af­terwards was chaunged agayne more then once, while the same fragrancy continued still as before, as well to make he sepulcher more magnificent, as also to affoard others some part of the holy Reliques. One of his hands was graunted to his Sister, in whose O­ratory remayning a while, it was carryed to Salerno. The head was giuen to the Fryars Preachers of Pipern. It being after vnderstood that a wicked man went about to rob and to sell away the rest, the Count of Fondi preuented it, by taking it into his owne custody, & after that at the instance of his wife (who was therefore in sleepe very greiuously reprehended by the Saint) he consigned it to the conuent of Preachers, in the same Citty of Fondi.

The Monkes of Fossa-noua resented the iniury, and for the same hauing made many tymes complaints to the Sea Apostolike. Pope Vrban the V. at last to put an end to so great quarells and con­tentions, caused it to be transported from Fondi to Thoulouse in France to the end that Vniuersity (there newly founded by the Pope) might continually prosper vnder the shaddow of such a Prote­ctour. And this last Translation, was the most noble and solemne of all, as well for that now after a full and exact information, he was canonized by Pope Iohn the XXII. as also for the great num­ber of miracles, which in that Translation there followed anew. The greater part of the Bishops there, and Lewis Duke of Angiou, being the Brother of the King of France, with an infinite number of people, came to meet with, and receaue the sacred Pledge; by all which with great preparation and exquisite pompe, it was de­cently reposed at Thoulouse in the yeare of our Lord 1370. It hath preserued that Citty euen to these dayes from many perills of body and soule.

FINIS.

B. ANDREW. B.
THE ARGVMENT.

THE very Starre that's placed neere the Line
That parts vs from the other Hemisphere,
Through interposed vapours cleare doth shine,
When in our Zenith dimme it doth appeare:
Blinded, we slight heau'ns ioyes, which we might gaine
As well as earth, and with an equall paine.
I this perceyu'd, and learn't to rayse my hart,
And farre aboue such fain'd contents to soare;
I with the World, and with
His Mo­thers dream [...].
the Wolfe did part,
And tooke the Lambe, whome I contem'd before:
And borne by zealous loue ascend the skies
In fiery Carre, to
This Saint [...] C [...]
my Elias flyes.

THE LIFE OF B. ANDREVV BISHOP OF FESVLA.

Of the Parents of B. Andrew: with the miraculous pre­sage of his Birth, and first beginnings. Chap. 1.

AMONG the noble families of the renowned Citty of Florence, is Corsina worthily named for one, spread as we find, in other parts of Italy. Of this bloud Nicolas and Peregrina, being con­ioyned togeather with the holy band of Matri­mony, as they were both timorous and fearing God, and much frequenting Churches, & the sacred offices, had a great desire to offer vp to the high Creatour, and the most B. Virgin, the first-borne of their Progeny, to imitate in this point also, the piety of the ancient Patriarks, so much cele­brated in sacred Scriptures. Nor did any thing hinder them from fullfilling their vow then sterility, or want of fruit to present: from which being deliuered through the intercession of the same Virgin they at last had a sonne, in Baptisme called by the name of Andrew, for being borne on the feast of that glorious Apostle. But the day before his natiuity, for a cleare presage, as it were of thinges to come; it seemed to the Mother in sleep, that she was deliuered of [Page 346] a Wolfe, which turning into the Church, was by little and little transformed into a Lambe. At which apparition, though Peregrina remayned in some feare, yet made she no kind of demonstration thereof, but kept it secret vntill the tyme we shall speake of anone.

In the meane tyme, the faythfull parents trayned vp the child in learning, and much more in manners, with that care, as was fit for the yssue now dedicated already to the seruice of the Queene of Angells. But soone might be gathered in him without doubt, how prone to ech vice is human kind, without the particular ayde and stay of celestiall grace. Scarcely was he arriued to the vse of rea­son, when being enflamed within, by the ardours of concupiscence, and by the incentiues of the false Angell, and outwardly allured by sensible obiects, and lewd companyes; he began, from the straight and direct way of saluation, to bend to the spacious and large way of perdition, to abhorre vertue, to fly his studyes, to serue the belly, and dishonest pleasures, to follow the dissolute, to giue himselfe to pompes, to handle partly cards and dice, & partly also his sword, and armes prohibited, to moue often quarells, and to challenge now this man, and now that into the field, to wast the goods of his family, and to put himselfe continually into dan­gers both of body and soule.

These manners of his euen pierced the Parents to the hart, see­ming very vnfit for one, so conceiued through prayers, & brought vp for the seruice of the Mother of God. In the meane while they sought, now with allurements, and now with menaces, and a­gayne with reasons, to pull him back from the precipices he ran into, without stay, but all in vayne. The fierce youth had now shaken off the yoke, he champed the bridle, he scorned the rod, & finally became euery day more rebellious, and refractary then other. Yet for all this the diuine Clemency, would not suffer so ill a bud of so good rootes should eternally perish, but through meanes vnexpected reformed him on a sudden, in the height of his deba [...] ­shments. Because hauing once among other tymes, answered not only with contempt and contumacy to the holsome aduises of them that loued him so deerely, but euen also with iniuryes and outrages very impiously turning his back towardes them; Peregrina remem­bring her ancient dreame: Thou art surely (sayd she to him) that infamous wolfe, which in vision I seemed to bring forth into the world, when thou wast borne.

[Page 347] At the sound of which words, B. Andrew, as awaked through diuine operation, as it were from a deepe letargy, and returning to himselfe, stood still, and with voyce and countenance altered, turning himselfe to Peregrina: I beseech you, sweet Mother (re­plyed he) not to hide from me longer that monstruous prodigy, which you now intimated to me: whence how beyt on the one side I find my selfe terrifyed & astonished as stroke with a thunderbolt, yet me thinkes on the other, I doe feele my selfe to burne with so ardent desire, to know the full truth, as I shall neuer be at rest, vn­till you giue me a faythfull and distinct notice thereof.

Then the disconsolate Matron, being moued from the bottome of her hart, and now brought into some hope of amendment in her Sonne: Know thou, sayd she, my beloued Sonne, that after my es­pousals I liued many yeares without yssue, but with so great desire thereof, that to obtayne the same I promised and obliged, with so­lemne vow to the seruice of the diuine Maiesty and to his most holy Mother, the first Sonne that should spring from my wombe. Thy Father also concurred in the same vow with me, and with the same deliberation which I did. Nor was the remedy in vayne. The Conception followed, & now being neare to those pangs of child­birth, I dreamed I was deliuered of a Beast, which entring into the Temple in the figure of a wolfe, was changed into that of a lambe. The day following wast thou brought forth into the world. What thou hitherto hast shewed thy selfe to the world, thou knowst very well, and that surely no rational creature, but a sauage & rauenous wild beast. It were now high tyme thou conuertedst thy selfe, and helpedst vs in good order, to repay what we owe as debtours for thee. For neyther to Nicolas, nor Peregrina wast thou borne, but rather to the Virgin Mary. A wake then my Hart now, once at last, nor goe thou on so blotting that victime, that should liuing and cleane be presented to the highest. By these, & such other words, full of iust disdayne, and of most tender affect, through diuine power, that stony breast, was mollifyed and compunct at last, who casting his eyes with horrour on his actions past, became on a sudden to be a bitter accuser of himselfe. And finding no o­ther remedy, then to humble himselfe, to craue pardon, and to procure aduocates, he went the next day to the Carmelites, being a Family by an ancient Institute applyed to the honour of the most Blessed Virgin. Heere then being prostrate before her Aultar, [Page 348] as well for shame of his offences as feare of the punishments, with a blush and palenes enterchangeably, going and comming in his countenance, without motion of his lipps, and with deep sighes, he remayned a good while begging of succour, and mercy at her hands.

B. Andrew is conuerted frō his loose life, and enters into Religion. Chap. 2.

VVHyle B. Andrew was in that agony aforesaid, he was let see by diuine power, his debts to haue gone so farre, & growne to be so great, as there was no way to be acquit of them, but to change himself, & to leaue the world; & to deale with some creditour, so exact and rigid on the one side, who should sift out al what possible he might, without leauing a dram; and so magnani­mous and courteous on the other, that for so vnequall a payment, should giue not only a full acquittance, but an Eternity moreouer. The contrite yong man was not backward awhit to these heauenly consayls. He goes in all hast to Father Hierome Migorato Prouinciall of the Order, and beseeches him on his knees, he would be pleased to accept him into the number of his subiects, he being most resolute to leaue the world, & promptly to follow the Euangelical coūsails.

With this short manner of speach, so accorded his gestures and actions withall, as left no place of sinister suspitions to any. The holy and discreet Superiour notwithstanding, regarding the qua­lityes of so noble and delicate a subiect, partly to assure himselfe the better of his vocation, and partly also to auoyd all scandall; giuing good words for that tyme to the suiter, sends by an expresse messenger to certify Nicolas Corsino, & Peregrina his wife, how their Sonne Andrew had made great instance for Religion, and the ha­bit. More ioyfull tydings could not possibly arriue to the eares of the good and truly Christian couple. But both full of ioy and iubi­ley alike giue infinite thankes therefore to the diuine goodnes: after which without delay they went both togeaher vnto the Conuent, where the feruorous Penitent anew, was set to prayer at the same Aultar as before. With this opportunity they likewise falling on their knees, being quiet, and all of one accord made the defired o­blation of him, and so performed their vow. From thence the holy busynes being concluded with the Prouinciall, the Father and Mother being wholy replenished with consolation, returned home [Page 349] agayne, while the sonne so altered now and quite transformed with the singular content and edification of the Fryars, remayned in the Monastery; nor cared he awhit to change his name, while to him it seemed the name of Andrew, would be a sufficient incitement for him to loue and embrace the Crosse of our Lord Christ. And he conuerted his thoughts & applyed his whole mind by all meanes possible to suppresse the vices which infested him most, and parti­culerly pride, and a vayne esteeme of himselfe.

In which battayle besides the actions which he did of his owne accord, in submitting himselfe to others, and flying all shew and demonstration of vanity, he was much furthered likewise by mai­sters skillfull in that Religious list. Who exercised him in those oc­cupations point by point, which were most accommodate to abate pride, and to subdue the appetite of disordinate excellency. So as they deputed him to the vile seruices of the kitchin, to wash the di­shes, to sweep the house, to cary away the dust, to serue & wayte at the porch; which things he discharged with so great simplici­ty and feruour, as they were all astonished thereat, and he remay­ned euery day more confirmed, then other in his good purposes.

How B. Andrew was tempted by a kinsman of his, to leaue his vocation, but in vayne. Chap. 3.

TO come now to some particular of the soundnesse of his voca­tion; he hauing one day the care of the Gate, while the rest were at dinner, behold on a sudden, there arriued thither, a Gentle­man a kinsman of his, with a good trayne with him, very rich and gallant, but exceeding subtile and practical in the world. Who be­ing let in, when he saw the seruant of God with keyes in his hand, so meagre in the face, and so poorely clad; discouering at once both wonder and scorne, with a voyce full fraught of disdayne: Is it pos­sible (sayd he) this same should be that Andrew Corsino, who but euen the other day flourished so among the noblest, and gallantest of our youth, of so royall aspect, of sumptuous apparell, and of so great ac­quaintances of all? What madnes or what desperation, most deere Brother, hath brought thee into this Cloyster, to loose thy best & fayrest years, and to denigrate with so base a habit and abiect serui­tude, the tytles and splendour of thy family? Re-enter agayne into thy selfe; Thinke on the irreparable losse thou incurrest, and that [Page 350] while thou art as yet, but new in the rule, and mayst without note of leuity, resume agayne to thy selfe, the passed course of thy happy life: Breake off these bands, and render thy selfe to thy sweet com­panions agayne, to thy deare bloud, and particularly to me, who thou knowest how deerely hath euer loued thee. And if some respect peraduenture of Fathers or Mothers superstition doth retayne thee from going hence directly vnto their house, stay with me vntill such tyme as things be accommodated betweene you, there shall be no diuision or difference betweene vs two. We will be all one, thou shalt euer dispose of my Wardrob, seruants, and rents with the same security as of thine owne. But if perhapps certayne gusts allure thee, which these Saints and precise Hypocrites tell thee are found in that solitary and extrauagant life; make this accompt, (as so it is likewise their owne doctrine too) that after a little hony shall fol­low a great deale of gaul. The memory of the commodityes and hopes so left shall vex thee, vnprofitable repentances shall gaul thee, and the rage of persecutions, infirmityes of the body, and bitternes of mynd shall torment thee; and when there is nothing els, thou shalt euen cary thy selfe with thee, nor with the flying world, hast thou layd away thy flesh: whence the more continuall the wills are that do spring from thence (especially of thinges that are wholy for­bidden vs) so much more shalt thou find thy selfe to be suspended, and strangled as it were amidst the incentiues of thy appetit, & im­possibility to quench them. Wherupon of necessity, eyther thou must needes dye of sadnes, or prolong thy dayes in infinite dolours, or a­bandon thy profession with eternall infamy.

Remember, how the lyllies flourish not alwayes, nor the leaues are euer greene: Let so many others be a warning and example to thee, who eyther in Cloysters being forlorne of al, in their greatest necessity, haue finished their dayes vpon straw, or after many yeares of Religion, being vanquished with the labour & tediousnes there­of, and lastly turned backe from Religion, are at this day to their endles reproach, now pointed at in the Citty. So as now while mat­ters are yet but fresh and entiere, doe thou looke to, & prouide for thy selfe; and throwing away in good houre these keyes and raggs of thine, come along with me without delay. And belieue me, from others thou shalt receiue but wordes only; but deeds at my hands thou shalt really find, who vaunt my selfe, that I will be to thee no seigned Fryar, but a true friend, and louing kinsman to my liues [Page 351] end. Therefore (deerest Nephew) let me preadmonish thee of these future euents, and seeke with all thy diligence to preuent them; and returne agayne to thy most louing Companions, who will excee­dingly reioyce at thy presence.

With these, and other such like fiery darts, was the fayth and constancy of B. Andrew assayled this day. In which conflict he de­fending himselfe with the signe of the Crosse, and resolute silence, stood as firme as a tower, in such sort as the domesticall enemy, be­ing astonished at such fortitude, and confounded at his proofes so deluded, departed without more ado. It is held indeed by many with probable coniectures, that some spirit of Hell, had appeared in the figure of that Gentleman, but whether the Diuell or some Mini­ster of his (for euen also among the Children of Adam there want not such) it is manifest, that with such assaults, he wrought no other effect, then to affoard to the new Souldier of Christ both matter & occasion of a noble fight, and of a glorious victory. Hence taking more courage and new vigour, and after many other experiences, B. Andrew being admitted with solemne ceremonyes into the body of Religion, he gaue himselfe together with the study of perfection, to the purchase also of sciences: with particuler caution, that the vehemency and assiduity of speculation (as happens but too often) consume not, or quite extinguish the oyle of deuotion, and the ar­dour of spirit.

Of the zeale of soules, which B. Andrew had, and how he conuerted a Kinsman of his from a lewd life. Chap. 4.

B. Andrew had yet reguard to the age he was of, & to the strength and liuely temperature of his complexion: and aboue all things, held it a great basenes, & a barbarous ingratitude to abandon Christ in his passion, and to haue no will to tast of the chalice, which the heauēly Phisitian so benignly for vs would first be prouing himself. So as besides the continuall guard & custody of the hart, besids the familiarity with God, by the meanes of holy prayer, besides the frequent interiour acts of humility and of charity, he left not also at tymes to macerate the body with abstinences, vigils, and sharp la­bours. He wore on his bare flesh a cruell cilice, he made frequent disciplines, he kept most exact and entire silence, at due howers, he fasted (besides other obseruances of the order) in bread & water [Page 352] for three dayes of the weeke; would take euery occasion to serue and obey ech one, euen the least of all. He would goe forth with a wallet on his back, to beg from doore to doore, especially In via maggia, a Way so called, where many of his noble freinds, kindred, and acquaintance were assembled together; reioycing not a litle to labour in so [...]ase an occupation for sustenance of the Monks. And much more for hauing by that meanes frequent occasion to be moc­ked, scorned, and intured not only by those, who call holy men­dicity, a lazy and Gipsian life, but euen also by such that through his appearing so in that habit, with a foolish pride reputed them­selues to be much disparaged and digraced by him.

Vnto this loue of purity, and contempt of himselfe, and of true pennance indeed, and voluntary pouerty, was added an inflamed desire, and zeale of saluation of soules, whereto he attended not on­ly with feruent prayers, and good examples of life, but also as oc­casion serued, with exhortations, counsailes and aduises. And the Eternall Goodnes also sometymes fayled not to concurre thereto with diuine workes: as it happened perticulary in the conuersion of a kinsman of his, by name Iohn Corsino. Which fel out, as followes.

This man being afflicted with a most trouble some disease of the Wolfe, the lesse hope he had to be cured thereof, so much sought he out solaces and allurements to diuert the thought there­of; and among other thinges gaue place to vnlawfull games, with such a number of debauched people, as his house at last was become a publique house of mis-rule, and was commonly called the Dieing­house. The Blessed Andrew not brooking so hellish an errour, to so great an infamy of the name of Corsino, and so grieuous a scandall to the whole Citty: First calling vpon diuine succour (as he was wont) he went at a fit hower to visit the sick patient; & after mu­tuall salutation and demaunds had between them, which in such encounters are vsuall with those of the best breeding, with a liuely sayth and a louely face he sayes to him: If thou wouldst but doe as I would haue thee, Iohn, I doe heere promise thee with the grace of God, to deliuer thee suddenly of this soare, which seemes so in­curable, and from the snares and deceipts of thine enemyes, that so persecute thee. To this promise of his the sick man, though he could hardly afford any credit, yet for the great desire he had to be rid of his paynes, did offer himselfe very prompt and ready to any thing that B. Andrew should please to commaund him.

[Page 353] Then answered the seruant of Christ: I will haue thee the first thing thou dost, to relinquish this ill practise and conuersation of Gamesters; and after that, for eight dayes, that thou attend to Fasting, and to recommend thy selfe hartily to the most Blessed Virgin. The conditions seemed hard to Iohn, and yet notwithstan­ding to make some try all thereof, vsing some violence to himselfe, he dismissed and abandonned the euill companyes, and with ab­stinence and prayer, made the Mother of God so propitious to him, as not without the amazement of the whole Citty, and his infinite ioy, he was cured, both of the Vlcer, which deuoured his flesh, and of the greedy appetites, which vnder a false shadow of good, consumed his sensuall and vnwary soule. Such then were the actes which B. Andrew practised with his neighbour, full of simplicity & truth; by whose meanes we may well beleeue, that many others at that tyme, were weaned from vices, and confirmed in vertue.

How B. Andrew was made Preist, and then Superiour: and of the guift of Prophesy, which he shewed in a particuler euent. Chap. 5.

THough the modesty & submission of the Blessed Andrew were now already well knowne, he had notwithstanding new commodity to manifest, with a noble document, how much he sought to please God only, and how be abhord all worldly glory.

It was in tymes past, and is yet to this day, a custome in Florence, as in other places of Christendome also, to make feasts at the first Masse of a new Preist, with musique, pompes, and banquetes: which demonstrations of ioy and gladnes, as they are not to be bla­med, while they are kept with in the bounds of a moderate festi­uity; so when they exceed the same, there is much danger incur­red, least Christiā ceremonyes degenerate into gentil, & prophane, and that in operations of the spirit, and mind, the flesh and belly may intrude themselues; and finally least in the seruice and wor­ship due to God only, the diuell (a fearefull thing) should haue his part therein. Now the Blessed Andrew, hauing passed ouer all­ready the gulf of youth, and not being able to resist Superiours, that he might not be promoted vnto sacred Orders; as soone as he knew the matter to be diu [...]lged, and how the Corsinoes striued to celebrate the Primitia of his Priesthood, with exquisite musique, rich han­gings, and sumptous banquetes; recollecting himselfe a litle, and [Page 354] considering such pompes were not any thing conformable with his profession, and worthily fearing some manner of abuse therein, with leaue of the Prelate, retired himselfe into a Conuent, which is called by the name of the Sylua, some seauen miles forth of the Citty; and heere as without all noyse, so with extraordinary spiri­tuall sweetenes, he offered his first sacrifice to the most holy Tri­nity, which how gratefull and acceptable it was, the Emperesse of Heauē her selfe did testify, who ouer that same vnbloudy hoast, appeared to B. Andrew encompassed with a troupe of Angells, and with the words of Esay the Prophet very plainely sayd to him: Ser­uus meus es tu, & in te gloriabor. Which sayd, by little and little mounting aloft, she vanished quite.

With which fauours, the prudent man not puffed vp awhit, but rather attending to abase himselfe, and to acknowledge all good to proceed from the meere benignity of the highest, became euery day more worthy, and more capable of new graces. So as a little after the aforesayd vision, being sent to Paris, to giue him­selfe more exactly to his studyes, and thence afterwardes in his re­turne into Italy passing by Auignon, where the Cardinall Corsino his neere kinsman was, while there he entertayned himselfe for some space, he gaue sight to a blind man, who in the Church porch ac­cording to custome was publikely begging an Almes. From thence being come into Florence, he deliuered one Fryar Ventura a Carmelite from a dropsy.

And to the end that B. Andrew might not seeme to want the guift of prophesy also; euen much about that tyme, being intreated by a freind to baptize an infant, which had beene newly borne in­to the world, he did it louingly, and in taking him out of the sacred Font, had a reuelation from heauen of the vnhappy successe, which that poore creature was to haue. Whereupon being moued to com­passion, and being not able to hold from weeping, he was demau­ded by the Gossipe, what made him to weep so. Then B. Andrew though vnwillingly made answere: Know then, how this Child is come into the world to the totall destruction of himselfe and his howse. Of which prediction as then the secular made but litle recknoning, but saw it at last to be too true. Because the Child in progresse of yeares being giuen to an ill life, and euen loaden with [...]mes and wickednes, at last with some men of ill demeanour conspired against his countrey, and the conspiracy discouered, the [Page 355] miserable wretch by the hāds of a hangman finished his dayes, with a due punishment, and the vtter ruyne of his Family.

The excellent tallent, and manner, which B. Andrew had, in gouerne­ment. Chap. 6.

THough B. Andrew endeauoured what he could, to keep him­selfe from the eyes of mortall men obscure, and vnknowne; notwithstanding being now come into a singular opinion & fame of sanctity, he was chosen by the Pouinciall Chapter of the Car­melit Fathers to be Superiour of the Conuent of Florence; to which charge, he maynly opposed himselfe: but yet the common con­sent of the Electours preuailed, and the authority of him who of obedience might impose it vpon him. In which office, he let the world to vnderstand cleerely, that it is not, as others thinke, that much spirit, and good gouernement be incompatible in the same person. B. Andrew through the habit of prayer and of other vertues now already confirmed in him, conseruing that which he had so purchased for himselfe continually (without loosing yet awhit of his authority) the least of all; and not affecting preeminencyes nor titles, but endeuouring with all possible diligence, that such as were vnder his care, should, wholy free from all temporall sollici­tude, attend to God only, wherein without doubt consists the true and essenciall fruite of the religious and monastical life; since other­wise for a man to be shut vp in Cloysters, and to thinke continual­ly of meat, drinke, and cloth, and other such like necessityes, is not formally to abandon the world, but materially to change the dwel­ling only; nor is it to leaue the old habits; but only to alter the ob­iects; and it is euen the same to be drowned in the Hauen, as in the wide Ocean, as much to be loaden and oppressed with iron as with lead. Whereas on the contrary the mind being discharged of terren thoughts, like a dry feather flyes lighlty aloft; and then spirituall exercise [...] do neuer tire, when the frayle nature neuer wants its due and conuenient sustenance.

Which charge for that it singularly belonges to him that go­uernes others in the diuine seruice; hence it is that Prelates and Princes, are worthily called and sayd to be honourable seruants; & for want of this sollicitude and prouidence, murmurs and scandalls doe openly follow, and finally vnhappy propriations, the certaine [Page 356] pest, and vtter ruine of Congregations and Orders. Which thing the man of God, well foreseeing, did not only heare benignely, but euen preuented the honest suites, and necessityes of his Monkes: whence after would appeare that it was no hard matter to exact the rule and discipline of euery one; while to all it was manifest and cleere, that he being wholy attentiue to the weale publike, had no reguard to his particular interests, gusts, or greatnesses. In summe, he in that Superintendency of his gaue such proofe of the talent he had, in dealing with, and guiding men, as that euen both heauen and earth might seeme to haue accorded togeather to exalt him, with the occasion that followes.

How B. Andrew, was miraculously elected Bishop of Fesula. Chap. 7.

IN those dayes, Fuligno the Lord Bishop of Fesula, a most noble Citty neere to Florence, though now quite destroyed as it were, dyed. Whereupon the Canons and the rest, to whome belonged the nomination of a new Pastour, being assembled togeather in the name of God, and mooued through the constant fame that resoun­ded euery where of the name of B. Andrew preferred him before any other, that might be destined to that Chayre. The newes wher­of, was speedily brought to the Man of God. But knowing well the greatnes of the weight, and esteeming it farre too burdensome for his shoulders, he retired himselfe from his Conuent, into the Monastery of Carthusians, a little out of Florence: & there hid himselfe in such wise, as the Fesulans hauing sought him through the Citty and Prouince, were resolued at last to come to a new election.

But to the end it might euidently appeare, how that tytle was reserued by the diuine Prouidence, to no other then B. Andrew: be­hold while the Assembly was ready to enter into the Scrutiny, a Child there present, cryed out with a lowd voyce, saying: Elegit Deus Andream in sacerdotem sibi, who is now in the Charterhowse, making his prayer; there shal you certainely find him out. At which voyce those of the Councell being astonished, without more adoe confirming the former election sent immediately messengers to the Carthusian Fathers, beseeching them very earnestly to worke so, as their Bishop, with so marueilous an vnion chosen of men, and with a greater wonder approued of God, might accept now at last the enterprise, whereto with so cleere and euident signes, he was [Page 357] called so by the high Rectour and Ruler of all. And euen iust at that tyme, while this passed in Florence, there appeared to B. Andrew then, being in deepe contemplation, another Child in a white garment, which openly declared to him, the will of God to be, that he should goe forth to that charge, nor feare the while, any danger, nor fly the trauayle. By this declaration the seruant of God being finally assured, and arysing from his Oratory went to meet with the messengers of Fesula that sought for him: and taking a sweet leaue with a thousand thanks of his Hosts, he went cheer­fully to his diocesse, being then some 58. yeares of age, & through diuine fauour completly answered to the great expectation which all had already conceiued of him.

How B. Andrew, demeaned himselfe in his Bishoprike: and how charitable he was to the poore. Chap. 8.

OVr B. Andrew knowing both by learning and experience, that the office of a good Prelate consists, in feeding the sub­iects as well with example as with the word; and also in tem­porall necessity with meate and drinke: first of all he reteyned his ancient maxime in preaching Christ aboue all, with works. So as he endeauoured to shew himselfe continually a Maister of all dis­ordinate passions, to restrayne sensuality, and to macerate the body with abstinencyes, and with wearing on his bare flesh, not sack­cloth and cilices now as he was wont to doe, but an iron chayne; to sleep, insteed of a matteresse, vpon hurdles, to fly all banquet­tings, to beware as much as possibly he might from discoursing with women, to shut his ears to flatterers, to trample on vayne confi­dence or esteeme of himselfe, not to remit the study of meditation, to walke alwayes in the presence of God, & to acknowledge him with amorous affects in all creatures; whence afterwardes deriued that charity of his towardes his neighbour, and that so tender cō ­passion on the afflicted and distressed, as that in hearing their cala­mities he could not hould from teares; and none had recourse to him for comfort or succour, but he indeauoured by all meanes to send them away both comforted and contented. Yea following the stepps of the great S. Gregory he would haue an exact catalogue with him of all the poore, especially of the shamefast, and conti­nued to susteyne them with all possible secrecy.

[Page 358] With which humanity and bounty of his, how much the Giuer of al good was pleased, very manifestly appeared in tyme of a cruel Dearth, wherewith the people of Fesula being much tormented & oppressed, not finding on earth any retuge more fit and opportune then the benignity of their Bishop, they came running in troupes vnto him, and he shut not vp his coffers, or dispense from any: in so much as hauing one day very liberally distributed what bread was in the house, and now beggars continually comming in, he commanded more bread to be giuen vnto them; and his seruants knowing very well, there was not so much as a loafe left, they en­deauoured to certify the Maister therof, who notwithstanding per­seuering in calling for it, and bidding them earnestly to seeke yet better; they not to seeme contumacious, though against their wils, turning backe, found to their extreme wonder a great quantity of loaues, and with great ioy brought them to the man of God. Which presently he deuided among the hungry, imitating in this also, the mercy, and representing the infinite power of the Sauiour. Besides this, he was wont truly, in memory of our sayd Redeemer and Lord, the singular Maister of holy humility, to wash euery Thurs­day with his owne handes the feet of some poore folkes, wherin he felt particuler gust and consolation.

Now it happened once, that among those Beggars, was called in one, who had his legs in a loatsome manner very soare and cor­rupted, who as he was well bred and modest, began to resist the admirable man, not suffering by all meanes he should wash his feet: and B. Andrew demanding wherefore? The other answered: My leges are so soare and putrifyed, as I haue good cause to feare, they will turne a Prelats stomake, and breed a loathing. Then answe­red the Saint, haue confidence my sonne in our Lord Iesus Christ, & so hauing sayd, he powred out the water into the vessel straight, and sets himselfe to wash his feet. A wonderfull thing, scarcely had he finished to wipe that happy man, but his feet were made cleane, and his soares cured. Such was B. Andrews care & diligence of the corporall necessityes of his flocke, and vpon these foundati­ons of well knowne goodnes, did after securely arise the celestiall building of soules: because he had gotten so much credit and autho­rity with those carriages of his; as to reclayme and pull away ill li­uers from their lewd life, one word or becke of his, had more mo­ment with it, then the longe and premeditated disswasions of o­thers.

How B. Andrew reconciled most deadly emnityes and debates; and how his death was mir aculously foretould him. Chap. 9.

THough B. Andrew had great efficacy with him, in ech kind of spirituall remedyes, yet shewed he to haue a particuler talent in contracting honest friendships, in taking vp quarells, in compo­sing controuersies, and so much the more willingly laboured he in these thinges, as the Holy Ghost had giuen him to vnderstand, that in mutuall fraternall loue, consists the whole summe of the Christi­an Law. The honourable fame now of all these noble actions dila­ting it selfe, through all parts, Pope Vrban the V. tooke particuler contentment therat, and for some dayes, gaue a large field vnto so eminent vertue to exercise it selfe in. The Citty of Bologna in those dayes was enflamed with perilous tumults and discordes, nor was there any remedy of that euill to be found, through the inueterated hatreds, disordinate passions, and obstinate pertinacity of the par­tyes. The common Pastour being worthily anxious and sollicitous for it, after many cares and diligences in vayne vsed about the same, resolued with himselfe to make vse of the person of the Bishop of Fesulae for that busines, and with an ample power sent him as his Nuntius to the Bolognians: nor was he awhit deceaued in his opinion, because B. Andrew being arriued thither, began immediatly to mi­tigate the exasperated woundes of their mindes, and with the di­diuine help, had so lucky and dexterous a hand, as he shortly re­couered them, reducing the nobility and people, without new noyse to a desired peace and tranquility. And some few more stiff and obstinate then the rest, by diuine iudgment being strook with a greiuous and sudden infirmity, and agayne through the merits of the Saint deliuered thereof, did willingly yield themselues like­wise, and he with the like contentment of Citizens and Pope Vr­ban also, and with the vniuersall applause of all Italy, returned home agayne to his residence. Where besides the mayntayning and nourishing as we haue sayd, with great charity, the bodyes and soules committed to him, he tooke likewise particuler accompt of the sacred buildinges; and among other restaurations sumptuously repayred the Cathedral Church, which was euen threatning ruine.

With these passages being arriued to the 71. yeare of his age, while he was celebrating solemne Masse on the most happy night [...]

THE LIFE OF B. LAVRENCE IVSTINIAN, THE FIRST PATRIARKE OF VENICE.

Of the parentage infancy, & minority of B. Laurence: and what a strange vocation he had. Chap. I.

BLESSED LAVRENCE was borne in the Citty of Venice, of the Magnifico Bernard [...] [...], and of Quirina his wife (both of a high and noble linage) in the yeare of our Lord 1380. He was left a child, with other Brothers of his by his Father, who dyed very soone. His heauy and disconsolate Mother being yet but yong, mac [...]rating her body, as well with fastings and vigils, as with a sharp cilice and a brazen girdle, kept viduall state, not without a prosperous and perpetuall same of puri­ty: nor attended she with lesse sollicitude in the meane tyme, in bringing vp her children in learning, and that which more imports [Page 363] in Christian manners: and though they all gaue much [...]ope, not to degenerate awhit from their Ancestours, notwithstā [...]ing a particu­ler towardnes of a great spirit, and generous thoughts went disco­uering itselfe, in the B. Laurence; since that in those his first yeares, scorning and loathing the sports, and other leuityes, which are permitted to that age, with a certaine sage maturity, he conuersed with men of stedder iudgments, and of thinges indeed not chil­dish; in so much as this manner of proceeding of his, was attribured by some to an ouermuch desire of greatnes of glory. Yea his owne Mother, fearing he would giue vp himselfe as a prey to Ambition, (as most commonly the nobler wits are wont) of purpose sayd to him on a tyme: Goe to, Laurence, leaue this manner of thyne, this thy pride euen sauours of Hell. Where to he smiling, met [...]y made answere: Doubt not Madame, you shall yet see me a great seruant of God. Nor was the prediction awhit in vayne, because he being now come to nineteen years of age, when as man commonly stands vpon the point of taking the good, or ill bent; in vision there ap­peared to him a woman more bright then the Sunne, who with a pleasing and gratefull countenance spake to him in this sort.

My beloued youth, why distracts thou thy hart into diuers parts, and seekest rest forth of thy selfe, now in this thing, and now in that? Looke what thou wishest for, is in my handes, and I promise to affoard it thee, if thou wilt take me to thy Spouse. At which wordes B. Laurence being at first astonished, and taking after more courage, to demand her name, and what her condition was, the Virgin replyed: I am the Wisedome of God, who for refor­ming the world heeretofore haue taken mortall flesh. Which the happy Louer hearing, soone yielded his assent; and she reaching him a chast kisse of peace, very suddenly vanished. At this vision now B. Laurence being stirred vp to new cares, & feeling vnwon­ted flames of fire to burne within his breast, yet could not fully in­terprete the inuitation made him, nor to which to betake himselfe aboue others. It is true, that inwardly he found himselfe to be much enclined to a religious and perfect life; but as yet not [...]ing to his owne iudgment, he went for counsaile to a certaine Cousin of his Mother, called Marinus, who leading a monasticall life in S. Georges of Alga, of the Congregation of Celestines, was held in great opinion of learning and sanctity.

He now vnderstanding the inspiration and motiues of the yong [Page 364] man more maturely to examine the whole, exhorted him first ere he entred into Religion, or changed the habit, he would secret­ly make some experience, what he were able to suffer in a strict life. To which aduice B. Laurence did very promptly obey, and a­mong other industryes, began insteed of a soft and downy bedde, to ly in the night vpon crabby and knotry wood. And with all to make his accompts the better, he endeauours of purpose one day, to contemplate on the one side Magistracyes, Honours, Wiues, Children, riches, sundry sorts of pastimes and sports, and all the pleasure besides which the world may afford; and on the other, ab­stinencyes, fasts, vigills, pouerty, incommodityes, heat & cold, the abnegation of himselfe, with perpetuall seruitude, and other difficultyes besides, which present themselues in the narrow way of more perfect vertue, and diuine seruice.

Heereupon as an Arbitour placed betweene two troupes of obiectes, demanded he accompt of himselfe, saying: Now con­sider well Laurence, what thou hast to do: Dost thou thinke thou canst endure these austerityes, and despise those commodityes? Whereupon standing in suspense and contention within himselfe, at last casting his eyes vpon a Crosse of Christ: Thou art (sayd he) my hope, O Lord, in this tree is found comfort and strength for all, a secure & safe refuge for all. And without doubting any more, he determined by all meanes to follow the internall voyce, and counsayles of the Chiefe Pastour.

Of the singular vertues of B. Laurence, and particulerly of his Fortitude in suffering the paynes of the body. Chap. 2.

IT cannot easily be explicated, how much seruour and spirit was augmented in that blessed soule from that so free and well grounded resolution which B. Laurence made. Which howbeyt he laboured to hide by all meanes possible: yet could he not so do, but those of the howse, especially his Mother must needes find it out. Whereupon she, though vertuous and deuout, yet tender and anxious for her deer sonne, fearing least through violence of na­ture, he might come to be transported vnto some hardy enterprize beyond his forces, she determined vpon agreement with others, to ty him, as soone as might be, with the bands of Matrimony. So at hauing practically proceeded therein without delay, she soone [Page 365] found out, and offered him a beautyfull, noble, and rich spouse. But the holy youth being aware of the temptation, and conspiracy of his freinds, would deferre no longer, to rid himselfe of the dan­ger, and to conuey himselfe as secretly as he could, vnto S. Georges: where taking the habit of Religion, he manfully began to enter into the battayle, against the inuisible Enemy.

The first assault then, he gaue to Sensuality, depriuing himselfe of all wantonnes, and disports. To hungar he gaue but that only, which euen the vtmost necessity required. Thirst he did tolerate, in such sort, as that neyther for the vehemency of heates, nor weari­nes of the iourneys he made, or other labours whatsoeuer, nor for any indisposition of body, would he euer call for drinke. But rather if sometymes, he were inuited therunto, he was wont to answere: how then Brothers shal we be able to endure the fire of Purgatory, if we cannot suffer this litle thirst? At the vigils at night, and mat­tyns, he was the first in coming thither, & the last to depart from thence: for that, it being the custome of others, to returne to bed againe vntill the rising of the Sunne; the B. Laurence would neuer goe out of the Church, vntill the hower of prime. He would ne­uer approch to the fire, not so much as in the hart of winter: a thing so much the more to be admired in so delicate a complexion.

A certaine Father one day inuited him to warme himselfe at the lyre, and not being able to be brought vnto it, he felt his hand, and finding it to be benumm'd through cold, he cryed out: Great is the ardour O Sonne, thou hast within thee since thou feelest not the extremity of cold without. But what great wonder is it, that he approached not to the fyre, who neuer went as it were into the garden likewise, being the only recreation, and ordinary disport of the Monks? At diuine offices he would stand bolt vpright, with­out leaning awhit eyther on the right or left hand. He would se­cretly make most cruell disciplines; as testifyed the many stripes all black and blew, through his whole body, with the frequent staynes of bloud thereon appearing.

In the dolours of infirmityes, he would shew incredible pa­tience. Being yet a Nouice, his neck was full of swelling of the Kings euill. The Phisitians for a last and only remedy threatned him first cuppings, then launcings, and lastly searing with fire. And the Fryats doubting, he would faynt vnder the cure, he coura­giously answered: what feare you Brothers? Let come the rasor, [Page 366] bring in the burning irons; can not he happily giue me constancy in this daunger, who affoarded it to the three children in the fur­nace? So as he was cut and burned, without fetching the left gro­ane or sigh, or sending forth other voyce, then Iesus for once only.

Howbeit indeed, it is no great matter, he should shew such fortitude in the greener, who gaue such an example thereof in his latter age, and perhapps more memorable then it: Because, that being vnmeasurably sweld at that tyme in the throate, and being not able to resolue the corrupt humour thereof without incision of the knife, the Father being desirous to be rid of the trouble, to at­tend more freely to the care of soules, stood still at that launcing as quiet and vnmoueable as a stock, speaking to the timourous Chi­rurgeon: Cut on couragiously, for thy rasour can not exceed the burning hot irons of the Martyrs. In this sort, the flesh being van­quished quite, and subdued, and the noble Warrier, with full & perfect renunciation, quitting himselfe to his power, of al terrene charge, endeauours to conquer the other impietyes one by one; so much more powerfull and daungerous, as more inward and spirituall they be. But the principall fight which he tooke in hand, was against that horrible monster of Pride, taming it as well in the interiour as exteriour, with contrary, frequent, and intense actes. The garmentes that he wore were all torne; the more abiect offi­ces, and more noysome of the Monastery, (most manfully therein, subduing his stomack for the loue of Christ) he would take to him­selfe.

Besides, he stucke not to go forth a begging of almes, with a Wallet on his backe. And wholy to trample vnder foot the foolish reputation and vayne pride of the world, he would put himselfe of purpose into the thickest nobility, and where the greater concourse of the inhabitants was. He would come also sometimes to the very house, where he was borne, and remayning in the streets be crying aloud, for Gods sake. At which words and voyce of his, the mother­ly bowells being mooued, to cut off at least the walke or circuit of her deere, blotid, she suddenly commanded the seruants to fill vp his wallet with victualls. But he contenting himselfe with two leauer of bread, and wishing peace to such as had done him the charity, would depart from thence as altogeather vnknowne, and so com [...] nuing his round from doore to doore, being tyred at last, with the burden, and sometymes ouer loaden with reproaches, he would re­turne [Page 367] to S. Georges agayne

Being further prouoked, though altogeather vniustly truly, with other occasions, or reprehended for some thing, he would force himselfe (in biting his tounge sometymes) to represse the naturall vehemency, which the Children of Adam haue to iustify and defend themselues. Through which exercise, by little and little he got such a power ouer himselfe, as that being once accused in the open Cō ­gregation, by a peruerse man, for hauing committed in gouernment something against the rule, though he knew the malignity of him, & could haue yielded▪ a good accompt of himselfe; notwithstanding without opening his mouth, or changing his countenance, arising from his seate, with eyes cast downe to the earth, and with a mode­rate pace, he went into the midest of the Chapter, and there falling downe on his knees, craued humbly pennance, and pardon of all those Fathers: so as the accuser himselfe being quite confounded at so great a patience of his, could not hold from casting himselfe at the feet of that innocent, and in the presence of all to condemne his owne malignity. And as in publike acts, so likewise in priuate con­uersation would D. Laurence most willingly yield to the iudgement and wills of others, and as much as he might without affectation, alwayes seeke the lowest place.

He bare all respect, and veneration to Superiours, he held their becks insteed of Oracles. Nor only in things at large, and indiffe­rent, by cutting off all sensuall appetite, he purely followed their will; but euen also in things other wise very lawfull and vertuous, captiuing his owne vnderstanding, would not dissent a whit from their rules and dictamens. Whence it happened (as all vertues are with a wonderfull harmony conioyned together) that the seruant of God, very perfectly acquiring a habit of Religion, became rich and adorned with many others at the same tyme. Whereby pre­paring in his hart, a cleane & gratefull chamber for the holy Ghost, in short tyme he obtayned so high a guift of teares, and so much fa­miliarity with his Creatour and Lord, as that remayning with his body on earth, with his soule he conuersed in Heauen; and dealing with men by diuerse occurrences, he departed not at all from the presence of God; chasing away from himselfe with great dexterity, all importune and superfluous phantasmes. From this purity of conscience, soone after ensued such a light, as far surmon­ted all learning purchased otherwayes, and in the will so great an [Page 368] ardour, as all the waters of the world had not beene able to ex­tinguish it. But rather he sought allwayes, to aduance forwardes, according to the obligation of profession, and so much abhorred to turne himselfe, and looke back being (as they say) at the plough, or to reedify that which he had destroyed, or to resume agayne any thing which he had left and renounced in the world, as he could neuer be brought once, to put his foot in his Fathers howse, all­though he liued so neere vnto them, and his dearest freinds were of the best reputation, and of rare example of Christian vertue: Saue only at the death of his Mother, and Brothers, was he pre­sent to assist them with due piety in their last passage.

How B. Laurence conuerted a kinsman of his from his euill purpose. And of the goodly saying he was wont to vse. Chap. 3.

B. Laurence, had not beene yet many yeares in Religion, when a deere companion of his, in the world, who for this meane while had beene in the East, and but newly returned to Venice (so powerfull the instigation of the Diuell is) went presently to S. Georges, accompanyed with musique, loud and soft, to allure the new Monke to his former life, partly also with a band of men, to vse some violence with the Conuent, if need were. This Gentle­man was a man of great employments, and of much respect, so as he obtayned very easily to speake with Blessed Laurence; but yet with farre different successe from his designes. Because at the first fight of the new Souldiour of Christ, beholding the modesty of his countenance, the grauity of his gestures, and composition of the whole person, he remayned astonished thereat. And notwithstan­ding vsing some violence with himselfe, and taking courage with­all, he began the enterprise for which he came thither; but the seruant of God permitting that breast full of passion and youthfull errour to vent it selfe forth, with a cheerefull countenance and mild speaches, began first very dexterously to feele him: & then with the memory of Death, of Hell, and of the last Iudgement, and with liuely representing vnto him, the vanity and deceipts of the world, pressed him so hard, as the good man being now com­punct, vpon a sudden yielded himselfe; & so yielded, as cutting of with the force of spirit, all transitory designes whatsoeuer, resol­ued to adhere to that Rule, which he had thought to haue vio­ted, [Page 369] and from henceforth offering himselfe to the diuine worship, he perseuered [...]n the holy Cloyster, with like profit of his owne, and amazement of the whole Citty. In this manner the ancient aduersary departed, and he who had thought to haue had a prey, was himselfe caught in the net.

Nor with the seculars only, being free and dissolute, were the perswasions of the B. Laurence efficacious (especially his good ex­ample and seruent prayers to our Lord concurring with all) but euen also (a thing to my iudgement yet more hard) with the tepid and negligent Religious. Since he awaked some of them more then once from the deadly sleep of slouthfullnes, and withdrew them from a foolish and vnwary presumption, to a sollicitous and wise feare of Christ: others, being now weary with the spirituall war­fare, or rather basely already put to flight, he caused on a sudden to turne head agayne, and beyond all hope, to stand stoutly in the front of the battayle. For the eminent Pulpit, and popular prea­chings he wanted strength of body: but yet in priuate assemblyes, he would make sweet homilyes and deuout discourses, to the great profit and consolation of the hearers. And also in his dayly speach, would often proceed very notable sentences from his mouth, whe­reof for example sake we shall put downe some.

He would say, It was not the part of a Religious man to fly only the greater synnes, since that behoued euery one to doe, but euen also, to keepe himselfe from the lesse, least Charity should wax cold. He was wont also to note concerning fastings, that they are not to be remitted wholy as soone as the body waxeth leane, for as much as the wished extenuation thereof, is conserued with that which procures it. Three things he iudged to be necessary for a Monke, to wit, feruour, discretion, and heauenly grace, be­cause where any of these are fayling, there can be no perseuerance. He compared the vertue of Humility, to a riuer that swells with rayne: for that euen as a torrent is very low and stil in the sommer, and runs outragious and boystrous in winter; so the humble man, being slack and remisse in prosperity, in aduersity agayne appeares to be high and magnanimous. He added, that no man well com­prehends, what the guift of Humility is, but he that hath receiued it from God, and that there is nothing wherein men are more de­ceiued, then in discerning this vertue, and how true science con­sists in knowing two things; that God is all, and man nothing.

[Page 370] In the greater troubles of his Country (which at that tyme was much infested with warrs) he stuck not to admonish the prin­cipall Senatours, that if they would obtayne mercy of God, they should hold for certaine they were nothing, nor could do any thing of themselues. He aduised that none should be receiued into Reli­gion without mature examine, least by admitting the bad, the good might be hurt. Besides that, when the number of subiects, is too much increased, the Rule cannot long last in its rigour, because per­fection is of few only.

A Gentlemans sonne being come to S. Georges for the habit, as soone as the Blessed Laurence heard that he was induced thither, through the artificious inticements of the Monkes, he renders him to the sollicitous Father with these wordes: Heer take him to you againe, for this renouncing of the world should proceed from the Holy Ghost, and not for human instigation, and much worse it is to fayle afterwards, then to haue neuer begun at all. From the day he was made Priest, he fayld not to celebrate euery day, vnles by occasion of infirmity; and concluded, that he who neglects when he may, to enioy his Lord, declares sufficiently that he maks little account of him. To goe about to keep chastity, amidst commodi­tyes and ease, he protested to be as much as with fuell to extinguish the fire. In the matter of Christ his counsails, he resolued (among other thinges) that no man vnderstands, how great a good this Pouerty is, but he that loues, when tyme is, contemplation and his Cell; and that God of purpose keepes secret the felicity of the Religious state, because that if it were knowne, euery one would be running into it.

He often remembred, that we are neuer to loose our hope in God, since heerin consists the life of the soul [...]. As for the rich he affirmed, that they cannot be saued, but by dealing of almes. He held the Pastorall care to be so much more greiuous and difficult then the gouernment of the state of warre is, as the rule of inuisible things is harder then that of the visible. He likened a good Prince to a head, especially for this reason, that euen as the head & tongue are sufficient to craue help for the whole person, though the rest of the body be quiet & stand still; so the seruent prayer of a Prince, sometymes is inough to appeale the wrath of God, though the rest of the Citty apply not it selfe, or attend thereunto. These violent enterprizes, and such as meete with encounters euery foot, he [Page 371] counsayled to forbeare, as growing from an euill spirit, since to the good and holy, the diuine Prouidence it selfe, is wont to open the way, and quit the obstacles that hinder.

How B. Laurence was chosen to gouerne the Religion: and how after­wards he was made Bishop of Venice. Chap. 4.

BY these and other such like aduices, may well be discerned, what light the man of God had, not only in abstract & spiri­tuall matters, but euen also [...]in the morall and practique; yea and without euer hauing attended to Scholasticall doctrine, or subtile disputes, he would answere when need was to profound inter­rogations of Theology, with so much acumen and clarity, as euen the Doctours themselues would be amazed therat. With the same wisedome surely infused more from Heauen, then borrowed from bookes, he composed diuers workes, fraught as well with souerai­gne conceits, as with amorous affects. Which labours being publi­quely set forth, and put in print, doe walke and passe at this day through the handes of learned men with notable fruite and help of soules. Amidst these thinges, after the Blessed Laurence had giuen a long and sufficient proofe of himselfe, he was elected by the Monkes, full sore against his will, to the gouernement of the Reli­gion, and he bare that burthen with singular approbation vnto the 51. yeare of his age.

At which tyme, the good odour of such vertues, being now spread into diuers parts, it seemed good to Pope Eugenius the IV. without doubt through diuine inspiration, to create him Bishop of Venice. At which tydinges, it may easily be imagined, how much the holy man was confounded and troubled. Twice he was ready to fly away and to hide himselfe: but the matter not succeeding so with him, he determined at last to remit himselfe to the iudgment of his Congregation. And first hauing made for that intent many fastes and prayers, the Fathers resolued at last to dispatch a man of purpose to the Pope, humbly beseeching his Holynes, not to de­priue their Order of such and so great a Guide-maister, and Pastour. And being not heard the first tyme, they replyed the second with more instance, but al in vaine, as appeares by the two Briefs, writ­ten by the same Eugenius to the sayd Congregation, with words ve­ry, amorous and consolatory withall.

[Page 372] The Blessed Laurence then being not able to resist the Pope without sinne, accepted the power in such sort, as he not only chan­ged not his manners to the worse, as it happens, but continually made them more admirable and perfect then euer. One day about the euening, he tooke possession of the Bishopricke, so simply, and so without all pompe, as euen his nearest friendes had no know­ledge therof, till he was entred therinto. Then all that night with­out shutting his eyes, he remayned in prayer, beseeching our Lord with many teares, since for the only seruice of his diuine Maiesty, so wholy against his owne inclination, he had condescended to that degree, he would not depriue him of his protection and clemency: that he knew very well, the importance of the charge, the great­nes of the Citty, the variety and multitude of the Orders and states, the forces of the secular power; and how great disgusts had passed heeretofore, betweene that Domination and the Bishops his Pre­decessours, and how poore a stacke he had for such a manage, and for such accidents, being so a sily wretch as he was, and euer shut vp in a Monastery. His deuout prayers, and seruent sighes, were not powred in vayn. Because they found the eares of the diuine goodnes to be opened to them. Whence, being illustrated with a sudden and new light, he tooke so much vigour and comfort the­reat, as he afterwards gouerned the whole Diocesse, as easely as he had been but to rule some Conuent, as shall appeare in the next Chapter.

How B. Laurence gouerned his House, and the Citty, with singular fruit and edification of all. Chap. 5.

TO begin with domesticall matters, Blessed Laurence orday­ned his family in this manner. He chose out two vertuous companions of his Congregation; one for diuine offices, the other for the more weighty cares of the Bishoprike. For the seruice of the house, he would haue but fiue assistants and no more. To this reti­nue of Courtiers was his Table and Wardrobe answerable. He had no plate but of earthen-glasse. Arras, or Tapistry were not there to be seene at any tyme. In his cloathing he neuer altered the purple habit. In the night he lay vpon a scanty bedde of straw, co­uering himselfe with a grosse and course rugge. His table by how much more exquisite it was for neatnes, so much the more was it [Page 373] purposely neglected in vyandes. He neuer had longing for any thing, nor had as little auersion from any, contenting himselfe euer with that which was set before him.

His family thus ordered, he gaue himselfe to the reformation of the Citty, beginning first from the Cathedrall Church, which through others default and carelesnesse, had great need thereof. He set the Chapter on foot agayne, & the Order of the Chanons, now brought almost to nothing, and increased it with Priests and petty Chanons and Quiristers. He reduced many other Churches to so good tearmes, where hardly any Masse was wont to be celebrated before, as they seemed to be Cathedrall and Pontificall. Applying himselfe afterwardes to the censure of the Clergy, he made very ex­cellent Decrees & Constitutions in this nature, nor had he any great difficulty to procure them to be kept and obserued, such was the grace & benignity, wherewith he obliged the harts of his subiects, since he was helpfull to many, and neuer imposed burden vpon a­ny, permitting them fully to enioy the fruites and their rents: how­beit on the other side, when the matter required, he spared not to vse due seuerity.

With the same care and loue he dealt with the Monasteryes, es­pecially of Nunnes; not suffering the frayle sex to suffer any thing, neyther in the body, or spirit. He repayred the Parishes which were ruined, and erected so many a new, as that finding some 20. of them, with good obseruance he left no lesse then 30. behind him at his death, nor vsed he lesse diligence with all the rest of his flocke. It is incredible, what concourse there was euery day at his house of di­stressed persons, who resorted to him for counsayle & succour. Not­withstanding he was more particularly vigilant vpon Curates and Vicars, as they call them, reducing often into their memory, the strait accompt they are to make to our Lord God. But how shall we expresse his great liberality? He despised money as much as euer was despised of any. His gate, the dispense, his chests, stood euer open to all the poore. He could not be brought by any meanes to take accompt of the mayster of his house; while it seemed to him an vnworthy thing, that a superintendant for the care of gaining souls, should set himselfe of purpose to cast for farthings. And tooke heed much more, least in the m [...]nage of Episcopall rents, flesh and bloud might haue place: knowing how much this imported for edificatiō, & for purchasing the minds of the Citty. And therfore endeauoured [Page 374] he alwayes, that the world might cleerely know, how in temporall or oeconomicall matters, he had no manner of commerce at all with his adherents.

So as, a certayne poore man, being recommended to him, on behalfe of the Magnifice Leonard his brother: Go thy wayes (sayd he to him) and bid him from me, to do thee the fauour, since God hath afforded him the meanes. The good Bishop answered to a certaine kinsman of his, not very rich, who demaunded some succour to marry his daughter with: Consider I pray, good Syr, that if I giue you but a little, it is not that which you pretend: and if I giue you much, I shall wrong many to helpe one only. Besides, how litle or much soeuer I hap to giue you, hath been commended to me, by the Church for mayntenance of the poore, and not for iewells, & other ornaments of women. He more willingly gaue almes in bread, wine, wood, garments, and other such like, then in mo­ney, to take away (I beleiue) the occasion from many of spen­ding it ill, and when indeed he gaue any mony, he would diuide it into many peeces, that the greater number of the needy and necessitous might participate thereof. Nor in examining their me­rits was he very scrupulous, or exact; but rather sometymes let himselfe be deceiued, as chosing rather to benefit some vnworthy person, then defraud in the least any well deseruing. True it is that for the bashfull and shame-fac't poore (towardes whom the holy man, had perticular compassion) he had certaine Matrons deputed of much confidence, and of eminent vertue; who by some good way or other, might take faythfull and exact information of the se­cret necessityes of ech, especially of those who from good degrees through diuine permission haue fallen into straits.

In summe, he was farre from all tenacity, as when with mo­nyes he could not furnish others necessityes, he would supply with suretyships for them, or by charging himselfe with their debts. And being demanded by his neerest domestiques, vpon what foundati­on he layd vp his treasure? He would say, of my Lord, who will pay me well for it. Nor was he awhit deceaued of his hope, since when others least thought of it, there would come to him heere and there great quantityes of gold and siluer, that he might dispend them on the poore at his owne pleasure. With all these thinges went vnited togeather a peace and serenity of mind, not easily to be expressed with wordes; as seeming in a certaine manner, he [Page 375] held the Moone vnder his feet, and had his mind fixed and seated in a place, where the clouds of sadnes, or the winds, and tempests of other disordinate passions could not reach. And to this purpose I will not spare to touch some thinges, not so light in substance, as they will seeme perhaps at first, if it be true indeed that by sudden accidents habits are knowne.

Two not able examples of B. Laurence his Patience: and how welcome he was to Pope Eugenius. Chap. 6.

THe Blessed Laurence being one day set at the table, one of the wayters deceaued (as sometyms it happens) insteed of wine presented him with vinegar, when the good Bishop hauing tasted it, without altering his countenance, or speaking a word, went on with his dinner, and listened to the lesson read, vntill at last the poore seruant aware of the errour, [...]craued pardon for his offence. The B. Laurence (as we haue sayd aboue) was exceedingly reue­renced and beloued of the Citty. And yet neuerthelesse sometyms he had potent aduersaries: One whereof, taking by occasion a great disdaine at certaine Canons published against pompes, assembling a great number of men togeather, for the most part very noble & ho­nourable personages, laboured of purpose to make an Inuectiue a­gainst the seruant of God, tearing him (as he was wont) in his fame, and exhorting all to oppose themselues mainly to the too much se­uerity, and the indiscreet seruours of the Monke. In the like te­nour spake some few of them, but the others partly refented the same, and partly derided such arrogancy; nor was the conuenticle hardly dissolued, when as one deuoted to the holy Pastour, being exceedingly troubled at those blasphemies cast forth, went present­ly in great hast to acquaint him with what had happened, and that with words so liuely, and with such ardour of the eyes & gestures, as had beene inough to haue set any one on fire, though he had not beene sensible of the iniury. But the Blessed Laurence, not being willing to be further informed, eyther of the fact, or the persons, made answere with a cheerefull countenance: Doe not trouble your selfe, my Sonne, for God will haue care of his honour; and so indeed it fell out, since that wretched accuser with his followers was soone very grieuously punished by the Magistrates vpon other occasions. I will add another example like to this.

[Page 376] The vigilant Bishop, with great equity had condemned a cer­taine Clerke for ill life, not regarding much the protection which a seditious Lay-man gaue vnto him. Whence this other lewd cō ­panion was so enraged against him for it, as the solemne Procession of Corpus Christi passing before his doors, at the approach of the Bi­shop who carryed that sacred Custody, with a loud voyce he vo­mited forth a number of vile reproaches & contumelies vpon him, calling him (among other thinges) a Cosener, an Hypocrite, and warning the people to beware of him. From which sacrilegious affront ensued so great a scandall, and choler of the standers by, that the Maiesty and reuerence of that great Feast could hardly hold them from running suddenly with their burning torches, to set his house on fire. But the Priest of God, what did he in this case? Hol­ding his eyes fixed on the Venerable Sacrament, without altering his pace awhit, or changing his countenance, he went forwaard with great grauity on his way. Although indeed, without indea­uour of the Saint, the vnbridled presumption of the Wretch was soone punished, because being constrained by the Senate, to recant publiquely, he was afterwardes miserably banished also. Nor a­midst persecutions and trauailes likewise the B. Laurence would shew himselfe to be stoute and constant, but euen also (a thing much more rare and difficult) amidst fauours and greatnesses them­selues.

He was more then once inuited by Pope Eugenius to Rome, but alwayes in vayne, since he finding out new excuses euery houre, eschewed honours, and pompe as much as others sought them. True it is, the same Eugenius being come afterwardes to Bologna, and renewing the inuitement, the Seruant of God could no more alleadge, as he was wont, eyther the weaknes of his complexi­on, or the difficulty and length of the way: so as recommending himselfe to our Lord, he went his wayes thither, and in the pre­sence of many Cardinalls, was very graciously receaued by the Pope, and saluted with these wordes: VVelcome the ornament, and splendour of the Episcopall order. And frō henceforth his Holines with the rest of the Clergy and the Citty, held him in great veneration all the tyme that he remayned there, which was but short, through the care and sollicitude he had, to returne to his Diocesse as soone as might be. And howbeit the Pope much desired to haue him with him, with humble instance notwithstanding effectually ta­king [Page 377] his leaue, he departed from Court, without the lea [...]t rust of auarice, that could once take hold of the fine polish of his Charity.

How B. Laurence was made Patriarke of Venice: and what testimony was giuen of him, by a holy Hermite. Chap. 7.

AFter Eugenius the IV. su [...]eeded Nicolas the V. who in a cer­taine manner, contending with his Predecessour to exalt B. Laurence, determined to create him Patriarke of Venice, translating the Primacy into that Citty, from another Citty and Island of th [...] Adriatique Sea, called Gradus, very famous & magnificent in tymes past, though now, as humane vicissitudes are, as it were forgot, & vtterly destroyed. This newes at the beginning, was not very gra­tefull to the States of Venice, fearing least in processe of tyme, with such augmentation and aduancement of the Prelacy and the Title, the troubles and factions againe, might come to increase, which had anciently growne between the Ecclesiastical & secular Court. As soone then as the Blessed Laurence had notice thereof, to shew himselfe in deedes to be no lesse a good Cittizen, then a good Reli­gious man, and a good Bishop, he went to the Senate, and there publiquely declared his desire was to retire himselfe rather, and to lay downe the charge now borne for these eighteene yeares against his will, then now in old age to charge himselfe a new with such a burden. But for as much as the name and title of Patriarcke offe­red by his Holynesse, redounded not so much to his honour, as th [...] reputation and Maiesty of the Common wealth, he would by no meanes dispose of himselfe any thing in that case, without first co­municating the matter with the Superintendantes and Tutours thereof. Wherfore they should plainely signify in the meane tyme, their owne inclination; since he would wholy gouerne himselfe according therto, in a busynes of that importance, looking alwayes a great deale more into the common good, then to any particuler consolation, or disdaine of his.

These wordes and the like, sayd the B. Laurence, with such affect and candour withall, as the Duke himselfe, through tender­nes, being not able to hold from teares, and the Senatours astoni­shed at so great a height of courage, conioyned with Charity alike, by a common consent made answere; By all meanes, and without respectes he should accept the offer, as after he did, with the extraor­dinary [Page 378] iubily, and ioy of the whole people.

About the same tyme, to the new glory of the B. Laurence, fell out another thing of great wonder. There liued for more then 30. yeares, neare to Corfú, in a craggy and desart place, a Man very famous for continuall prayer, and strict abstinence, and that which men more esteeme of, for a notable spirit of Prophesy. Now the Venetian Republike at that tyme, being much oppressed and redu­ced to ill termes by the armyes of Philip Duke of Millan: It came into the mind of a certaine noble Venetian, who had then some busy­nesse at Corfú at that tyme (so curious and sollicitous are men a­bout future things) to learne of that solitary man, whether true it were, as it was commonly spoken, that the Venetian Empyre was neere vpon ruyne? To which demaund the Prophet answeared without delay: You may all be thankefull to the bitter plaints, and earnest intercessions of your Bishop, without which take this for cer­tayne you had now a good while since been quite vndone; & that which had of old happened to those fiue infamous Cittyes, had fallē vpon yours, since you haue so turned your backes to our Lord, and put his holy Law so quite in obliuion.

This testimony gaue the deuout Hermite of the blessed Laurence; not knowing the same by any humane way, nor vnderstanding, but by diuine inspiration, what passed in the world in those dayes. Which thing being suddenly diuulged, confirmed the vniuersall opinion which was then had of such a Patriarke. So as there arri­ued into the Citty of Venice no personage of quality, nor pilgrime, (who then for sundry deuotions came flocking from Hungary, Ger­many, France, and Spayne) who endeuoured not to enforme them­selues exactly of his sharp and austere life; and of his most irrepre­hensible manners, to receiue his benediction, to reuerence his Re­liques as holy, the lodging he dwelt in, the Couch where he lay in, and the clothes which he had worne. They neuer tooke vpon them any enterprize of moment, eyther in publike or priuate, with­out hauing recourse to the prayers of this great seruant of God.

Lastly, he neuer likely went forth of doores, but the people would runne to him, as to an Angell descended from heauen, while euery one held himselfe happy, but only to beho [...]ld him, much more to treate with him, and to receaue answeres or aduices from that Oracle. All these and many other thing besides, which for breuityes sake are passed ouer, being apt to puff a man vp, how [Page 379] wise and wary soeuer; and to put him quite besides himselfe; yet were not able to disseuer the B. Laurence from the loue and feare of God, and from the knowledge and contempt of himselfe.

The great talents which B. Laurence had, in deciding causes as Iudge: and of the blessed end which he made. Chap. 8.

VVHat shall we say, of the manner, which B. Laurence held, in giuing audience, and dispatch of causes touching his tribunalls? Wherein he had such light & so great dexterity with­all, as howbeit it he gaue the most part of his tyme, to all other things, yet he seemed to be as borne only and created for this. He would stand amidst the cryes and clamours both of clients and pleaders, as firme as a rock: and after he had listned to the partyes what sufficed (discouering now and then, with more then human vnderstan­ding, the secret traces, and frauds which lay often hid) he would breifly then giue sentence, but with such iudgement and equity, as among other things in the Court of Rome, they were allwayes held in a high degree most iust and irrefragable. Nor left he those awhit lesse satisfyed, who came to visit him in priuate, since to be admitted to his presence, there was no need of wayting or at­tending more fit opportunityes. For whether he studyed, or wrote, or made his prayer, suddaynely cutting of the threed of the present occasion, he would receiue all with such peace and benignity, as he seemed not to be subiect to troubles, or clothed with flesh, but with all loue, all sweetenes, all spirit.

By these wayes now approaching to the terme of his pilgri­mage, hardly had he finished the Treatise intituled, The degr [...]es of perfection; when being now some 74. yeares of age, he was surpri­sed by a burning pestilent feauer. Whereupon his domestikes pre­paring him a bed, according to his infirmity, the true imitatour of Christ, being troubled at it, sayd to them: What then, doe you make ready feathers for me? My Lord was not layd vpon feathers, but stretched on a hard and cruell bat. And doe you not remember that which S. Martyn protested in his last article, that a Christian should dye vpon ashes, and clad in cilices? Finally there was no meanes to lay him otherwise, then vpon his wonted straw. Per­ceyuing afterwards, to cure his malady, there was no neglect had [Page 380] of trauayle or costs, being angry as it were against himselfe. A [...] (sayd he) what paynes is taken, and how much mony cast away vpon a vile sack, when the poore of Christ haue no food the while, nor fire, nor any remedy for their necessityes.

Heereupon presaging his owne death, he recollected himselfe more seriously; and the two contrary affects, Feare, and Hope (as it happened in the like case to the blessed Hilarion) began to goe & come with him. So as now with a cheerefull and smiling counte­nance, forbidding teares to the standers by, he exclaymed, Behold the spouse, let vs go, and meere him: and added with eyes cast vp to heauen: Good Iesus, loe I come. And now agayne with iust a ballance weighing the diuine iudgements, he would shew forth signes of Feare: insomuch as a freind of his saying to him, with tender eyes: How willingly, my Lord, may you goe to the palme which is now ready prepared for you? he answered with a graue countenance: this palme, my Sonne, is giuen to the valiant comba­tants of Christ, not to the base and cowards as I am. And yet ta­king courage at last from his owne conscience, & much more from the merits and Passion of our Sauiour, he goes about to declare his last will.

And heere now I could wish them present who do greedily amasse vp treasures and rents of the Church, conuerting the stocke of the poore vnto their priuate vse, and with diuers slights continu­ing the sacred benefices in the same family. The faythfull dispen­sour of Christ had not any thing to leaue, hauing allwayes been so great an enemy of all propriety, as that (being a person otherwise so addicted to learning) of purpose, not to seeme to possesse a booke, he had euer studyed in volumes stiched vp only. His Testamēt was then to exhort his followers to true vertue, and very often to or­dayne expressely, he might be buryed at S. Georges, without any pompe, in the sepulcher of the Monks there.

In the meane while, the rumour was spread of his last ex­tremes through the whole Citty. Whence hastened a world of people to behold him, vpon whome hauing for two continuall dayes togeather, most deerely stretched forth his handes, the doore being open to all, amidst holsome aduices and admonishments, which he gaue them, and the sweet colloquies he had with God; his strength fayling him by little and little, receauing the diuine Sacraments with great deuotion, he finally expired on the 8. of [Page 381] Ianuary, in the morning being the third yeare of his Patriarkall di­gnity, and the twentith of his Bishopricke. The sacred body was put in the Church, and publiquely celebrated, not with mour­ning blacks and funerall exequyes, but with feasts and wonted pro­cessions as made for some notable victory, as shall appeare in the Chapter following.

A notable miracle wrought by B. Laurence in his life tyme, with anothor that happened after his death. Chap. 9.

THe Cōfraternityes which are there called the Great Schools, went to honour the body with lights, and festiuall garments, and guilt torches. There met also the whole Clergy with the Ma­gistrates and persons of ech quality; and while the offices lasted, was heard from aboue by two Celestine Fryars, a sweete harmony of celestiall accents. Besides which miracle, are many recounted of the B. Laurence, as well at his death, as also in his life, as the de­liuery of possessed persons of euill spirits, curing of the sick, and predictions of future or hidden things, and other like effects aboue nature. But we only for assay, shall touch but two of them.

The one was, that in the Feast of Corpus Christi, the virgins of a certaine Monastery neere to the Bishoprick, being not able to cō ­municate, by reason of some troubles which then happened, were all exceedingly grieued thereat, but particulerly one of rare deuo­tion, & of excellent vertue, who was of the opinion with others, to send to the Bishop in all hast, to beseech him in his high Masse he would dayne to remember them, that they remayning that day depriued of the feast of Angells, might not also be defrauded of the intercession of the Preist. The B. Laurence oftentymes did promise to doe so. When behold in the midst of Masse, after he had eleua­ted the sacred Hoast, being rauished quite besides himselfe, with­out departing awhit from the peoples eyes, he caryed the holy Cō ­munion, and gaue it by diuine priuiledge, to the aforesaid Virgin alone; who, the other being distracted vpon sundry occasions, was euen at the selfe same hower, in secret in her Cell, rapt like­wise in deep contemplation, and burning desire of receauing her Lord. From which office of Charity the Seruant of God returning immediatly againe into himselfe, so ended the Masse, as none of the standers by could beware of what had happened: the Confessour [Page 382] only of the Virgin had knowledge thereof, and told it to the Patri­arke, who exhorting them both to yield thankes vnto God only for it, imposed vpon them a strict silence thereof, so long as he liued. And with this, came to be renewed the ancient miracles, which are recounted of some other Saints likewise in the same matter.

The other miracle was, that after the happy passage of the B. Laurence, there growing a contention betweene the Chanons of the Cathedrall, and the Monkes of S. Georges, about the custody of that sacred Treasure; and there wanting no reasons for eyther part, it was necessary while the strife was deciding, to keepe it in deposito aboue ground; and so being a day or two, not only without signe of corruption, but with yielding also a most sweet odour, on the third day, began moreouer the cheeks to looke red, and the bloud to come, with so much the greatet astonishment of all, as they were certifyed, there was vsed no preseruatiue of Balmes, or of any other druggs about the same; and the Phisitian sincerely affirmed, the feauer to haue been malignant and pestilent, and of its nature apt inough to corrupt withall. Whereof the rumour, running through the Citty, there was agayne such a multitude and presse of people at the Gates, as from the Sacristy where he was kept, they were fayne to cary him to the Temple, to satisfy the peoples eyes, who not contended with a simple view, began with an audacious piety, to seize on his reliques, so as his shoes on a sudden were va­nished, his garments were cut asunder, and perhaps the feruour had proceeded further, if betymes remedy had not been found by a Guard set vpon the body.

From thence, being conueighed backe againe into the Sa­cristy, it perseuered entire, vntill notwithstanding the Order left by him, sentence was giuen in fauour of the Chanons; while in the Cathedrall Church remayned a continuall concourse of people men and women, who being stirred vp at so great a newes, came running thither, not only from the neighbour-countreyes there a­bout, but euen also from diuers partes of Italy and Sclauony it selfe, for the space of 65. dayes; at the end whereof still vntouched as at the first, in the same Cathedrall, it was reuerently layd in a Vault, which to this day also is visited by the faythfull with much deuoti­on, and not without fruit, since that Blessed spirit, being there in­uoked, obtaynes them many graces from Heauen. And to speake some thing also of his exteriour person, the holy man was tall of [Page 383] stature, of well knit ioyntes, of a pale coulour, of gracious eyes, and the whole aspect both venerable and amiable; a thing truly not vsuall, because indeed we do see many fayre soules to be enclo­sed by the mighty hand, and sweet disposition of the Highest in proportionable lodgings. To whom be all prayse, power, and glory, for all Eternity.

FINIS.
Gentle Reader.

THE faults which haue escaped in printing (by reason of the vncorrected copy, and im­ploying of strangers not skillfull in our language) I hope are not very many, nor yet such, as may not easily be corrected, by thy iudicious Reading.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.