CHAPTER I.

IN tymes past one Venantius a no­ble man, had a liuinge in the coun­trye of Samnium: the farmer vvhe­reof had a sonne called Honoratus, vvho from his verye childehode by the vertue of abstinence did thirste Abstinen­ce. after the ioye; of heauene: and as in other thinges he lead an holy life, and refrained from all idlè talke, so did he muche, as I saide before, sub­due his bodye by meanes of absti­nence. His parentes vpon a certaine daye had inuited theire neighbours to a bancket vvhich consilted alto­gither of fleshe, vvhereof bycau­se for the loue of mortification he refused to eate, his father and mother began to laughe at him, vvilling him to fall to that vvhich they had, for can vve (quoth they) get yovve any fishe here in these [Page 10] mountains, (for in that place they vsed some tymes to heare of fishe but seldom to see any) But whiles they were thus iestinge, and moc­king at there sonne, soddainly they lacked water: where vpō a seruaunt with a wodden bucket (as the man­ner is there) went to the well to fetch some: into which as he was a drawinge, a fishe entred in, which vpon his returne, togither with the water he powred forth before them all: And the fish was so greate, that it serued Honoratus very well for all that daye: At this strange chance all were stroken in admitation, and his parentes abstained now from fur­ther scoffinge at his vertue, and be­gun to haue him in reuerence for his abstinence, whom before for that very cause they did mocke and scorne: and by this means, the fishe broughte miraculouslye from the well discharged Gods seruaunt from that shame, which he had ēdu­red, throughe theire vnciuil iesting. Honoratus proceding forwarce in vertue, at lenghte was made fiee by [Page 11] the foresaid Lorde Venantius: and afterwarde in that place, wich is cal­led Funda he builte an Abbeye, whe­rein he was the father almost of two hundred monckes: and he liued in so great holines that he gaue goo­de exāple to all the countrye roun­de aboute. Vpon a certaine daye, it fell so out, that a stone of an huge greatnes wich was digged out of the mountaine that hunge ouer the toppe of his Abbeye tumbled dow­ne by the side of the hil, threatninge bothe the ruyne of the house and the death of all the moncks within: The signe of the crosse. which danger the holy man seinge readye to com vpon them, called often vpon the name of Christe, and puttinge forth his righte hande ma­de against it the signe of the crosse, and by that meanes did he staye it, and pynne it fast to the side of that steepe hill: which thing Laurence a religious man affirmeth to be most true, And by cause it founde not the­re any place vpon which it mighte rest, it hangeth at this tyme in such sorte, that all which nowe looke [Page 12] vpon it, do verily thincke that it vvolde continually fall.

I suppose so notable a man as he vvas, and vvho aftervvarde became master to so many scollers, had him selfe some excellent teache [...] of vvhom he vvas instructed.

I neuer hearde that he vvas scol­ler to any: but the grace of the holy Ghost is not tied to any lavve. The vsuall custome of vertuous men is, that none shoulde take vpon him to rule, vvho first, hath not learned to obey: nor to cōmand that obedience to his subiects, vvhiche before he hath not giuen to his ovv­ne superiors. Yet some there be vvhich are so invvardly taughte by the doctrine of Gods holy [...]pirit, that althoughe they haue no man to instruct them outvvardlye, yet do they not vvant the direction of an invvarde teacher: vvhich liber­tye of life notvvithstandinge is [Page 13] not to be taken for an example by such as be vveake and infirme, least vvhiles each one doth in like man­ner presume to be full of the holy Ghost, and contemne to learne of anye, they become them selues erro­neous masters. But that soule vvhich is full of Gods holy spirit, hath for proofe thereof most euidēt signes, to vvi [...]t the other vortues, & especially hurnilitye, both vvhich yf they do perfectlye meete in one soule, apparant it is, that they be testimonies of the presence of hea­uenly grace. And so vve reade not, that Iohn Baptist, had any master, nor yet that Christ vvho by his cor­porall presence taughte his Apostles tooke him in amongest the number of his other disciples, but voutsafed to instruct him invvardlye, and left him as it vvere in the sight of the vvorlde to his ovvne liber­tye. So Moises likevvise vvas taugh­te in the vvildernes, and learned by the Angell, vvhat God gaue him in charge, vvhich by mea­nes of any mortal man he knevve [Page 14] not: but these thinges as before hath bene saide, are of weakelinges to be reuerenced, and not by any meanes to be followed.

I like very well of your opinion: yet I beseche yowe to tell me, whe­ther so notable a father as he was, lefte not some scholler behind him, that did imitate his masters steppes.

CHAPTER II.

THe reuerent man Libertinus who in the tyme of Totilas kin­ge of the Gothes, was Prior o [...] the same Abbey of Funda, was brough­te vp and taughte by him: of whom albeit the certaine reporte of pas­singe many, hath made his sondrye vertues knowne to the worlde, yet the foresaide religious man Laurence, [Page 15] who still l [...]ueth and that tyme had verie familiar acquaintance with him, hath often told me many thin­ges, whereof some fewe which now com to my minde I will here sett downe. In the same prouince of Sa­mnium, as Libertinus was in his ior­nye about busines of the Abbey: it fell so out, that Darida, captaine of the Gothes with his armye met him, by whose soldiars the man of God was throwne from his horse: which in iniurye he takinge verye patientlye offered them also his whipp, saying: Take this, that yowe may make him the better to go: & hauing saide so, he betoke him selfe to his praiers. The army marched on very fast, and quic­kely came to the riuer called Vultur­nus, where they began to beate there horses both with theire lances, and also to spurr them, till the blode came, and all this to make them take the water: but yet no beating nor spurring, colde enforce thē forwar­de: for they were as much afraide to enter the riuer as thoughe it had be­ne som depe downefall. At lengthe [Page 16] vvhē they vvere all vvearied vvith beating, one a mongest the rest saide, that the reason vvhy they vvere thus punished vvas, for takinge a­vvay the horse from Gods ser­uaunt: vvherevpon returninge straighte waies backe, they foūde Li­bertinus prostrat at his praiers: and calling vpon him to rise, and take his horse: he bad them goe on a Gods name saying, that he needed him not, but for all that they alighted & sett him perforce vpon his ovvne beast and so in all hast departed, and returning backe to the riuer they passed ouer so quickely as thoughe in the channell there bad bene no vva­ter at all: and so it fell out that Go­des seruaunt hauinge resti [...]ution made him of his one horse, that all the soldiars came likewise to enjoye the vse of their owne.

At the same tyme one Buccellinus entred Campania vvith an army of Frenche men, and dycause it was commonly saide, that the Abbey in which the holy man liued, had great store of monye, the Frenche men very gredy of so good a booty came [Page 17] thither, and with raginge mindes went into his oratory (where he lay prostrat at his praiers) seekinge and cryinge out for Libertinus: an [...] a strange thinge it was, for thoughe they came in & stumbled vpon him, yet colde they not see him, and so deceiued throughe theire owne blindenes awaye thy departed as empty as they came.

At an other tyme likewise vpon busines of the monasterye, at the commandement of the Abbote who succeded his master Honoratus, he toke his iornye to Rauenna. And for the great loue which he bare to venera­ble Honoratus, alwaies did he beare about him in his bosome, one of his stockinges. Being in his waye it sel Relicke [...]. so out that a certaine woman was carrying the corpe of her deade sōne: who no soner sawe the seruaunt of God but for the loue of her childe she laide holde vpō his bridle, protesting with a solemne oathe, that he shol­de not departe, before he had raised vp her deade sōne. The holy mā not acquaīted with so straūge a miracle, [Page 18] was much affraide to heare he [...] ma­ke such a request, and willinge to haue gott away, yet seinge no means how to effect his desir, greatly did he doubte what was best to be done: Here it is worth the noting to con­sider what a conflicte he had in his soule: humility and the mothers pie­tye striuinge togither: feare to pre­sume vpon so vnusuall a mirac [...]e, & griefe not to helpe the desola [...] mo­ther: at length, to the greater glo­rye of God, piety and compassion ouercam that vertuous soule, which therformay trutlie be called in [...]inci­ble, bycause it did yelde and was conquered: for a vertuous soule it had not bene, yf piety and compas­sion had not ouercom it: wherfor lightinge from his horse, he fell vpon his knees, lift vp his handes to heauene, drewe the stockinge out of his bosome, laide it vpon the brest of the dead corpes: and beholde whiles he was at his praiers, the soule of the childe returned in to the body, which he perceiuinge, toke it by the hande and deliuered it aliue [Page 19] to his sorrowfull mother, and so went on the rest of his iorny.

What is to be saide in this case? for was it the merite of Honoratus, or the praiers of Libertinus that wroughte this miracle?

In the worckinge of so notable a miracle, togither with the faith of the woman, the vertue of both did concurr: and therfor in myne opi­nion, Libertinus had power to raise vp that deade childe, because he had learned to trust more vpon the ver­tue of his master then his owne: for when he laide his stocking vpon the childes brest, no doubt but he Sainctes in heauen pray for vs. 4. reg. 20. thought, that his soule did obtaine that, for which he did thē praye. For we reade the like of Heliseus, who car­ryinge his masters cloake, and com­minge to the riuer of Iordane, stroke the waters once, and yet diuided them not: but when straighte after he saide, VVhere is now the god of Helias? [Page 20] and then stroke the riuer with the same cloake, he made a waye open for him selfe to passe throughe: Whereby you perceiue Peter how muche humility auaileth for the worckinge of miracles, for then the merit of the master, had force to do that which he desired, whē he called vpon his name: and when with hu­militye he did submitt him selfe to his master, he wroughte the same miracle which his master had done before him.

I am well pleased with your an­swer: but is there I praye yowe any thinge els of him yet remayninge, which may serue for our edisicatiō.

Surely there is, yf there be yet any that list to imitate so notable an exā ­ple: for I make no doubt, but that the patience of so worthie a man did far excell all his signes and miracles, as yowe shall nowe heare. Vpon a cer­taine daye the Abbot, who succeded Honoratus, fell so pitifully out with [Page 21] venerable Libertinus, that he strooke him with his sistes: and bycause he coulde finde neuer a staff, vp he to­ke a foote stole and with that did so strike his heade & his face, that they both swelled and became black and blewe. Beinge thus vnreasonably beaten, without giuinge any wor­des, he went quietly to bed. The next daye, he was to go forth about busines of the Abbey, & therfor whē mattins were ended, he came to his Abbotes beds side, and humbly de­manded of him leaue. The Ab­bot knowinge howe greatlye all did honor and loue him, supposed that he wolde for the former iniury ha­ue forsaken the Abbey: and therfor he asked him, whether he ment to goe, to whom he answered: Father (quoth he) there is a certaine matter concerninge the Abbey to be hand­led, where I must nedes be, for ye­sterdaye I promised to come, and therfor I am determined to trauail thither. Then the Abbot considerin­ge from the bottom of his harte, his owne austeritye and hard dealinge: [Page 22] and the humility and meeknes of Libertinus, suddainlye leapt out of his bed, gat holde of his feete, confessed that he had sinned, & done wicked­lye, in presuminge to offer vnto so goode and worthie a man, so cruell and contumelious an iniurye. Liberti­nus on the contrarye, prostrat vpon the earth, fel downe at his feete, attributinge all that he had suffered, not to any cruelty of his, but to his owne synnes and demerites. And by this means, the Abbot was brought to great meekenes: and the humi­lity of the scoller, becam a teacher to the master. Going afterwarde abroade about the foresaide busines of the Abbey, many gentlemen of his acquaintance that had him in greate reuerence much maruailed, and diligently enquired, by what means he cam by such a swolne and blacke face, to whom he answered: Yesterday quoth he at eueninge for punishmēt of my sinns I mett with a foote stole, and gat this blowe, which ye see: And thus the holy mā preseruinge both truthe in his soule [Page 23] and the honor of his master, did nei­ther bevvraye the faulte of his fa­ther, nor yet incurred the sinne of lyinge.

Had not so venerable a man as this Libertinus was, of whom yowe haue tolde so many miracles, and strange thinges, in so great a con­uent, some that did imitat his holy life and vertues.

CHAPTER III.

FElix called also Coruus, one whō yowe knowe verye well, and who not longe since was Prior of the same Abbeye, tolde me diuers verie strāge thinges, som of which I wil passe ouer with silence, because I hasten to other, but one there is which by no meanes I can ommitt. This it was.

In the same Abbey there liued a certaine moncke very vertuous who was the gardiner. A theife like­wise there was, that vsed to clyme ouer the hedge & so to steale away the wortes. The holy man seing that he did sett many which after­ward he colde not finde, and percei­uinge that some were trodden downe, and other stolne awaye, wal­ked rounde about the gardaine to finde the place where the theife ca­me in, which when he had found, by chaunce also as he was there he lighte vpon a snake, which he willed to followe him, and bringing him [...]o the place where the theife entred, gaue him this charge: In the name of IESVS (quoth he) I command thee to keepe this passage, and not to suffer any theife to come in: Wherevpon the snake forthwith, obeying his cō ­mandement, laid it selfe a crosse in the waye, and the monke returned to his cell. Afterwarde in the heate of the daye when all the monckes were at rest, the theife according to his custome, came thither and as he [Page 25] was clyming ouer the hedge and had put one leg on the other side, sud­dainlye he sawe the snake, whiche stopped the vvaye, and for feare fal­ling backewarde, he lefte his foote hanginge there by the shoe vpon a stake, & so he hunge with his heade downewarde, vntil the returne of the gardiner: who comming at his vsuall hower, founde the theife han­ginge there in the hedge, whom when he sawe, he spake thus to the snake: God be thancked, thowe hast done what I bad the, and therfor go nowe thy waye: vpon which liceu­ce, the snake by and by departed. Then commynge to the theife, he spake thus vnto him. What meaneth this goode brother, God hath deli­uered yowe as you see into myne handes: why haue you bene so bold as so often to robb away the labor of the monckes?, and speakinge thus, he loosed his foote, without doinge him any harme, willing him also to follovve him, vvho broughte him to the gardin gate and gaue him tho­se vvortes vvhich he desired to haue [Page 26] stolne, speaking also to him in svve­te manner after this sorte. Goe your vvaye, and steale no more, but vvhen yowe haue need, come hither to me, & vvhat sinfully yovv vvolde take, that vvill I vvillinglye bestovve vpon yovve for Gods sake.

I haue hitherto as I novve per­ceiue, liued in an error: for neuer did I thincke, that there had bene any holy men in Italie vvhich had vvrought miracles.

CHAPTER IIII.

BY the relation of venerable For­tunatus, Abbot of the monasterye vvhich is called Ciceroes bathe, and also of others reuerent men, I haue come to the knovvledge of that vvhich novve I meane to tell yowe. There vvas a passinge holy man called Equitius, dvvellinge in the [Page 27] prouince of Valeria, vvho for his ver­tuous life, vvas in great admiration vvith all men, vvith vvhom Fortu­natus vvas familiarlye acquainted. This Equitius by reason of his greate holines of life, vvas the father and gouernor of many Abbeis in that Prouince. In his yonger yeres, many and sore carnall tentations he endu­red, which made him more feruent and diligent in praiers and to perse­uere continually in that holy exer­cise, which he did, crauing most in­stantly of God to afforde him some remedye. Lyring in that manner, it fell so out, that in vision vpon a cer­taine nighte he sawe an Angell come vnto him, who made him an eu­nuch, and so [...]eliuered him from all those carnall motions in such sort that neuer after he felt any more, as thoughe he had not bene any man at all. Trusting now vpon this great grace receiue [...] by the speciall goo­denes of God, as before he was a go­uerner of men, so afterwarde he toke charge likewise of we men, and yet for all that, did he continually [Page 28] admonishe his scollers not easily to credit them selues herein, nor to fol­lovve his example, nor yet to trust vpon that gifte, which they had not in them selues, least it turned to the­ire owne ruyne and destruction.

At such tyme as diuers witches were here in this city of Rome ap­prehēded: one Basilius that was [...] prin­cipall man in that wicked arte, put Monckes apparel different from o­thers. vpon him the habit of a moncke, and so fled a waye to Valeria: and commin­ge to the reuerent Bishop of the city of Amirtin, he desired his helpe that he wold for the goode of his soule com­mende him to Abbot Equitius. The Bishop went with him to the Ab­bey, where he made sute to the ser­uant of God, that he wolde vouch­safe to receiue into his conuent that moncke which he broughte, whom so sone as the holy man behelde, he saide to the Bishop. This man good brother (quoth he) whom yowe commende vnto me, semeth in my­ne eies to be a deuill, and not any moncke: whereunto the Bishop re­plied & saide, that he sought excuses not to graunt his petition: Not so [Page 29] quoth the seruaunt of God, but I do denounce [...] him to be suche a one as I see him, and because, yow shall not thincke that I will be disobedient, what yowe commande, I will per­forme: Wherevpon he was receiued into the Abbeye. Not many daies af­ter, Gods seruant trauailed far of to preache vnto the people in the coun­trye: after whose departure, It fell out, that in the monasterye of vir­gins, which was vnder his charge, one of them which in respect of her corruptible carcasse semed bewtiful, fel into an ague, to be afflicted with sore fittes, and not so much to speake as pitifully to cry out in this manner I shal dy forth with, vnles Basilius com vnto me, & by his skill in phisick re­store me to my health. But in the ab­sēce of their father, none of the mōc­kes durst presume to enter into the monastery of virgins, much lesse was he permitted, that was yet but a no­uice, & whose life & cōuersation was not knowē to the rest of the brethrē. A messenger therfor with all spede was dispatched to the seruant of God Equitius, to let him vnderstande [Page 30] how suche a Nun was fallen into a terrible burninge ague, and how she did earnestly desire to be visited of Basilius: which newes so sone as the holy man did heare, in an anger he smiled and saide, did I not saye be­fore hand that this companion was a deuill and not a moncke? goe your waies and turne him out of the Ab­beye: and as for the virgin that is so sicke of a feuer, take no further care, for hereafter it shall not troble her any more, nor she make any further inquisitiō after Basilius. The moncke that was the messenger returninge backe, vnderstode that the Nunne was at that very chowre restored to her health, in which the seruant of God Equitius, far distant, affirmed that she sholde, no question but by speciall miracle, like to the example of our Sauiour, who beinge desired Ioan. 4. to visit the sonne of a Lorde, did by his only worde restore him to his health, so that the father at his retur­ne knewe his sonne to be restored to life at that verye howre in which he hearde so much from the mouth of [Page 31] truth it selfe. The monckes puttinge theire fathers commandement in execution, turned Basilius out of the Abbeye, who beinge so expulsed did often saye, that he had by his incan­tations hanged Equitius his cell in the aire, and yet that he colde not hurt any of his monckes: This wretch not longe after in this citie of Rome throughe the zeale of goode people for his wickednes was burnt, and so ended his life.

Vpon a certaine daye, one of the Nunnes of the same monasterye, goinge into the gardin sawe a letti­ce that liked her, and forgettinge to blesse it before with the signe of the The signe of the cros vsed in blessinge. crosse, greedily did she eate it: where vpon she was suddainly possessed with the deuill, fell downe to the grounde, and was pitifully tormen­ted: worde in all hast was carried to Equilius, desiring him quickely to vi­sit the afflicted woman, and to helpe her with his praiers: who so sone as he came into the gardin, the deuill that was entred, began by her ton­gue as it were to excuse him selfe [Page 32] sayinge: what haue I done? what ha­ue I done? I was sitting there vpon the lettice, and she came and did eat me: But the man of God in great zeale commanded him to departe, and not to tarry any longer in the seruant of almightye God, who straighte waies went out, not presu­minge any more to touche her.

A certaine noble man likewise called Felix, of the prouince of Nursia father to Castorius, who nowe dwel­leth here with vs in Rome, vnde [...]stan­dinge that Equitius had not receiued holy orders, and yet that he did visit many places, & preache vnto d [...]uers, vpon a day very boldly went and asked him, howe he durst presume to preach, not hauing receiued holy orders, nor yet licence of the Bishop of Rome, vnder whom he did live: vpon which demande, the holy man being thus compelled; gaue him to vnderstande by what means he had obtayned licens to preache; speaking thus vnto him. What you say vnto me, my selfe haue seriously thought vpon: but on a certaine [Page 33] nighte, a yonge man in vision stode by me, and touched my tongue with such an instrument, as theie vse in letting of blode, sayinge: Beholde I haue put my worde into thy mouth, goe thy way & preache. And since that daye thoughe I wolde, I can not but talke of God:

Desirous I am to knowe, what manner of life he ledd, who is saide to haue receiued such giftes at Gods hande.

The worcke Peter procedeth of the gifte, and not the gifte from the worcke, otherwise grace were not grace; for Goddes giftes do go Grace en­creaseth by good workes. before all worckes of ours, althou­ghe the gifts by the worckes which followe do encrease: but to the end that your maye vnderstande what life he led, which was knowne to the reuerent man Albinus Bishop of Reatino: and many there be yet alive, which mighte very well [Page 34] remember the same. But what do yowe seeke for further worckes, whē as his purity of life, was answe­rable to his diligence in preachinge? for such a zeale to saue soules had inflamed his harte, that albeit he had the charge of many monasteries, yet did he diligently trauaile vpp and downe and visit churches, townes, villages, and particular mens hou­ses, and all this, to stirr vp the hartes of his auditors to the loue of hea­uenly ioyes. The apparell which he ware was so base, and contemptible; that such as knewe him not, wolde haue thoughte scorne so much as to haue saluted him, though him selfe had first offered that courtesye. And whether so euer he went, his man­ner was to ride, but that vpon the most forlorne beast which coulde be founde, his bridle was but an halter, his saddle no better thē plaine shepes skinnes, His bookes, of diu [...]ni [...]y we­re putt in to leather bagges, & those he did carry him selfe, some hanging on the righte side of his horse, and some vpon the lefte: and to what [Page 35] place so ouer he came, he did so open the fountains of sacred scripture, that he wa [...]tered theire soules with the heauenly dewe of his sermons: Who­se grace in preaching was so great, that the fame thereof came euen to Rome it selfe: and as the tongues of flatterers doe with theire glorious wordes kill the soules of such as giue them the hearinge; at the same tyme, some of the Roman clergy did in flatteringe sorte complaine vnto the Bishoppe of this Apostolique sea, sayinge, what manner of rusticall companion is this, that hath taken vpon him authority to preache, and being without learning, presumeth to vsurpe vnto him selfe the office of our Apostolical Lorde? wherfor yf it please yow, let him be sent for be­fore your presence, that he may tast of the seuerity of ecclesiasticall disci­pline: And as it falleth out, that he which hath much busines, is ouer­come sometyme by flattery, yf that pleasing venime be not spedilye dis­patched from the soule, at the per­swasion of his clergye the Pope gaue [Page 36] his consent that he sholde be sent for to Rome, to vnderstande vvhat talent and gifte he had receiued from God, and so one Iulianus who af­terwarde was made Bishop of Sa­ [...]inum was sent, hauing yet com­maundement giuen him to br [...]nge him vp with great honor, to thend that the seruaunt of God, mighte not thereby sustaine any iniury or de­triment in his fame: who to gratifie the Popes clergye, went in post to the Abbey, and finding there in his absence, certaine antiquaties wri­tinge, demanded of them for the Abbot, who tolde him, that he was in the valley at the bottom of the Abbey mowinge of haye: Iulian had a man very proude and stubborn, & suche a one, that he colde scarse rule him: This man he sent in all hast for the Abbot, who in an angrye mode went his way, and comminge quickly into the medowe where be­holdinge all that were there cut­tinge of grasse, he demanded, which of them was Equitius: and when they [Page 37] shewed him where he was, being yet far of he fel into a great feare, and became therewith so fainte, that he colde scarce goe vpon his legges: tremblinge in that manner he came to the man of God, and humbly bowinge downe his heade, he embraced his knees and kissed them, tellinge him, that his master was de­sirous to speake with him. After Goddes seruaunt had saluted him againe, he willed him to take vp some of the grasse, and to carry it home for theire horse, and I will (quoth he) straighte waies come, when I haue dispatched this little worke which remaineth.

In this meane time Iulianus much maruailed what the matter was, why his man tarried so longe, and seinge him at length to come laden with grasse vpon his necke, in great rage he cried out to him saying, Sirrha, what meaneth this, I sent yow to fetch me the Abbot, and not to bringe meate for myne horse. Sir quoth his man he [Page 38] will come to yowe by and by: and forthwith the mā of God cam in ba­se apparrell and a paier of shoes bea­ten full of nailes, caryinge his sit he vpon his necke and beinge yet far of, his man tolde him, that he was the Abbot. So sone as Iulianus behelde him attired in that base sorte, he con­temned him, and deuised with him selfe howe to speake vnto him in the most crosse and crooked manner he coulde. But when Gods seruaunt drewe nighe, such an intollerable feare came vpon Iulianus that he fell a tremblinge, and his tongue so faltred, that he colde scarse deliuer the messag for which he came. whe­revpon he fell downe at his feete, and desired that he wolde voutsafe to praye for him: and withall gaue him to vnderstande, that his Aposto­lical father the Pope was desirous to see him. Vpon the receipte of which newes the venerable man Equitius, gaue almightie God most The Pope, highest bisshop. hartie thāckes sayinge, that heauēly grace had visited him by meanes of the highest Bishoppe: and straighte [Page 39] waies he called for some of his mōc­kes, commandinge horse to be made ready in all hast: but Iulianus wearye of his iornye tolde him, that he coul­de not trauaile so sone, but of neces­sitye must res [...] him selfe that nighte: I am very sorie for that quoth the holy mā, for yf we goe not to day, to morrowe we shall not, and thus by reason of the others wearines, he vvas enforced that nighte to remay­ne in the Abbeye. The next mornin­ge about the davvning of the daye came a post vvith a tired horse brin­ging letters to Iulianus, commanding him not to pre [...]ume to molest or to dravve the seruaunt of God out of his monasterye. And vvhen he re­quired the reason of this counter­commande, the messenger tolde him that the next nighte after his depar­ture, the Pope vvas terribly frighted in a vision, for presuminge to send for the man of God. vvherevpon Iu­lianꝰ risinge suddainly out of his bed­de, and commendinge him se [...]fe to the venerable mans prayers spake thus vnto him. Our father desireth [Page 40] you not to troble your selfe any further, but to stay in your mona­stery: which when Gods seruaunt hearde, very sory he was and saide, did not I tel you, that yf we did not sett forward on our iorny by and by, that afterwarde we sholde not? Then vpon charity he entertained his messenger a little while with him in his Cloister, and thoughe by all means he refused, yet he enforced vpō him a reward for the paines he had taken. See therfor Peter how God doth preserue and keepe them, who in this life do contemne them selues and how they are secretly ho­nored of the citizens in heauen, who are not ashamed outwardly to be litle estemed in this worlde: and on the contrary, in the sighte of God they be of no accounte, who in the eies of theire owne frends and neyghbours do swell through desire of vaine glo­rye. And therfor our Sauiour Christ who was truth it selfe saide to certaine: Yow are they that iustisye Luc. 16. your selues before men, but God knoweth your hartes, for that whiche is highe [Page 41] to men is ab [...]omminable in the sighte of God.

I maruayle very muche howe so great a Bishopp colde be deceiued in so worthy a man.

VVhy do you maruaile Peter? for the reason why we are deceiued is, bycause we be men: what? haue yow forgotten hovv Dauid who vsually had the spirit of prophecy pronounced sentence against inno­cent 2. Reg. ca. 16. and cap. 19. Miphiboseth the sonne of Ionathas when he gaue credit to the lyinge words of his seruaunt Siba? which thinge notwithstanding bycause i [...] vvas done by Dauid, we both belieue to be iust in the secret iudgement of God, and yet by humane reason hovve it was iust vve can not per­ceiue: what maruaile then is it, if we that be not prophets, be some tymes by lyinge tongues abused, and otherwise transported, then [Page 42] charity and iustice vvolde: for it is muche to be considered, that euery Bishoppe hath his minde troubled vvith a vvorlde of busines, and it can not be, vvhen the mind is distracted about many thinges, but that it is the lesse able sufficientlye to examin those that be particular, & so muche the soner is he deceiued in some spe­ciall case, by hovve much he is bu­sied vvith the multitude of many.

It is most true that yowe saye.

But I must not passe ouer with si­lence, that which the reuerent man Valentinus, sometyme myne ab bot tol­de me concerninge Equitius. For he saide, that his bodye beinge buried in the oratorye of S. Laurence the martir, Churches dedicated to Sain­ctes. a certaine countrye man, set vpon his graue a chest full of wheate, lit­tle cōsideringe or respectinge howe worthie and notable a man laye there buried: Wherevpon suddainlye a miraculous whirlewinde came & [Page 43] ouerthrevve that chest and cast it far of, all other thinges remayninge still in theire former places: by which all did plainely perceiue, of what worth and merit that man was, whose bo­dye laye there buried.

To this must I also add an other thinge, which I hearde of venerable Fortunatus, a man that doth much please me for his yeres, life, & simpli­citye. At suche tyme as the Lom­bardes cam into the prouince of Va­leria; the monckes of the monastery of the reuerent man Equitius fled from thence into the oratorie, to the holy mans sepulchre, into which pla­ce the cruell men entringe, they be­gan by violence to pull the monckes forth, either to torment them, or els with theire swordes to kill them. Amongest whom one sighthed and for very bitter griefe, cried out. Alas Inuocatiō of sainctes and there protectiō. alas holy Equitius, is it thy pleasure, and art thow cōtent, that we sholde be thus miserably haled, & violently drawne forth, and doest not thowe voutsafe to defende vs? which wordes were no soner spoken, but a [Page 44] wicked spirit possessed those sauage soldiers in such sort that falling dovvne vpon the grounde, they we­re there so longe tormented, vntill all the rest of the Lombardes which vvere without, vnderstode of the matter, to thende that none shold be so hardly as to presume to violate that holy place. And thus as the ho­ly man at that tyme, defended his owne monckes, so did he likewise Pilgrima­ge to sain­ctes bo­dies. afterward succor & preserue manie more that fled vnto the same place.

CHAPTER V.

THat vvhich I entende nowe to tell you, I learned by the rela­tion of one of my fellowe Bishops, vvho liued in a monckes vveede ma­ny The di­stinct ha­bit of Monckes. yeres in the citie of Ancona, and led there a goode & religious life: Many also of myne owne frendes vvho be novv of goode yeres & liue in the sa­me parts, assirme it to be most true. Nere to the foresaide citie of Ancona there is a churche of the blessed mar­tir [Page 45] S. Steuē, in which one called Cōstā ­tius, a man of venerable life, did serue there for clarcke, vvho for his vertue and holines, vvas famous far & nere being one that vtterly dispised all vvordly things, and with the whole povver of his soule thirsted after the ioyes of heauene. Vpon a certaine daye it fell s out that there vvanted oile in the churche, by reason vvhe­reof the foresaid seruaunt of God had not vvherwith to lighte the lampes: vvhere vpon he filled them all vvith vvater, & as the manner is, put a pece of paper in the middest, & then sett thim on fire, & the vvater did so burne in the lampes as though Burning lamppos in the church. it had bene very oile: by vvhich you may gather Peter of vvhat merit this man vvas, vvho enforced by neces­sity, did chaunge the nature of the element.

Very strange it is that yovv saye, but desirous I am to knovve, vvhat humility he had invvardlye [Page 46] in his soule, who outwardly was so wonderfull in the eies of the worlde.

Amonge miracles very fitly do yow enquire the inwarde state of the minde: for it is almost incredible, howe miracles wrough [...]te in the sighte of men, do with theire tenta­tion inwardly assalt the soule. But after yow haue hearde onlye one thinge, vvhich this venerable Cōstan­t [...]us did, yovv vvil quickly perceiue vvhat an humble man he vvas.

Hauing novve tolde me one of his miracles, it remayneth that yovve do edifye me also vvith the humilytie of his soule.

Because the reporte of his holy life vvas verye muche spread abroa­de, many from diuers countries tra­uailed to Ancona, beinge verye desi­rous to see him: and amongest others [Page 47] a certain countrye fellovve vvas come far of, for that very purpose: at vvhich tyme it so chaunced that the holy man, vvas standinge vpon a paier of vvodden staiers busying him selfe there in mending of lamp­pes. A verie little person he vvas of stature, vvith a thinne face, and to the outvvard vievv contemptible. This fellovv that cam to see him, in­quired earnestly vvhich vvas the man for vvhose sake he had trauai­led so longe a iornye. Those that knevv him, forth vvith tolde him, pointing to Constantius. But as folishe soules do measure the merites of men, by the qualitye of theire bo­dies, so he beholdinge him so little and cōtemptible, by no means coul­de be persvvaded that they told him truth: for in the countrye fellovves minde, there fell out as it vvere a great contētion betvvixt that which he had heard, & that which he sawe: and he verily perswaded him selfe, that he coulde not be so little in his eies, vvho vvas so great in his former conceipte: and therfor vvhen very [Page 48] many did constantly affirme that he was the man, the simple soule despi­sed him, and in scoffing manner said I verily belieued that he had bene a goodly great man, but this fellovve hath not any thing at all in him that is like a man: vvhich vvordes of his the seruant of God Constantius hea­ring, forthvvith left his lampes vvhich he vvas in hande vvith, and in great hast cam merily dovvne the staiers, imbraced the countrye clow­ne, and of exceding loue, helde him fast in his armes, kissed him, gaue him great thanckes, for hauinge that opinion, and spake thus vnto him. Thovv only (quoth he) ha [...]t thyne eies open, and doest truly beholde vvhat I am: By vvhich facte vve may easily gather vvhat an humble man he vvas, that loued the countrie fellovve the more for contemninge him: for iniurious vvords and con­tumelious vsage, trie vvhat a man is invvardly in his soule: for as proude men are glad of honor, so those that be humble, for the most parte reioyce in contempte and disgrace, & when [Page 49] they beholde them selues to be of no account in the opinion of others, glad they are, bycause they see that to be confirmed by the iudgement of others which inwardly in theire owne sou­les they had of them selues.

This man as I perceiue, was out­wardly great in miracles, but yet grea­ter by his inwarde humility of soule.

CHAPTER VI.

MArcellinus also a man of holye li­fe, was Bishopp of the same ci­tye of Ancona: who was so sore trobled with the gowte, that being not able to goe, his seruauntes were enforced to carry him in theire handes: Vpon a daye by negligence, the city was set on fire, and thoughe many labored by throwinge on of water to quenche it, yet did it so increase and go forwarde, that the whole city was in great [Page 50] danger: for it had laid holde of all the houses that were next it, and consu­med alreadye a great parte of the tow­ne, none beinge able to helpe or with­stande it: In so pitifull a necessity and great danger, the Bishopp carried by his seruantes came thither and com­manded him selfe to be sett downe righte against those furious flames, and in that very place, whether the force of the fier did seeme most to bē ­de: which being done, the fire maruai­lous strangelye turned backe into it selfe, and as it were cryed out, that it coulde not passe the Bishopp: and by this meanes, was it stopped from goinge forwarde, went out of it selfe not beinge able to touche any other buildinges. By which Peter yovve see what an argument of great holines it was, for a sicke man to sit still, & by his praiers to quench those raging flames.

I do both see it, and much wonder at so notable a miracle.

CHAPTER VII.

NOwe I intende to let yovv vn­derstande somewhat of a place not far distāt which I hearde of the re­uerent Bishop Maximianus, and of the olde moncke Laurio, one whom you knowe: both which are yet liuinge, & as for Laurio he was broughte vp vn­der that holy man Anastasius, in the Ab­beye whiche is harde by the citye of Nepye: and Anastasius both by reason of the nerenes of the place, equall loue of vertue, and like profession of life, was dailye in the companye of holy Nonnosus Prior of the Abbey which is in mount Soracte. This Nonnosus had for his Abbot a very sharpe man, whose roughe conditions notwithstandinge he did alwaies beare with wonderfull patience, and did in such swete sort gouerne the monckes, that oftentymes by his humility he appeased the Ab­botes anger. The Abbey standinge in the topp of an hill had neuer an euene [Page 52] and playne place fitt for a gardin: one only little plott of grounde there was, in the side of the mountayne, but that was takē vp of a great stone which did naturally growe there, so that by no meanes it coulde serue for a gardin: yet venerable Nonnosus vpon a daye, began to thin [...]ke with him selfe that at least that pece of ground wolde ser­ue verye well to sett wortes, yf by any meanes that huge stone coulde be taken awaye: but then he likewise thought that fiue hundred yoke of oxē wold not be able to stirr it: wherevpō despairinge of all humane helpe, he betokehim selfe to Gods goodnes, and in that very place gaue him selfe to prayer in the quiettyme of the nigh­te, & beholde on the morninge when the monkes came thither they founde that huge stone remoued far of, and a very fit plot of grounde left to make them a gardin.

At an other tyme the same holye man beinge washinge of lamppes, ma­de of glasse, one of them by chaunce fell out of his handes, and brake into manye peeces: who fearinge the great furye of the Abbot did forthwi [...]h ga­there [Page 53] vp al the fragmentes, laide them before the altar, and there with great sithinge fell to his praiers: and after­warde liftinge vp his heade he founde the lampe entire & whole. And thus in these two m [...]racles did he imitat two notable fathers, to wit Gregory and Donatus: the first of which remo­ued a mountaine, and the other, mad [...] a broken chalice safe and sounde.

We haue as I perceiue now mira­cles after the imitation of old sainctes.

Howe say yowe? ar you content also in the conuersation of Nonnosus, to heare howe he did imitat the facte of the prophet Ileliseus:

Content I am, and most earnestly desire it.

Vpon a certaine daye, when the old oile was spent, and the tyme to [Page 54] gather oliues was nowe at hande: the Abbot bycause there owne trees toke not, thoughte it best to sende the monckes abroade to helpe strāgers in the gatheringe of theires, that for the recompēse of theire labor they might bringe home some oile for the neces­sities of theire owne house. This de­terminatiō, the man of God Nonnosus in great humility did hinder, least the monckes goinge abroade from theire cloister to gett oile, mighte lose som­what in the deuotion of theire soules And therfore bycause he savve that theire owne trees had yet a fevve oli­ues, he willed those to be gathered and put into the presse and that oile which came forth, to be broughte vnto him, thoughe it were neuer so little: which being done, he sett the little vessell before the aultar, and after theire de­parture he offered his praiers to God, which being ended he called for the monckes, commandinge them to take awaye the oile which they brought & to powre a little thereof into all the vessels which they had, that each of them mighte haue some of the bene­dictiō of that oile: which beinge done, [Page 55] he caused the vessels empty as they were to be close stopped, and the next day they founde them al full.

We finde daily the wordes of our Sauiour to be verified, who saith: My father euen to this tyme doth worcke, and I do Ioan. 5. worcke.

CHAPTER VIII.

AT the same tyme, the reuerent man Anastasius, of whom I spake before, vvas notarye to the churche of Rome, whereof by Gods prouidence I haue nowe the charge; who desirous, only to serue God, gaue ouer his office and made choise of a monasticall life: and in that Abbeye which is called Suppentonia, he liued many years ver­tuously, and gouerned that place with great care and diligence: Ouer the Abbey there hangeth an huge rocke and beneath it, there is a stiepe dow­nefall. [Page 56] Vpon a certaine nighte, when God had determined to rewarde the labours of venerable Anastasius, a voice was hearde from the topp or that rocke, which very leisurely did cry out: Come away Anastasius: who being so called, straighte after, seuen other monkes were seuerally called by thei­re names. And then the voice staied for a little tyme, and then called againe the eighte moncke: Which strange voice the Conuēt hearinge very plai­nelye, made no doubte but that the death of them that were so called, was not farr of: wherfore not many daies after before the rest Anastasius him selfe, and then the others in order, departed this mortal life, as they were before called from the topp of the rocke. And that moncke who was called after som pausing, did a little while surui­ue the rest, and then he also ended his life: whereby it was plaine, that the stayinge of the voice, did signify that he sholde liue a little longer then the other. But a strange thinge happened, for when holy Anastasius lay vpon his death bed, a certaine monke there was in the Abbey, that wolde needes dye [Page 57] with him, and therfore fel downe at his feere, and there began with teares to begg of him in this manner. For his loue to whom you are nowe goin­ge I beseche and adsure you, that I may not remayne in this worlde se­uen daies after your departure: and in­dede it so fel out, that before the se­uenth day was come, that he lefte this mortall life, and yet was not he that nighte named by that voice amongest the rest, so that it appeareth plainelye that it vvas only the intercession of Anastasius, vhich obtayned that his de­parture.

Seinge that monke vvas not called amongest the other, and yet by the in­tercession of that holy man vvas ta­ken out of this life: vvhat other thinge can vve gather hereof, but that suche as be of great merit, and in fauor vvith God, can somtyme obtayne those thinges vvhich be not predestinate.

Such thinges as be not predestinat by God cā not by any meanes be obtained [Page 58] at his handes: but those thinges which holy men do by theire praiers effect, were from all eternitye predestinat to be obtained by praiers. For very pre­destination it selfe to life euerlastinge, is so by almighty God disposed, that Gods elect seruantes doe throughe theire labor come vnto it, in that by theire praiers they do merit to receiue that which almighty God determined before all worldes to bestowe vpon them.

Desirous I am to haue this pointe more plainly proued: to wit, that pre­destination may by praiers be holpen.

That which I inferred Peter may quickly be proued: for ignorant you are not that our Lorde saide to Abra­ham: In Isaac shal sede be called to the: to whom also he saide, I haue appointed thee to be a father of many nations: and againe he Gen 21. Gen. 27. Gen. 22. & 26. promised him sayinge: I wil bless [...]hee, and multiplye thy sede as the starres of the heauen, and as the sand of the sea: Out of which places it is plaine that almighty God, [Page 59] had predestinat to multiply the seede of Abraham by Isaac, and yet the scrip­ture Gen. 25. saith: Isaac did praye vnto our Lorde, for his wise bycause she was barren, who did heare him, and Rebecca conceiued: Yf then the increase of Abrahams posteritye, was predestinat by Isaac, how came it to passe, that his wife was barren? by which most certaine it is, that prede­stination is fulfilled by praiers, when as we see, that he by whom God had predestina [...] to increase Abrahams seed, obtained by praier to haue children.

Seing reason hath made that plaine, which before I knewe not, I haue not herein any further doubte.

Shall I now tell you somewhat of such holy men as haue bene in Tus­cania; that you may be informed what notable persons haue florished in tho­se partes, and how greatly they were in the fauor of almighty God?

Willing I am to giue you the [Page 60] hearinge: and therfor beseche you to procede forvvarde.

CHAPTER IX.

A Man of holye life there vvas, called Bonifacius, Bishop of the ci­ty of Ferenti, one that vvith his ver­tuous conuersation did vvel discharge his dutye. Many miracles he did, vvhich Gaudentius the priest vvho yet liueth doth still reporte: and seinge he vvas broughte vp vnder him, no que­stion but by reason of that his presen­ce he is able to tell all thinges the more truelye.

His Bishopricke was passing poore (a thinge which to goode men is the preseruer of humilitye) for he had no­thinge els for his reuenues, but only one vineyarde, which was also a [...] one tyme so spoiled with a tēpest of haile, that very fewe grapes did remayne: Bonifacius comminge in, & seing vvhat vvas happened, gaue God great thanc­kes, for that he had sent him further [Page 61] pouertye to his former necessity. And when the tyme came that those fewe grapes which remayned were ripe, he appointed one accordinge to the cu­stome, to keepe his vineyard, commā ­dinge him carefully to looke well vn­to it. And vpon a certaine daye he wil­led Constantius who both was a Priest and his nephewe to make ready, as be­fore they were wont to do, al the bar­rels and wine vessels they had, which thinge vvhen his nephevve the Priest vnderstoode, he maruailed much to heare him commande so mad a thinge, as to make ready the vessels for wine, him selfe hauinge no wine at all to put in: yet durst he not inquire the reason why he gaue that charge, but did as he commanded, and made all the vessels & other thinges ready as before they had alwaies vsed to doe. Thē the man of God, caused the poore remnaunt of grapes to be gathered and car­ried to the vvine-presse, and dispat­ching all others awaye, him sel­fe tarried there still with a little boy whom he commanded to treade those grapes, and vvhen he perceiued that a little vvine began to runne [Page 62] forth, the man of God toke it, and put it into a little vessell, and po­wred somwhat thereof into all the other barrels & vessels whiche were made ready, as it were to blesse them with that little quantitye: when he had so done, he called straighte waies for the Priest, commanding him to sende for the poore, vpon whose com­minge the wine in the presse began to increase & runne out so plentifully, that it did fill all the pottes and other vessels which they broughte. Whēthey were all serued, he bad the boy to lea­ue treadinge, and come downe: then locking vp the store house, into which he had put his owne vessels, and set­ting his owne seale vpon the dore, to the churche he went, and three daies after he called for Constantius, and ha­uing saide a fewe praiers, he opened the dore, where he founde all the ves­sels into which he had before poured but a very little liquor worckinge so plentifully, that yf he had not then come, they had al runne ouer [...]nto the floore. Then he straightly comman­ded the priest his kinseman not to re­ueale this miracle to any, so longe as [Page 63] he liued, fearinge least by meanes the­reof the outwarde opinion of men, mighte throughe vaine glorye in­wardly haue hurte his soule: follo­winge therein the example of our master Christe, who to teache vs to walke in the pathe of humilitye, com­manded his disciples concerninge him selfe, not to tell any what they had se­ne, vntill the sonne of man was risen againe from death.

Bycause fitt occasion is now offe­red: desirous I am to knowe, what the reason was, that when our Sauiour restored sighte vnto two blinde me­ne, and commanded them to tell no bodye: yet they after theire departure made him knowne throughout al that countrye. For had the only begotten sonne of God, who is coeternal to his father, and the holy Ghost, a desire he­rein to do that which he coulde not performe: to witt, that the miracle which he wolde haue kept secret, col­de not yet be concealed.

All that which our blessed Sauiour [Page 64] wroughte in his mortall body, he did it for our example and instruction, to thende that followinge his stoppes ac­cordinge to our poore abilitye, we mighte without offence passe ouer this present life: and therfore when he did that miracle, he both commanded them to conceale it, and yet it cold not be kept in, & al this, to teache [...]is elect seruantes to followe his doctrine, to witt that when they do any notable thinge whereof glorye may arise to them selues, that they shoulde haue a desire not to be spoken of, and yet for the goode of others contrary to theire owne minde they sholde be laide open & knowne: so that it procede of thei­re great humility to desire that theire worcks may be buried with silence, & yet for the profit of others, it sholde fall so out, that they can not be con­cealed. Wherfore our Lorde wolde not haue any thinge done which he could not effect: but what his seruātes ought to desire, and what also con [...]rary to theire mindes was conuenient to be done, like a good master he taughte vs by his owne example.

I am verye well satissied with [Page 65] this your answere.

For as much as we haue now ma­de mention of Bonifacius, let vs prosecu­te a fewe more of his actes, not yet spoken of. A [...]an other tyme vpon the feast daye of S. Proculus the martir, one Feast daies of sa [...]inctes. Fortunatus, a noble man that dwelt in that towne: did hartily entreat the Bishop that after he had done the so­lēnitye of masse, he wolde voutsafe to Saying of masse. come vnto his house to bles his mea­te, & dine with him. The man of God was content to satisfye his request, so charitably was he inuited: and therfor whē masse vvas done he vvēt thither: but before the table was yet blest, sud­dainly (as som mē by such meanes get theire liuinge) one cam to the gate vvith an ape, vvho begā to playe vpon an instrument, vvhich the holy man hearing, vvas discontented and saide: Alas alas, this vvretched man is deade, this vvretched man is deade. Beholde I am come hither to dinner, and haue not yet opēd my lippes to prayse God, and he is here vvith his ape play­ing vpon his instrument. Then he [Page 66] desired them to giue him some meate and drincke: yet I wolde haue yow knowe (quoth he) that he is a deade man. when the vnhappy wretche had filled him selfe and was going out at the gate, a great stone fell from the house and brake his heade. Of which blowe he fell downe and was taken vp halfe deade, and being caried away the nexte day as the man of God had before said he departed this life: whe­rein Peter we haue to consider how holy men are with feare to be reue­renced: for they no question be the temples of God, and when an holy man is enforced to anger, who is then moued but he that dwelleth in that temple: wherfor we haue so much the more cause to feare how we pro­uoke such kinde of persons to wrath, seing we knowe that he is present in theire soules, who hath power and mighte sufficient to inflict what pu­nishment him selfe best pleaseth.

At an other tyme, the foresaide Priest Constantius his nephew, had sol­de his horse for twelue crounes, which money he laid vp in his chest: and being abroad about other busynes [Page 67] it so happened, that certain poore peo­ple pititully begged of the holy Bis­hopp that he would vouchsafe to be­stowe some thinge vpon them for the re [...]iefe of theire necessity: The man of God not hauinge any thinge to giue them, was muche grieued, to sende them away emptye: whiles he was thus trobled, suddainly it came to his minde, howe his nephew had solde his horse, and that the mony was in his chest: wherevpon in his absence by vertuous violence, he brake open the locke, toke awaye the twelue crownes and bestowed them as best pleased him selfe vpon the poore peo­ple: Constantius returninge home and findinge his chest open, looked for his mony and findinge it not, he began to exclaime, and with great noyse and fu­rye to cry out against his vncle, sayin­ge: All other can liue here in quiet, onlye I can not. The Bishop hearinge him crying out in that manner came vnto him, as also the rest of his family and when he began with swete speche to mitigat his furye: in great anger he replied sayinge. All other can liue with you, only I can not be suffered [Page 68] to be in quiet, giue me my money vvhich you haue takē out of my chest: The Bishop moued at his vvordes de­parted Churches dedicated to our Ladie [...]. avvay, and vvent into the chur­che of the blessed virgin Mary, vvhere liftinge vp his handes vvith his vesti­ment vpon them, he began standinge Praier to our La­dye [...]. to praye, that she vvolde helpe him to so muche money, that he mighte quiet the furye of the mad Prieste: & castin­ge suddainly his eies vpon the gar­mēt that lay betwene his armes stret­ched out, he founde tvvelue crovvnes lyinge there so faire and brighte, as thoughe they had then nevvly come from the mint: vvho forth vvith goin­ge out of the churche, cast them to the raginge Priest vvith these vvordes. Loe there is your money vvhich you haue kept such a stirr for, but knovve you that after my deathe you shall neuer be Bishopp of this place, and that for your couetous minde. By vvhich true cēsure of his vve gather, that the priest prouided that money for the gettinge of the Bishopricke. But the wordes of the mā of God did preuaile for the same Constantius ended his life vvithout any further promotion then [Page 69] to the dignity of Priesthoode.

At an other tyme, tvvo Gothes cam vnto him for hospitalitye, sayinge that they were trauailinge to Rauenna: vnto whom he gaue with his owne han­des a little wodden bottle full of wi­ne, ynoughe haply for theire dinner: of which notwithstandinge they dranc­ke vntill they cā to Rauenna, & thoughe they staide Iorne daies in that citye, yet had they no other wine then that which the holy man bestowed vpon them, and so likewise they continued vntill they returned backe againe to the same venerable Bishop, drincking dailye of the same, and yet neuer lac­kinge wine to serue theire necessity: as thoughe in that wodden bottell which he gaue them, wine had grow­ne and not there increased.

Not longe si [...]hence there came from the same countrye, a certaine olde man that is a clercke, who reporteth di­uers notable thinges of him, which must not be past ouer with silence. For he saithe that goinge vpon a daye into his gardin he founde it all full of caterpillers, and seinge all his vvortes spoiled, turninge [Page 70] him selfe to them he spake thus: I ad­iure you in the name of our Lorde Iesus Christ, to departe from hence, and not to eate any more of these wortes: after which wordes those wormes did forthwith so vanish awaye that there was not one to be founde in all the whole gardin. But what great maruaile is it, to heare such thinges reported of him that was now a Bis­hopp, being then both by reason of his orders, and also holy conuersation of life, growen into fauour with al­mighty God, seinge those are more to be admired which this olde clergy man saide that he did, being yet but a little boy. For he affirmeth that at suche tyme as Bonifacius dwelt vvith his mother, and went abroade, that som­tyme he cam home without his shirte and oftentymes vvithout his coate: for no soner did he see a naked man, but he gaue away his clothes, and put them vpon him, to thende that him selfe mighte be clothed with a rewarde in the sighte of God: his mother rebuked him often for doing so, and tolde him that it was no reason that being poore him selfe he sholde giue away his ap­parrel [Page 71] to other. Vpon an other daye, goinge into the barne, she founde al­most all her wheate which she had prouided for the whole yeare giuene away by her sonne, to the poore: & as she was for very griefe thereof bea­tinge and tearinge of her selfe, the chil­de of God Bonifacius came, and with the best vvordes he coulde began to com­forte his afflicted mother: but vvhen by no means she wold be quieted, he entreated her to go out of the barne vvhere the little vvheat that remay­ned vvas: vvhen she vvas departed the vertuous youth fell straighte vvaie to his praiers: and after a little vvhile goinge out he broughte his mother backe againe, vvhere she found it as full of wheate as before it was: at the sighte of which miracle she being tou­ched in soule, exhorted him to giue as he pleased, seinge he coulde so sone ob­tayne at Gods handes what he asked. His mother also kept hennes before her dore, which a fox that had his be­rye not far of vsed to carye awaye, and vpon a certaine daye, as the youth Bonifacius was standinge in the entrye, the fox after his old maner came and [Page 72] toke away one of the hennes: where­vpon in all hast he ran to the churche, and prostrat there in praier with loude voice he spake thus: Is it thy pleasure o Lorde that I shal not eate of my mothers hennes, for beholde the fox doth deuoure them vp: and rising from his praiers, he went out of the churche, and straighte waies the fox came backe againe with the henne in his mouth, leauing it where he found it, and forthwith fel downe deade in the presence of Bonifacius.

It semeth strange vnto me, that God vouchsafeth in such small thinges to heare the praiers of them that put theire trust in him.

This falleth out Peter by the great prouidence of our creator, to thende that by little thinges which we re­ceiue at his handes, we sholde hoope for greater: for the holy and simple ladd was heard in prayinge for small matters, that by thē he sholde learne hovve muche he oughte to trust in [Page 73] God, when he praied for thinges of greater importance.

What you saye, pleaseth me verye well.

CHAPTER X.

AN other man also there was in the same partes called Fortunatus, Bishopp of Tuderti, who had a most singular grace in castinge out of deuils, in so muche that sometyme he did cast out of possessed bodies whole le­gions; and by the continuall exercise of praier, he ouercam all thiere tenta­tions: Iulianus who had an office here in our church, and not long since died in this city, was familiarly acquainted with him, by whose relation I learned that which I will nowe tell you, for by reason of his great and in ward fa­miliarity, often was he present at such miracles as he wroughte, and did di­uers tymes talke of him to our [Page 74] instruction, and his owne comforte.

A certaine noble matrone there was, dwellinge in the hither partes of Tuscania, that had a daughter in lawe, which not longe after the marriage of her sonne, was togither with he [...] mo­ther in lawe, inuited to the dedication of the oratory of the blessed martir S. Sebastian: and the nighte before this Dedica­tion of churches. solemnitye, ouercome with carnall pleasure, she coulde not abstaine from her husbande: and thoughe in the morninge her former delighte trobled her conscience, yet shame draue her Processiō. forth to the procession, beinge more ashamed of men, then fearinge the iudgement of God, and therfor thither she went togither with her mother in lawe. And beholde, straighte vpon the bringing of the reliques of S. Seba­stian Transla­tion of [...]eli [...]es. the martir into the oratorye, a wicked spirit possessed the foresaide matrons dawghter in lawe, and piti­fully tormented her before all the peo­ple. The Priest of the oratory behol­dinge her so terribly vexed and lifted vp, toke a white lynninge cloth and cast vpon her; and forth withe the de­uill also entred into him, and bycause [Page 75] he presumed, aboue his strengthe, en­forced also he was by his owne vexa­tion, to knowe what him selfe was. Those that were present tooke vp the yonge getle woman in thiere handes, and carried her home to her owne house: And for as muche as she was by the enemye continually and cruelly tormented, her kinsfolke that car­nally loued her, & with thiere loue did persecut her, caused her, caused her to be caried for helpe to certaine witches: so vtterlye to cast awaye her soule, whose body they went about by sorcerye for a ty­me to relieue. Comming into thiere handes, she was by them broughte to a riuer, and there washed in the wa­ter, the sorcerers laboring a longe ty­me by theire inchantementes to cast out the deuill, that had possessed her bodye: but by the wonderfull iudge­ment of almightye God it fell ou [...], that whiles one by vnlawfull arte was ex­pelled, suddainly a whole legion did enter in. And from that tyme forwar­de, she began to be tossed with so ma­ny varieties of motions, to shrike out in so many sundry tunes, as there we­re deuils in her bodye. Then her [Page 76] parentes consultinge togither, and con­fessing thiere owne wickednes, caried her to the venerable Bishop Fortunatus and with him they left her: who hauinge taken her to his charge, fel to his praiers many daies and nightes, and he prayed so muche the more earnestly, because [...]he had against him in one body, an whole army of deuils: and many daies passed not, before he made her so safe and [...]oun­de, as thoughe the deuill had neuer had any power or interest in her bodye.

At an other tyme, the fame seruant of almighty God, cast forth a deuil out of one that was possessed: which wic­ked spirit when it was no we nighte and sawe fewe men stirring in the stretes, takinge vpon him the shape of a stranger, began to go vp and downe the citye crying out: O holy Bishop Fortunatus, beholde what he hath done, he hath turned a stranger out of his lodginge, and nowe I seeke for a place to rest in, and in his whole citye can finde none. A certaine man sittinge in his house by the fire, with his wi­fe and his little sonne, hearing one [Page 77] to crye out in that manner, went forth, and enquired what the Bishop had done, and withall inuited him to his house, where he caused him to sett with them by the fire: and as they were amonge them selues discoursin­ge of diuers matters, the same wicked spirit on a sudc [...]ain entred into his lit­tle childe, cast him into the fire, and forth with killed him: then the wret­ched father by the losse of his sonne in this manner, knewe full well, whom he had entertained, and the Bishopp turned out of his lodginge.

What was the cause, that the olde enemye presumed to kill his sonne, in his owne house: who thinckinge him to be a stranger, voursafed him of lodging and entertaynement.

Many thinges Peter seme to be goo­de and yet ar not, because they be not done with a goode mynde and inten­tion: and therfor our Sauiour saith [Page 78] in the gospell: Yf they eye be naughte, al thy Math. 6. bodye shal be darcke: for when the inten­tion is wicked, all the worcke that fol­loweth is naughte, althoughe it seme to be neuer so goode: and therfore this man who lost his childe, thoughe he semed to giue hospitalitye, yet I thinc­ke that he toke not any pleasure in that worcke of mercye, but rather in the detraction and infamy of the Bis­hoppe: for the punnishemēt which fol­lowed, did declare that his entertaine­ment goinge before, was not voide of synne: for some there be, which are ca­refull to do goode worckes, to thende they may obscure the vertue of an other mans life; neither take they plea­sure in the good thinge which they doe, but in the conceipt of that hurte which thereby they imagin recloūdeth to others: and therfore I verilye sup­pose, that this man which gaue enter­tainment to the deuill, was more desi­rous to seme to do a goode worcke then to do it in dede: to thende that he mighteseme more charitable then the Bishop, in that he entertained him, whom the man of God Fortunarus had thrust out of his house.

It is verilye so as you saye: for the ende of the worcke declared, that the intente of the doer was not good.

At an other tyme likewise, one that had lost his eysighte was brought vnto him, who craued his intercession and obtayned it: for so sone as rhe man of God had praied for him, and made A mira­cle of the signe of the crosse. the signe of the crosse vpon his eies, straighte waies he receiued his sighte. Beside this, a certaine soldiars horse became so mad, that he colde scant be holden by many, and so cruel he was that he rent and tare the flesh of all such as he coulde reach with his tethe: at lengthe as well as they coulde they tied him with roopes, and so brought him to the man of God: who puttinge An other miracle of the si­gne of the crosse. forth his hande, made vpon his heade the signe of the crosse, & forth with all his madnes departed in such sort, that he became more gentle then euer he was before. Then the soldiar seing his horse so miraculously cured, determi­ned to bestowe him vpon the Bishop: [Page 80] which because he refused, and yet the other instantly entreated, that he wol­de not reiect his poore gifte, the holy man toke the middle waye, and yelded so to the soldiars request, that yet he wolde not take any rewarde for the doinge of that miracle: for he gaue him first so muche money as the horse was worth, and then receiued him: for per­ceiuing that the soldiar wolde haue bene grieued, yf he had refused his courteous offer, vpon charity he boughte that, whereof he had then no nede.

Neither must I passe ouer with si­lence, that which I hearde almost twel­ue daies since: for a certaine poore olde man, was broughte vnto me (because I loued alwaies to talke with such kinde of men) of whom I inquired his countrye: and vnderstandinge that he was of the citye of Tuderti, I asked him whether he knewe the good ol­de father, Bishoppe Fortunatus: to which he answered that he knewe him, and that very well. Then I beseche you (quoth I) tell me whether you knowe of any miracles which he did, and because I am very desirous, let me [Page 81] vnderstande what manner of man he was. This man (quoth he) vvas far different from all those vvhich liue in our daies, for he obtayned at Gods handes vvhatsoeuer he requested: One of his miracles vvhich commeth to my minde, I vvill novve tell you.

Certaine Gothes vpon a daye tra­uailing not far from the citye of Tu­derti, as they vvere in thiere iorny to Rauenna, carried avvay vvith them tvvo little boies from a place vvhich belonged to the saide citye. Nevves hereof being broughte to the holy Bishop Fortunatus, he sent straight vvaies, desiryng those Gothes to com vnto him: to vvhom he spake very courteouslye, being vvilling by faire speche to pacifye th [...]ere fierce & cruel natures: and aftervvarde tolde them that they sholde haue vvhat money they desired, so they vvolde make re­stitution of the children: and ther­fore I beseche you (quoth he) gratifye my request in this thinge. Then he vvhich semed to be the chiefe of thē tvvo told him, that vvhatsoeuer els he commanded, they vvere readye to [Page 82] performe, but as for the boies by no means they wolde let them goe. To whom the venerable man (threatninge in sweete sort) spake vnto him in this manner: You grieue me good sonne to see that you will not be ruled by your father; but giue me not any such cause of griefe, for it is not good that you do: But for all this the Gothe contine­wing still harde harted, denied his re­quest, and so went his waye, yet com­minge againe the next day, the holy man renued his former sute, concer­ninge the children: but when he sawe that by no means he colde perswade him, in sorrowfull manner he spake thus: well I knowe that it is not goode for you to depart in this manner, and leaue me thus afflicted. But the Goth not esteming his wordes, returned to his inne, sett those children on horse­backe, and sent them before with his seruantes, and straighte wayes him selfe tooke horse and followed after: and as he was ridinge in the same ci­tye by the churche of S. Peter the Apo­stle, Dedicatiō of chur­ches to Sainctes. his horse stumbling, fell downe and brake his thighe in suche sorte that the bone was quite a sunder: vp [Page 83] was he taken, and carried backe againe to his Inne: who in all hast sent after his seruantes, and caused the boies to be broughte backe againe. Then he sent one to venerable Fortunatus with this message: I beseche you father to sende vnto me your deacon, who when he was come vnto him lying in his bedde, he made those boies which before vpon no entreaty he wolde re­store to be broughte forth, and deliue­red them to him sayinge. Go and tell my Lord the Bishop: Beholde you haue cursed me & I am punnished, but I haue nowe sent you those children which before you required, take them, and I beseche you to pray for me: The deacon receiued the children, and car­ried them to the Bishop: wherevpon the holy manforth with gaue his dea­con some holy water, sayinge. Goe quickelye and cast it vpon him where he lieth, who went his waye and com­minge to the Goth, he sprinckled all his bodye with holy water: and o A mira­cle wrou­ghte by holy wa­ter. strange and admirable thinge, the holy water no soner touched his thighe but all the rupture was so healed, and him selfe so perfectly restored to his [Page 84] former helthe, that he forsook his bed that verye houre, tooke his horse, & vvent on his iornye, as thoughe he had neuer bene hurte at all: and thus it fell out, that he vvhich refused for mo­ney and vpon obedience to restore the children, was by punnishemēt en­forced to do it for nothinge. When the olde man had tolde me this strange sto­rye, ready he vvas to procede vnto other: but because I vvas at that tyme to make an exhortation to som [...] that expected me, and the day vvas vvell spēte, I coulde not at that tyme heare any more of the notable actes of venerable Fortunatus; and yet yf I might, neuer vvolde I do any thing els, then giue eare to such excellent stories.

The next day, the same olde man reported a thinge far more wonder­full: for he saide that in the same citye of Tuderti, there dwelt a good ver­tuous man called Marcellus, togither with two of his sisters, who fallinge sicke, somwhat late vpon Easter euen departed this life: and because he was to be caried far of, he coulde not be buried that daye. His sisters hauinge [Page 85] now longer respit for his buriall, with heauie hartes ranne weeping vnto the Bishop: where they began to cry out aloud in this manner: we knowe that thow leadest an Apostolicall life, that thou doest heale leapers, restore sighte to the blinde: come therfore we be­seche you, and raise vp our deade bro­ther. The venerable man hearinge of theire brothers deathe, began him selfe likewise to weepe, desired them to departe, and not to make any suche petition vnto him, for it is our Lordes pleasure (quoth he) vvhich no man can resist: vvhen they vvere go­ne, the Bishoppe continued still sad and sorovvfull for the goode mans deathe, and the next day being the solemne [...]east of Easter, verye earlye in the morninge he went with two of his deacons to Mar­cellus house, and comminge to the place where his deade bodye laye, he fell to his praiers: and when he had made an ende, he rose vp and satt dovvne by the corps and with a lovve voice called the dead man by his name sayinge, Brother [Page 86] Marcellus: whereat, as thoughe he had bene lightely a slepe, and awaked with that voice, he rose vp, opened his eies, and lokinge vpon the Bishop sai­de. O what haue you done? o what haue you done? to whom the Bishop answered sayinge, what haue I done? Marye (quoth he) Yesterdaye there came two vnto me, & discharged my soule out of my body, and carried me awaye to a goode place, and this day one was sent, who bad them carry me backe againe, bycause Bishop Fortuna­tus was gone to myne house. And vvhen he had spoken these wordes, straighte waies he recouered of his sicknes, and liued longe after. And yet for all this we must not thincke that he lost that place which he had, by­cause there is no doubt, but that he mighte by the praiers of his in [...]erces­sor, liue yet more vertuouslie after his death, who had a care before he died to please almightye God.

But whye do I spende so many wordes in discoursinge of his wonder­full life, when as we haue so many mi­racles Visitation of relickes or Pilgri­mag [...]. euen at these daies wroughte at his bodye: for as he was wont to do [Page 87] when he liued vpon earth, so doth he nowe continually at his deade bones disposess deuils, and heale suche as be sicke, so often as men praye for such graces, with faith and deuotion. But I meane nowe to returne to the pro­uince of Valeria, of which I haue hear­de most notable miracles, from the mouthe of Venerable Fortunatus, of whom longe before I haue made mention, who comminge often to vi­sit me, whiles he teporteth olde [...]stor­ies, continually he bringeth me newe delighte.

CHAPTER XI.

A Certaine man liued in that pro­uince called Martirius, who was a verye deuout seruaunt of almightye God, and gaue this testimony of his vertuous life. For vpon a certaine daye the other monkes his brethren made an harth-cake forgettinge to make vpon it the signe of the crosse: for in The signe of the cross. that country they vse to make a cros­se vpon theire loaues, diuidinge them [Page 88] so into fovver partes: vvhen the ser­uaunt of God came, they told [...] him that it vvas not marked: vvho seinge it couered vvith ashes and coales, asked vvhy they did not signe it, & speaking so, he made the signe of the cros­se vvith his hande against the coales: vvhich thinge vvhiles he vvas in doing, the cake gaue a great cracke, as thoughe the panne had bene broken with the fire: after it vvas baked and taken out, they founde it marked with the signe of the crosse, vvhich yet not any corporall touchinge, but the faithe of Martirius had imprinted.

CHAPTER XII.

IN the same countrye there is a val­ley, vvhich is called of the plaine people Interocrina: in vvhich there liued a certaine man of a rare life, called. Seuerus, who was a Parishe priest of the churche of our blessed Lad [...]e the mother of God and perpetual virgin. [Page 89] One that lay at the pointe of death, sent for him in great hast, desiringe him to come with all spede, and by his praiers to make intercession for him, that doing penance for his wickednes, and loosed from his sinnes, he mighte departe this life. So it chaunced, that the Priest at that tyme, was busye in pruninge of his vines; and therfore he bad them that came for him to go on before, and I will (quoth he) come after by and by: for seing he had but a little to do, he staied a prety while to make an ende of that, and when it was dispatched, awaye he vvent to visit the sicke man: but as he was goinge, the former messengers mett with him sayinge: Father, why haue you staiede so longe? Goe not nowe any further, for the man is deade: at which newes the goode man fell a tremblinge, and cried out aloude that he had killed him: wherevpon he fell a weeping, and in that manner came to the deade corps, where be­fore the bedel he fell prostrat vpon the earth, powringe out of teares. Lyinge there weepinge very pitifully, [Page 90] beatinge his heade against the groun­de, and crying out, that he was guiltye of his deathe, suddainly the dead man returned to life: which many that were present beholdinge cried out, and began to wepe more plentifully for ioye, demandinge of him where he had bene, and by what meanes he came backe againe: to whom he saide, Certaine cruel men (quoth he) did cary me away: out of whose mouth & no­setrills fire came forth, which I coulde not endure: and as they vvere leadinge me throughe darcke places, suddainly a bevvtifull yonge man vvith others mett vs, vvho saide vnto them that vvere dravvinge me forvvarde. Cary him backe againe, for Seuerus the priest lamenteth his deathe, and our Lord for his teares hathe giuen him longer life. Then Seuerus rose vp from the earthe, and by his intercession did as­sist him in doinge of penance. And vvhen the sicke man that reuiued, had done penance for his synnes by the space of seuen daies, vpon the eighte vvith a cherefull countenance he de­parted this life. Consider Peter I praye you hovve derelie our lorde loued [Page 91] this Seuerus, that vvolde not suffer him to be grieued for a little tyme.

They be maruailous strange thinges vvhich you reporte; and which before this tyme I neuer hearde of: but what is the reason that in these daies there be not any suche men nowe liuinge.

I make no doubt Peter: but that there be many suche holy men now liuinge, for thoughe they worcke not the like miracles, yet for all that, may they be as vertuous and as holye. For true iudgement of ones life, is to be ta­ken from his vertuous conuersation, and not from the worckinge of mira­cles, for many there be who althoughe they do not any any suche strange thinges, yet are they not in vertue inferior to them that do them.

Howe I beseche you can it be maintayned for true, that there be some that worcke not any miracles, and yet be as vertuous as they [Page 92] which worcke them.

Suer I am that you knowe verye Peter chiefe of the Apo­stles. wel, that the Apostle S. Paul, is brother to S. Peter, chiefe of the Apostles in Apostolical principality.

I knowe that in dede, for no dou­bte can be made thereof: for thoughe he were the least of the Apostles, yet did he labour more then all they.

Peter as you well remember, wal­ked with his feete vpon the sea: Paul in the sea suffred shipwracke. And in one and the same element, where Paul coulde not passe with a shipp, Peter went vpon his feete: by which appa­rāt it is, that thoughe thiere vertue in worckinge of miracles was not alike, yet thiere merit is alike in the king­dome of heauen.

I confesse that I am well pleased with that you saye, for I knowe most [Page 93] assuredlye that the life, and not the mi­racles are to be considered: but yet seinge such miracles as be wroughte do giue testimony of a goode life, I beseche you yf any more be yet re­mayninge, that you wolde with the examples and vertuous liues of holy men fcede myne hungrye soule.

Desirous I am to the honor of our blessed Sauiour, to tell you some thin­ges now concerninge the miracles of the man of God venerable S. Bennet: but to doe it as it oughte, this daye is not sufficient wherfore we will here make a pause, and to handle this mat­ter more plentifully, take an other beginninge.

CHAPTER I.

BEnnet hauinge nowe giuen ouer the schole, with a resolute minde to leade his life in the wildernes: his nurse alone which did tenderly loue him, woloe not by any meanes giue him ouer. Cōmyng therfore to a pla­ce called Enside and remayning there in the churche of S. Peter, in the com­panye of other vertuous men, which for charity [...]iued in that place, it fell so out, that his nurse borrowed of the neighbours a sieue to make cleane wheate, which being left negligently vpon the table, by chaunce it was bro­ken in two pieces: wherevpon she fell pitifully a weepinge, because she had borrowed it. The deuout and reli­gious youth Bennet, seeing his nurse so lamenting, moued vvith compassion, tooke avvay vvith him both the pieces of the sieue, and vvith tears fell to his praiers: and after he had done, rising vp he founde it so vvhole, that the place coulde not be seene vvhere before it [Page 100] was broken: and comminge straight to his nurse, and comforting her vvith goode wordes, he deliuered her the sieue safe and sounde: which miracle was knowne to all the inhabitantes thereabout, and so much admired, that the townese-men for a perpetuall memorye, did hange it vp at the chur­che dore, to the ende that not only mē then liuinge, but also thiere posteritye mighte vnderstāde, how greatly [...]ods grace did worck with him, vpō his first renouncinge of the worlde. The s [...]eue cōtinewed there many yeres after euē to these verye troubles of the Lombar­des, where it did hange ouer the chur­che dore.

But Bennet desiringe rather the mi­series of the worlde, then the praises of men: rather to be wearied with la­bour for Gods sake, then to be exalted with transitorye commendation: fled priuily from his nurse, and went into a deserte place called Sublacum, distant almost fourtye miles from Rome: in which there was a fountaine springin­ge forth coole and clere water: the abundāce whereof doth first in a broa­de place make a lake, and afterwarde [Page 101] runninge forwarde, commeth to be a riuer. As he was trauailinge to this place, a certaine monke called Romanus met him, and demanded whether he went, and vnderstandinge his purpose, Habit of monkes. he both kept it close, furthered him what he mighte, vested him with the habit of holy conuersation, and as he coulde, did minister and serue him.

The man of God Bennet comminge to this foresaide place, lined there in a An Her­miteslife. straighte caue, where he continewed three yeres vnknowne to all men, except to Romanus, who liued not far of, vnder the rule of Abbot Theodacus, and very vertuouslye did steale certai­ne houres, and likewise sometyme a loafe giuen for his owne prouision, which he didcarry to Bēnet. And becau­se from Romanus cell to that caue there was not any waye, by reason of an highe rocke which did hange ouer it: Romanus from the top thereof vpon a longe rope did let downe the loase, vpon which also with a band he tied a little bell, that by the rin­ginge thereof, the man of God mighte knowe when he came with his breade, and so be readye to take it. [Page 102] But the olde enemy of mankinde, en­uying at the charity of the one, and the refection of the other, seeing a loafe vpon a certaine day let dovvne, threvve a stone and brake the bell: but yet for all that, Romanus gaue not ouer to serue him by all the possible mea­nes he coulde.

At length vvhen almighty God vvas determined to ease Romanus of his paines, and to haue Bennets life, for an example knovvne to the vvorlde, that such a candle set vpon a candle­sticke, mighte shine and giue lighte to the church of God, our Lorde vout­safed, to appeare vnto a certaine Priest dvvelling a goode vvay of, vvho had made readye his dinner for Easter daye, and spake thus vnto him. Thou hast prouided goode chere for thy sel­fe, and my seruant in suche a place is afflicted vvith hunger: vvho hearing this, forth vvith rose vp, & vpon Eas­ter daye it selfe, vvith such meate as he had prepared, vvent to the place, vvhere he soughte for the man of God amongest the steepe hils, the lovve val­leis and hollovve pittes, and at length founde him in his caue: vvhere after [Page 103] they had praied togither, and sittinge dovyne, had giuen God thanckes, and had much spirituall talke, then the Priest saide vnto him: Rise vp bro­ther, and let vs dine, because to day is the feast of Easter. To vvhom the man of God ansvvered, & saide, I knovve that it is Easter vvith me and a great feast, hauing founde so muche fauox at Gods handes, as this day to enioye your companye (for by reason of his longe absence from men, he knevve not that it vvas greate solemnitye of Easter) But the reuerent Priest againe did assure him sayinge. Verily to day is the feast of our Lordes resur­rection, and therfore meete it is not, that you sholde keepe abstinence, and besides I am sent to that ende, that vve mighte eate togither of such prouision as Gods goodenes hathe sent vs: vvhe­revpon they saide grace, & fell to thie­re meate, and after they had dined, and bestovved some tyme in talkinge, the Priest returned to his churche.

About the same tyme likevvise, certaine sheepheardes founde him in that same caue: and at the first, vvhen they espied him throughe the bushes, [Page 104] & sawe his apparrell made of skinnes, they verily thoughte that it had bene some beast: but after they were ac­quainted with the seruante of God, many of them were by his meanes, conuerted from thiere beastlye life to grace, piety, and deuotion. And thus his name in the country there about became famous, and many after this went to visit him, and for corporall meate which they broughte him, they carried away spiritual foode for thiere soules.

CHAPTER II.

VPon a certaine daye being alone, the temptor was at hande: for a little blacke birde commonly called a mearle or an owzell began to flye aboute his face and that so nere, as the holy man yf he wolde mighte haue ta­ken it with his hande: but after he had blest him selfe with the signe of the crosse, the birde flowe awaye: Blessing with the signe of the [...]rosse. and forthwith the holy man was as­salted with such a terrible tentation of [Page 105] the fleshe, as he neuer felt the like in all his life. A certaine woman there was which some tyme he had seene, the me­morye of which, the wicked spirit put into his minde, and by the representa­tion of her, did so mightily inflame with concupiscens the soule of Gods seruaunt, which did so encrease, that almost ouercomc with pleasure, he was of minde to haue forsaken the wildernes. But suddainly asisted with Gods grace he came to him selfe, and seeinge many thicke briers and net [...]le bushes to growe harde by: of he cast his apparrell, and threwe him selfe in­to the middest of them, and there wal­lovved so longe that vvhen he rose vp, all his fleshe vvas pit [...]fully torne: and so by the vvoundes of his bodye, he cured the vvounde of his soule, in that he turned pleasure into paine, and by the outvvarde burninge of extre­me smarte, quenched that fire vvhich being nourished before vvith the fe­well of carnall cogitations, did in­wardly burne in his soule: and by this meanes he ouercame the synne, be­cause he made a change of the fire. [Page 106] From vvhich tyme forvvarde as him selfe did aftervvarde reporte vnto his disciples, he founde all tentation of pleasure so subdued, that he neuer felt any suche thinge. Many after this be­gan to abandon the vvorlde, and to become his schollers. For beinge nowe freed from the malady of tentation, vvorthily and vvith greate reason is he made a master of vertue: for which cause in Exodus, commandement is giuen by Moyses, that the Leuites from fiue and tvventy yeres and vpvvard sholde serue, but after they came to fif­tye, that thy sholde be ordained kee­pers of the holy vessell.

Somwhat I vnderstand of this tes­timony alleaged: but yet I beseeche you to tell me the meaninge thereof more fullye.

It is plaine Peter, that in youth the tentation of the fleshe is hote: but after fifty yeres the heate of the body waxeth colde, and the soules of faithe­full people become holy vessels. [Page 107] Wherefore necessary it is that Gods elect seruantes, whiles they are yet in the heate of tentation, sholde liue in obedience, serue, and be wearied with labour & paines. But when by reason of age the heate of tentation is past, they become keepers of holy vessel: because they then are made the do­ctors of mens soules.

I can not deny, but that your wor­des haue giuen me full satisfaction: wherfore seeinge you haue nowe ex­pounded the meaninge of the former texte alleaged, prosecute I pray as you haue begon the rest of the holie mans life.

CHAPTER III.

VVHen this great tentation was thus ouercome, the man of God like vnto a piece of groūde [Page 108] well tilled and weeded: of the sede of vertue, brought forth plentifull store of fruite: and by reason of the great reporte of his wonderfull holy life, his name became verye famous. Not far from the place where he remayned there was a monasterye, the Abbot whereof was deade: wherevpon the whole Conuent came vnto the vene­rable man Bennet, intreatinge him ve­ry earnestly, that he wolde vouchesafe to take vpon him, the charge and go­uernemēt of thiere Abbey: longe tyme he denied thē, sayinge that thiere man­ners were diuers from his, and therfor that they sholde neuer agree togither: yet at lengthe ouercome vvith thiere intreatye, he gaue his consent. Hauin­ge novve takē vpon him the charge of the Abbey, he tooke order that regular life sholde be obserued, so that none of thē could as before they vsed, throughe vnlawful actes decline from the pathe of holy cōuersation, either on the one side, or on the other: which the mōkes perceiuinge, they fell into a great rage, accusinge thē selues that euer they de­sired hī to be thiere Abbot, seeing thiere crooked cōditions coulde not ēdure his vertuous kinde of gouernmēt: & ther­fore [Page 109] vvhen they savve that vnder him they coulde not liue in vnlawfull sort, & were loth to leaue thiere former cō ­uersation, and founde it hard to be in forced with olde mindes, to meditate & thincke vpon nevve thinges: and be­cause the life of vertuous men, is al­waies grieuous to those that be of wic­ked conditions, some of them begane to deuise, hovve they mighte ridd him out of the vvaye: and therfore taking counsel togither, they agreed to poison his vvine: vvhich being done, and the glasse wherein that wine was, accor­dinge to the custome offered to the Ab­bot to blesse, he putting forth his hāde made the signe of the crosse, & straigh­te A mira­cle by the signe of che crosse waye the glasse that was holden far of brake in peces, as thoughe the signe of the crosse had bene a stone throwne against it: vpō which accidēt the mā of God by & by perceiued, that the glasse had in it the drincke of death, which coulde not indure the signe of life: and thersore risinge vp, with a milde coun­tenance, and quiet minde, he called the monkes togither, and spake thus vnto them. Almightye God haue mercye vpon you, and forgiue you: why haue you vsed me in this manner? [Page 110] did not I tell you before hande, that our manner of liuinge coulde neuer agree togither? Goe your waies, and seeke ye out some other father sutable to your owne conditions, for I in tende not nowe to staye anye longer a mon­gest you: when he had thus discharged him selfe, he returned back to the wil­dernes which so muche he loued, and dwelt alone with him selfe, in the fighte of his creator, who beholdeth the hartes of all men.

I vnderstande not very well, what you meane when you saye, that he dwelt with him selfe.

Yf the holy man had longer con­trary to his owne minde, contine wed his gouernement ouer those monkes, who had all conspired against him, and were far vnlike to him in life and con­uersation: perhappes he sholde haue diminished his owne deuotion, and somwhat withdrawne the eies of his soule from the lighte of contempla­tion: and being wearied dailye with [Page 111] correcting of thiere faultes, he sholde haue had the lesse care of him selfe, and so haply it mighte haue fallen out, that he sholde both haue lost him selfe, and yet not founde them: for so often as by infectious motion we are caried too far from our selues, vve re­maine the same men that vve vvere before, and yet be not vvith our selues as vve vvere before: because vve ar wandringe about other mens affaires, little consideringe and lookinge into the state of our ovvne soule: For shall vve saye that he vvas vvith him selfe, vvho vvent into a far countrye, and after he had, as vve reade in the Gos­pell, Luc. 15. prodigally spent that portion vvhich he receiued of his father, was glad to serue a citizen, to keepe his hogges, and vvolde willinglye haue filled his hungrye belly, with the hus­kes which they did eate: who not­withstanding afterwarde, when he thought with him selfe of those goo­des which he had lost, it is written of him that returninge into him selfe he saide: How manye hired men in my fathers house do abounde with breade? Yf then be­fore he were with him selfe, from [Page 112] whence did he returne home vnto him selfe? and therfore I saide that this venerable man did dwell with him selfe, because carryinge him selfe cir­cumspectlye and carefully in the sigh­te of his creator, alwaies consideringe his owne actions, alwaies examininge him selfe, neuer did he turne the eies of his soule from him selfe, to beholde oughte els whatsoeuer.

Why then is it vvritten of the Apo­stle S. Peter, after he vvas by the Angel deliuered out of prison, that returnin­ge to him selfe he said: Now I knowe ve­rilye, Act. 12. that our Lord hath sent his Angel, and hath deliuered me from the hande of Herod, and from all the expectation of the people of the Iewes.

We are two manner of waies Peter caried out of our selues, for either we fall vnder our selues by sinfull cogita­tion: or els we are by the grace of con­templation lifted aboue our selues: for he that kept hogge [...], through wādrin­ge of his minde & vncleane thou [...]tes, [Page 113] fell vnder him selfe: But he whom the Angell deliuered out of prison, being also rapt by the Angell into an ecsta­sye, vvas in truthe out of him selfe, but yet aboue him selfe: Both of them therfore did returne vnto them selues, the one vvhen he recollected him sel­fe, and forsoke his levvde kinde of life: and the other from the top of contem­plation, to haue that vsuall iudgement and vnderstanding, vvhich before he had: wherfore venerable Bennet in that solitary wildernes dwelt with him selfe, because he kept him selfe, and re­tired his cogitations within the closet of his owne soule: for when the great­nes of contemplation rapt him vp alo­fte: out of all question he did then leaue him selfe, vnder him selfe.

Your discourse doth very well con­tēt me: yet I beseeche you to answere me this questiō, whether he coulde in conscience giue ouer those monkes, whose gouernment he had now taken vpon him.

In myne opinion Peter euill men [Page 114] may with goode conscience be tolle­rated in that cōmunitye, where there be some good that may be holpen and reape commoditye. But where there be none goode at all, that may receiue spiritual profitt, often tymes all labour is lost, that is bestowed in bringing of such to good order, especially if other occasions be offered of doing God pre­sently better seruice els where: for whose goode then, shoulde the holye man haue expected, seing them all to persecute him with one consent: and (that which is not to be passed ouer with silence) those that be perfect, car­ry alwaies this minde, that when they perceiue thiere labor to be fructelesse in one place, to remoue straighte to an other, where more goode may be do­ne. And for this cause, that notable preacher of the worlde, who was desi­rous to be dissolued, and to be with Christe, vnto whom to liue is Christe and to Philip. 1. cap. v. 21. dye is gaine: and who not only desired him selfe to suffer persecution, but did also animate and incourgae others to suffer the same: yet being him selfe in persecution at Damascus, got a rope and a basket to passe ouer the wall, and [Page 115] was priuily let downe: what then? shall we saye that Paul was affraide of death, when as him selfe said, that he desired it for Christes sake? not so: but when he perceiued, that in that place little good vvas to be done by great labour, he reserued him selfe to further labour, where more fruit, and better successe mighte be expected: and ther­fore the valiāt soldiar of Christ, wolde not be kept within wals, but soughte for a larger fielde where he mighte more freely labour for his master. And so in like manner you shall quickly perceiue yf you marcke well, that ve­nerable Bēnet forsooke not so many in one place, that were vnwilling to be taughte, as he did in sundry other pla­ces raise vp from the death of soule many more, that were willing to be instructed.

It is so as you say, and plaine reason teacheth it, and the example of S. Paul alleaged doth confirme it. But I besee­che you to returne vnto your former purpose, and to prosecut the life of the holy man.

When as Gods seruant dayly en­creased in vertue, and became conti­nually more famous for miracles: many were by him in the same place, drawne to the seruice of almighty God, so that by Christes assistance he built there twelue Abbeis: ouer which Building of Abbeis he appointed gouernors, and in eache of them placed twelue monkes, and a fewe he kept with him selfe, namely such as he thoughte wolde more pro­fitt, and [...] be better instructed by his owne presence. At that tyme also ma­ny noble and religious men of Rome Yong chil­dren brought vp in a monasti­cal life. came vnto him, and committed thiere children to be btoughte vp vnder him, for the seruice of God. Then also Euicius deliuered him Maurus: and Ter­tullius the Senator, broughte Placidus, beinge thiere sonnes of great hoope & towardnes: of which two, Maurus gro­vvinge to great vertue, began to be his masters coadiutor: but Placidus, as yet was but a boy of tender yeres.

CHAPTER IIII.

IN one of the monasteries which he had built in those partes, a monke there was, which coulde not cōtinewe at prayers: for when the other mon­kes kneeled downe to serue God, his manner was to go forth, and there with wandring minde to busy him selfe about some earthly and transito­rye thinges. And when he had bene often by his Abbot admonished of this fault without any amendment, at length he was sent to the mā of God, who did likewise very muche rebuke him for his folly, yet notwithstanding returning backe agayne, he did scarse two daies followe the holy mans admonitiō: for vpon the thirde day, he fel againe to his old custome, & wolde not abide within at the tyme of praier: worde whereof being once more sent to the mā of God by the father of the Abbey whō he had there appointed, he returned him answer that he wold [Page 118] come him selfe, & reforme what was amisse, which he did accordingly: & it fell so out, that when the singinge of psalmes was ended, and the howre come, in which the monkes betooke them selues to praier: the holy man perceiued, that the monke which vsed at that tyme to goe forth, was by a lit­tle blacke boye drawne out by the skirte of his garment: vpon which sighte, he spake secretly to Pompeianus, father of the Abbey, and also to Maurus saying. Do you not see who it is, that draweth this monke from his praiers? and they answered him, that they did not. Then let vs pray (quoth he) vnto God, that you also may beholde whom this monke doth follovve: and after tvvo daies Maurus did see him, but Pom­peianus could not. Vpon an other day, vvhen the man of God had ended his deuotions, he vvent out of the orato­rye, vvhere he founde the foresaide monke standinge idle, vvhom for the blindenes of his hart he strooke with a little vvand, and from that day for­vvarde, he vvas so freed from all allu­rement of the little blacke boye, that he remayned quietly at his praiers, as [Page 119] other of the monkes did: for the olde enemye was so terrified, that he durst not any more suggest any such cogita­tions: as though by that blowe, not the monke, but him selfe had bene strooken.

CHAPTER V.

AMongest the monasteries which he had built in those partes, three of them were situated vpon the rockes of a mountaine, so that verye painfull it was, for the monkes to go downe and fetche water, especially because the side of the hill was so stee­pe, that there was great feare of dan­ger: and therefore the monkes of those Abbeis with one consent came vnto the seruant of God Bennet, giuinge him to vnderstande, how laborious it was for them daily to go downe vnto the lake for water; & therfore they added, that it was very necessarye to haue them remoued to some other places. The man of God comfortinge them [Page 120] with swete wordes, caused them to returne backe againe: and the next nighte hauing with him only the lit­tle boy Placidus (of whom we spake be­fore) he ascended vp to the rocke of that mountaine, and continewed there a longe tyme in praier, and when he had done, he toke three stones, & laide them in the same place for a marcke, & so none of them being priuy to that he had done, he returned backe to his owne Abbey. And the next daye when the foresaide monkes came againe about thiere former busines, he saide thus vnto them: Go your vvaye to the rocke, and in the place where you fin­de three stones laide one vpon an other, digge a little hole, for almighty God is able to bringe forth vvater in the topp of that mountaine, and so to ease you of that great labour vvhich you take in fetching it so farr: avvay they vvent, and came to the rocke of the mountaine according to his dire­ction, vvhich they founde as i [...] vvere svveating droppes of vvater, and after they had vvith a spade made an hol­lovve place, it vvas straighte vvaies filled, and vvater flovved out so [Page 121] abundantly, that it doth plentifully euen to this day, springe out and run­ne downe from the topp, to the verye bottom of that hill.

CHAPTER VI.

AT an other tyme, a certaine Goth, poore of spirit, that gaue ouer the worlde, was receiued by the man of God: whom on a day he com­manded to take a bill, and to clense a certaine plott of grounde from briers, for the makinge of a gardin, which grounde was by the side of a lake. The Goth as he was there labouringe, by chance the heade of the bill slipt of, and fell into the water, which was so depe, that there was no hope euer to get it againe. The poore Gothe in great feare, ran vnto Maurus and told him what he had lost, confessing his owne fault and negligence: Maurus forth with went to the seruaunt of God, giuing him to vnderstande the­reof, who came straighte waies to the [Page 122] lake: and toke the handle out of the Gothes hande, and putt it into the water, and the yron heade by and by ascended from the bottom, and entred againe into the handle of the bill, which he deliuered to the Gothe sayinge: Beholde here is thy bill agai­ne, worcke on and be sadd no more.

CHAPTER VII.

ON a certaine daye, as venerable Bennet was in his cell, the fore­said yong Placidus, the holy mās monke went out to take vp water at the lake, and putting downe his paile careleslye fell in him selfe after it, whom the wa­ter forth with caried awaye from the lande so far as one maye shote an ar­rowe. The man of God being in his cell by and by knewe this, and called in hast for Maurus sayinge. Brother Maurus runne as fast as you can, for Placidus that went to the lake to fetche water is fallen in, and is carried a good waye of. A strange thinge and since the tyme of Peter the Apostle neuer [Page 123] hearde of: Maurus crauing his fathers blessinge, and departing in all hast at his commandement, ran to that place vpon the water, to which the yong lad was carried by force thereof, thinc­kinge that he had all that while gone vpon the land: and takinge fast hold of him by the heare of his heade, in all hast he returned backe againe: and so sone as he was at lande, comminge to him selfe he looked behinde him, and then knewe very well that he had be­fore runne vpon the water: and that vvhich before he durst not haue pre­sumed, being novve done and past, he both maruailed, and vvas afraide at that vvhich he had done. Comminge backe to the father, and telling him vvhat had happened: the venerable man did not attribut this to his ovvne merites, but to the obedience of Mau­rus: but Maurus on the contrarye, saide that it vvas clone only vpon his com­mandement, and that he had nothing to do in that miracle, not knovving at that tyme vvhat hat he did. But the friēd­ly contention procedinge of mutuall humility, the yong youth him selfe that vvas saued from drovvninge did [Page 124] determyne: for he saide that he sawe when he was drawne out of the wa­ter, the Abbotes garmēt vpon his hea­de, affirming that it was he that had deliuered him from that great danger.

Certainly they be wonderfull thinges which you report, and such as may serue for the edification of many: for myne owne parte, the more that I heare of his miracles, the more do I still desire.

CHAPTER VIII.

VVHen as the foresaide mona­steries were zealous in the loue of our Lorde Iesus Christ: and thiere fame dispersed far and nere, and many gaue ouer the secular life, and subdued the passions of thiere soule, vnder the lighte yoke of our Sauiour: then (as the manner of wicked peo­ple is, to enuye at that vertue, which them selues desire not to follovve) one Florentius Priest of a churche harde by, [Page 125] and grandfather to Florentius our sub­deacon, possessed with diabolicall ma­lice, began to enuye the holy mans vertues, to backebite his manner of li­uing, and to withdraw as many as he coulde from going to visit him: and when he sawe that he coulde not hin­der his vertuous procedinges, but that on the contrarye, the fame of his holy life increased, and many dailye vpon the verye reporte of his sanctitye, did betake them selues to a better state of life: burning more and more with the coles of enuye he became far worse: and thoughe he desired not to imitate his commendable life, yet faine he wolde haue had the reputation of his vertuous conuersation. In conclusion so much did malitious enuie blinde him, and so far did he wade in that syn­ne, that he poisoned a loafe, and sent it to the seruaunt of almightye God, as it were for an holy pre­sent. The man of God receiued it with great thanckes, yet not ignorant of that which was hidden within. At diner tyme a crow, daily vsed to come vnto him from the next woode, which [Page 126] tooke bread at his handes: comming that day after his manner, the man of God threwe him the loafe which the Priest had sent him, giuinge him this charge. In the name of Iesus Christ our Lorde, take vp that loafe, and leaue it in some suche place, where no man may finde it. Then the crowe openin­ge his mouthe, and lifting vp his win­ges, began to hopp vp and downe about the loafe, and after his manner to crye out, as thoughe he wolde haue saide, that he was willing to obeye, and yet coulde not do what he was commanded. The man of God againe and againe bad him sayinge: Take it vp without feare, and throwe it whe­re no man may finde it. At length with much adoo the crowe tooke it vp, and flewe awaye, and after three howres, hauinge dispatched the loafe, he retur­ned backe againe, and receiued his vsuall allowance from the man of God.

But the venerable father perceiuin­ge the Priest so wickedly bent against his life, was far more sory for him, then grieued for him selfe. And Floren­tius seeing that he coulde not kill the [Page 127] body of the master, laboureth nowe vvhat he can, to destroye the soules of of his disciples: and for that purpose he sent into the yarde of the Abbey be­fore thiere eies, seuene naked yonge vvemen, vvhich did there take handes togither, play and dance a longe tyme before them, to the end that by this meanes, they mighte inflame thiere mindes to sinfull lust: vvhich damna­ble sighte the holy man beholdinge out of his cell, and fearinge the dan­ger, which thereby mighte enseewe to his yonger monkes, and consideringe that all this was done only for the persecutiuge of him selfe, he gaue place to enuye: and therfore after he had for those Abbeyes and oratories which he had there built appointed gouernors, and left some vnder thiere charge, him selfe in the company of a fevve monc­kes remoued to an other place. And thus the man of God vpon humili­ty, gaue place to the others malice: but yet almighty God of iustice did se­uerely punnishe his vvickednes. For vvhen the foresaide Priest beinge in his chāber, vnderstoode of the depar­ture of holy Bennet, and vvas very glad [Page 128] of that newes, beholde (the whole house besides, continewing safe and sounde) that chamber alone in which he was, fell downe, and so killed him: which strange accident the holy mans disciple Maurus vnderstādinge, straigh­te-wayes sent him worde, he being as yet scarse ten miles of, desitinge him to returne againe, because the Priest that did persecut him, was slayne: which thinge when Bennet hearde, he was passing sorrowfull and lamented mu­che: both because his enemye died in such sorte, and also for that one of his monkes reioiced thereat: and therfore he gaue him penance, for that sending suche newes, he presumed to reioice at his enemies death.

The thinges you reporte be strange, and muche to be wondered at: for in making the rocke to yelde forth wa­ter, I see Moises: and in the yron, which came from the bottom of the lake, I beholde Heliseus: in the walkinge of Maurus vpon the water, I perceiue Peter: in the obedience of the crowe, I [Page 129] contemplat Helias: and in lamenting the deathe of his enemy, I acknowledg Dauid: and therfore in myne opinion, this one man was full of the spirit of all goode men.

The man of God Bennet had the spi­rit of the one true God, who by the grace of our redemption, hathe filled the hartes of his elect seruauntes, of whom S. Iohne saith. He was the true Ioh. 1. lighte, which doth lighten euery man comming into this worlde. Of whom agayne, we Ibidem. finde it written: Of his fulnes we haue all receiued. For Gods holy seruantes mighte receiue vertues of our Lorde, but to bestovve them vpon others they coulde not: & therfore it was he that gaue the signes of miracles to his ser­uauntes, who promised to giue the si­gne of Ionas, to his enemies: so that he Math. 12. v. 40. vouchsafed to dye in the sighte of the proude, and to rise againe before the eies of the humble: to the end, that they mighte behoulde, what they contemned, and those see that, which they oughte to worshipp and loue: [Page 130] by reason of vvhich misterye i [...] com­meth to passe, that vvhereas the prou­de cast thiere eies vpon the contempt of his death: the humble contrarivvise against death, lay holde of the glorye of his povver and mighte.

To vvhat places I pray you after this, did the holy man goe: and vvhe­ther did he aftervvarde in them vvorcke any miracles or no?

The holy man changinge his place, did not for all that chaunge his ene­mye. For aftervvarde he endured so much the more grieuous battles, by hovve muche he had novv the master of all vvickednes fightinge openlye against him. For the tovvne vvhich is called Cassino, standeth vpon the side of an highe mountayne, vvhich contay­neth as it vvere in the lapp thereof, the foresaide tovvne, and aftervvard so ri­seth in height the space of three miles, that the toppe thereof, seemeth to touch the very heauens: in this place there vvas an auncient chappell in [Page 131] which the [...]olishe and simple countrye people, accordinge to the custome of the olde gentils, worshipped the God Apollo: Rounde about it likewise vpon all sides, there were woodes for the seruice of the deuils, in which euene to that verye tyme, the mad multitu­de of infidels, did offer most wicked sa­crifice: The man of God comminge thither, beat in pieces the idol, ouer­threwe the altar, set fire on the woo­des, and in the temple of Apollo, he built Dedica­tion of oratories to Sain­ctes. the oratory of S. Martin, and where the aultar of the same Apollo was, he made an oratory of S. Iohns and by his continuall preaching, he broughte the people dwelling in those partes, to embrace the faithe of Christe. The olde enemy of mankinde, not takinge this in good part, did not nowe priuily or in a dreame, but in open sighte pre­sent him selfe to the eies of that holy father, and with great outcries com­plained that he had offered him vio­lence. The noise which he made, the monkes did heare, but him selfe they coulde not see: but as the venerable fa­ther tolde them, he appeared vi­sibly vnto him most fell and cruel, and [Page 132] as thoughe with his firy mouth, and flaminge eies, he wolde haue [...]orne him in pieces: what the deuil saide vn­to him, all the monkes did heare: for first he wold call him by his name, and because the man of God voutsafed him not any answere: then wolde he fall a reuilinge and railinge at him: for when he cried out calling him, Blessed Bennet: and yet sound that he gaue him no answere, straighte-waies he wolde turne his tune and say: Cursed Bennet Maledi­cte: non Benedicte and not blessed: what hast thowe to do with me? and why doest thowe thus persecut me? wherfore new battles of the olde enemy against the seruaunt of God are to be looked for, against whō willingly did he make warr, but agianst his will, did he giue him occa­sion of manye notable victories.

CHAPTER IX.

VPon a certaine daye, when the monkes [...]ere buildinge vp the ce [...]les of the [...]bey, there lave a [Page 133] stone which they ment to employe about that busines: and when two or three were not able to remoue it, they called for more company, but all in vaine, for it remained so immoueable, as thoughe it had growne to the verye earthe: whereby they plainely percei­ued that the deuill him selfe did sit vpon it, seeing so many mens handes coulde not so muche as once moue it: wherefore finding that thiere own la­bours could do nothinge, they sent for the man of God, to helpe them with his praiers against the deuill, who hin­dred the remouinge of that stone. The holy man came, and after some pray­ing, he gaue it his blessinge, and then they carried it away so quickely, as thoughe it had bene of no waighte at all.

CHAPTER X.

THen the mā of God thought good that they sholde presently before [Page 134] his departure, digge vp the grounde in the same place, which being done, and a depe hole made, the monkes [...]ounde there an idoll of brasse, which beinge for a little while by chance cast into the kitchin, they behelde fire su [...]dainly to come from it, which to all thiere sight, seemed to sett the whole kitchin on fire: for the quenching whereof, the monkes by casting on of water made su [...] a noise, that the man of God hea­ringe it, came to see what the matter was: and him selfe beholdinge not any fire at all, which they saide that they did, he boowed downe his head forth­with to his praiers, and then he per­ceiued, that they were deluded with fantasticall fire, and therfore bad them blesse thiere eies, that they mighte beholde the kitchin safe and sounde, & not those fantasticall flames, which the deuill had falsely deuised.

CHAPTER XI.

A Gaine as the monkes were ma­king of a certaine wallsom what [Page 135] higher, because that was requisit: the man of God in the meane tyme was in his cell at his praiers. To whom the olde enemy appeared in an insulting manner, tellinge him, that he was now goinge to his monkes, that were a worckinge: whereof the man of God, in all hast gaue them warninge, wis­hing them to looke vnto them selues, because the deuill was at that tyme comminge amongest them. The mes­sage was scarse deliuered, when as the wicked spirit ouerthrewe the newe wal which they were a buildinge, and with the fall, slewe a little yong childe Children receiued into reli­gion. a monke, who was the sonne of a cer­taine courtier. At which pitifull chaunce, all were passinge sory and ex­ceedingly grieued, not so much for the losse of the wall, as for the death of thiere btother: and in all hast they sent this heauy newes to the venerable man Bennet: who commanded them to bringe vnto him the yong boye, man­gled and maymed as he was, which they did, but yet they could not carry him any otherwise then in a sacke: for the stones of the wall had not only broken his lymmes, but also his very [Page 136] bones: being in that manner brought vnto the man of God, he bad them to lay him in his cell, and in that place vpon which he vsed to praye: and then puttinge them all forth, he shu [...]t the dore, and fell more instantly to his praiers, then he vsed at other tymes: And ô strange miracle, for the very same howre he made him sound, and as liuelye as euer he was besore: and sent him againe to his former worcke, that he also mighte helpe the monkes to make an ende of that wall, of who­se deathe the olde serpent thought he sholde haue insulted ouer Bennet, and gre [...]tlye tryumphed.

CHAPTER XII.

AMonge other miracles [...]hich the man of God did: he began al­so to be famous for the spirit of pro­phecye: as to foretell what was to happen, and to relate vnto them that were present, such thinges as were do­ne in absence. The order of his Abbey [Page 137] was, that when the monkes went abroade (to deliuer any message,) ne­uer to eate or drincke any thinge out of thiere cloister: and this beinge dili­gently obserued, according to the pre­scription of thiere rule, vpon a certaine daye some of the monkes went for the vpon such busines: and being enforced about the dispatch therof, to tary som­what longe abroade, it fell so out, that they staied at the house of a religious woman, where they did eate and re­fresh them selues. And beinge late be­fore they came backe to the Abbey, they went as the manner was, and as­ked thiere fathers blessinge: of whom he demanded where they had eaten: & they saide no where: why do you (quoth he) tell an vntruth: for did you not goe into such a womans house? & eate such and such kinde of meate, and drincke so many cuppes? when they hearde him recount so in particular, both where they had staied, what kinde of meate they had eaten, and howe often they had druncke, and perceiued well that he knewe all whatsoeuer they had done, they fell downe tremblinge at his feet, [Page 138] and confessed that they had done wic­kedlye: who straight vvaies pardoned them for that faulte, persvvadinge him selfe, that they vvolde not any more in his absence presume to do any such thinge, seeinge they novv perceiued, that he vvas present vvith them in spirit.

CHAPTER XIII.

A brother also of Valentinian the monke, of vvhom I made men­tion before, vvas a laye man, but de­uout and religious: vvho vsed euerye yere, as vvell to desire the praiers of Gods seruaunt, as also to visit his na­turall brother, to trauaile from his ovvne house to the Abbeye: and his manner vvas, not to eate any thinge all that day before he came thither: Beinge therfore vpō a tyme in h [...]s ior­nye, he lighte into the company of an other, that carried meate about him to eate by the vvaye: vvho after the daye [Page 139] vvas vvell spent, spake vnto him in this manner. Come brother (quoth he) let vs refreshe our selues, that vve faint not in our iornye: to vvhom he ansvvered, God forbid: for eate I vvill not by any meanes, seeing I am novv goinge to the venerable father Bennet, and my custome is to fast vntill I see him: the other vpon this ansvvere sai­de no more for the space of an hovvre: But aftervvarde hauinge trauailed a little further, againe he vvas in hande vvith him to eate some thinge: yet then likevvise he vtterly refused, be­cause he ment to go throughe fasting as he was. His companion was con­tent, and so went forwarde with him, without taking any thinge him selfe. But when they had nowe gone verye farr, and vvere well wearied with lon­ge trauailinge: at lengthe they came vnto a medowe, where there was a fountaine, and all such other pleasant thinges, as vse to refreshe mens bodies. Then his companion saide to him againe: Beholde here is water, a greene medowe and a very swete place, in which we way refreshe our selues and rest a little, that we may be the [Page 140] better able to dispatche the rest of our iornye: which kinde wordes bewit­chinge his eares, & the pleasant place, flatteringe his eies, content he was to yeld vnto the motion, and so they fell to thiere meate togither: and com­ming after warde in the eueninge to the Abbey, they broughte him to the venerable father Bennet, of whom he desired his blessinge: Then the holy man obiected against him, what he had done in the way, speaking to him in this manner. How fell it out bro­ther (quoth he) that the deuil talkinge to you, by meanes of your companion could not at the first nor seconde tyme perswade you: but yet he did at the thirde, and made you doe, what best pleased him? The goode man hearinge these wordes fell downe at his feete, confessinge the fault of his frailty: was grieued, and so much the more ashamed of his sinne, because he per­ceiued that thoughe he were absent, that yet he did offende in the sigate of that venerable father.

I see well, that the holy man bad in his soule the spirit of Helizeus, who was [Page 141] present with his seruant Giezi, beinge then absent from him.

CHAPTER XIIII.

YOu must goode Peter for a little while be silent, that you maye knowe matters yet far more impor­tant. For in the tyme of the Gothes, when To [...]ilas thiere king vnderstode that the holy man had the spirit of prophecyc: as he was goinge towardes his monasterye, he remayned in a place some what far of, and before hand sent the father worde of his comminge: to whom answer was returned, that he might come at his pleasure. The kinge as he was a man wickedlye disposed, thoughte he wolde trye whether the man of God were a prophet, as it was reported or no. A certaine man of his garde he had called Riggo, vpon whō he caused his owne shoes to be put & to be apparrelled with his other princely roabes, cōmāding him to go as it were [Page 142] him selfe to the man of God: & to giue the better colour to this deuise: he sent three to attende vpon him, who espe­cially were alwaies about the kinge: to witt Vsiltericus, Rudericus, and Blindinus: charging them that in the pre [...]ence of the seruaunt of God, they shold be next about him, and behaue them sel­ues in such sorte, as thoughe he had be­ne king Totilas indeed: & that diligētly they shoulde doe vnto him all other seruices, to the end that both by such dutiful kinde of behauior, as also by his purple roabes, he mighte verily be taken for the kinge him selfe: Riggo furnished with that braue apparrell, and accompained with many courtiers came vnto the Abbey: at which tyme, the man of God satt a little waye of, and when Riggo was come [...]o nere that he mighte well vnderstand what the man of God saide, then in the hea­ring of them all, he spake thus. Put of my good sonne, put of that apparrell, for that which thou hast on, is none of thine: Riggo hearinge this, fell straighte waies downe to the grounde, and was very muche affraide, for presuminge to go aboute to mocke so vvorthye a [Page 143] man, and all his attendantes and ser­uitours fell dovvne likevvise to the earthe, and after they vvere vp againe, they durst not approche any nerer to his presence: but returned backe to thiere kinge, rellinge him vvith feare, hovve quickely they vvere discoue­red.

CHAPTER XV.

THen Totilas him selfe in person, vvent vnto the man of God: and seeinge him sitting a far of, he durst not come nere, but fell dovvne to the grounde: vvhom the holy man (spea­king to him tvvise or thrise) desired to rise vp, and at length came vnto him, and vvith his ovvne handes lifte him vp from the earth, vvhere he lay pro­strat: and then entring into talke, he reprehended him for his vvicked dee­des, and in fewe vvordes tolde him all that vvhich sholde befall him sayinge. Muche vvickednes doe you daily [Page 144] committe, and many great sinnes haue you done: nowe at length giue ouer your sinfull life: In to the citye of Rome shall you enter, and ouer the sea shall you passe: nine yeres shall you raigne, and in the tenth shall you leaue this mortall life: The kinge hearinge these thinges was wonderfully affra [...]de, and desiring the holy man to commend him to God in his praiers, he de parted: and from that tyme forwarde he was nothing so cruell, as before he had be­ne. Not long after he went to Rome, sai­led ouer into Sicily and in the tenthe yere of his raigne, he lost his kingdome together with his life.

The Bishop also of Camisina vsed to visit the seruaunt of God, whom the holy man derely loued for his ver­tuous life. The Bishop therfore talkin­ge with him of kinge Totilas, of his ta­kinge of Rome, and the destruction of that citye, saide. This citye wi [...]l be so spoiled and ruyned by him, that it will neuer, be more in habited. To whom the man of God answered: Rome (quoth he) shall not be vtterly destroied by strangers: but shall be so shaken with tēpestes, lightninges, whirlwindes, & [Page 145] earth quakes, that it will fall to decay He semeth to speake of the in­uasion of the Lom­bardes: se the third booke cha. xxxviij. of it selfe. The mysteries of which pro­phecy, we nowe beholde as clere as the daye: for we see before our eyes in this verye citye, by a strange whirl­winde the world shaken, houses rui­ned, and churches ouerthrowne, and buildinges rotten with old age we be­holde daily to fall downe: True it is that Honoratus by whose relation I had this, saith not that he receiued it from his owne mouthe, but that he had it of other monkes, which did heare it them selues.

CHAPTER XVI.

AT the same tyme a certaine cler­gye man, that serued in the chur­che Pilgrima­ge to the tombes of martirs. Martirs often help suche as be deuout vnto them. of Aquinum was possessed: whom the venerable man Constantius Bishope of the same citye, sent vnto many pla­ces of holy martirs for helpe: but Gods holy martirs, wolde not deliuer him, to the end that the worlde mighte knowe, what great grace was in the [Page 146] seruante of God Bennet: wherfore at lengthe he was broughte vnto him, who prayinge for helpe to Iesus Christ our Lorde, did forthwith cast the olde enemye out of the possessed mans bo­dye, giuing him this charge: Go your way, and hereafter abstaine from ea­ting Abstinēce from slesh of flesh, and presume not to enter into holy orders, for when soeuer you shall attempt any such thinge, the de­uil againe will haue power ouer you. The man departed safe and sounde, and because punnishement freshe in me­morye, vseth to terrifye the mynde, he obserued for a tyme what the man of God had giuen him in commande­ment. But after many yeres, when all his seniors were deade, and he sawe his iuniors preferred before him to holy orders, he neglected the wordes of the man of God, as thoughe forgot­ten through lengthe of tyme, and tooke vpon him holy orders: wherevpon straightewaies the deuill that before had lefte him entred againe, and neuer gaue ouer to torment him, vntill he had seperated his soule from his bo­dye.

This holy man as I perceiue did knowe the secret counsell of God: for he sawe that this clergye man was de­liuered to the power of the deuill, to the end he should not presume to en­ter into holy orders.

Why sholde he not knowe the se­cretes of God, who kept the comman­dements of God: when as the scripture saithe. He that cleaueth vnto our Lorde, is one 1. Corint. 6. spirit with him.

Yf he that cleaueth vnto our Lor­de be, one spirit with our Lorde: what is the meaninge of that vvhich the Apostle saithe: VVho knoweth the sence of Rom. 11. our Lorde, or who hath bene his counsellor? for it semeth very inconuenient to be ignorant of his sence, to vvhom being so vnited he is made one thinge.

Holy men in that they be one with our Lord, are not ignorāt of his sence: [Page 148] for the same Apostle saithe: for what 1. Cor. 2. man knoweth those thinges which belonge to man, but the spirit of man which is in him. Euen so, the thinges which belonge to God, no man knoweth, but the spi­rit of God: and to showe also that he knewe such thinges as belonge to God, he addeth straighte after. But we Ibidem. haue not receiued the spirit of this worlde, but the spirit which is of God: And for this cau­se, againe he saithe: that eye hath not sene, Ibidem. nor eare hearde, nor it hath ascended into the harte of man, those thinges which God hath prepared for them that loue him, but God ha­the reuealed to vs by his spirit.

Yf then the mysteries of God, were reuealed to the same Apostle by the spirit of God, why did he then en­treatinge of this question set downe these wordes before hande sayinge. O the depthe of the riches of the wisdom and Rom. 11. knowledge of God: how incomprehensible be his iudgements, and his waies inuestigable. And againe whiles I am thus speaking of this matter, an other question com­meth to my minde: for the prophet [Page 149] Dauid saith to our Lorde: with my lippes Psal. 118. haue I vttered all the iudgementes of thy mouth. Wherfore seeinge it is lesse to knowe, then to vtter: what is the reason that S. Paul affirmeth the iud­gements of God to be incomprehen­sible: and yet Dauid saith, that he did not only knowe them, but also with his lippes pronounce them.

To both these questions I haue al­ready briefely answered, when I saide that holy men in that they be one with our Lorde, are not ignorant of the sence of our Lorde: For all suche, as do deuoutly followe our Lorde, be also by deuotion one with our Lorde: and yet sor all this, in that they are la­den with the burthen of thiere cor­ruptible fleshe, theye be not with God: and so in that they be ioy­ned with him, they knowe the secret iudgements of God, and in that they be separated from God, they knowe them not: for seeing they do not as yet perfectly penetrate his [Page 150] secret mysteries they giue testimony that his iudgements be incomprehen­sible: But those that do vvith thiere soule adhere vnto him, and cleauing vnto the sayinges of the holy scriptu­re, or to secret reuelations, acknovv­ledge vvhat they receiue: such persons both knovve these thinges, and do vt­ter them: for those iudgemētes vvhich God doth conceale they knovve not, and those vvhich he doth vtter they knovve: & therfore the prophet Dauid vvhen he had saide: I haue with my lippes vttered all the iudgements, he addeth im­mediatly of thy mouthe: as thoughe he sholde plainely saye. Those iudgemēts Psal. 118. I maye both knovve and vtter, vvhich I knevve thovve diddest speake, for those thinges vvhich thovve doest not speake, vvithout all questiō, thovv doest conceale from our knovvledge. Wherfor the sayinge of Dauid and S. Paul agree together: for the iudgemēts of God, are incomprehensible: and yet those vvhiche him selfe vvith his ovvne mouthe vouchesafeth to spea­ke, are vttered vvith mens tongues: because men maye come to the knovvledg of them, & beinge reuealed, [Page 151] they may be vttered and by no meanes can be kept secret.

Novve I see the ansvvere to my question. But I praye you to procede, yf any thinge yet remaineth to be tol­de of his vertue and miracles.

CHAPTER XVII.

A Certaine noble man called Theo­probus, vvas by the goode counsell of holy Bennet conuerted: vvho for his vertue and merit of life, vvas verie in­trinsecall and familiar vvith him. This man vpon a daye comminge into his cell, founde him vveepinge verye bit­terlye. And hauinge expected a good vvhile, and yet not seeing him to make an ende (for the man of God vsed not in his praiers to vveepe, but rather to be sadd) he demanded the cause of that his so great heauines, to vvhom he an­svvered straightevvaye sayinge: Al this [Page 152] Abbey which I haue builte, and all suche thinges as I haue made ready for my brethren, are by the iudgement of almighty God, deliuered to the gen­tils, to be spoiled and ouerthrowne: and scarse coulde I obtaine of God to haue thiere liues spared, that shold then liue in it. His wordes Theoprobus then heard, but we see them to be proued most true, who knowe that very Abbey to be nowe suppressed by the Lombardes. For not longe since in the nighte tyme, when the monkes were a sleepe, they entred in, and spoi­led al thinges, but yet not one mā coul­de they retaine there, and so almighty God fulfilled what he promised to his faithfull seruant: for thoughe he gaue them the house and all the goods, yet did he preserue thiere liues: In which thinge I see that Bennet imita­ted Act. 21. S. Paul: whose shipp thoughe it lost all the goodes, yet for his comforte he had the liues of all that were in his company bestowed vpon him, so that no one man was cast awaye.

CHAPTER XVIII.

VPon a certaine tyme Exhilaratus our monke a lay brother, whom you knowe, was sent by his master to the monastery of the man of God, to carry him two wooden bottles com­monly called flagons, full of wine: who in the waye as he was goinge, hidd one of them in a bushe for him selfe, and presented the other to vene­rable Bennet: who tooke it very thācke­fullye, and when the man was going awaye, he gaue him this warninge. Take hede my sonne (quoth he) that thowe drinckest not of that flagon which thow hast hidden in the bushe: but first be careful to boowe it downe, and thowe shalt finde what is with in it: the poore man thus pitifully con­founded by the man of God, went his waye, and comminge bac­ke to the place where the flagon was hidden, and desirous to try the [Page 154] truthe of that vvas told him, as he vvas boovvinge it dovvne a snake straighte wayes leaped forth. Then Ex­hilaratus perceiuinge vvhat vvas got­ten into the vvyne, began to be affraide of that vvickednes which he had com­mitted.

CHAPTER XIX.

NOt far from his Abbey, there vvas a village, in vvhich very many men had by the sermons of Ben­net, bene conuerted from idolatrye to the true faithe of Christe. Certaine Nunnes also there were in the same towne, to whom he did often sende some of his monkes to preache vnto them, for the goode of thiere soules. Vpon a daye one that was sent, after he had made an ende of his exhortation, by the entreaty of the Nunnes tooke certaine small napkins, and hid them for his owne vse in his bosome: whom vpon his returne to the Abbey, the man of God verye sharpely rebuked, [Page 155] sayinge. Howe commeth it to passe brother, that synne is entred into your bosome? At which wordes the monke was much amazed: for he had quite forgotten, what he had putt there: and therfore knevve not any cause why he sholde deserue that reprehension: wherevpon the holy man spake to him in playne termes and saide: was not I present when you tooke the hand-kercheffes of the Nunnes, and put them vp in your bosome for your ovvne priuat vse. The monke hearing this, fell dovvne at his feete, and vvas sory that he had behaued him selfe so indiscretly: forth he drevve those nap­kins from his bosome, and thre vve them all avvaye.

CHAPTER XX.

VPon a tyme, vvhiles the venera­ble Father vvas at supper, one of his monke; vvho vvas the sonne of a greate man, helde the candle: and as he vvas standing there, and the other at [Page 156] his meate, he began to entertayne a proude cogitation in his minde, and to speake thus within him selfe: who is he, that I thus waite vpon at supper, and holde him the candle? and who am I, that I shold do him any such ser­uice? Vpon which thoughte straighte wayes the holy man turned him selfe, and with seuere reprehension spake thus vnto him. Signe your harte bro­ther, for what is it that you say? signe your harte: and forthwith he called an other of the monkes, and bad him take the candle out of his handes, and com­manded him to giue ouer his waitin­ge, and to repose him selfe: who being demanded of the monkes, what it was that he thoughte, tolde them, how in Yf Saintes in mortal flesh, may knowe the thoughtes of our harte: much mo­re the im­mortal Saintes in heauen wardelye he swelled with pride, and what he spake against the man of God, secretlye in his owne harte. Then they all sawe verye well that nothinge coulde be hidden from ve­nerable Bēnet, seeinge the verye sounde of mens inwarde thoughtes, came vnto his ears.

CHAPTER XXI.

AT an other tyme, there was a great dearche in the same coun­trye of Campania: so that all kinde of people tasted of the miserye: and all the wheat of Bennets monasterye was spent, and likewise all the breade, so that there remayned no more then fiue loaues for dinner: The venerable man beholdinge the monkes sad, both rebuked thē modestly for thiere pusil­lanimitye, and againe did comforte them with this promise: why (quoth he) are you so grieued in your mindes for lack of breade? Indede too day some want there is, but to morrowe yowe shall haue plentye: and so it fell out, for the next day two hūdred busshells of meale was founde in sackes before his cell dore, which almighty God sent them: but by whom, or what meanes, that is vnknowne to this ve­rye daye: which miracle when the [Page 158] monkes sawe, they gaue God thanckes, and by this learned in want, not to make any doubte of plenty.

Tell me I praye you, whether this seruaunt of God had alwaies the spirit of prophecye, when him selfe pleased, or only at certaine tymes.

The spirit of prophecy doth not alwaies illuminate the mindes of the prophetes: because as it is written of the holy Ghoste, that he breatheth where Ioh. 3. he will: so we are also to knowe, that he doth breathe likewise for what cause, and when he pleaseth. And hereof it commeth, that when kinge Dauid de­manded of Nathan whether he mighte 1. Paralip. 17. builde a tēple for the honoure of God, the prophet Nathan gaue his consent: and yet afterwarde vtterly for bad it. From hence likewise it procedeth, that when Helizeus sawe the woman wee­ping, and knewe not the cause, he saide to his seruaūt, that did trouble her: Let 4. Reg. 4. her alone, for her soule is in griefe, and God hath concealed it from me, and hath not tolde [Page 159] me. Which thinge almightye God of great pietye so disposeth: for giuinge at some tymes, the spirit of prophecye, and at other tymes withdrawinge it, he doth both lifte vp the prophetes mindes on highe, and yet doth preser­ue them in humilitye: that by the gifte of the spirit, they may knowe what they are by Gods grace: and at other tymes destitute of the same spirit, may vnderstande what they are of them selues.

There is very great reason for that you saye. But I pray you, let me heare more of the venerable man Bennet, yf there be any thinge els that cometh to your remembrance.

CHAPTER XXII.

AT an other tyme he was desired by a certa [...]ne vertuous man, to bulide an Abbeye for his monkes vpon [Page 160] his grounde, not far from the citye of Taracina. The holy man was content, and appointed an abbot & Prior, with diuers monkes vnder them: and when they were departinge he promised that vpon suche a day, he wolde come and shewe them in what place the oratory sholde be made, and vvhere the refectorye sholde stande, and all the other necessary roomes: and so they takinge his blessinge went there waye: and against the day appointed, which they greatlye expected, they made all such thinges readye as were necessary to entertaine him, and those that sholde come in his companye. But the verye nighte before, the man of God in sleepe appeared to the Abbot and the Prior, and particularly descri­bed vnto them, where eache place and office was to be builded. And when they were both risen, they confer­red together what either of them had seene in thiere sleep: but yet not giuing full credit to that vision, they expected the man of God him selfe in person, accordinge to his promise. But when they savve that he came not, they returned backe vnto him verye [Page 161] sorovvfullye, sayinge: vve expected father that you sholde haue come ac­cordinge to promise, and tolde vs vvhere eache place sholde haue bene built, vvhich yet you did not. To vvhom he ansvvered, vvhy say you so goode brethren? Did not I come as I promised you? and vvhen they asked at vvhat tyme it vvas: vvhy (quoth he) did not I appeare to either of you in your sleepe, and appointed hovv and vvhere euerye place vvas to be buil­ded. Go your vvaye and accordinge to that plat-forme which you then [...]awe builde vp the Abbey. At which wor­des they muche maruailed, and retur­ninge backe, they caused it to b [...] buil­ded in such sorte, as they had bene taught of him by reuelation.

Gladly wolde I learne, by what means, that could be done, to witt, that he sholde goe so far to tell thèm that thinge in thiere sleepe, which they sholde both heare and knowe by vision.

Why do you Peter seeke out and doubte, in what manner this thinge was done? For certaine it is, that the soule is of a more noble nature then the bodye. And by authority of scrip­ture we knowe, that the prophet Aba­cuck was carried from Iudea, with that dinner whiche he had, and was sud­dainlye sett in Chaldea: by which meate the prophet Daniel was relieued: & pre­sentlye Daniel. cap. 14. after was broughte backe agai­ne to Iudea. Yf then Abacuck coulde in a moment with his bodye go so far, and carrye prouision for an other mans dinner: what maruaile is it, yf the holy father Bennet obtayned grace to goe in spirit and to informe the soules of his brethren that were a sleepe, cōcernin­ge suche thinges as were necessarye: and that as Abacuck about corporall meate went corporally, so Bennet shol­de go spiritually about the dispatche of spirituall busines.

I confesse that your wordes haue satisfied my doubtfull minde. But I [Page 163] wolde knowe what maner of man he was in his ordinary talke and conuer­sation.

CHAPTER XXIII.

HIs common talke Peter was vsuallye full of vertue: for his harte conuersed so aboue in heauen, that no vvordes coulde in vayne pro­cede from his mouthe. And yf at any tyme he spake oughte, yet not as one that determined vvhat vvas best to be done, but onlye in a threatnnige man­ner, his speeche in that case vvas so ef­fectuall and forcible, as though he had not doubtfully or vncertainly, but as­suredly pronounced and giuen senten­ce [...]. For not far from his Abbey there liued two Nunnes in a place by them selues, borne of vvorshipfull parenta­ge: vvhom a religious good man did serue for the dispatche of thiere out­vvarde busines. But as nobility of fa­mily, doth in some breede ignobili­ty of minde, and mak [...]th them in con­uersation to shevve lesse humilitye, [Page 164] because they remember still what su­periority they had aboue others: euen so was it with these Nunnes: for they had not yet learned to temper thiere tongues, and kepe them vnder with The habit of Nunnes the bridle of thiere habit: for often did they by thiere indiscret speech prouo­ke the foresaide religious mā to anger: who hauinge borne with them a lon­ge tyme, at lengthe he complained to the man of God, and tolde him with what reprochefull wordes they [...]n­treated him: where vpon he sent them by and by this message sayinge. A­mende your tongues, otherwise I do excommunicat you: which sentence of excommunication notwithstan­dinge he did not then presentlye pro­nounce against them, but only threa­tened yf they amended not them sel­ues: But they for all this, chāged thiere conditions nothing at all: both which not longe after departed this life, and were buried in the churche: and vvhen Solemne mass. solemne masse was celebrated in the same churche, and the Deacon accor­dinge to custome saide with lowde voice, yf any there be that do not com­municate let them departe: the nurse [Page 165] which vsed to giue vnto our Lorde an Offring for the dead. offringe for them, behelde them at that tyme to rise out of thiere graues & to depart the churche. Hauing often ty­mes, at those vvordes of the Deacon se­ne them leaue the churche, and that they could not tarry within, she remē ­bred what message the man of God sent them wh [...]les they were yet aliue. For he tolde them, that he did depriue them of the communion, vnlesse they did amende theire tongues and condi­tions. Then with great sorrowe, the whole matter was signified to the mā of God, who straight-waies with his owne handes gaue an oblation saying Go your waies and cause this to be of­fered Oblation for the deade. vnto our Lorde for them, and they shall not remayne any longer ex­communicat: which oblation beinge offered for them, & the Deacon as he vsed, crying out, that such as did not communicate shold departe, they we­re not sene any more to go out of the churche: whereby it was certaine that seeinge they did not departe with thē which did not communicate, that they had receiued the communion of our Lorde, by the handes of his seruant.

It is very straunge that you report: for howe coulde he thoughe a venera­ble and most holy man, yet liuinge in mortall body, loose those soules which stoode nowe before the inuisible iud­gement of God.

Was he not yet Peter mortall, that hearde from our Sauiour: whatsoeuer Math. 16 thowe shall binde vpon earth, it shall be bound also in the heauens: & whatsoeuer thowe shalt loose in earth, shal be loosed also in the heauēs. whose place of bindinge and loosinge those haue at this tyme, which by faith and vertuous life possesse the place of holy gouernement: and to be stowe such power vpō earthly men, the crea­tor of heauen and earth, desconded from heauen to earthe: and that fleshe mighte iudge of spirituall thinges, God who for mans sake was made fleshe, vouchesafed to bestowe vpon him: for from thence our weaknes did rise vp aboue it selfe, from whēce the strength of God was weakened vnder it selfe.

For the vertue of his miracles, your wordes do yelde a very goode reason.

CHAPTER XXIIII.

VPon a certayne daye, a younge boye that was a monke, louinge his parentes more then reason wolde, went from the Abbey to thiere house, not crauinge the fathers blessinge be­fore hand: and the same daye that he came home vnto them, he departed this life. And beinge buried, his bodye the next daye after, was founde cast out of the graue: which they caused againe to be put in, and againe the daye following, they founde it as before. Then in great hast they went to the man of God, sell downe at his feete, & with many teares beseeched him, that he wolde vouchsafe him that was dea­de of his fauour. To whom the man of God with his owne handes deliuered the holy communion of our Lordes [Page 168] body sayinge: Goe and lay with great The Sa­crament was not buried with him, but only laid vpon his brest and taken of againe reuerence this our Lordes body vpon his breast, and so burye him: which when they had done, the deade corps after that remayned quietly in the gra­ue. By which you perceiue Peter of what merit he was with our Lorde Iesus Christ, seeinge the earth wolde not giue entertainement to his bodye, who departed this worlde out of Ben­nets fauour.

I perceiue it very well, and do won­derfully admire it.

CHAPTER XXV.

A Certaine monke there was so inconstant and fickle of mynde, that he wolde needes giue ouer the Abbey: for which fault of his, the man of God d [...]d daily rebuke him, and of­ten tymes giue him goode admoni­tions: but yet for all this, by no means [Page 169] wolde he tary amongest them, and therfore continuall sute he made that he mighte be discharged. The venera­ble man vpon a tyme wearied with his importunitye, in anger bad him departe, who was no soner out of the Abbey gate, but he founde a dragon in the waye expecting him with open mouth, which being about to deuoure him, he began in great feare and trem­blinge to cry out aloude, sayinge. Hel­pe, helpe: for this dragon will eate me vp. At which noise the monkes run­ning out, dragon they sawe non, but finding him there shaking & trēbling, they broughte him backe againe to the Abbey, who forth with promised that he wolde neuer more forsake the mo­nasterye, and so euer after he continu­ed in his profession: for by the prai­ers of the holy man, he sawe the dra­gon comminge against him, whom be­fore when he savve not, he did willin­gly followe.

CHAPTER XXVI.

BVt I must not here passe ouer with silence, that which I had by relation of the honourable man An­thonye, who saide that his fathers boye was so pitifully punnished with a le­prosy, that all his heare fell of, his body swelled, and filthy corruption did openly come forthe. Who beinge sent by his father to the man of God, he was by him quickly restored to his former healthe.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

NEither is that to be ommitted, which one of his disciples called Peregrinus vsed to tell: for he saide that vpon a certaine daye, an honest man who was in debt, founde no other meanes to helpe him selfe, but thought it his best waye, to acquaint the man of God with his necessitye: where­vpon [Page 171] he came to the Abbey, and fin­dinge the seruant of almighty God, gaue him to vnderstande, howe he was troubled by his creditor fortwel­ue shillinges which he did owe him: To whom the venerable man saide, that him selfe had not so muche mo­ney, yet giuinge him comfortable wordes he saide: Go your wayes, and after two dayes come to me againe, for I can not presētly helpe you: in which two daies after his manner he besto­wed him selfe in praier: & when vpon the thirde daye the poore man came backe, there were founde suddainly vpon the chest of the Abbey which was full of corne thirtene shillinges: which the man of God caused to be giuen to him that required but twel­ue, both to discharge his debte, and al­so to defraye his owne charges. But nowe will I returne to speake of such thinges, as I had from the mouthe of his owne scollers, mentioned before in the beginninge of this booke. A certai­ne man there was who had an enemie that did notably spite and maligne him, whose damnable hatred proce­ded so far, that he poisoned his [Page 172] drincke, which althoughe it killed him not, yet did it chaunge his skinne in such sort, that it was of many colours, as thoughe he had bene infected with a leprosy: but the mā of God restored him to his former helthe: for so sone as he touched him, forthwith all that varietye of colours departed from his bodye.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AT suche tyme as there was a great dearthe in Campania, the man of God had giuen away all the wealth of the Abbey to poore people, so that in the celler there was no thin­ge lefte but a little oile in a glasse. A certaine subdeacon called Agapitus ca­me vnto him, instantly crauinge that he wolde bestowe a little oile vpon him. Our Lordes seruaunt that was resolued to giue away all vpon earth, that he mighte finde all in heauen, commanded that oile to be giuen him: but the monke that kep [...]e the [Page 173] celler hearde what the father com­maunded, yet did he not performe it [...] Who inquiringe not longe after whe­ther he had giuen that which he wil­led, the monke tolde him that he had not, adding that yf he had giuen it away, that there was not any lefte for the Conuer [...]t. Then in an anger he comaunded others to take that glasse with the oile, and to throwe it out at the windovve, to the end that nothin­ge mighte remayne in the Abbey con­trary to obedience. The monkes did so and threwe it out at a windowe, vn­der which there was an huge downe­fall, full of roughe and craggye stones vpon which the glasse did lighte, but yet continewed for all that so sounde, as thoughe it had neuer bene throw­ne out at all, for neither the glasse was broken nor any of the oile shedde. Then the man of God did commande it to be taken vp againe, and whole as it was to be giuen vnto him that de­sired it, and in the presence of the other brethren he reprehended the disobedient monke, both for his infi­delity, and also for his proud mynde.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AFter which reprehension, with the rest of his brethren he sell to prayinge, and in the place where they were, there stoode an empty barrell with a couer vpon it: and as the holy man continewed in his praiers, the oile within did so increase, that the co­uer began to be lifted vp, and at lengt­he fell downe, and the oile that was nowe higher then the mouthe of the barrell, began to runne ouer vpon the pauiment, which so sone as the ser­uaūt of God Bennet behelde, forth with he gaue ouer his praiers, and the oile likewise ceased to ouerflow the barrel. Then did he more at large admonish that mistrustinge and disobedient monke, that he wolde learne to haue faithe and humilitye, who vpon so holsome an admonition was ashamed, because the venerable father had by miracle showne, the power of almigh­ty God, as before he tolde him when he did first rebuke him: and so no cause [Page 175] there was why any sholde afterward doubt of his promise, seeinge at one and the same tyme, for a small glasse almost emptye which he gaue awaye, he bestowed vpon them an whole barrell full of oile.

CHAPTER XXX.

VPon a certaine tyme as he was goinge to the oratory of S. Iohne, which is in the topp of the mountaine: the olde enemy of mankinde vpon a mule like a phisition, met him caryin­ge in his hand an horne and a morter. And when he demanded whether he was goinge. To your monkes (quoth he) to giue them a drench. The vene­rable father went forwarde to his praiers, and when he had done, he re­turned in all hast, but the wicked spi­rit founde an olde monke drawinge of water, in to whom he entred, and straight-waies cast him vpon the ground, and grieuously tormented him. The man of God comminge from his praiers, and seeinge him in such [Page 176] pitifull case gaue him only a little blowe with his hande, and at the same instant he cast out that cruell deuill, so that he durst not any more presume to enter in.

I wolde gladly knowe, whether he obtained alwaies by praier, to worcke suche notable miracles: or els some­tymes did them only at his will and pleasure.

Suche as be the deuoute serua [...]ntes of God, when necessity require [...], vse to worcke miracles both manner of wayes: so that sometyme they estecte wonderfull thinges by theire praiers, and sometyme only by theire power and authoritye: for S. Iohne saithe. So Iohn. 1. many as receiued him, he gaue them power to be made the sonnes of God. They then that by power be the sonnes of God, what maruaile is it yf by power they be able to doe wonderfull thinges. And that both waies they worcke mi­racles, Act. 9. Act. 5. we learne of S. Peter: who by his praiers did raise vp Tabitha; and [Page 177] by his sharpe reprehension did senten­ce Ananias and Saphira to death for thei­re [...]yinge. For we reade not, that in the death of them he praied at all, but only rebuked them for that synne which they had committed. Certaine therfore it is, that sometymes they do these thinges by power, and somety­mes by praier: for Ananias and Saphira by a seuere rebuke, S. Peter depriued of life: and by praier restored Tabitha to life. And for prooffe of this I will now tell you of two miracles, which the faithfull seruaunt of God Bennet did, in which it shall appeare most plain­lye, that he wroughte the one by that power which God gaue him: and obtained the other by vertue of his praiers.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A Certaine Goth there was called Galla, an Arrian he retike, who in [Page 178] the tyme of kinge Totilas, did with su­che monstrous crueltye persecute reli­gious men of the Catholike church, that what Priest or monke soeuer came in his presence he neuer departed aliue. This man on a certaine daye sett vpon rapin and pillage, pitifully tor­mented a poore countrye man, to ma­ke him confesse where his money and wealthe was: who ouercome with ex­tremitye of paine saide, that he had committed all his substance to the cu­stodye of Bennet, the seruaunt of God: and this he did, to the end that his tor­menter giuinge credit to his wordes, mighte at least for a while surcease from his horrible crueltye. Galla hea­ringe this tormented him no longer: but binding his armes fast with stron­ge cordes, draue him before his horse, to bring him vnto this Bēnet, who as he saide had his wealth in keepinge. The country fellowe thus pinyoned and runninge before him, carried him to the holy mans Abbey, where he foun­de him sittinge before the gate, readin­ge vpon a booke: Then turninge back to Galla that came raginge after, he saide. This is father Bennet of whom I [Page 179] tolde you: who lookinge vpō him, in a great fury, thinckinge to deale as terribly with him, as he had with others, cried out aloude to him sayin­ge. Rise vp sirrha, rise vp, and deliuer me quickelye suche wealth as thowe hast of this mans in keepinge. The man of God hearinge such a noise, straighte-waies lifte vp his eies from readinge, and behelde both him, and the countrye fellowe: and turninge his eies to his bandes, verye straungelye they fell from his armes and that so quickelye, as no man with any hast could haue vndone them. Galla seeinge him so wonderfullye and quickely loosed, fell straighte a trembling, and prostratinge him selfe vpon the earth, boowed downe his cruell and stiffe necke to the holy mans feete, and with humilitye did commende him selfe to his praiers. But the venerable man for all this rose not vp from his readinge, but callinge for some of his monkes, commanded them to haue him in, and to giue him some meate. And when he was broughte backe againe, he gaue him a goode lesson, admonishing him not to vse any more suche rigour and [Page 180] cruell dealinge. His proude minde thus taken downe, away he went, but durst not demande after that any thinge of the countrye fellowe, whom the man of God not with handes, but only with his eies had loo­sed from his bandes. And this is that Peter which I tolde you, that those which in a more familiar sorte serue God, doe sometyme by a certaine power and authority bestowed vpon them worcke miracles. For he that sittinge still did appease the furye of that cruell Gothe, and vnloose with his eies those knottes and cordes, which did pinion the inocent mans armes, did plainelye shewe by the quickenes of the miracle, that he had receiued power to worcke all that which he did. And nowe will I li­kewise tell you of an other miracle, which by praier he obtayned at Gods handes.

CHAPTER XXXII.

BEinge vpon a daye gone out with his monkes to worke in the fiel­de, a country man carrying the corps of his deade sonne, came to the gate of the Abbey, lamentinge the losse of his childe: and inquiringe for holy Bennet, they tolde him that he was abroad with his monkes in the fielde. Downe at the gate he layd the deade bodye, and with great sorrowe of soule ran­ne in hast to seeke out the venerable father. At the same tyme the man of God was returninge home ward from worcke with his monkes: whom so sone as he sawe, he began to crye out, giue me my sonne, giue me my sonne. The man of God amazed at these wordes, stoode still, & saide: what ha­ue I taken awaye your sonne? No no quoth the sorrowfull father, but he is deade, come for Christ Iesus sake and restore him to life. The seruaunt of [Page 182] God, hearing him speake in that man­ner, & seeinge his monkes vpon com­passion to sollicit the poore mans su­te, with great sorrowe of minde he saide. Away my goode brethren, awaye: Suche miracles are not for vs to worcke, but for the blessed Apostles why will you lay suche a burthen vpon me, as my weakenes can not bea­re? But the poore man whom excessi­ue griefe enforced, wolde not giue ouer his petition, but swore that he wolde neuer departe, excepte he did raise vp his sonne. Where is he then quoth Gods seruaunte? he answered, that his body lay at the gate of the Ab­bey: to which place when the man of God came with his monkes, he knee­led downe and lay vpon the bodye of the little childe, and rising, he helde vp his handes towardes heauen, and sai­de: Beholde not o Lorde my synnes, but the faithe of this man, than desi­reth to haue his sonne raised to life, and restore that soule to the body, which thowe hast taken away. He had scarse spoken these wordes, and beholde the soule returned backe agai­ne, and there with the childes bodye [Page 183] began to tremble in such sort that all which were present, did beholde it in straunge manner to pant and shake. Then he tooke it by the hande & gaue it to his father, but aliue & in healthe. Certaine it is Peter, that this miracle was not in his owne power, for which prostrat vpon the grounde he praied so earnestly.

All is most true that before you sai­de, for what you affirmed in wordes, you haue nowe verified by examples and worckes. But tell me I beseche you, whether holy men can do all su­che thinges as they please, and obtaine at Gods handes whatsoeuer they desire.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

VVHat man is there Peter in this worlde, that is in grea­ter fauour with God, then S. Paul was: who yet three tymes desired our Lord [Page 184] ro be deliuered from the pricke of the fleshe, and obtained not his petition. Concerninge which pointe also I 2. Cor. 12. must nedes tell you, howe there was one thinge which the venerable fa­ther Bennet wolde haue done, and yet he could not. For his filter called Scho­lastica, Yoūg children dedicated to a religious life. dedicated from her infancy to our Lord, vsed once a yere to come and visit her brother. To whom the man of God went not far from the gate, to a place that did belonge to the Abbey, there to giue her intertaine­ment. And she comming thither on a tyme accordinge to her custome, her venerable brother with his monkes went to meete her, where they spent the whole daye in the praises of God and spirituall talke: and when it was almost nighte they supped together, & as they were yet sitting at the [...]able talkinge of deuoin matters, and darc­knes came on, the-holy Nūne his sister entreated him to stay there all nighte, that they mighte spende it in discour­singe of the ioyes of heauen. But by no perswasion wolde he agree vnto that, sayinge that he mighte not [Page 185] by any meanes tarry all nighte out of his Abbey. At that tyme, the skye was so clere that no cloude was to be sene. The Nunne receiuinge this deniall of her brother, ioyning her handes toge­ther laide them vpon the table: and so bowing downe her heade vpon them, she made her praiers to almighty God: and liftinge her heade from the table, there fell suddainlye such a tem­pest of lightninge and thundringe, and such abundance of raine, that neither venerable Bennet, nor his mon­kes that were with him, coulde put theire heade out of dore: for the holy Nunne restinge her heade vpon her handes, poured forth such a flod of teares vpon the table, that she drewe the clere aier to a watrye skye, so that after the end of her deuotions, that storme of rayne followed: and her prayer and the rayne did so meete together, that as she lifted vp her heade from the table, the thunder beganne, so that in one and the verye same instant, she lifted vp her head and broughte downe the rayne. The man of God seeinge that [Page 186] he could not by reason of suche thun­der and lighteninge and greate abun­dance of raine returne backe to his Abbey, began to be heauye and to complaine of his sister, sayinge. God forgiue you, what haue you done? to whom she answered: I desired you to staye, and you wolde not heare me, I haue desired our goode Lorde, and he hath vouchsafed to graunt my peti­tion: wherfor yf you can now departe a Gods name returne to your mona­sterye, and leaue me here alone. But the goode father being not able to goe for the taried there against his will, where willinglye before he wolde not staye. And so by that means they wat­ched all nighte, and with spirituall and heauenly talke did mutuallye comfort one an other: and therfore by this we see as I saide before, that he wolde haue had that thinge, which yet he could not: for yf we respecte the ve­nerable mans minde, no question but he wolde haue had the same faire weather to haue continewed as it was, when he sett forth, but he found that a miracle did preuent his desire, which by the power of almighty [Page 187] God, a womans praiers had, wrought. And it is not a thinge to be maruailed at, that a woman which of longe tyme had not sene her brother, mighte doe more at that tyme thē he could, seeing accordinge to the sayinge of S. Iohn. 1. Iohn: 4. God is charity and therfore of righte she did more which loued more.

I confesse that I am wonderfully pleased with that which you tell me.

CHAPTER XXXIIII.

THe next daye, the venerable wo­man returned to her Nonnerye, and the man of God to his Abbey: who three daies after standinge in his cell, and liftinge vp his eyes to heauen, behelde the soule of his sister, (which was departed from her bodye) in the likenes of a doue to ascend into hea­uen: who reioysinge muche to see her great glorye, vvith hymnes and laudes gaue thanckes to almighty God, and [Page 188] did imparte the newes of this her death to his monkes, whom also he sent presentlye, to bringe her corps to his Abbey, to haue it buried in that graue, which he had prouided for him selfe: by meanes whereof it fell out that as theire soules were alwaies one in God whiles they liued, so theire bodies cōtinued together after theire deathe.

CHAPTER XXXV.

AT an other tyme Seruandus the Deacon, and Abbot of that mo­nasterye, which in tymes past was founded by the noble man Liberius in the countrye of Campania, vsed ordi­narily to come and visit the man of God: and the reason why he came so often was, because him selfe also was a man full of heauenly doctrine: and so thy two had often together sp [...]rituall conference, to the end that albe it they could not perfectly feede vpon the ce­lestiall [Page 189] foode of heauen, yet by means of such swete discourses, they might at least, with longing and feruent desi­re, taste of those [...]oyes and diuine de­lightes: When it was tyme to goe to rest, the venerable father Bennet repo­sed him selfe in the topp of a tower, at the foote whereof Seruandus the Dea­con was lodged, so that one paier of staiers went to them bothe: before the [...]ower there was a certaine large roome in which bothe theire disciples did lye. The man of God Bennet being diligent in watching, rose early vp be­fore the tyme of mattins (his monkes being yet at rest) and came to the win­dowe of his chamber, where he offe­red vp his praiers to almighty God. Standinge there, all on a suddaine in the deade of the nighte as he looked forth, he sawe a lighte, which bannis­hed away the darckenes of the nigh­te, and glittered with suche brighe­nes, that the lighte which did shine in the middest of darckenes, was far more clere them the lighte of the daye. Vpon this fighte a maruai­lous strange thinge followed, for as him selfe did afterwarde reporte, the [Page 190] whole worlde gathered as it were to­gether vnder one beame of the sunne was presented before his eies, and whiles the venerable father stoode at­tentiuely beholdinge the brightenes of that glitteringe lighte, he sawe the soule of Germanies Bishop of Capita, in a fierye globe to be carried vp by Angels into heauen. Then desirous to haue some witnes of this so notable a mira­cle, he called with a very loude voice Seruandus the Deacon twise or thrise by his name, who troubled at such an vn­vsuall cryinge out of the man of God, went vp in all hast, and looking for the sawe not any thinge els, but a little remnant of the light, but wondring at so great a miracle, the man of God tol­de him all in order, what he had sene, and sendinge by and by to the towne of Cassino, he commanded the religious man Theoprobus to dispatche one that nighte to the citye of Capua, to learne what was become of Germanus thiere Bishop: which beinge done, the messē ­ger founde that reuerend Prelat de­parted this life, and enquiringe cu­riously the tyme, he vnderstoode that he died at that very instant, in which [Page 191] the man of God behelde him ascen­ding v [...] to heauen.

A straunge thinge and verye muche to be admired: But whereas you saye, that the whole worlde as it were vn­der one sunne beame was presented before his eies, as I must nedes confesse that in my selfe I neuer had experien­ce of any suche thinge, so neither can I conceiue, by what meanes the whole worlde can be sene of any one man.

Assure your selfe Peter of that which I speake: to witt that all creatures be as it were nothinge to that soule, which beholdeth the creator: for thoughe it see but a glympse of that lighte which is in the creator, yet verye small do all thinges seme that be created: for by meanes of that supernaturall light, the capacity of the inwarde soule is inlar­ged: and is in God so extended, that it is far aboue the worlde: yea and the soule of him that seeth in this manner, is also aboue it selfe: for being rapt vp in the lighte of God, it is inwardly in it [Page 192] selfe inlarged aboue it selfe, and when it is so exalted and looketh downe­ward, then doth it comprehend how little all that is, which before in for­mer basenes it could not comprehen­de. The man of God therfore who sawe the fiery globe, and the Angels returninge to heauen, out of all doub­te coulde not see these thinges but in the lighte of God: what maruaile then is it, yf he sawe the worlde gathered together before him, who rap [...] vp in the light of his soule, was at that ty­me out of the worlde. But albeit we say, that the worlde was gathered to­gether besoore his eies, yet were not heauen and earth drawne into any lesser roome then they be of them sel­ues, but the soule of the beholder was more inlarged, which rapt in God might without difficultye see that which is vnder God, and therfore in that lighte which appeared to his out­warde eies, the inward lighte which was in his soule, rauished the minde of the beholder to supernall thinges, and shewed him howe small all ear­thly thinges were.

I perceiue nowe that it was to my more profitt, that I vnderstoode you not before: seeinge by reason of my slowe capacitye, you haue deliuered so notable an exposition. But nowe, be­cause you haue made me througlye to vnderstand these thinges, I beseeche you to continewe on your former narration.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

DEsirous I am Peter to tell you ma­ny thinges of this venerable fa­ther, but some of purpose I set passe, because I make hast to entreat also of the actes of other holy men: yet I wol­de not haue you to be ignorant, but that the man of God amongest so ma­ny miracles, for which he was so fa­mous in the worlde, was also suffi­ciently learned in diuinitye: for he wrot a rule for his monkes, both ex­cellent for discretion and also eloquent for the stile. Of whose life and con­uersation [Page 194] yf any be curious to knowe further, he may in the institution of that rule, vnderstand al his manner of life and discipline: for the holy man coulde not otherwise teache, then him selfe liued.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THe same yeare in which he de­parted this life, he tolde the daye of his holy death to his monkes, some of which did liue daily with him, and some dwelt far of, willinge those that were present to keepe it secret, and tellinge them that were absent, by what token they sholde knowe that he was deade. Six daies before he lefte this worlde, he gaue order to haue his sepulchre opened, and forthwith fal­linge into an agewe, he began with burninge heate to wax fainte, and when as the sicknes daily increased, vpon the sixt day he commanded his monkes to carry him into the oratory, where he did arme him selfe with [Page 195] receiuinge the body and bloode of our Sauiour Christ: and hauing his weake body holden vp betwixte the handes of his disciples, he stoode with his ow­ne lifte vp to heauen, and as he was in that manner praying, he gaue vp the Ghost. Vpon which daye two mon­kes, one being in his cell, and the other far distant, had concerninge him one and the selfe same vision: for thy sawe all the waye from the holie mans cell, towardes the east euene vp to heaue­ne, hunge and adorned with tapestry, and shininge with an infinite number of lampes, at the topp whereof a man reuerently attired, stoode and deman­ded yf they knewe who passed that way, to whom they answered saying, that they knewe not. Then he spake thus vnto them: This is the waye (quoth he) by which the beloued ser­uaunt of God Bennet is ascended vp to heauen. And by this means as his mon­kes that were present knewe of the deathe of the holy man, so likewise they which were absent by the token which he foretold them, had intelli­gence of the same thinge. Buried he was in the oratory of S. Iohne Baptist [Page 196] which him selfe built, when he ouer­threwe the altar of Apollo: who also in that caue in which he first dwelled, euene to his verie tyme, worketh mi­racles, yf the faithe of them that pray, requireth the same.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

FOr the thinge which I meane nowe to rehearse fel out lately. A certaine woman fallinge madde, lost the vse of reason so far, that she wal­ked vp and downe day and nighte, in mountains and valle is, in woodes and fieldes, and rested only in that place, where extreame wearines enforced her to staye: Vpon a day it fell so out, that albeit she wandred at randon, yet she missed not the righte waye: for she came to the caue of the blessed man Bennet: and not knowinge any thing, in she went, & reposed her self there that nighte, and rising vp in the morning, she departed as sound in sen­ce & well in her wittes, as though she had neuer bene distracted in her whole [Page 197] life, and so continewed alwaies after euen to her dyinge daye.

What is the reason that in the pa­tronage of martirs we often tymes finde, that they do not afforde so great benefits by theire bodies, as they do by Sainctes relickes worcke miracles. other of theire reliques: and doe there worke greater miracles, where them selues be not present.

Where the holy martirs lye in thei­re bodies, there is no doubt Peter but that they are able to worke many mi­racles, yea and also do worke infinite, to such as seek them with a pure min­de. But for as much as simple people Sainctes in heauen heare our praiers. Praier to Sainctes. mighte haue some doubte whether they be present, and doe in tho­se places heare theire praiers where theire bodies be not, necessarye it is, that they sholde in those pla­ces shewe greater miracles, where weake soules may most doubte of [Page 198] theire presence. But he whose minde is fixed in God, hath so muche the greater merit of his faith, in that he both knoweth that they rest not the­re in bodye, and yet be there present to heare our praiers. And therfore our Sauiour him selfe to increase the fai­the of his disciples saide. If I do not de­parte, Ioh. 16. the comforter will not come vnto you: for seeinge certaine it is, that the com­fortinge spirit doth alwaies procede from the father and the sonne, why doth the sonne saye, that he will de­parte that the comforter may come, who neuer is absent from the sonne. But because the disciples beholdinge our Lorde in flesh, did alwaies desire to see him with theire corporall eies, very well did he saye vnto them, vnles I do go awaye, the comforter will not come: as thoughe he had plainly tolde them: Yf I do not with drawe my bodye, I can not let you vnderstande what the loue of the spiritis: & except you giue ouer to loue my carnall presence, ne­uer will you learne to affect me with true spirituall loue.

That you saye pleaseth me verye well.

Let vs now for a while giue ouer our discourse, to the end that yf we meane to prosecute the miracles of other Sainctes, we may throughe si­lence be the more able to performe it.

CHAPTER I.

VVHen as in the tyme of the cruell Vandals, that parte of Italy which is called Campania, was ouerrunne and sacked, and many were from thence carried captiue into Af­fricke: then the seruaunt of God Pau­linus, bestowed all the wealthe of his Bishopricke vpon prisoners and poore people. And not hauinge nowe any thinge more lefte, a certaine widowe came vnto him, lamentinge howe her sonne was taken prisonner by one that was sonne in lawe to the kinge of the Vandals, and by him carried away to be his slaue: and therfore she besough­te him, that he wolde vouchsafe to helpe her with a ransome for the redeeming of her sonne: But the man of God seeking what he had to giue the poore woman, founde nothinge left but him selfe alone, and therfore he answered her in this manner. Good woman nothing haue I to helpe the [Page 205] withal but my selfe, and therfore take me, & a Gods name say that I am your seruant, and see whether he will receiue me for his slaue, and so sett your sonne at libertye: which wordes she hearinge from the mouthe of so notable a man, tooke them rather for a mocke, then to proceede indeed from true compassion. But as he was an elo­quent man, and passinge well learned in humanitye, so did he quickly per­swade the doubtefull woman to giue credit to his wordes, and not to be affraide to offer a Bishoppe for the ransome of her sonne: wherevpon awaye they trauiled both into As­fricke. And when the kinges sonne in lawe ca [...]e abroade, the widowe putt vp her petition concerninge her sonne, humbly beseeching him that he wolde vouchesafe to sett him nowe at liberty, and bestowe him vpon his mother. But the barbarous man swellinge with pride and puf­fed vp with the ioye of transitorye prosperitye, refused not only to doe it, but disdayned also to gi­ue any eare to her petition. This waye therfore taking no successe, the [Page 206] desolat widowe tried the next, and saide vnto him: Beholde I giue you here this man in steade of him, onlye take compassion on me and restore me myne only sonne: At which wordes he castinge his eies vpon Paulinus, and seeinge him to haue an honest and goode face, asked him, of what occu­pation he was, to whom the man of God answered: Trade or occupation I can none, but some skill I haue in kee­pinge of a gardin. This pleased the Pa­gan verye well, wherevpon he admit­ted him for his seruaunt, and restored the widowe her sonne, with whom she departed out of Affricke, and Pauli­nus tooke charge of the gardin. The kinges sonne in lawe comminge often into the gardin, demanded certayne questions of his newe man, and per­ceiuing him to be very wise and of goode iudgement, he began to giue ouer the company of his old familiar friendes, and conuersed much with his gardiner, taking greate pleasure in his talke. Euery day Paulinus brought him to his table diuers sortes of grene her­bes, and after dinner returned to his gardin. After he had vsed this a longe [Page 207] tyme: vpon a day as his master and he were in secret talke together, Paulinus spake vnto him in this manner. Consi­der my Lord what is your best course, and howe the kingdome of the Van­dals shall be disposed of, for the kinge is to dye shortly: which newes because he was in speciall grace with the kin­ge, he gaue him to vnderstande, addin­ge that his gardiner, who was a pas­singe wise man had told him so much. The kinge hearinge this, was desirous to see the man he spake of: Your Ma­iestie (quoth he) shall see him, for his manner is to bring me in daily fresh herbes for my dinner, and I will giue order that he shall do it in your pre­sence: which direction being giuen, as the kinge satt at dinner, Paulinus came in, bringing with him diuers sallettes & fresh herbes: whom so soone as the king beheld he fell a trembling, and sending for Paulinus master, (who by the marriage of his daughter was so nere allied vnto him) acquainted him with that secret which before he had concealed, saying. It is verie true that which you haue hearde, for the last nighte in a dreame, I sawe certaine [Page 208] iudges in theire seates sittinge vpon me, amongest whom this man also sat for one: and by theire sentence that whipp was taken from me, vvhich for the punnishment of others some ty­me I had. But inquire I praye you, vvhat he is, for I do not thincke one of so great merit to be an ordinary man, as he outvvardly seemeth. Then the kinges sonne in lavve tooke Paulinus in secret, and asked him vvhat he vvas: to vvhom the man of God ansvve­red: your seruaunt I am (quoth he) vvhom you tooke for the ransome of the vvidovves sonne: but vvhen he vvolde not be satisfied vvith that an­svvere, but did instantly presse him to tell, not vvhat he vvas novve, but vvhat he had bene in his ovvne coun­trye, and did vrge him very often to ansvvere to this pointe: the man of God adiuered so strictlye, not bee [...]nge able any longer to deny his request, tolde him that he vvas a Bishop: vvhich his master and Lorde hearinge became vvonderfully affraide, and humbly offered him sayinge: demaun­de vvhat you vvill, that you may be [Page 209] well rewardred of me, and so returne home to your countrye. To whom the man of God Paulinus saide. One thinge there is where in you may mu­che pleasure me, and that is, to sett at libertye all those that be of my citye: which fute he obtained, for straighte waies throughout Affricke all were soughte out theire shippes laden with wheate, and to giue venerable Paulinus satisfaction, they were all discharged, and in his company sent home: and not long after the king of the Vandals died, and so he lost that whipp and se­uere gouernemēt, which to his owne destruction, and the punnishement of Christians by Gods prouidence he had before receiued. And thus it came to passe, that Paulinus the seruant of almightye God told truthe, and he that voluntarilye alone made him selfe a bondman, returned not back alone, but with many from captiuity: imita­tinge him who tooke vpon him the forme of a seruaunt, that we sholde not bee seruauntes to synne: for Paulinus followinge his example, beca­me him selfe for a tyme a seruant [Page 210] alone, that afterwarde he mighte be made free with many.

When I heare that which I can not imitate, I desire rather to weepe then to saye any thinge.

Concerninge this holy mans death, it remayneth yet in the records of his owne church, how that he was with a paine of his side broughte to the last cast: and that whiles all the rest of the house stoode sounde, the chamber only in which he lay sicke, was shaken with an earth quake, and so his soule was loosed from his bodye: and by this meanes it fell out, that they were all strookē with a great feare that mighte haue sene Paulinus departing this life. But because his vertue by that which I spoke of before is sufficiently hand­led, nowe yf you please we will co­me to other miracles, which are both knowne to many, and which I haue hearde by the relation of such persons, that I can make no doubt but that they be most true.

CHAPTER II.

IN the tyme of the Gothes, when the most blessed man Iohn Bishoppe of this churche of Rome, trauailed to the Emperour Iustiniā thelder, he came into the countrye of Corinth, where he lacked an horse to ride vpon: which a certaine noble man vnderstandinge, lent him that horse which because he was gentle, his wife vsed for her owne saddle, with order that when he came where he coulde prouide him selfe of an other, his wiues horse shold be sent backe againe. And so the Bishop rodd vpon him, vntill he came to a certaine place where he got an other, and then he returned that which he had bor­rowed. But afterwarde when his wife came to take his backe, as before she vsed, by no meanes could she do it, be­cause the horse hauing caried so greate a Bishoppe, woulde not suffre a wo­man to come any more vpon his back, & therfore he began with monstrous snorting, neying and continuall [Page 212] stirringe, as it were in scorne, to shewe that he coulde not beare any woman, vpon whom the Pope him selfe had ridden: which thinge her husbande wisely consideringe, straight wayes sent him againe to the holy man, besee­chīg him to accept of that horse which by riding, he had dedicated to his ow­ne seruice. Of the same man, an other miracle is also reported by our aunce­tors, to witt that in Constantinople, when he came to the gate called Aurea, where he was mett with great num­bers of people, in the presence of them all, he restored sight to a blinde man that did instantly craue it: for lay­ing his hande vpon him, he bannis­hed awaye that darcknes which pos­sessed his eies.

CHAPTER III.

NOt longe after, about busines concerninge the Gothes, the most blessed man Agapitus Bishop of this holy churche of Rome (in which [Page 213] by Gods prouidence I do now serue) went to the Emperor Iustinian. And as he was trauailinge throughe Grece, a dumbe and lame man was brought vnto him for helpe. The holy man ca­refully demanded of his kinsfolke, that brought him thither and stoode there weepinge, whether they did beleue that it was in his power to cure him: who answered, that they did fir­mely hope that he mighte helpe him in the vertue of God by the authori­tye of S. Peter: vpon which wordes forthwith the venerable man fell to his praiers, and beginninge solemne The sacri­fice of the masse. masse, he offered sacrifice in the sighte of almighty God: which beinge en­ded, he came from the aultar, toke the lame man by the hande and straight­waies in the presence and fighte of all the people, he restored him to the vse of his legges: and after he had put our Lordes bodye into his mouthe, The real presence. that tongue which longe tyme before had not spoken, was loosed. At which miracle all did wonder and began to weepe for ioye: and forthwith both feare and reuerence possessed [Page 214] theire mindes, beholding what Agapi­tus coulde do in the power of our Lor­de, by the helpe of S. Peter.

CHAPTER IIII.

IN the tyme of the same Emperour, Datius Bishopp of Millan, about matters of religion, trauailed to Con­stantinople. And comminge to C [...]rinthe he soughte for a large house to receiue him and his company, and coulde scar­se finde anye: at length he sawe a far of a faire greate house, which he com­manded to be prouided for him: and when the inhabitants of that place, tolde him that it was for many yeares haunted by the deuil, and therfor stoo­de emptye: so much the sooner quothe the venerable man, oughte we to lod­ge in it, yf the wicked spirit hath taken possession thereof, and will nor suffer men to dwell in it. Wherevpon he ga­ue order to haue it made readye: which being done, he went without al feare to combat with the olde ene­mye. In the deade of the nighte when [Page 215] the man of God was a slepe, the deuill began with an huge noise and great out [...]ry, to imitate the roaringe of lyōs, the bleatinge of sheepe, the brayinge of asses, the hissinge of serpentes, the gruntinge of hogges, and the skreaking of rattes. Darius suddainly awaked with the noise of so many beastes rose vp, and in great anger spake aloude to the olde serpent, and saide: Thowe art ser­ued well thowe wretched creature: thowe art he that diddest saye, I will Isai. 14. place my seate in the northe, and I will be like to the highest: & now throughe thy pri­de, see how thowe art become like vnto hogges and rattes: & thowe that woldest needes vnworthilye be like vnto God, beholde how thowe doest nowe according to thy desertes imita­te brute beastes: At these wordes the wicked serpent was as I may well ter­me it ashamed, that he was so disgra­tiously and baselye put downe, for wel maye I saye that he was ashamed, who neuer after troubled that house with any such terrible and monstrous shapes as before he did: for euer after that tyme, Christian men did inhabit the same: for so sone as one man that [Page 216] was a true and faithful christian tooke possession thereof, the lyinge and faith lesse spirit straight-waies did forsake it. But I will nowe surcease from spea­king of thinges done in former tymes, and come to suche miracles as haue happened in our owne daies.

CHAPTER V.

CErtaine religious men well kno­wne in the prouince of Apulia, do reporte that which many both far and nere knowe to be most true, and that is of Sabinus Bishoppe of Camisina: who by reason of his great age was become so blinde that he sawe nothin­ge at all. And for as much as Totilas King of the Gothes hearinge that he had the gifte of prophecye, and wolde not beleue it, but was desirous to pro­ue whether it were so or no, it fel so out, that comminge into those partes, the man of God did inuite him to dinner. And when the meate was broughte in, the Kinge wolde not sitt at the table, but satt beside at the righte [Page 217] hande of venerable Sabinus: and when the Bisshoppes man broughte him as he vsed to doe a cupp of wine, the Kinge softlye putt forthe his hande, tooke the cupp, and gaue it him selfe to the Bisshop, to trye whether he coulde tell who he was that gaue him the wyne: Then the man of God taking the cupp, but not seeing him that did deliuer it, saide: Blessed be that hande. At which wordes the Kinge very me­rily blushed, because albeit he was taken, yet did he finde that gifte in the man of God, which before he desired to knowe. The same reuerent man to giue goode example of life to others, liued vntill he was passinge olde: which nothinge pleased his archdea­con, that desired his Bishopricke: and therfore vpon ambition he soughte how to dispatche him with poison, and for that purpose corrupted his cup bearer, who ouercome with mo­ney, offered the Bisshop at dinner, that poison in his wine which he had re­ceiued of the Archdeacon. The holye man knowinge what he broughte, willed him selfe to drincke that which he offered him: The wretche [Page 218] trembled at those wordes, and percei­uing his villany to be derected, thoug­hte better to drincke it, and so quickly dispatch him selfe, then with shame to suffer tormentes for the sinne of so horrible a murder: but as he was put­tinge the cuppe to his mouth, the man of God hindred him sayinge: Do not take it, but giue it me, and I will drinc­ke it my selfe, but go thy way, and tell him that gaue it the, that I will drinck the poison, but yet shall he neuer liue to be Bisshopp: And so blessinge the Blessing with the signe of the crosse. cuppe with the signe of the crosse he drunke it without any harme at all: at which very tyme the Archdeacon being in an other place departed this life: as thoughe that poison had by the Bishoppes mouth passed to his Arch­deacons bowels: for althoughe he had no corporall poison to kill him, yet the venim of his owne malice, did de­stroye him in the sighte of the euer­lastinge iudge.

These be straunge thinges, and muche in our dayes to be wondred at: yet the life of the man is suche, that he [Page 219] which knoweth his holye conuersa­tion, hath no such cause to maruaile at the miracle.

CHAPTER VI.

NEither can I Peter passe ouer with silence that thing, which many of the city of Narny, which be here present affirme to be most true. For in the tyme of the same Gothes, the foresaide Kinge Totilas comminge to Narnie, Cassius a man of venerable life, Bishop of the same city wēt forth to meete him, whom the king vtterly contemned because his face was highe coloured, thinking that it proceded not from any other cause then drinking. But almighty God, to shewe howe worthy a man was despised, permit­ted a wicked spirit before his whole armye, in the fieldes of Narnie, where the Kinge also him selfe was, to posses­se one of his garde, and cruellye to tor­ment him. Straight-waies was he broughte to the venerable man Cassius [Page 220] in the presence of the Kinge: who praying to God for him, and making the signe of the crosse, forth with he The ver­tue of the signe of the crosse. cast out the deuill, so that neuer after he durst presume any more to enter into his bodye. And by this meanes it fell out, that the barbarous Kinge from that daye forwarde, did with his hart much reuerence the seruant of God, whom before by his face he iudged to be a man of no account: for seeing him now to be one of such power and vertue, he gaue ouer those proude thoughtes which before he had con­ceiued.

CHAPTER VII.

BVt as I am thus busied in tellinge the actes of holy men, there com­meth to my minde, what God of his great mercy did for Andrewe, Bishop of the citye of Funda: which no table sto­rye I wish all so to reade, that they which haue dedicated them selues to Bishopes dedicated to conti­nencye. continencye, presume not in any wise to dwell amongst wemen: least in tyme of tentation, theire soule per [...]she [Page 221] the soner, by hauinge that at hand, which is vnlawfullye desired. Neither is the story which I reporte, either doubtfull or vncertaine: for so many witnesses to iustifye the truthe the­reof may be produced, as there be al­most inhabitants in that citye. When therfore this venerable man Andrewe li­ued vertuouslye, & with diligent care, answerable to his priestlie functiō, lead a continent and chast life: he kept in his house a certaine Nunne, which also had remained with him befor he was pre­ferred to that dignitye: for assuringe him selfe of his owne continencye, and nothing doubtinge of hers, content he was to let her remaine stil in his house: which thinge the deuil tooke as an oc­casion to assalte him with tentation: and so he began to present before the eies of his minde, the forme of that woman, that by suche allurements he mighte haue his harte wholy possessed with vngodly thoughtes. In the mea­ne tyme it fell so out, that a Iewe was trauailinge from Campania to Rome, who drawinge nighe to the city of Funda, was so ouertaken with nighte, that he knewe not where to Iodge, [Page 222] and therfore not findge any better commoditye, he retired him selfe into a temple of the God Apollo, which was not far of, meaninge there to repose him selfe: but muche affraide he was, to The signe of the crosse vsed in old tyme. ly in so a wicked and sacrilegious a place: for which cause thoughe he be­leued not what we teache of the cros­se, yet he thoughe goode to arme him selfe with that signe. About mid­nighte as he lay wakinge for verye feare of that forlorne and desert tem­ple, and looked suddainlie about him, he espied a troupe of wicked spirites walkinge before an other of greater authority: who comminge in tooke vp his place, and satt downe in the body of the temple: where he began dili­gētlye to inquire of those his seruātes, how they had bestowed theire tyme, and what villanye they had done in the worlde. And when eache one told what he had done against Gods ser­uantes, out stepped a companion, and made solemne relation, what a nota­ble tentation of carnalitye, he had put into the minde of Bishop Andrewe, concerninge that Nunne which he kepte in his pallace: where vnto whiles [Page 223] the master deuill gaue attentiue eare, consideringe with him selfe what a notable gaine it wolde be, to vndoe the soule of so holy a man: the former deuill went on with his tale and saide, that the verye eueninge before he as­salted him so mightelye, that he drewe him so far forth, that he did merily strike the saide Nunne vpon the backe. The wicked serpent and olde enemie of mankinde hearinge this ioyfull newes, exhorted his agent with verye faire wordes, diligently to labour about the effecting of that thinge, which he had already so well begun, that for so notable a pece of seruice, as the contriuing the spirituall ruyne of that vertuous Prelat, he mighte ha­ue a singular reward aboue all his fel­lowes. The Iewe who al this while lay wakinge, and hearde all that which they saide, was wonderfully affraide: at length the master deuill sent so­me of his followers to see who he was, and howe he durst presume to lodge in theire temple: when they we­re come, and had narrowlye viewed him, they founde that he was marked with the mystical signe of the crosse: [Page 224] whereat they maruailed and saide. Alas alas, here is an empty vessel, but The signe of the crosse pro­tected a Iowe. yet it is signed: which newes the res [...] of those helhoundes hearinge, suddainly vanished awaye. The Iewe who had seene all that, which then passed among them, presently rose vp, and in all hast, sped him selfe to the Bishop, whom he founde in the churche: and taking him a side, he demanded with what tentation he was trobled: but shame so preuailed, that by no meanes he wolde confesse the truthe. Then the Iewe replied and tolde him, that he had cast his eies wickedly vpon such a one of Gods seruantes: But the Bis­hop wolde not acknowledge that the­re was anye such thinge: Why do you deny it quoth the Iewe, for is it not so true that yesternighte you were broughte so far by sinfull tentation, that you did strike her on the backe: When the Bishop by these particulari­ties, perceiued that the matter was bro­ken forth, he humbly confessed what before he obstinately denied. Then the Iewe moued with compassion to his soule, and tenderinge his credit, tol­de him by what means he came to the [Page 225] knowledge thereof, and what he hear­de of him, in that assemblye of wicked spirites. The Bishop hearinge this, fell prostrat vpon the earth, and betooke him selfe to his praiers: and straight after he discharged out of his house, not only that Nunne, but all other w [...]men that attended vpon her. And not longe after, he conuerted the tem­ple of Apollo, into an oratory of the bles­sed Churches dedicated to Sain­ctes. Apostle S. Andrewe: and neuer after was he trobled with that carnall ten­tation: and the Iewe by whose means he was so mercifully preserued, he broughte to euerlasting saluation: for he baptized him, and made him a member of holy churche. And thus by Gods prouidence, the Iewe hauin­ge care of the spirituall health of an other, attained also him selfe the sin­gular benefit of the same: and almigh­tye God by the same means, brought one to imbrace piety and vertue, by which he preserued an other in an ho­ly and godly life.

This historye which I haue hearde worketh in me feare, and yet withal giueth me cause of hoope.

That is not amisse Peter, for necessa­ry it is, that we shoulde both trust vpon the mercye of God, and yet con­sideringe our owne frailtye, be affrai­de: for we haue nowe heard howe one of the cedars of Paradise was shaken, and yet not blowne downe, to the end that knowing our owne infir­mitye, we sholde both tremble at his shakinge, and yet conceiue hoope, in that he was not ouerthrowne, but kept his standinge still.

CHAPTER VIII.

COnstantius likewise a man of holy life, was Bishop of Aquinum, who not longe since died, in the tyme of Pope Iohne of blessed memorye, my predecessor: many that knewe him familiarly, saye that he had the gifte of prophecy. And amongest diuers other thinges which he did, religious and honest men then present reporte that lyinge vpon his death bed, the citizens [Page 227] that stoode about him wept bitterly & asked him with teares, who sholde be theire father and Bishop after him. To whom by the spirit of prophecy he answered, sayinge: After Constantius, you shall haue a muletour, and after a muletour, a fuller of cloth: and these men (quoth he) be now in the city of Aquinum: and hauing spoken these propheticall wordes, he gaue vp the Ghost. After whose departure one Andrewe his Deacon, was made Bishop: who in tymes past had kept mules and post horses. And when he died, one Io­uinus was preferred to that dignitye, who in former tymes had bene a fuller in the same citye: in whose daies all the citizens were so wasted, some by the sworde of barbarous people, and some by a terrible plague: that after his death, neither could any be founde to be made Bishop, nor yet any people for whose sake he sholde be created. And so the saying of the man of God was fulfilled, in that, his churche after the death of two that followed him, had no Bishopp at all.

CHAPTER IX.

BVt I must not forget to tell you, what I hearde of the reuerent man Venantius, Bishop of Luna, some two daies agoe: who saide that there was nighe vnto him, a man of rare vertue called Frigidianus, Bishopp of Luca, who wroughte a strange miracle, which as he saith all the inhabitantes of that place do speake of, and it was this. Hard by the walles of the city, there runneth a riuer called Anser, which diuers tymes doth so swell and ouerflowe the bankes, that it dro­wneth many acres of grounde, & spoi­leth muche corne and fruite. The in­habitants inforced by necessity, seeinge that this did often happen, went about by all means possible to turne the streame an other waye: but when they had bestowed much labour, yet coulde they not cause it to leaue the olde channell. Wherevpon the man of God Frigidianus, made a little rake, and came to the riuer, where all alone he be­stowed [Page 229] some tyme in praier: and then he commaunded the riuer to followe him, and goinge before, he drewe his rake ouer suche places as he thoughte goode, and the whole riuer forsakinge the olde channell did followe him, and kept possession of that, which the holy man by that signe of his rake had ap­pointed: and so neuer afterwarde did it hurte any more either corne or other thinges planted for the mainte­nance of men.

CHAPTER X.

THe same Venantius tolde me like­wise an other miracle, done as he saide in the city of Placentia, which one Iohn the seruant of God, and a man of credit liuing now here amongest vs, and who was borne and broughte vp in that city, affirmeth also to be most true. For in that towne of Placētia, they saye that there was a Bishopp of won­full vertue, called Sabinus: who vnder­standinge by one of his Deacons, that the great riuer of Poe was broken forth, and had ouerflowed the lande [Page 230] which belonged to the churche, and done muche harme, he bad him goe vnto the riuer, and deliuer it this mes­sage from him. The Bishop comman­deth you to retire, and keepe your sel­fe within your owne boundes. His Deacon hearing these wordes, scor­nefully contemed to be emploied in any suche busines. Then the man of God Sabinus sent for a Notarye, and willed him to write these wordes. Sabinus the seruaunt of our Lorde Iesus Christ, sendeth admonition to Poe. I commande the in the name of our Lorde Iesus Christ, that thou come not out of thy channell, nor presume any more to hurte the landes of the chur­che. This shorte letter he bad the No­tary write, and when he had so done, to goe and cast it into the riuer. The Notary did as he bad him, and the ri­uer obeyed the precept of the holy man, for straightwaies it withdrewe it selfe from the churche-landes, retur­ned to his owne channell, and neuer presumed any more to ouerflowe those groundes. By which facte Peter the pride of disobedient men is con­founded, seeinge that the very sense­lesse [Page 231] element in the name of Iesus, obeyed the holy mans commande­ment.

CHAPTER XI.

CErbonius also a man of holy life, Bishop of Populonium, hath made great prooffe in our tyme of his rare vertue. For beinge muche giuen to hospitality, vpon a certaine day he ga­ue entertainement to diuers soldiars, which for feare of the Gothes (that passed likewise by his house) he con­ueyed out of the way, and so saued theire liues from those wicked men. Totilas theire impious kinge hauinge intelligence thereof, in great rage and cruelty cōmanded him to be broughte vnto a place called Merulis, (eighte mi­les from Populonium) where he remay­ned with his whole armie, and in the sighte of the people to be cast vnto wilde beares to be deuoured. And be­cause the wicked kinge wolde nedes be present him selfe, to beholde the Bis­hoppe torne in peces, great store of [Page 232] people were likewise assembled, to see that pitifull pagent. The Bishop was broughte forthe, and a terrible beare prouided, that mighte in cruell man­ner teare his bodie in peeces, so to satisfye the minde of that blodye Kinge. Out of his den was the beast let loose, who in great fury and hast, sett vpon the Bishop: but suddainly for­gettinge all cruelty, with bowed necke and humble heade, he began to licke his feete: to giue them al to vnderstan­de, that men caried towardes the man of God the hartes of beasts, and the beast as it were the harte of a man. At this sighte the people with great sho­wtinge and outcries, declared how hi­ghely they did admire the holy man: & the Kinge him selfe was moued to ha­ue him in great reuerence: and so by Gods prouidence it fell out, that he which before refused to obey and fol­lowe God by sauing the Bishops life, was broughte to do it by the miracu­lous meekenes of a cruell beare. Ma­ny of them which were then present and sawe it, be yet liuing, who do all affirme this to be most true.

An other miracle concerninge the same man I hearde of Venantius, Bishop of Luna, and it was this. Cerbonius had in the churche of Populonium, a tombe prouided for him selfe: but when the Lombardes inuaded Italy, and spoiled all that country, he retired him selfe into the Ilande of Helba. Where fallinge so­re sicke, before his deathe he comman­ded his chapleins to bury his body in the foresaide tombe at Populonium: and when they tolde him how harde a thinge it was by reason of the Lombar­des, which were Lordes of the coun­try, and did range vp and downe in all places: Carry me thither (quoth he) securely and feare nothinge, but bury me in all hast, and that being done co­me away as fast as you can. For per­forminge of this his will they proui­ded a shipp, and away they went with his body towardes Populonium: in which iornye there fell great store of rayne, but that the worlde mi­ght knowe whose body was trans­ported in that shippe, in that twel­ue miles space which is betwixt [Page 234] the ilande & Populonium, a great storme of raine fell vpon bothe sides of the shippe, but not one droppe within. When they were come to the place, they buried his bodye, and accordinge to his commandement, returned to theire shipp with all speede: and they were no soner a borde then there en­tred into the churche, where the Bis­hop was buried, a most cruell captayne of the Lombardes called Gunmar. By whose suddaine comminge to that place, it appeared planiely, that the man of God, had the spirit of prophe­cye, when he willed them in all hast to departe from the place of his buriall.

CHAPTER XII.

THe verye same miracle, which I tolde you concerninge the diui­sion of the rayne, happened likewise to the great veneration of an other Bishop. For a certaine olde Priest who yet liueth, was then present when it happened, and saith that Fulgentius Bis­hop of Otricoly, was in disgrace with [Page 235] that cruell tyrant Totilas: & therfore as he was passing that way with his ar­my, the Bishoppe did carefully before hande by his Chaplins send him cer­taine presentes, by that means if it we­re possible to mitigat his furious min­de. But the tyrant contemned them, and in great rage commanded his sol­diars hardly to binde the Bishop, and to keepe him safe vntill he had hearde his examination. The mercilesse Go­thes executed his cruell commande­ment: and setting him vpon a pece of ground, they made a circle rounde about him, out of which they com­manded him not to stir his foote whi­les the man of God stoode there in great extremity of heate, inuironed round about with those Gothes, sud­dainly there fell suche thunder and lighteninge, and suche plentye of rai­ne, that his keepers could not indure that terrible storme: and yet for all that, not one droppe fell within the circle, where the man of God Fulgen­tius stoode. Which strange newes bein­ge tolde to that tyrannicall kinge, his barbarous minde was broughte to ha­ue him in great reuerence, whose [Page 236] torment before he desired & so cruel­lye thirsted after his blode. Thus al­mighty God to bringe downe, the lof­tye mindes of carnall men, doth wor­ke miracles by such as they most con­temne: that truthe proceedinge from the mouth of his humble seruauntes, may subdue those, which of prid [...] do extoll and aduaunce them selues against the doctrine of truthe.

CHAPTER XIII.

NOt longe since, the vertuous Bishop Floridus, tolde me a nota­ble miracle, which was this. The grea­te holy man (quoth he) Herculanus, who broughte me vp, was Bishop of Peru­sium, exalted to that dignity from the state of a monke: in whose tyme the perfidious kinge Totilas, besieged it for seuene yers together, and the famin within was so great, that many of the townesemen forsooke the place: and before the seuenth yere was ended, the armye of the Gothes tooke the citye. The commander of his campe, dis­patched [Page 237] messengers to Totilas, to know his pleasure what he should doe with the Bishoppe, and the rest of the citi­zens: to whom he returned answer, that he shold from the top of the Bis­hoppes heade to his verye foote, cutt of a thonge of his skinne, and that do­ne to strike of his heade: and as for the rest of the people, to putt them all to the sworde. When he had receiued this order, he commanded the reuerent Bishop Herculanus, to be carried to the walles, and there to haue his heade strooken of, and when he was deade, that his skin shoulde be cut from the verye crowne, downe to the verye foote, as thoughe in dede a thonge had bene taken from his bodye: after which barbarous facte theye threwe his dead co [...]ps ouer the wall. Then so­me vpon pitty, ioyninge the heade to the bodye, did bury him together with an infant that was there founde dea­de. Fourtye daies after Totilas makinge proclamation, that the inhabitants, which were gone, shoulde without all feare come backe againe: those which vpon extremity of hunger de­parted, returned home to their houses, [Page 238] and callinge to mynde the holy life of theire Bishoppe, they soughte for his body, that it mighte as he deserued be buried in the churche of S. Peter: And when they came to the place where it lay, they digged, and founde the bodye of the infant that was buried toge­ther with him, putrified and full of wormes, but the Bishoppes body was so sounde, as thoughe it had bene new­ly put into the earth, and that which is more to be admired, and deserueth greater reuerence, his heade was so fast ioyned to his bodye, as thoughe it had neuer bene cutt of, neither did any si­gne of his beheading appeare at all. Then they viewed likewise his backe, whether that were also whole and sounde, and they founde it so perfect and well, as thoughe neuer any knife had touched the same.

Who wolde not wonder at such miracles of them that be deade: wroughte no question for the spiri­tuall goode of the liuinge,

CHAPTER XIIII.

AT suche tyme as the Gothes first inuaded Italye, there was nere to the citye of Spoleto, a vertuous and ho­ly man called Isaac: who liued almost to the last daies of the Gothes, whom many did knowe, and especially the holy virgin Gregoria, which nowe dwelleth in this citye, hard by the churche of the blessed and perpetuall virgin Marie: which woman in her yonger yeares, desiring to liue a Nun­nes life, fled to the churche from mar­riag, already agreed vpon by her frein­des, and was by this man defended: and so through Gods prouidence, obtay­ned Nunnes ware a peculiar habit, and liued vn­married. to haue that habitt, which so much she desired, and so leauing her spouse vpon earth, she merited a spouse in heauen. Many thinges also I had by the relation of the reuerent man Eleuthe­rius, who was familiarly acquainted with him: and his vertuous life doth giue credit to his wordes. This holy [Page 240] man Isaac was not borne in Italye; and therfore I wil only speake of suche mi­racles as he did liuinge here in our co­untrye. At his first comminge out of Syria to the city of Spoleto, he went to the churche, and desired the keepers, that he mighte haue free leaue to praye there, and not to be enforced to depar­te when nighte came. And so he began his deuotions, and spent all that daye in praier, and likewise the nighte followinge. The seconde daye and nighte he bestowed in the same man­ner, and remayned there also the thir­de daye: which when one of the kee­pers of the church perceiued, who was a man of a proud spirit, he tooke scandall by that, whereof he ought to haue reaped great profitt. For he began to say that he was an hyppocrite and cousining companion, who in the sigh­te of the worlde remayned at his praiers three dayes and three nightes together: & forth with running vpon the man of God, he strook him, to ma­ke him by that meanes with shame to departe the churche as an hyppocryte, and one that desired to be reputed an holy man. But to reuenge this iniurye, [Page 241] a wicked spirit did presently possesse his body, who cast him downe at the feete of the man of God, and began by his mouth to crye out: Isaac doth cast me forth, Isaac doth cast me forth. For what name the straunge man had, no­ne at that tyme did knowe, but the wicked spirit told it, when he cried out that he had power to cast him out. Straighte-waies the man of God, lai­de him selfe vpon his bodye, and the cursed deuill that was entred in, depar­ted in all hast: newes of this was by and by blowne ouer the whole city, and men and wemen, riche and poore came runnynge, euery one striuinge to bringe him home to theire owne hou­se: Some for the buildinge of an Ab­bey, did humbly offer him landes, other money, and some such other helpes as they coulde. But the seruaunt of almighty God, refusyng to accept any of theire offers, departed out of the citye, and not farr of, he founde a desert place, where he builte a little cotage for him selfe: To whom many repayringe, began by his example to be inflamed with the loue of euerla­stinge life, and so vnder his discipline, [Page 242] and gouernment, gaue them selues to the seruice of almighty God. And when his disciples wolde often hum­bly insinuate, that it were goode for the necessity of the Abbey, to take such liuinges as were offred, he very carefull to keepe pouertye, tolde them constantly, sayinge. A monke that see­keth for liuinges vpon earthe is no monke: for so fearefull he was to loose the secure state of his pouertye, as co­uetous riche men are carefull, to pre­serue theire corruptible wealthe.

In that place therfore he became fa­mous for the spirit of prophecye: and his life was renoumed far and nere, for the notable miracles which he wrou­ghte. For vpon a day, towardes eue­ninge, he caused his monkes to lay a certaine number of spades in the gar­din. The nighte followinge, when ac­cordinge Mattens. to custome they rose vp to theire praiers, he commanded them, sayinge. Go your waies, and make po­tage for our worckemen, that it may be readye very earely in the mornin­ge. And when it was day, he bad them bringe the potage which they had prouided: and goinge with his monkes [Page 243] into the gardin, he founde there so many men workinge, as he had com­manded them to lay spades: for it fell so out, that certaine thieues were en­tred in to spoile and robb it: but God chaunginge theire mindes, they tooke the spades which they founde there, and so wrought from the tyme of theire first entrance, vntil the man of God came vnto them: and all such partes of the grounde as before were not manured, they had digged vpp and made readie. When the man of God was com, he saluted them in this wise. God saue you goode brethren: you ha­ue laboured longe, wherfore now rest your selues: then he caused such proui­sion as he had broughte, to be sett be­fore them, & so after theire labour and paines refreshed them. When they had eaten that was sufficient, he spake thus vnto them. Doe not hereafter any more harme: but when you desire any thinge that is in the gardin, come to the gate, quietlye aske it, and take it a Gods blessinge, but steale no more: and so bestowing vpon them good store of wortes, he sent them awaye. And by this meanes it fell out that [Page 244] they which came into the gardin to doe harme, departed thence not doing any damage at all, and besides had the rewarde of theire paines, and some­what also of charitye bestowed vpon them.

At an other tyme, there came vnto him certaine straunge men a begginge, so torne and tattred, that they had scant any ragges to couer them, hum­bly beseechinge him to helpe them with some cloathes. The man of God hearinge theire demande gaue them no answere: but secretly callinge for one of his monkes, bad him goe into suche a woode, and in such a place of the woode to seeke for an hollow tree, and to bringe vnto him that apparrel which he founde there. The monke went his way and broughte closely to his master that which he had founde. Then the man of God called for those poore naked men, and gaue them that apparrell, saying: Put on these cloathes to couer your naked bodies withall. They seeing theire owne garmentes, were wonderfully confounded: for thincking by cunning to haue gotten other mens apparrell, with shame [Page 245] they receiued only theire owne.

Againe at another tyme, one there was, that commended him selfe to his prayers, and sent him by his seruaunt two basketes full of meate: one of the which as he was in his iornye, he too­ke away, and hidd in a bushe till his re­turne backe againe: and the other he presented to the man of God, telling him how his master had sent him that, hartily commendinge him selfe to his praiers. The holy mā tooke that which was sent verie kindelye, giuing the messenger this goode lesson: I pray the my freinde to thancke they master, and take heede howe thowe doest lay han­de vpon the basket, for a snake is crept in, & therfore be carefull, least other­wise it doth stinge the. At these wor­des the messenger was pitifullye con­founded, and though glad he was that by this means he escaped death, yet some what grieued that he was put to that shame. Comminge backe to the basket, very diligent & carefull he was in touching it [...] for as the man of God had told him, a snake in verie dede was gott in. This holy man therfore albeit he were incōparably adorned with the [Page 244] [...] [Page 245] [...] [Page 246] vertue of abstinence, contempt of worldly welthe, the spirit of prophe­cye, and perseuerance in praier: yet one thing there was in him which seemed reprehensible, to witt, that some tyme he wolde so exceede in mirthe, that yf men had not knowne him to haue bene so full of vertue, none wolde euer haue thought it.

What I beseche you shall we say to that? for did he willingly giue him selfe sometyme to such recreation: or els excelling in vertue, was he contrary to his owne minde drawne sometyme to present mirthe?

Gods prouidence Peter in bestowin­ge of his giftes is wonderful: for often it falleth out, that vpon whom he vouchsafeth the greater, he giueth not the lesse: to the end that alwaies they may haue somewhat to mislike in them selues: so that desiringe to arriue vnto perfection, and yet can not: and labour inge about that which they haue not obtayned, and can not preuaile: by this [Page 247] meanes they become not proud of those giftes which they haue receiued, but doe thereby learne, that they ha­ue not those greater graces of them selues, who of them selues can not ouercome small faultes. And this was the cause, that when God had brough­te his people into the lande of promi­se, and destroied all theire mightye & potent enemies, yet did he longe ty­me after reserue the Philisteans and Chananites, that as it is written, he mighte Iudie. 3. in them trye Israel. For sometyme as hath bene saide, vpon whom he bestoweth great giftes, he leaueth some small thinges, that be blameworthy, that al­waies they may haue somewhat to fighte against, and not to be proude, thoughe theire great enemies be van­quished, seeing other aduersaries in very small thinges do putt them to great trouble: & therfore it falleth out strangelye, that one and the selfe same man is excellent for vertue, and yet of infirmitye sometyme do the offende, so that he may beholde him selfe on the one side stronge and well furnished, and on an other open and not defen­ded: that by the goode thinge which [Page 248] he seeketh for and is not able to pro­cure, he may with humility preserue that vertue, which alreadye he hath in possession. But what wonder is it that we speake this concerning man, when as heauen it selfe, lost some of his citi­zens, and other some conteynewed sounde in Gods grace: that the electe Angels of God, seeinge others throu­ghe pride to fall from heauen, mighte stande so muche the more stedfast, by howe much with humilitye they pre­serued Gods grace receiued. They therfore tooke profitt by that losse which heauen then had, and were thereby made to perseuere more con­stantly in Gods seruice for all eternitie. In like manner it fareth with each mans soule, which sometyme for pre­seruinge of humilitye, by a little losse it attaineth to great spirituall perfe­ction.

I am verye well pleased with that you saye.

CHAPTER XV.

NEither will passe ouer that with silence, which I hearde from the mouthe of that reuerent Priest Sanctulus, one of the same countrye: and of whose report I am sure you make no doubte, for you knowe very well his life and fidelitye.

At the same tyme in the prouince of Nursia there dwelt two men, ob­seruinge the life and habit of holy Distinct habit of monkes. conuersation: the one was called. Eu­thicius, & the other Florentius: of which, Euthicius bestowed his tyme in spiri­tuall zeale and feruor of vertue, and la­boured muche by his exhortations, to gayne soules to God: but Florentius lead his life in simplicitye, & deuotion. Not far from the place where they remay­ned, there was an Abbey, the gouernor whereof was dead, & therfore the mō ­kes made cho [...]e of Euthicius to take the charge thereof: who condescendinge to theire petition, gouerned the Abbey [Page 250] many yeares. And not to haue his for­mer oratory vtterly destitute, he lefte the reuerent man Florentius to keepe the same: who dwelt there all alone, and vpon a daye, beeinge at his praiers, he [...] besoughte almightye God to vouchsafe him of some comforte in that place: and hauinge ended his de­uotions, he went forthe, where he founde a beare standinge before the dore, which by the bowing downe of his heade to the grounde, and shewing in the gesture of his bodie no signe of crueltie, gaue the man of God to vn­derstande, that he was come thither to do him seruice, and him selfe likewise did forth with perceiue it. And because he had in the house fower or fiue sheepe, which had no keeper, he comman­ded the beare to take charge of them, sayinge: Goe and leade these sheepe to the fielde, and at twelue of the clocke come backe againe: which charge he tooke vpon him, and did dailye come home at that howre: and so he perfor­med the office of a goode shepheard, and those shepe which before tyme he vsed to deuoure, nowe fastinge him selfe, he tooke care to haue them safely [Page 251] kepte. And when Gods seruaunt de­termined to fast vntil three of the clocke, then he commanded the beare to returne with his shepe at the same houre: but when he wolde not fast so longe, to come at twelue. And what­soeuer he commanded his beare, that he did, so that bidden to returne at three of the clocke, he wolde not come at twelue: and commanded to returne at twelue, he wolde not tarry till three. And when this had continewed a goode while, he began to be famous far and nere for his vertue and holy life. But the olde enemy of mankinde by that meanes which he seeth the goode to come vnto glorye, by the sa­me doth he drawe the wicked throu­ghe hatred to procure theire owne mi­serie: for fower of Euthicius monkes swellinge with enuye, that theire ma­ster wroughte not any miracles, and that he who was left alone by him, was famous for so notable a one, vpon very spighte went and killed his bea­re. And therfore when the poore beast came not at his appointed howre, Florentius began to suspecte the matter: but expectinge yet vntill the eue­ninge, [Page 252] verye muche grieued he was, that the beare whom in great simpli­citye he called his brother, came not home. The nexte daye, he went to the fielde, to seeke for his shepe and his shepheard, whom he founde there slayne: and making diligēt inquisition, he learned quickely who they were that had committed that vncharitable fact. Then was he verye sorye, bewai­ling yet more the malice of the mon­kes, then the deathe of his beare: whom the reuerent man Euthicius sent for, and did comforte him what he mighte: but the holy man Florentius wonderfully grieued in mynde, did in his presence curse them sayinge: I must in almighty God, that they shall in this life, & in the sighte of the worlde, receiue the rewarde of theire malice, that haue thus killed my beare which did them no harme: whose wordes Gods vengeance did straighte fol­lowe, for the fower monkes that kil­led the poore beast, were straighte so strooken with a leprosye, that theire limmes did rott away, and so they died miserably: whereat the man of God Florentius was greatly affraide [Page 253] and muche grieued, that he had so cur­sed the monkes: and all his life after he wept, for that his praier was hearde, crying out that him selfe was cruell, and that he had murdered those men. Which thinge I suppose almighty God did, to the end that he shold not beein­ge a man of great simplicity, vpon any griefe whatsoeuer, afterwarde presu­me to curse anye.

What? is it any great synne, yf in our anger we curse others?

Why doe you aske me whether it be a great synne, when as S. Paul saith. Nei­ther 1. Corint. 5. cursers shal posses the kingdome of God. Thincke then how great the synne is, which doth exclude a man out of heauen.

What yf a man haply not of malice, but of negligence in keepinge his ton­gue, doth curse his neighbour.

Yf before the seuere iudge idle speche [Page 254] is reprehended: howe much more that which is hurtefull. Consider then howe damnable those wordes be, which proceede of malice, when that talke shall be punnished, which pro­ceedeth only from idlenes.

I graunt it to be most true.

The same man of God did an other thinge which I must not forget. For the reporte of his vertue reachinge far and nere, a certaine Deacon that dwelt many miles of, trauailed vnto him, to commend him selfe to his praiers. And comminge to his cell, he found it rounde about full of innume­rable snakes: at which sighte beeinge wonderfully affraide, he cried out, de­siringe Florentius to praye: who came forth the skye beeinge then verye cle­re, and lifted vp his eies and his han­des to heauen, desiringe God to take them awaye in such sort as he best knewe: Vpon whose praiers suddainly it thundred, and that thunder killed all those snakes. Florentius seeing them [Page 255] all deade, saide vnto God. Beholde ô Lorde thowe hast destroied them all, but who shall now carry them awaye: and straighte as he had thus spoken, so many birdes came, as there were snakes killed, which tooke them al vp, and carried them far of, discharginge his habitation from those venemous creatures.

Certainly he was a man of great vertue and merit, whose praiers God did so quickly heare.

Puritye of harte and simplicity Pe­ter, is of great force with almighty God, who is in purity most singular, and of nature most simple: For those seruauntes of his, which doe retire them selues from worldly affaires, a­uoid idle wordes, labor not to lose thei­re deuotion, nor to defile theire soule with talkinge, doe especially obtaine to be hearde of him, to whom, after a certaine manner, and as they maye, they be like in purity and simplicitye of harte. But we that liue in the [Page 256] worlde, and speake oftentymes idle wordes, and that which is worse, so­metyme those that be hurtefull: our wordes and praiers are so muche the farther of from God, as they be nere vnto the worlde: for we are drawne too much downe towardes the carthe, by continuall talkinge of secular busi­nes: which thinge the prophet Esaye did verye well reprehend in him selfe, after he had beheld the kinge and Lorde of armyes, and was penitent, cryinge out: woe be to me for beeing silent, Esai. 6. because I am a man that haue defiled lippes: and he sheweth straighte after the rea­son why his lippes were defiled, when he saithe: I dwe [...] in the middest of a people, that hath defiled lippes. For sorye he was that his lippes were defiled, yet con­cealeth not from whence he had them, when he saith, that he dwelt in the middest of a people that had defiled lippes. For verye harde it is that the tongues of secular men, shoulde not defile theire soules, with whom they talke: for when we doe sometyme con­descende to speake with them of cer­taine thinges, by little and little we get such a custome, that we heare that [Page 257] spoken with pleasure, which is not meete to be hearde at all, so that after­warde we are loth to giue that ouer, to which at the first to gratify others, we were broughte against our wills. And by this meanes we fall from idle wordes, to hurtefull speches: and from talke of small moment, to wordes of great importance: and so it commeth to passe, that our tongue is so muche the lesse respected of God when we pray, by howe muche we are more de­filed with folishe speche, because as it is written. He that turneth away his eare Prouerb. 28. that he heare not the lawe, his praier shal be execrable: what maruaile then is it, yf when we praye, God doth slowely heare vs, when as we heare Gods commandemeuts, either slowly or not at all? And what maruaile, yf Florentius when he praied was quickely hearde, who obeied God in obseruinge his commandements.

The reason alleaged is so plaine, that nothinge with reason can be sai­de against it.

But Euthicius who was companion to Florentius in seruing of God, was fa­mous also for miracles after his dea­the. For the inhabitantes of that citye do speake of manye: but the principall is that which euen to these tymes of the Lombardes, almighty God hath voutsafed to worcke by his coate: for when they had any great drouth, the citizens gatheringe them selues toge­ther, did carry that, and together with theire praiers offer it in the sighte of our Lorde: And when they went with The ver­tue of relickes. that throughe he fieldes praying to God, forth with they had such plentye of raine, as the drynes of the grounde required: wherbye it was apparaunt, what vertue and merites were in his soule, whose garment shewed out­wardlye, did pacifye the anger of al­mighty God.

CHAPTER XVI.

NOt longe since, there was a re­uerent man in Campania called [Page 259] Marcius who liued a solitary life, in the mountaine of Marsico: and many yeres together did he contine we in a nar­rowe and straighte caue: whom many of our acquaintance knewe very well, and were present at such miracles as he did, and many thinges concerning him, haue I hearde from the mouthe of Pope Pelagius of blessed memorye, my predecessor, and also of others, who be very religious men. His first miracle was, that so sone as he made choise of that caue for his habitation: there sprunge water out of the hol­lowe rocke, which was neither more nor lesse, then serued for his necessity: By which almighty God, did shewe what great care he had of his ser­uaunt, seeinge miraculously as in aun­cient tyme he had before done to the children of Israel, he caused the harde rocke to yelde forth water. But the olde enemy of mankinde, inuyinge at his vertues, went about by his aun­cient slight to driue him from that pla­ce: for he entred into a serpent his olde friende, and so thoughte to haue terri­fied him from thence. For the serpent alone wold come into the caue where [Page 260] he liued also alone, and when he was at his praiers, it wold cast it selfe before him, & when he tooke his rest, it wold­ly downe by his side: The holy mā was nothinge at all dismaide at this: for so­metyme he wolde put his hand or leg­ge to his mouth, sayinge: Yf thowe hast leaue to stinge me, I hinder the not: and when he had liued thus conti­nually the space of three yeres, vpon a daye the olde enemy ouercome with his heauenly courage, made a great hissinge, and tumblinge him selfe downe by the side of the mountaine, he consumed all the bushes and shrub­bes with fire: in which fact by the power of God he was enforced to shewe of what force he was, that de­parted with losse of the victorye: Consider I pray you then, in the top of what mountaine this man of God stoode, that continewed three yers to­gether with a serpent, without taking any harme at all.

I doe consider it, and do tremble at the very hearinge of the storye.

This reuerent man, when he first [Page 261] shutt him selfe vp, was determined neuer to beholde wemen any more: not because he contemned them, but for that he feared least theire sighte, mighte be the occasion of sinfull ten­tation: which resolution of his a cer­taine woman vnderstandinge, vp she went boldly to the mountaine, and forgettinge all modesty, impudentlye approched to his caue. He seeinge her a goode way of, and perceiuinge by the apparrell that it was a woman, he fell straighte to his praiers, with his face vpon the earthe, and there he laye pro­strat, vntill the shamelesse creature, wearied with staying at his windowe, departed: and that very daye after she was descended the mountaine she en­ded her life: to giue all the worlde to vnderstāde, howe highely she displea­sed almighty God, in offendinge his seruant with that her bold enterprise.

At an other tyme, many of deuotion goinge to visit him, a yonge boye, ta­king little heede to his feete, & by rea­son the path [...] was so straighte vpon the side of the mountaine fell dow­ne, and tumbled vntill he came to the bottome of the valley, which was verye depe: for the mountaine [Page 262] is so highe, that huge trees growing beneathe, seeme to them that be abo­ue, nothinge els but little shrubbes. The people present, were at this chaunce muche dismaide, and verye diligentlye did they seeke, to see where they coulde finde his deade bodye: for who wolde haue thoughte any other­wise but that he was slayne, or once imagined, that his bodye coulde euer haue come safe to the groūde, so many rockes beeing in the waye to reare it in peces: yet for al this, he was foūde in the valley, not only aliue, but also without any harme at all. Then they perceiued verye well, that the reason why he was not hurte was, because Marcius praiers did preserue him in his fallinge.

Ouer his caue there was a great rocke, which seemed to hange but by a little pece vnto the mountaine, and therfore dailye was it feared that it wolde fall, and so kill the seruaunt of God. For preuentinge of which mis­chief, the honorable man Mascarus ne­phewe to Armentarius, came thither with a great number of countrye peo­ple, desiringe him to leaue his caue so [Page 263] longe, vntill they had remoued that rocke, to the end he mighte afterward continewe there without any danger: but the man of God coulde not by any meanes be perswaded to come forthe, bidding them notwithstanding doe what they thoughte conuenient, only he retired him selfe to the furthest parte of his cell: yet none made any doubt, but that yf so huge a rocke as that was did fall, but that it wolde both spoile his caue and kill him selfe. wherfore they laboured what they mighte, to see yf they coulde remoue that mighty stone without any dan­ger to the man of God, and forthwith in the sighte of them all, a straunge thinge happened: for that rocke seue­red by theire labour from the rest of the mountaine, not touching Marcius caue, did skipp cleane ouer, and auoi­dinge as it were to hurt Gods ser­uaunt, it fell far of: which thinge no man can doubte, but that it was do­ne by the handes of Angels, at the commandement of almighty God.

At such tyme as this holy man, ca­me first to inhabit that mountaine, and had not yet made any dore for his [Page 264] caue, he fastned the one ende of an yron chaine to the stony wall, and the other he tied to his legge, to the end he mighte goe no further then the length of that chaine did giue him leaue: which thinge the reuerent man Bennet hearinge of, sent him this worde by one of his monkes: yf thowe be Gods seruant, let the chaine of Christ, & not any chaine of yron holde the: vpon this message, Marcius forthwith loosed his chaine, yet did he keepe still the sa­me compasse, and goe no further then he did before. Liuinge afterwarde in the same caue, he began to entertaine certaine disciples, which dwelt apart from his cell, who hauing no other water, but that which with a rope and a bucket they drewe out of a well, great trouble they had, because theire rope did often breake: and therfore they came vnto him, crauinge that chaine which he had loosed from his legge, that they mighte tye the rope to that, and fasten the bucket vpon it: and from that tyme forwarde, thou­ghe the rope was daily wett with Vertue of relickes. water, yet did it breake no more: for hauing touched the holy mans chaine, [Page 265] it became stronge like vnto yron, so that the water did not weare it, nor do it any harme.

These worthy actes of his, doe please me, seinge they are straunge, & that very much, because they were so lately done, and be yet freshe in me­morye.

CHAPTER XVII.

NOt longe since in our tyme, a certain man called Quadragessimus, was Subdeaco [...] in the churche of Bu­xentin, who in tymes past kept a flocke of sheepe in the same countrye of Au­relia: by whose faithfull reporte, I vn­derstoode a maruailous strange thinge, which is this. At such tyme as he lead a sheapherdes life, there was an holy mā that dwelt in the mountaine of Argen­tario: whose religious conuersation, and inward vertue was answerable to Habit of monkes. the habit of a mōke, which outwardly [Page 266] he did weare. Euerye yeare he trauai­led Pilgrima­ge. from his mountaine, to the churche of S. Peter, Prince of the Apostles: and S. Peter Prince of the Apo­stles. in the waye tooke this Quadragessimus house for his lodginge, as him selfe did tell me. Comminge vpon a daye to his house, which was harde by the chur­che: a poore womans husbande died not far of, whom when they had as the manner is washed, put on his gar­mentes, and made him ready to be bu­ried, The man­ner of bu­rieng in Italye. yet it was so late, that it could not be done that daye: wherfore the deso­lat widowe, satt by the deade corps, weepinge all nighte longe, and to sa­satisfye her griefe she did continually lament and crye out. The man of God seeinge her so pitifully to weepe, and neuer to giue ouer, was nuche grieued, and saide to Quadragesimus the Subdea­con: my soule taketh compassion of this womans sorrowe, arise I beseche you, and let vs praye: and therevpon, they went to the churche, which as I said was harde by, and fel to theire de­uotions. And when thy had praied a good while, the seruaunt of God desi­red Quadragessimus, to conclude theire praier: which beeinge done, he tooke a [Page 267] little dust from the side of the altar: and so came with Quadragessimus to the dead bodye: and there he began againe to praye, and when he continewed so a longe tyme, he desirede him not as he did before, to conclude theire praiers, but him selfe gaue the blessing and so rose vp: and because he had the dust in his righte hande, with his left, he tooke awaye the cloth that coue­red the deade mans face: which the woman seeing, earnestlie withstoode him, and maruailed much what he ment to do: when the cloth was go­ne, he rubbed the deade mans face a goode while withe the dust, which he had taken vp: and at length, he that was deade receiued his soule againe, began to open his mouth, and his eies, and to sitt vp, and as thoughe he had awaked from a deepe sleepe, maruailed what they did about him: which when the woman that had weried her selfe with cryinge behelde, she began then a freshe to weepe for ioye, and crye out far louder then she did before: but the man of God modestlye forbad her sayinge. Peace goode woman, and say nothinge, and yf any demaunde howe [Page 268] this happened, say only, that our Lorde Iesus Christ, hath vouchsafed to worcke his pleasure. Thus he spake, and forth­with he departed from Quadragessimus, and neuer came to his house againe. For desirous to auoide all temporall honour, he so handled the matter, that they which sawe him worcke that miracle, did neuer see him more so lon­ge as he liued.

What other thincke I knowe not: but myne oplnion is, that it is a mira­cle aboue all miracles, to raise vp dea­de men, and secretlye to call backe theire soules, to giue life vnto theire bodies againe.

Yf we respecte outwarde and visi­ble thinges, of necessitye we must so beleeue: but yf we turne our eies to in­uisible thinges, then certaine it is, that it is a greater miracle, by preaching of the worde, & vertue of praier, to con­uert a sinner, then to raise vp a deade man: for in the one, that fleshe is raised vp, which againe shall dye: but in the [Page 269] other he is broughte from death, which shall liue for euer. For I will name you two, and tell me, in which of them as you thincke the greater miracle was wroughte. The first is Lazarꝰ a true beleeuer, whom our Lor­de raised vp in fleshe: the other is Saul, whom our Lorde raised in soule. For of Lazarus vertues after his resurre­ction we reade nothinge: but after the raisinge vp of the others soule, we are not able to conceiue, what wonderful thinges be in holy scripture spoken of his vertues: as that his most cruell thoughtes and designements were turned to the bowels of piety and compassion: that he desired to dy for his brethen, in whose death before he tooke muche pleasure: That knowin­ge the holy scriptures perfectly, yet professed that he knew nothinge els but Iesus Christ, and him crucified. That he did willingly endure the bearing of roddes for Christ: whom before with sworde he did persecute. That he was exalted to the dignitye of an Apostle: & yet willingly became a little one in the middest of other disciples. That he was rapte to the secretes of the thirde [Page 270] heauen, and yet did turne his eye of compassion to dispose of the dutye of married folkes, sayinge: Let the husband Corint. render debt to the wife, and the wife likewise to the husbande. That he was busied in contemplatinge the quires of Angels: and yet contemned not to thincke, and dispose of the factes of carnall men. That he reioysed in his infirmities: and tooke pleasure in his reproaches. That for him to liue is Christ, and gaine to dye. That althoughe he liued in fleshe, yet was he wholy out of the fleshe. Beholde howe this blessed Apostle li­ued, who from hell returned in his soule to the life of vertue: wherfore lesse it is for one to be raised vp in bo­dye, excepte perchance by the reuiuin­ge thereof, he be also broughte to the life of his soule, and that the outward miracle do serue for the giuing of life to the inwarde spirit.

I thoughte that far inferior, which I perceiue nowe to be incomparably superior: but prosecute I beseech you, your former discourse, that we spend [Page 271] no tyme without some spiritual profit to our soules.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A Certaine monke liued with me in myne Abbey, passinge cun­ninge in holy scripture, who was elder then I, and of whom I learned many thinges which before I knewe not. By his reporte I vnderstode that there was in Campania, some fourty miles from Rome, a man called Bennet, yonge in yeares, but olde for grauity: one that obserued the rule of holy conuersation verie strictlye. When the Gothes in the tyme of kinge Totilas founde him, they went about to burne him, toge­ther with his cell: and fire for that end was putt too, which cōsumed all thin­ges rounde about, but no holde wolde the fire take vpon his cell: which when the Gothes sawe, they became more mad, and with greate crueltie drewe him out of that place, and es­pyinge not far of, an ouen made hote [Page 272] to bake bread: into those flames they threwe him, and so stopped the mou­the. But the next day he was founde so free from all harme, that not only his fleshe, but his very apparrell also was not by the fire any thinge tou­ched at all.

I heare nowe the olde miracle of the three childrē, which were throw­ne into the fire: and yet were preserued Daniel. 3. from those furious flames.

That miracle in myne opinion was in some thinge vnlike to this: for then the three children were bounde hande and foote, and so throwne into the fi­re, for whom the Kinge lookinge the next daye, founde them walkinge in the furnace, theire garmentes being nothinge hurt by those flames: where­by we gather that the fire into which they were cast, and touched not theire apparrel, did yet consume theire ban­des, so that at one and the same tyme, for the seruice of the iust, the fire had force to bringe them comforte, and yet had none to procure them torment.

CHAPTER XIX.

LIke vnto this auncient miracle we had in our daies another, but yet in a diuers element: for not longe since Iohne the Tribune tolde me, that when the Earle Pronulphus was there, and him selfe also with Antharicus the kinge: how there happened at that tyme a straunge miracle, and he affir­meth that him selfe doth knowe it to be true. For he saide, that almost fiue years since when the riuer of Tiber be­came so great, that it ranne ouer the walles of Rome, and ouerflowed many countries: at the same tyme in the citye of Verona, the riuer Athesis did so swell, that it came to the verye church of the holy martir and Bishop Zeno: & thou­ghe the church dores were opē, yet did it not enter in. At last it grew so highe, that it came to the church windowes, [Page 274] not far from the very roofe it selfe, and the water standinge in that manner, did close vp the entrance into the chur­che, yet without running in: as thou­ghe that thinne & liquid element, had bene turned into a sounde wall. And it fell so out, that many at that tyme we­re surprised in the churche, who not findinge any way howe to escape out, and fearinge least they mighte perishe for want of meate and drincke: at length they came to the churche dore, and tooke of the water to quenche theire thirst, which as I saide, came vp to the windowes, and yet entred not in: and so for theire necessitye they tooke water, which yet accordinge to the nature of water ran not in: and in that manner it stoode there before the dore, being water to them for theire comfort, and yet not water to inuade the place: & all this to declare the great merit of Christs martir. Which mira­cle Merit of martirs. I saide truely, that it was not vnli­ke to that auncient one of the fire: which burnt the three childrens ban­des, and yet touched not theire gar­ments.

Maruailous straunge are these actes of Gods sainctes which you tell: and muche to be admired of vs weake men, that liue in these daies. But be­cause I vnderstand now by your rela­tion, what a number of excellent and vertuous men haue bene in Italy: desi­rous I am to knowe, whether they en­dured any assaultes of the deiull, & did thereby more profit in the seruice of God.

Without labour and fightinge, none can obtayne the crowne of victory: whence then come so many conque­rors but from this, that they foughte valiantly and resisted the assaultes of the old enemye? For the wicked spirit, doth continuallye watch our though­tes, wordes, and worckes: to finde so­mething, whereof to accuse vs before the eternall iudge: For proffe whereof, I will now let you vnderstand, how ready he is alwaies to intrapp and de­ceiue vs.

CHAPTER XX.

SOme that are yet liuinge with me, affirme this to be true which I wil nowe speake of. A man of holy life there was called Steuene, who was a Priest in the prouince of Valeria: nighe of kinred to my Deacon Bonifacius: who comminge home vpon a tyme from trauaile, spake somewhat negli­gently to his seruant sayinge. Come Sir deuill and pull of my hoofe: at which wordes straighte-waies his garters began to loose in great hast, so that he plainely perceiued, that the de­uill indeed whom he named, was pul­ling of his stockinge: whereat beeing muche terrified, he cried out aloude and saide. Away wretched caitiffe, awaye: I spake not to the but to my seruant. Then the deuill gaue ouer, leauing his garters almost quite of. By which we may learne, that yf the de­uill be so officious in thinges concer­ning [Page 277] our bodye, how ready and dili­ligent he is to obserue and note the cogitations of our soule.

A verye painefull thinge it is and terrible, alwaies to striue against the tentations of the deiull: and as it were to stand continually armed ready to fighte.

Not painefull at all, yf we attribute our preseruation not to our selues, but to Gods grace: yet so notwithstandin­ge, that we be carefull what we may for our partes, and alwaies vigilant vnder Gods protection. And it falleth out sometyme by Gods goodnes, that when the deiull is expelled from our soule, that he is so little of vs to be feared, that contrariwise, he is ra­ther terrrified by the vertuous and de­uout life of goode people.

CHAPTER XXI.

FOr the holy man, olde father Eleu­therius, of whom I spake before, tolde me, that which I will nowe tell you: and he was him selfe a witnes of the truthe thereof: this it was. In the citye of Spoleto, there was a certaine worshipful mans daughter for yeres mariagable, which had a great desire to leade an other kinde of life: whose purpose her father endeuored to [...]in­der: but she not respectinge her fa­thers Habit of Nuns. pleasure, tooke vpon her the ha­bit of holy conuersation: for which cause her father did disinherit her, and lefte her nothinge els, but six little pee­ces of grouude. By her example manye Nunnes dedicated theire virginitye to God. noble yonge maides began vnder her to be conuerted, to dedicat theire vir­ginitye to almightye God, and to serue him. Vpon a tyme the vertuous Abbot Eleutherius, went to bestowe vpon her some goode exhortation: and as he was sittinge with her, discoursinge of spirituall matters, a countrye man, [Page 279] came from that peece of groūd, which her father had lefte her, bringinge a certaine present: and as he was stan­dinge before them, suddainly a wicked spirit possessed his bodye: so that straight-waies he fell downe before them, and began pitifullie to crye and roare out. At this, the Nunne rose vp, and with angrye countenance and loude voice commanded him to goe forth, saying; departe from him thowe vilde wretche, departe: yf I departe (quoth the deuill, speaking by the mouthe of the possessed man) into whom shall I go? By chance there was at that tyme a little hogge hard by: into which she gaue him leaue to en­ter, which he did, & so killing it went his waye.

I wolde gladly be informed, whe­ther she mighte bestowe so muche as that hogge vpon the deuill.

The actions of our Sauiour be a rule for vs, accordinge to which we may directe our life: and we reade in the [Page 280] scripture, how the legion of deuils that possessed a man saide vnto our Sa­uiour. Yf thow doest cast vs forthe, sende vs Math. 8. into the hearde of swine: Who cast them out, and permitted them to enter in as they desired, and to drowne that hear­de in the sea. By which facte of our Sauiour we learne also this lesson, that except almighty God giueth leaue, the deuill can not haue any power against man, seeing he can not so mu­che as enter into hogges, without our Sauiours permission. Wherfore ne­cessary it is, that we be obedient to him, vnto whom all our enemies be subiecte, that we may so muche the more be stronger then our enemies, by howe muche throughe humilitye we become one with the author of all thinges. And what maruaile is it, yf Gods chosen seruantes, liuinge yet vpon earthe, can doe many straun­ge thinges when as theire very bones after they be dead, doe often-tymes Relickes worcke miracles. worcke miracles?

CHAPTER XXII.

FOr in the prouince of Valeria, this straunge miracle happened: which I had from the mouth of Valentius my­ne Abbot, who was a blessed man. In that countrye there was a Priest, who in the company of diuers other clerkes serued God, and lead a vertuous and holy life: who when his tyme was co­me, departed this life, and was buried before the churche. Not far of, there belonged to the churche, certaine she­pe-coates: and the place where he laye buried, was the way to goe vnto the sheepe. Vpon a nighte as the Priestes were singinge within the churche, a thiefe came to the saide place, tooke vp a weather, and so departed in all hast: but as he passed where the man of God was buried, there he staied, and coulde goe no further. Then he tooke the weather from his shol­ders, and [...]olde faine haue let it goe, but by no meanes coulde he [Page 282] open his hande: and therfore poore wretch there he stoode fast bounde, with his praye before him: willingly wolde he haue let the weather go, and coulde not: willinglye also haue car­ried it awaye, and was not able. And so verye straungely the thiefe that was affraide to be espied of liuing men, was helde there against his will by one that was deade: for his handes and feete were bounde in such sorte, that awaye he coulde not goe. When mor­ning Singing of Mattens. was come, and the Priestes had ended theire seruice, out they came: where they founde a straunger, with a weather in his hande. And at the first they were in doubt, whether he had ta­ken away one of theires, or els came to giue them one of his owne: but he that was guilty of the thefte, tolde them in what manner he was punnished: Whereat they all wondred, to see a thiefe with his praye before him, to stande there bounde by the merites of the man of God. And straighte-wayes they offered theire praiers for his deliuery, and scarse coulde they ob­taine, that he which came to steale awaye theire goodes, mighte atleast [Page 283] finde so muche fauor, as to departe emptie as he came: yet in conclusion the thiefe that had longe stoode there with his stolne weather, was suffred to goe away free, leauinge his cariage behinde him.

By such factes almighty God doth declare, in what swete manner he doth tender vs, when he voutsafeth to worcke such pleasaunt miracles

CHAPTER XXIII.

ABoue the citye of Preneste there is a mountaine, vpon which standeth an Abbeye of the blessed Apostle S. Peter: of the monkes of which place, whiles I liued man Ab­bey my selfe, I hearde this miracle: which those religious men saide, they knewe to be verye true. In that mona­stery they had an Abbot of holy life, who broughte vp a certaine monke that became very vertuous, whom he [Page 284] perceiuinge to increase in the feare of God, he caused him in the same mona­sterie to be made Prieste: who after his taking of orders, vnderstoode by reue­lation, that his deathe was not far of: and therfore desired leaue of the Ab­bot, to make readye his sepulchre, who tolde him, that him selfe sholde dy be­fore him: but yet for all that (quoth he) go your waye, and make your gra­ue at your pleasure. Away he went, and did so. Not many daies after, the olde Abbot fell sicke of an age we, and drawinge nere to his ende, he bad the foresaide Priest that stoode by him, to bury his body in that graue, which he had made for him selfe: and when the other tolde him, that he was shor­tlie to followe after, and that the graue was not bygge ynoughe for bothe: the Abbot answered him in this wise, do as I haue saide, for that one graue shall contayne bothe our bodies. So he died, and accordinge to his desire, was bu­ried in that graue which the Priest had prouided for him selfe. Sraighte after, the Priest fell sicke, and lay not longe before he departed this life: and when his body was by the monkes broughte [Page 285] to the graue, which he had prouided for him selfe, they opened it, and sawe that there was not any rome, because the Abbots corps filled the whole place: then one of them with a loude voice, saide: O father where is your promise, that this graue sholde holde you bo­the? No soner had he spoken those wordes, then the Abbots bodye which laye with the face vpward, did in all theire sight, turne it selfe vpon one si­de, and so left place ynoughe for the buriall of the Priest: and so after his death he performed what he promised aliue, concerninge the lyinge of both theire bodies in that one graue. But be­cause we haue now made mention of S. Peters Abbey in the city of Preneste, where this miracle happened, are you content to heare somethinge of the S. Peter buried at Rome. keepers of his churche which is in this citye where his most holy bodye re­mayneth.

Most willinge I am, and beseeche you that it may be so.

CHAPTER XXIIII.

THere be yet some aliue, that knewe Theodorus keeper of that churche: by whose reporte a notable thinge that befell him, came to my knowledge. For risinge somewhat early one nighte to mende the lightes that hunge by the dore, and was vpon the ladder (as he vsed) to powre oile Burning lāppes in the chur­che. into the lamppes, suddainly S. Peter the Apostle, in a white stoale standing be­neath vpon the pauiment, appeared vnto him, and spake to him in this manner. Theodorus why hast thow risen so earlye? and when he had saide so, he vanished out of his sighte: but such a feare came vpon him, that all the strengthe of his bodye did forsake him, so that he was not able to rise vp from his bed for many daies after. By which apparition what ment the blessed Apostle els, but to giue those which serue him to vnderstande by that his presence, that whatsoeuer they doe [Page 287] for his honour, him selfe for thei­re rewarde doth alwaies behold it.

I maruaile not so muche at his ap­parition: as that beeinge before verye well, he fell sicke vpon that sighte.

What reason haue you Peter to mar­uaile at that: for haue you forgotten howe the prophet Daniell, when he be­helde that great and terrible vision at which he trembled, speakethe thus of him selfe. I became weake, and was sicke for Daniel. 8. verye many daies: for the fleshe can not conceiue such thinges as pertaine to the spirit, and therfore sometymes when a mans minde is caried to see so­mewhat beyonde it selfe, no remedye but this earthly and fraile vessell of our, not able to beare suche a burthen; must fall into weakenes and infir­mity.

Your reason hath taken away that scruple which troubled my minde.

CHAPTER XXV.

NOt verye many yeares since (as olde men saye) there was an other keeper of the same churche, cal­led Abundius, a graue man, and of great humility: who serued God so faithful­lye, that the blessed Apostle S. Pe [...]er did by miracle declare what opinion he had of his vertue. For a certain yonge maide that frequented his churche, was so pitifully sicke of the palsey, that she crept vpon her handes, and for very weakenes, drewe her body vpon the grounde. Longe tyme had she praied to S. Peter for helpe of this Praier to Sainctes. her infirmitye: who vpon a nighte in a vision, stoode by her and spake thus: Goe vnto Abundius, and desire his helpe, and he shall restore the to thine heal­the. The maide as she made no doubte of the vision, so not knowinge this Abundius, vp and downe she crepte throughe the church, enquiringe for the man, and suddainly mett with him [Page 289] whom she [...]oughte for: and askinge for him of him selfe, he tolde her that he was Abundius. Then quoth she: Our pastor and patron blessed S. Peter the Sainctes knowe how our necessi­ties. Apostle hath sent me, that you sholde helpe me of this my disease. Yf you be sent by him quoth Abundius, then ri­se vp: and takinge her by the hande, he forthwith lifted her vp vpon her fee­te: and from that verie houre, all the synowes and partes of her body beca­me so stronge, that no signe of her former malady remayned. But yf I sholde recount all the miracles in par­ticular, which are knowne to haue bene done in his churche, question­lesse no tyme wolde be lefte for the relation of any other: wherfore I will speake no more of them, but come to such holy men, as haue bene famous in diuers other places of Italy.

CHAPTER XXVI.

NOt longe since in the prouince of Samnium, there was a reuerent man, called Menas, who some ten [Page 290] yeares since led a solitary life, and was knowne to many of our friendes: and for the truthe of suche his notable actes as I shall reporte, I will no [...] na­me any one author, because I haue so many witnesses, as there be men that knowe that prouince of Samnium. This holy man had no other wealth to liue vpon, but a fewe hiues of bees, which a certaine Lombarde wolde ne­des haue taken awaye: for which cau­se the holy man reprehended him, and by and by he fell downe before him, and was tormented of a deuill: vpon which accident, his name became fa­mous both to his neighbours, and also to that barbarous nation: so that none durst after that but in humilitye come into his cell. Oftentymes also there came certaine beares out of the wood which was harde by, to deuoure vp his hony, whom he strook with a little stricke, which he carried in his hande: and the beares so feared his stripes, that they wold roare out and runne away, and they which little feared naked swordes, were now affraide to be beaten by him with a small [...]ande. He desired not to possesse ought in [Page 291] this world, nor to seeke for any thinge: & his māner was, by heauenly talke to inflame all such as of charity came to visit him, with the desire and loue of eternall life. And yf at any tyme he vnderstoode that others had commit­ted, any great synne, he wolde neuer spare them, but with true loue to thei­re soules reprehende them for theire faultes. His neighbours, and others also that dwelt farther of, vsed vpon a custome, euery one vpon certaine daies in the weeke to send him theire presentes and offringes, to the ende he mighte haue somewhat to bestowe vpon suche as came to visit him. A cer­taine man there was called Carterius, who ouercome of filthy concupiscence violently tooke awaye a Nunne, and Mariage of Nun­nes vn­lawful. by vnlawfull matrimonye made her his wife: which thinge so sone as the man of God vnderstoode, he sent him by suche as he could, that message which his facte deserued. The man guiltye in his conscience of that wic­kednes which he had cōmitted, durst not him selfe go vnto Gods seruaunt, fearing least as his manner was, he wolde sharpelie haue rebuked him: [Page 292] and therfore he sent his offringes amonge others, that at least through ignorance he mighte receiue what he sent him. But when all the offrin­ges were broughte before him, he satt still, viewinge them all in particular, and layinge the rest aside, he tooke tho­se which Carterius sent, and cast them away, sayinge: Goe and tell him. Thowe hast taken awaye Gods of­fringe, and doest thowe sende me thi­ne? I will none of thy offringe, because thou hast taken from God that which was his. By which facte all that were present fell into a great feare, perceiuinge that he could certainly tell, what they did which were ab­sent.

Many suche men as he was, mighte in myne opinion haue bene martirs, yf they had liued in tymes of persecu­tion.

There be Peter, two kindes of mar­tirdoms, the one secret, the other open: for yf a man hath a burninge [Page 293] zeale in his minde to suffre death for Christe, althoughe he endureth not any externall persecution, yet hathe he in secret the merit of martirdome. For that one may be a martir without suf­fringe death openly, our Lorde doth teache vs in the Gospell: who saide vnto the sonnes of Zebedeus, desiringe as then throughe infirmitye of soule, the principall places to sitt vpon, in his kingdom. Can you drincke the chalice, which Math. 20 I shall drincke? and when they answered that they coulde, he saide to them bo­the. My chalice verily shall you drincke, but to sitt at my righte hand or lefte, is not myne to giue you: in which wordes what is si­gnified els, by the name of chalice, but the cupp of passion and death? And seeinge we knowe, that Iames was put to deathe for Christe, and that Iohne died when the churche enioyed, peace: vndoubtedlye we do gather, that one may be a martir without open suf­fringe: for as much as he is saide to haue drunke our Lordes chalice, who yet in persecution was not put to dea­the. But concerning those notable and excellēt men of whō I haue made mē ­tiō before, why may we not truly say, [Page 294] that yf they had fallen into a tyme of persecution, they mighte haue bene martirs, when as by enduringe the se­cret assaultes of the deuill: and by lo­uinge theire enemies in this worlde: by resistinge all carnall desires: and in that they did in theire harte sacrifice them selues to almighty God, they were also martirs in the tyme of pea­ce: seeing that now in our daies we see that meane men and of secular life, yea and euen those of whom one woulde haue supposed, that they did little thincke of heauen, haue by occasion of persecution obtained the glorious crowne of martirdome.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FOr aboute fiftene yeres since, as they report who mighte very well haue bene present, fourtye husbande men of the countrie were taken pri­sonners by the Lombardes, whom they wolde needes haue enforced to eate [Page 295] of that which was sacrificed to idols: but when they vtterly refused so to do, or so muche as once to touche that wicked meate, then they threatned to kill them vnlesse they wolde eate it: but they louinge more eternall, then transitory life, continued constant, and so they were all slaine: What then we­re these men? what els, but true mar­tirs, that mad choise rather to dy, then by eatinge of that which was vnlaw­full, to offend theire creator?

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AT the same tyme the Lombar­des hauing almost fower hun­dred prisoners in theire handes, did after theire manner, sacrifice a goates heade to the deuill: running round about with it in a circle, and by singing a most blasphemous songe did dedicate it to his seruice. And when they had them selues with bowed heades ado­red it, then wolde they also haue infor­ced theire prisoners to doe the like. [Page 296] But a verye great number of them chosinge rather by death to passe vnto immortall life, then by such abhomi­nable adoration to preserue theire mortall bodies, refused vtterly to do, what they commanded them: and so would not by any means bowe dow­ne theire heades to a creature, hauing alwaies done that seruice to theire crea­tor: whereat theire enemies in whose handes they were, fell into such an ex­treme rage, that they slewe all them with theire swordes, which wolde not ioyne with them in that sacrilegious facte. What maruaile then is it, that those notable men before mentioned, mighte haue come to martirdom, had they liued in the dayes of persecution, who in the tyme of peace by conti­nuall mortification, walked the straig­ht waye of martirdome: when as we see that in the storme of persecution, they merited to obtaine the crowne of martirdome, who the churche being quiet, semed to walke the broade waye of this worlde: yet that which we saye concerning the elect seruantes of God, is not to be holden for a generall rule in all. For when open persecution [Page 297] afflicteth the churche, as most true it is that many may ariue to martirdom, who when no such tempest did blowe seemed contemptible, and of no ac­count: so likewise sometimes they fall awaye for feare, who before persecu­tion, and when all was quiet, semed to stand very constant: but suche holy men as before haue bene mentioned I dare boldlye saye, that they mighte ha­ue bene martirs, because we gather so muche by theire happy deathes: for they could not haue fallen in open per­secution, of whom it is certaine, that to the very ende of theire liues, they did contynue in the profession of pie­t and vertue.

It is as you saye: but I muche won­der at the singular prouidence of Gods mercie, which he sheweth to vs vnworthy wretches, in that he doth so moderate, and temper the crueltye of the Lombardes, that he suffreth not theire wicked Priestes, to persecute the faithe of Christians: when as they see them selues as it were the conque­rors, and rulers of Christian people.

CHAPTER XXIX.

MAny Peter haue attempted that, but miracles from heauen haue staied the course of theire cruelty: and one wil I now tel you, which I hear­de three daies since of Bonifacius, a monke of my Abbey, who vntill these fower yeres last past, remayned amongest the Lombardes. An Arrian Bishop of theirs comminge to the citye of Spoleto, and not hauinge any place where to exercise his religion, demanded a churche of the Bishop of that towne: which when he constan­tly denied him, the Arian prelat tolde him, that the nexte daye he wolde by force take possession of S. Paules chur­che, which was harde by his lodginge. The keeper of the churche vnderstan­ding this newes in all hast ranne thi­ther, shutt the dores, and with lockes and bolt [...] made them as fast as he Lampes burning [...]n the [...]hurche. coulde and when [...] he put out all the [...], and [...] him selfe [Page 299] within. The next morninge verye earelye, the Arrian Bishop came thi­ther with many in his company: mea­ninge by force to breake open the do­res. But suddainlye by miracle the loc­kes were cast far of, and the dores of them selues making a great noise flewe open: and all the lampes, before putt out, were lightened againe by fi­re descendinge from heauen: and the Arrian Bishop that came to enter the churche by violence, was suddainly strooken blinde, so that other men we­re faine to leade him backe againe to his owne lodginge. Which strange ac­cident, when the Lombardes there about vnderstoode, they durst not any more presume to violate catholique places: and so it fell out wonderfully by Goddes prouidence, that for as mu­che as the lampes in S. Paules churche, were by reason of him put out: that at one and the selfe same tyme, bothe he lost the lighte of his eies, and the chur­che receiued her former lighte againe.

CHAPTER XXX.

NEither is that to be passed ouer in silence which God of his mer­cye vouchsafed two yers since to she­we in this citye, to the great condem­nation of the Arrian heresye: for parte of that which I intende nowe to spea­ke of, many of the people knowe to be true: parte the Priest and keepers of the churche affirme that they sawe and hearde. A churche of the Arrians in that parte of the city, which is cal­led Subura, remayned vntil two years since with the dores shut vp: at which tyme, being desirous that it shoulde be hallowed in the catholique faithe, we brought with vs thither, the reliques of the blessed martirs S. Steuene and S. Reserua­tion, transla­tion, and reuerence of relic­kes. Agatha: and so with great multitudes of people, singing of praises to almighty God, we entred the churche: and when the solemnitye or masse was in celebratinge; and the people by reason [Page 301] of the straighte place, thruste one an other: some of them that stoode with­out the chancell, heard an hogge run­ninge vp and downe throughe theire legges, and eache one perceiuinge it tolde it to his next fellowe: but the hogge made towardes the churche dore to go forth, striking all those into great admiration by whom he passed: but thoughe they heard him, yet none there was that sawe him: which stran­ge thinge God of pietye vouchsafed to shewe, to the end we shoulde vnder­stande how that the vncleane spirit which before possessed that place, was nowe departed and gone: when mas­se Masse. was done we went awaye, but the nighte followinge, such a noise was hearde in the toppe of the churche, as thoughe some body had there runne vp and downe: and the next nighte after that a far greater, and withall of a suddain, such a terrible cracke there was, as thoughe the whole church had bene quite fallling dow­ne: which forthwith vanished awaye, and neuer after, was the chur­che troubled any more by the olde [Page 302] enemye: but by the great stirr which he kept before his departure, he made it apparaunt, that he went very vn­willinglye from that place, which so longe tyme he had possessed.

Not manye daies after, in a passinge faire and clere daye, a cloude miracu­louslye descended vpon the altar of the same churche: couering it as it had bene with a canopye: and filled the churche with suche a kinde of terror and sweetnes, that thoughe the dores were wide open, yet none durst pre­sume to enter in. The Priest also and the keepers of the churche, and those which were come thither to saye mas­se, Saying of mass. behelde the selfe same thinge, yet could they not goe in, althoughe they felt the sweetenes of that straunge perfume.

Likewise vpon an other daye, the lampes hanginge without lighte, fire came from heauen and sett them a burninge: and a fewe daies after when masse was ended, and the keeper of the churche had putt out the lampes, and was departed, yet returninge backe againe, he founde them burninge, which before he had putt forth: but [Page 303] thinckinge that he had done it negli­gently, he did it nowe more carefully the second tyme, and so departed the churche, and shutt the dore: but retur­ninge three houres after, he founde them againe burning as before: to the ende that by the very light the worlde mighte manifestly knowe, how that place was from darckenes translated to lighte.

Althoughe we be in great miseryes and tribulations, yet these straunge miracles which God vouchsafeth to worcke, do plainly declare that he hath not vtterlye forsaken, and giuen vs ouer.

Albeit I was determined to recount vnto you only such straunge thinges as were done in Italye: are you for all that content, to the further con­demnation of the saide Arrian here­sy, that I turne a little my speeche to Spaine, and so by Africk returne backe againe to Italye.

Goe whether you will, willing [...]ye will I trauaile with you, and ioyfullye returne home againe.

CHAPTER XXXI.

NOt longe since as I haue learned of many which came from Spai­ne, kinge Hermigildus sonne of Leuigildus kinge of the Visegothes, was from Ar­rian heresye lately conuerted to the catholicke faithe, by the most reuerent man Leander Bishoppe of Seuill, with whom I was not longe since familiar­ly acquainted: which yonge Prince vpon his conuersion his father bein­ge an Arrian, laboured both by large promises and terrible threates, to drawe againe to his former error: but when most constantlye his sonne [Page 305] answered, that he wolde neuer forsa­ke the true faithe, which he had once imbraced, his father in great āger, too­ke awaye his kingdom, and beside de­priued him of all wealth and riches: and perceiuinge, that with all this, his minde was nothinge moued, he com­mitted him to straight prison, laying irons both vpon his necke and handes. Vpon this the yonge kinge Hermigildus, began nowe to contemne his earthly kingdome, and to seeke with great de­sire after the kingdome of heauen: and VVearing of heare, cloth. lyinge in prison fast bounde, he prayed to almighty God in heare cloth to sen­de him heauenly comforte: and so mu­che the more did he despise the glo­rye of this transitory worlde, by how muche he knewe him selfe in that case that he had now nothinge that coul­de be taken from him.

When the solemne feast of Easter The feast of Easter. was come, his wicked father sent vnto him in the deade of the nighte an Arrian Bishop, to giue him the communion of a sacrilegious con­secration, that he mighte the­reby againe recouer his fathers [Page 306] grace and fauour: but the man of God as he oughte, sharpely reprehended that Arrian Bishop which came vnto him, and giuing him such entertaine­ment as his desertes required, vtterly reiected him: for albeit outwardly he laye there in bandes, yet inwardly to him selfe he stoode secure in the height of his owne soule. The father at the returne of the Arrian prelat vnder­standinge these newes, fell into such a rage, that forthwith he sent his officers of execution to putt to death that most constant confessor, in the verye prison where he lay: which vnnatu­rall and blody commandement was performed accordingly: for so sone as they came into the prison, they claue his braynes with an hatchet, and so bereaued him of mortall life, hauinge only power to take that from him which the holy martir made small ac­count of. Afterwarde for the publis­hinge of his true glorye to the worl­de, there wanted not miracles from heauen: for in the nighte tyme singinge was hearde at his bodye: some also re­porte, that in the nighte, burninge lampes, were sene in that place: by [Page 307] reason whereof his bodye, as of him Worship­pinge of martirs bodyes. that was a martir, was worthily wor­shipped of all christian people. But the wicked father and murtherer of his owne sonne, albeit he was sory that he had put him to deathe, yet was not his griefe of that qualitye, that it brought him to the state of saluation. For althoughe he knewe verye well, that the catholicke faithe was the truth: yet for feare of his people, he neuer deserued to be a professor the­reof.

At length falling sicke, a little befo­re his deathe, he commended his son­ue Recharedus, who was to succede him in the kingdome, and was yet an here­ticke, vnto Bishop Leander, whom be­fore he had greatly persecuted: that by his counsell and exhortation, he migh­te likewise make him a member of the catholicke churche, as he had before made his brother Hermigildus: and when he had thus done he departed this life. After whose death Recharedus the kinge, not followinge the steppes of his wicked father, but his brother the martir, vtterly renounced Arria­nisme: and laboured so earnestlye for [Page 308] the restoring of religion, that he broughte the whole nation of the Vi­segothes to the true faithe of Christe: and wolde not suffer any that was an hereticke in his country to beare ar­mes and serue in the warres. And it is not to be admired, that he became thus to be a preacher of the true faith, seing he was the brother of a martir, whose Merit of martirs. merites did helpe him to bringe so manye into the lapp of Gods churche. wherein we haue to consider, tha [...] he coulde neuer haue effected all this, yf kinge Hermigildus had not died for the testimony of true religion: for as it is written [...]les the graine of wheat fallinge Iohan. 12. [...]. 24. into the earthe doth dy, it selfe remayneth alone: but if it dy, it bringeth forth muche fruite. This we see to proue true in the members, which before was verified in the heade:for one died amongest the Visegothes, that many mighte liue, and of one graine that was sowne for the faithe, a great croppe of faithefull people sprunge vp.

A wonderfull thinge, and much to be admired in these our daies.

CHAPTER XXXII.

LIkewise in the tyme of Iustinian the Emper [...]r, when as the Vandals that were Arrian heretickes, did grie­uously per [...]ecute the catholicke faithe: certaine Bishoppes continewing con­stant, were ope [...]lye examined: whom when the kinge of the Vandals sawe that he coulde neither by any wordes or rewardes drawe to imbrace his hereticall religion, yet he thoughte that by tormentes he mighte doe it: and therfore when he comman­ded them not to speake in defence of truthe, and they refused to obey his precept, least by silence they mighte seme to giue consent vnto wicked heresie [...] in a greate fury he [Page 310] commanded theire tongues to be cut out by the rootes. A miraculous thinge and yet knowne to manye olde men:they did as perfectlye afterwarde speake in defence of true religion, as they did before, when they had theire tongues safe and sounde.

You tell me of a maruailous [...]ran­ge thinge, and greatly to be admired.

It is written Peter of the only sonne of the eternall father. In the beginninge Ioh. 1. was the worde, and the worde was with God. Of whose vertue & power it straighte waies followeth. All thinges were made by him. Why then shoulde we maruaile, yf that eternall worde coulde [...]eake without a tongue, which made the tongue?

What you say, pleaseth me very well.

These Bishopes therfore flyinge at [Page 311] that tyme from the persecution, came vnto the citye of Constantinople: and at suche tyme as my selfe about the affai­res of the churche, was sent thither vnto the Emperor, I founde there a Bishop of goode yeares, who tolde me that he sawe them him selfe speake without tongues: for they opened theire mouthes and saide. Beholde and see howe we haue no tongues, and yet doe speake: for as he saide, theire ton­gues being cutt of by [...]he rootes there seemed as it were a deep hole in theire throate: and yet thoughe theire mou­thes were emp [...]ye, they pronounced theire wordes very plaine and distin­ctlye. One of which falling afterwar­de in that place into carnall synne, was forthwith depriued of that supernatu­rall gifte: and that by the iust iudge­ment of almighty God, seing reason requireth, that he which was carelesse to preserue the continencye of his bo­dy which he had, shoulde not any lon­ger vtter the wordes of truth without the tongue of his body which he had not. But because I haue now spoken sufficient for the condemnation of Arrianisme, therfore I will returne to [Page 312] entreate of such other miracles, as ha­ue lately fallen out here in Italy.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

ELeutherius of whom I made men­tion before; father of the abbey of the Euangelist S. Marcke, which is in the suburbes of the citye of Spoleto, liued longe tyme together with me in this city in my monasterye, and there ended his daies. Of whom his monkes doe reporte, that by his teares he raised vpp one that was deade: for he raised vpp one that was deade: for he was a man of such simplicitye and compunction, that no doubt but those teares comminge from his humble and simple soule, were of force to obtaine many thinges of almighty God. One miracle of his I will nowe tell you, which him [...]elfe beinge demanded by me, did with great simplicity confesse. As he was trauailinge vpon a certaine daye, and not findinge at mighte any other place to lodge in, he went to a Nunnery, wherein there was a little boye, which the wicked spirit did [Page 313] vsually euery nighte torment. The Nunnes giuinge entertainement to the man of God, desired him that the saide little boye mighte remaine with him all nighte: where-with he was well content. In the morninge, the Nunnes diligently enquired of the fa­ther, yf the childe had not bene sore troubled and tormented that nighte: who maruailinge why they asked that question answered, that he perceiued not any such thinge. Then they tolde him, howe a wicked spirit did euerye nighte pitifully afflict the childe, and earnestly desire [...] him, that he wolde take him home to his owne Ab­bey, because theire hartes could not endure to beholde any such misery. The olde man yelded to theire request, and so caried away the boy home to his owne monastery: where he remay­ned longe tyme safe and sound, the de­uill not presuminge to touche him. Wherevpon the olde man seeinge him to continew so wel, was immoderatly glad thereof, & therfore in the presen­ce of the monkes he spake thus. The deuill did dally with those sisters: but nowe he hathe to doe with the [Page 314] seruauntes of God, he dare not come nere this boye. He had scarse vttered these wordes, when as in that verye instant, the poore childe was in the presence of them all possessed, an [...] pi­tifully tormented: which the olde man beholdinge, straighte-waies lamented and fell a weepinge, and perseueringe so a longe tyme, the monkes came to comfort him: but he answered them, sayinge. Beleue me (quoth he) none of you shall this daye eate any breade, vnlesse this boye be dispossessed. Then with the rest of the brethren, he fell prostrat to his praiers, and there they continewed so longe, vntill the boye was deliuered from his former tor­mentes, and besides so perfectly cured, that the wicked spirit neuer after pre­sumed to molest him any more.

I verily suppose that he synned a little in vaine glorye: and that Gods pleasure was, that the other monkes shoulde cooperate to the disposses­singe of the deuill.

It is euen so as you saye: for seing he could not alone beare the burthen of that miracle, it was deuided amon­gest the rest of his brethren. Of what force and efficacye this mans praiers were, I haue founde by experience in my selfe: for being vpon a tyme when I liued in the Abbey so sicke, that I oftē sounded: and was by meanes thereof with often panges, continually at dea­thes dore, and in such case, that vnlesse I did continually eate some thinge my vitall spirit was goinge awaye: Easter daye was at hande, and therfore when I sawe that vpon so sacred a vigill I coulde not refraine from often eating, Prescript daies of fasting. in which not only olde persones, but euene children vse to fast, I was more afflicted with griefe, then grieued with myne infirmitye: yet at length my sorrowfull soule quickly founde out a deuise, and that was, to carrye the man of God secretly into the ora­torye, and there to intreat him that he wold by his praier obtain [...] for me of God so muche strength and abili­tye as to fast that day: which fell out [Page 316] accordinglye: for so sone as we came into the oratorye, with humilitye and teares he fell to his praiers, and after a while (hauinge made an ende) he came forthe, and vpon the wordes of his blessed praiers, my stomacke grewe so stronge, that I did not so much as thincke of any meate, nor feele any griefe at all. Then I began to mar [...]aile at my selfe, and to thincke in wha [...] case I was before, and how I felt my selfe nowe: and when I thoughte vpon my former sickenes, I founde none of tho­se panges, with which before I was trobled: and when my minde was bu­sied about the affaires of the Abbey, my sycknes was quite out of my me­mory: yea, & as I saide yf I did th [...]ncke thereof, yet feelinge myselfe so well and stronge I began to doubte whe­ther I had eaten or no. When euening was come, I founde my selfe so lustye, that I coulde very well haue fasted vn­till the next daye. And by this means hauinge experience of his praiers in my selfe, I made no doubt but those thinges also were true which in other places he did, thoughe my selfe was not then present.

Seinge you tolde me that he was a man of great compunction, desirous I am to be better informed touchinge the efficacye of compunction and tea­res: and therefore I praye you, let me vnderstande, howe manye kindes of compunction there be.

CHAPTER XXXIIII.

COmpunction is deuided into ma­ny kinde [...]: to witt, when euery synne is of penitent men in parti­cular bewaile [...]; whereof the prophet Ieremye in the person of penitent synners speaketh thus. Myne eye hath Thren. 3. brought forth di [...]isions of waters. But spea­king more properlye, there be espe­ciallie two kindes of compunction: for the soule that thirsteth after God, is first sorrowfull in harte for [Page 318] feare, and afterwarde vpon loue. For first it is grieued and weepeth, because callinge to minde former synnes com­mitted, it feareth to endure for pun­nishment of them euerlastinge [...]or­mentes: but when longe anxiety and sorrowe hath bannished awaye that feare, then a certaine securitye of the hope of pardon doth followe: and so the soule is inflamed with the [...]oue of heauenly delightes, and whereas before it did weepe for feare of eter­nall payne: afterward it powreth out teares, that it is kept from euerlastinge ioyes. For the soule doth then con [...]em­plat those glitteringe quires of Angels, that heauenly companye of those bles­sed spirites, that great maiesty of the eternall beholdinge the face of God: and doth lament so muche more now, because it wanteth that euerlasting fe­licitye, then it wept before at the feare of eternall punnishement. Which thinge in scripture is mystically sett downe, in an holy and true historye: for there we reade, howe Axa the daughter of Caleb, riding vpon an asse did sighe: & when her father demāded what the matter was, she ansvvered [Page 319] him thus: Giue me your blessinge, a southern Iosue 15. and dry lande you ha [...]e giuen me, ioyne also a wattery: and he gaue her a watterie grounde aboue and beneath. For Axa then rideth vpon the asse, when our soule doth subdue and gouerne the sensuall mo­tions of the fleshe: which sighinge doth craue wett grounde of her fa­ther, when it doth with contrition and sorrowe of harte desire of our creator the grace of teares & weeping. For some there be, vpon whom God hath bestowed such a gifte, that they will speake freely in defence of iustice, helpe them that be oppressed, giue al­mes to the poore, and be zealous in re­ligion, but yet haue they not obtained the grace of teares: these be they, that haue groūde towardes the South, and that which is drye: but yet do they want that which is moist and wett: because albeit they be diligent and fer­uent in goode worckes, yet requisit it is, that they sholde also either for feare of hell, or the loue of heauen, bewaile the sinnes of theire life past. But be­cause as I saide, there be two kindes of compunction, therfore her father ga­ue her that, which was wettaboue [Page 320] and also wett beneathe: for our soule doth then receiue that which is wett aboue, when it is grieued, and doth weepe for the desire of heauen: and it doth then possesse that which is [...]ett beneath, when it is affraide, and poureth forth teares for the fea [...]e of hell fire: and albeit that which is [...]ett beneathe is bestowed vpon our s [...]ule, before that which is weet aboue, yet because the compunction of loue is the more excellent, conuenient it was that the grounde which was wett aboue, sh [...]ulde be first named, and afterwarde that which was we [...] be­neath.

Yo [...]r discourse pleaseth me very well: but seinge you haue nowe [...]olde me of that reuerent man Eleutherius, and his great grace of compunction: desirous I am to knowe, whether the­re be now any such men liuinge in the worlde.

CHAPTER. XXXV.

FLoridus Bishoppe of Tiuolye a man (as your sel [...] knoweth very well) of holy life, & worthy to be credited, tolde me, that he had dwellinge with him a certaine Priest called Amantius, of maruailous simplicitye: who like vnto the Apostles had such a grace giuen him of God, that laying his hand vpon them that were sicke, he restored them to theire former healthe: and although the disease were verye great and daun­gerous, yet vpon his touchinge did it forthwith departe. Moreouer he saide that he had also this miraculous gi [...]te, that wheresoeuer he founde any ser­pētes or snakes, though neuer so cruel, yet did he with the signe of the cros­se dispatch and kill them: for by vertue Miracles wroug [...]te by the si­gne of the cross [...]. of the crosse, which the man of God made with his hāde, theire bowels did breake, and they suddainly dye: and yf by chaunce the snake ga [...]t into any hole, then did he with the s [...]gn [...] of [Page 322] the crosse, blesse the mouthe thereof, and it wroughte the same effecte: for any mighte straighte-waies finde it there deade. My selfe hauing vnder­standinge of this great grace bestowed vpon him, was desirous to see him and when he was broughte vnto me, I caused him to be lodged in a chamber amongest the sicke men: thereby to trye what his gifte was in curing of diseases. At that tyme, there was one amongest them beside him selfe, being fallen into a phrensy: who one nighte did so crye out like a mad man, that with his noise he disqu [...]eted all the rest that were sicke, so that they coulde not sleepe or take any rest: and so it fe [...]l out verye straungely, that one being yll all the rest fared the worse. But as I had before learned of the reuerent Bishop Floridus, who was at that tyme there present with the saide Priest: and after­ward also plainly vnderstoode of him, that attended that nighte vpon the sicke persons: the foresaide venerable Priest risinge out of his bedd, went softlye to the place, where the mad man lay, and there praied, layinge his handes vpon him: wherevpon the [Page 223] man became somewhat better. Then he carried him awaye, vnto the higher part of the house into the oratorye: where more plentifully he praied vnto God for his recouerye: and straight after he broughte him backe againe to his owne bed safe and sounde, so that he cried out no more, neither troubled any of the other sicke persons. By which one facte of his, I had sufficient reason, to giue credit to all the rest that before had bene told me.

A great edification it is, to see men worckinge such notable miracles: and to beholde as it were vpon earth, hea­uenly Ierusalem in her citizens.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

NEither [...]s that miracle to be pas­sed ouer with silen [...]e, which al­mighty God vouchsa [...]ed to worcke by his seruant Maximianus, now Bishop of Syracusis, but then the father and gouer­nor [Page 324] nor of myne abbey. For at such tyme as I was vpon the commandement of my Bishop, sent to Constantinople to the Emperour, about affaires of the chur­ches: the same reuerent man Maximia­nus vpon charitye, with other of his monkes came thither vnto me: who in his returne homewarde to Rome, fel in­to a great tempest vpon the Adriake sEa: in which both him selfe, and all those that were in his companye, after a most straunge and miraculous man­ner, tasted both of the indignation and fauour of alighty God. For the sea did so rage with the furye of the windes, that they had spēt theire [...]ast: the sailes floated vpon the waues: and the ship beaten and torne with boisterous billowes, did leake water so fast, that it was nowe come to the vpper decke, in such sorte, that the shippe seemed not so muche to be in the waters, as the waters in the shippe.

The mariners and passengers tro­bled with the feare of death, not as a thinge far of, but euen present before theire eies, voide of all hoope of this [Page 325] life, prepared them selues for the Roseru [...] ­tion of the B. Sa­crament. next: and so mutuall giuing the pax or kisse of peace one to an other, they receiued the body and bloude of our Sauiour: commendinge them selues to almighty God, that he wolde vouchsafe mercifully to receiue theire soules, who had deliuered theire bo­dies to so fearefull a deathe: but God who had wonderfully terified theire mindes, did more wonderfully pre­serue theire liues. For the same shippe althoughe full of water, yet did it holde on her course for eighte daies together, and vpon the ninthe, it arriued at the porte of Cothronum: and when all the rest were safely gone out, then last of all the reuerent man Maximianus went also forth: and no soner was he vpon lande, then the shippe suncke in the hauene: as thou­ghe by theire departure, it had wanted that which did preserue it: and whe­reas before being at sea it was full of men, and carried also abundance of water, and yet sailed onwarde: now when Maximianus with his monkes were landed, it coulde not in the ha­uen, carrye the waters alone, whereby [Page 326] God gaue them to vnderstande, that when it was laden, him selfe with his diuine hande did gouerne and preser­ue it: seing when it was empty it could not for a small tyme contynue aboue the water.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

ABout fourty daies since, you saw with me, one called Sanctulus, a reuerent Priest: who euerye yere ca­me vnto me out of Nursia: but three daies agoe, a certaine monke commin­ge from those partes, broughe me very heauye newes of his deathe. The holy life and vertue of which man was such, that althoughe I can not but fet­che sweete sighes when I remember it: yet now I may without all feare re­porte and publishe to the world such miracles, as I haue learned by the relation of very vertuous & holy Priestes, that were his neighbours: and and amongest dare friendes, familiaritye causeth one to presume muche in cha­ritye, oftentymes my selfe did so cour­teouslye [Page 327] vrge him, that he was inforced to tell me some small miracles which him selfe had done.

Certaine Lombardes beinge vpon a tyme pressinge of oliues to make oile: Sanctulus as he was both mery in countenance and harte, came vnto them, and saluted them pleasantlye: and shewinge them his bottle which he broughte, rather vvilled, then desi­red them, to fill it with oile. But they being infidels, and hauinge laboured al daye in vaine, and not pressed out any oile at all, tooke his wordes in yll parte, and gaue him very bad speche: but the man of God, notwithstandinge this, spake vnto them yet with a more me­ry to do me a goode turne, you will fill this bottle for Sanctulus, and so he will depart from you very well contented. But they seeing no oile to runne forth, and hearinge him yet for all that so earnest to haue his bottle filled, fell in­to a greate rage, and railed mightely vpon him. Then the man of God seeinge that no oile came from the presse, called for vvater, vvhich he blessed before them all, and vvith his [Page 328] owne handes, cast it vpon the pr [...]sse: A miracle wrought by holie water. and forthwith by vertue of that be­nediction, such plentye of oile ranne forthe, that the Lombardes who befo­re had longe laboured in vaine, did not only fill theire owne vessels, but also his bottle: giuing him thanckes, for that comminge to begge oile: by his blessinge, he bestowed that vp­on them, which him selfe had de­manded.

At an other tyme, when a great dearth was in the countrye, the man of God being desirous to repaire the church of S. Laurence, burnt before by Churches dedicated to sain­ctes. the Lombardes, he hired for that ende many cunning workemen and diuers other labourers, who of necessity were daily to be maynetained: but so greate was the scarsitye, that he wanted breade to relieue them: where vpon his worckmen cryed out for meate, because they were fainte and could not labour. The man of God hea­ring this, gaue them comfortable wordes, promisinge to supplye theire want: yet inwardlye verye muche [Page 329] was he grieued, beinge not able to performe what he had saide. Goinge therfore vp and downe in great anx­ietie he came to an ouen, wherein the neighbours that dwelt by, had the daye before baked breade: and stooping downe he looked in, to see whether they had by chance lefte any breade behinde them, where he founde a loase both greater and whiter then commonly they vsed: which he tooke awaye, but yet wolde he not by and by giue it to his vvorckemen, least perhappes it belonged to some other body, and so mighte as it vvere, of compas­sion to other, haue committed a synne him selfe: and therfore he did first shevve it to all the vvemen there about, inquiringe vvhe­ther it vvere any of theirs: but all denied it sayinge, that they had all receiued theire iust number of [...]oa­ues. Then the man of God in great ioy, vvent vvith that one [...]oafe to many vvorckemen, vvishinge [Page 330] them to giue thanckes to almighty God, tellinge them hovve his goode­nes had prouided them of necessarye foode: and forthvvith he sett that loafe before them, vvhereof vvhen they had satisfied them selues, he gathered vp more pieces of breade vvhich re­mayned, then the vvhole loafe it selfe vvas before in quantitye. The daye follovvinge, againe he sett it before them, and againe the pieces remay­ninge vvere far more them the former fragmentes: & so for the space of ten­ne daies together, all those arti [...]icers and vvorckemen liued vpon that one loafe, and vvere very vvell satisfied: some thinge remayninge euerye daye for the next, as thoughe the fragmen­tes had by eatinge encreased.

A strange thinge and not vnlike to that notable miracle of our Sauiour: and therfore vvorthye to be admired of all.

Our Sauiour at this tyme Peter voutsafed by his seruaunt to feede [Page 331] manye vvith one loafe, vvho in tymes past by him selfe, feed fiue thousande Ioan. [...] vvith fiue loaues: and doth daily of a fevve graines of corne produce innu­merable eares of vvheate: vvho also out of the earth brought forth those very graynes: and more then all this, created all thinges of nothinge. But to the end you shoulde not maruaile any longer, vvhat by Gods assistance the venerable man Sanctulus vvrought out­vvardlye: I vvill novv tell you vvhat by our Lordes grace he vvas invvard­lye in his soule. Vpon a certaine daye, the Lombardes had taken a Deacon, vvhom they kept in prison, vvith a purpose to put him to death. When eueninge vvas come, the man of God Sanctulus intrea [...]ed them to set him at liberty, and to graunt him his life: but vvhen he savve that he coulde not ob­tayne that [...]auor at theire handes, but that they vverefully resolued to haue his life: then he beseeched them, that they wolde at least committ him to his keeping: vvherewith they were content, but with this condition, that yf he scaped away, that then him selfe should dy for him. The man of God [Page 332] was very well content, and so he re­ceiued the deacon into his owne char­ge and custodye.

The midnighte followinge when he sawe all the Lombardes fast a slepe, he called vp the Deacon, willing him quickly to rise vp and to runne away as fast as he coulde: and almighty God (quoth he) deliuer the out of theire handes. To whom the Deacon (know­ing what he had promised) saide. Fa­ther I can not runne away, for yf I do, out of all doubt they will putt you to death: yet for all this Sanctulus enforced him to be gone with all spede, saying, vp and awaye: and God of his goode­nes defende and protect you: for I am in his handes, and they can do no mo­re vnto me then his diuine Ma [...]estye shall giue them leaue. Vpon these wordes, awaye went the Deacon: and he that had vndertaken his safe-kee­pinge, as one that had bene deceiued remayned behinde.

In the morning the Lombardes de­manded of Sanctulus for theire prisoner: who tolde them, that he was runne awaye. Then (quoth they) you best knowe what is conuenient for you to [Page 333] haue: yea marye that do I, answered the seruant of God with great con­stancye: well (quoth they) thou art a goode man, and therfore we will not by diuers tormentes take avvay thy li­fe, but make c [...]oise of what death thou vvilt: to vvhom the man of God an­svvered in this manner. Here I am at Gods disposition and pleasure, kill me in such sort, as he shall vouchsafe to gi­ue you leaue. Then all the Lombardes that were present agreed to haue him beheaded: to the end an easy and quick death mighte sone dispatche him. When it was giuen out abroade that Sanctulus vvas to dye, whom for his vertue and holines, they greatly ho­noured: all the Lombardes that were in those partes repaired thither, being glad (such cruell mindes they haue) to beholde him putt to death: and when all the a [...]mye was gathered to­gether, they brought him forth to execution, and the strongest man amongest them was chosen out, to cutt of his head at one blowe.

The venerable man besett with ar­med soldiars, betooke him selfe to his vsuall weapons: for he desired them to giue him a little leaue to praye: which when he had obtained, he cast him sel­se prostrat vpon the earth, and fell to his deuotions: in which after he had continewed for a goode space, the exe­cutioner spurned him vp with his foo­te, bidding him rise, kneele downe, and to prepare him selfe for death. The man of God rose vp, bowed downe his knee, and helde forth his heade, and beholding the drawne sworde readye to dispatch him, these only wordes they saide that he spake aloude. O Sainct Iohne holde that sworde. Then Praier to Saint Iohne. the foresaide executioner, hauing the naked weapon in his hand, did with all his force lifte vp his arme to strike of his head: but by no meanes coulde he bring it downe againe, for it beca­me suddainly so stiffe that it remained still aboue, the man being not able once to bende it downewarde. Then all the Lombardes who came to feede theire eies with the lamentable sighte of his death, began with admiration to praise Gods name, and with feare [Page 335] to reuerence the man of God: for they now sawe apparantlye of what great holines he was, that did so miraculous­lye staye the arme of his executioner aboue in the ayre.

Then they desired him to rise vp, which he did: but when they required him to restore his executioners arme to his former state, he vtterly refused, sayinge. By no meanes will I once pray for him, vnlesse before hande he sweare vnto me, that he will neuer vvith that arme offer to kill any chri­stian more. The poore Lombarde vvho as vve may truly saye, had stret­ched out his arme against God, enfor­ced vvith this necessitye, tooke an oath neuer more to putt any Christian to death. Then the man of God com­manded him to putt downe his arme, which forthwith he did: he comman­ded him also to putt vp his sworde, which in like manner he performed. All the Lombardes by this perceiuing him to be a man of rare vertue, began in all hast to present him with the giftes of such oxen and other cattle, as before they had taken from others: but the man of God, vtterly refused all [Page 336] such kinde of presentes, desiringe them rather yf they ment to bestowe any thinge vpon him worth the giuinge, that they wolde deliuer vnto him all such prisoners as they had in theire keeping: that he mighte haue some cause in his praiers, to commend them to almighty God. To which request of his they condescended, and so all the poore captiues were discharged: and thus by Gods sweete prouidence, one offering him selfe to dy for an other, manye were deliuered from death.

A strange thinge it was, and althou­ghe I haue hearde the same story by the relation of others: yet I can not denye, but so often as I heare it repea­ted, it seemeth still vnto me, as thoughe it were freshe newes.

There is no cause why you sholde admire Sanctulus for this thing: but ponder with your selfe if you can, what manner of spirit that was, which possessed his simple soule, and did [Page 337] aduaunce it to so highe a perfection of vertue: For where was his minde, when he offered him selfe with such constancye to dy for his neighbour: and to saue the temporall life of his brother, contemned his owne, and put his heade vnder the executioners sworde? what force of true loue did then harbor in that hart, when he no­thinge feared death, to preserue the life of an other? Ignorant I am not, that this venerable man Sanctulus could scant reade well, and that he knewe not the preceptes of the lawe: yet be­cause charitye is the fulfilling of the lawe, by louing God and his neigh­bour, he kept the whole lawe: and that which outwardlye lacked in know­ledge, did in wardlie by charity liue in his soule. And he perhappes who neuer read that, which S. Iohne the Apostle saide of our Sauiour, to witt, that as he Ioan. 13. v. 16. yeelded his life for vs, so we likewise shold yeeld our liues for our brethren: yet that great & highe precept of the Apostle, he knewe more by action, then by speculation. Let vs here yf you please compare his learned ignorance, with our vnlearned knowledge: Where our kinde of [Page] [...]inge is nothing worth, his is of [...]t price and estimation: we destit [...] [...]vertue doe speake thereof, and as [...]vere in the middes of plentifull [...]s smell of the fruite, but do not [...]e thereof. He knewe full well [...]we to gather and tast of the fruite [...]elfe, althoughe he lacked the smell [...]wordes and vaine speeche.

What I pray, doe you thincke is the [...]ause, that goode men are still taken [...]vvaye: and such as for the benefit and [...]dification of many, might liue still in this vvorlde: either are not to be foun­de at all, or at least verye fevve can be hearde of?

The malice and vvickednes of them that remayne behinde in the vvorlde, deserueth that those shoulde quickly be taken avvaye, vvho by theire life mighte much helpe vs: and for as much as the vvorlde dravveth tovvardes an end, Gods chosen seruantes are taken out of it, that they fall not into more vvicked tymes: and therfore from [Page 339] hence it commeth, that the prophet saith. The iust man doth perish, and there is Esay. 5. none that doth ponder it in his hart: and men of mercye are gathered together, because there is none that hath vnderstandinge. And from hence also it proceedeth, that the scrip­ture saith. Open ye, that they may goe forth Ierem. 50. which doe tread it vnder foote. Hence li­kewise it is, that Salomon saith. There is a Eccles. 3. time of casting stones abroad, and a tyme of gathering them together. And therfore the nerer that the worlde draweth to an end, so much the more necessary it is, that the liuing stones, shold be gathered together, for the heauenly building: that our celestiall Ierusalem may arriue to the full measure of his whole per­fection. And yet doe I not thincke, that all Gods elect seruātes are so taken out of the worlde, that none but the wic­ked remayne behinde: for synners wol­de neuer be conuerted to the sorrowe of true penance, yf they had not the examples of some goode people to prouoke them forwarde.

Without cause doe I complaine of the death o [...]goode men, whē as daily I [Page 340] see them also that be wicked, in great numbers to depart this life.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

VVOnder nothing at this Pe­ter, for you knevve very vvell Redemptus, Bishop of the city of Ferenti, a man of venerable life, vvho died almost seuen yeares since: vvith vvhom I had familiar acquaintance, by reason that he dvvelt not far from the Abbey in vvhich I liued. This man vvhen I asked him (for the matter vvas very vvell knovvne far and ne­re) tolde me that vvhich by diuine re­uelation he had learned concerning the ende of the vvorlde, in the tyme of Io [...]e the yonger, vvho vvas my prede­decessor. For he saide that vpon a cer­taine daye, as he vvas according to his manner visiting of his Diocesse, he ca­me to the Church of the blessed mar­tir Euthicius: and vvhen it vvas nigh the vvolde nedes be lodged nighe to the sepulchre of the martir, vvhere after [Page 341] his trauail he [...]eposed him selfe. About midnighte, being as he saide him selfe neither perfectly waking, nor yet slee­ping, but rather heauy of sleepe, he felt his waking soule oppressed with great sorrowe: and being in that case, he sawe the same blessed martir Euthicius standing before him, who spake thus: Art thou waking Redemptus? to whom he answered, that he was. Then the martir saide. The end of all fleshe is come: the end of all fleshe is come: which wor [...]es after he had repeated thus three tymes, he vanisshed out of his sight.

Then the man of God rose vp, and fell to his p [...]aiers with many teares: And straight after, those fearefull sigh­tes in heauen followed: to wit firy lances, and armies appearing from the north. Straight after likewise the barbarous and cruell nation of the Lombardes drawne as a sworde out of a sheath, left theire owne countrye and inuaded ours by reason whereof the people which before for the huge mul­titude were like to thicke corne fiel­des: remayne nowe withered and [Page 342] ouerthrowne: for cities be wasted, townes and villages spoiled, churches burnte, monasteries of men and w [...] ­men destroied, farmes left desolate, & the countrye remayneth solitarye and voide of men to till the grounde, and destitute of all inhabitantes: beastes possessinge those places, where before great plenty of men did dwell. And howe it goeth in other partes of the worlde I knowe not, but here in this place where we liue, the worlde doth not foretel any end, but rather sheweth that which is present and already co­me. Wherfore so much the more zea­louslye ought we to seeke after eternal thinges, by how much we finde all temporall, so quicklye to be fled and gone. Suerlye this worlde were to be contemned, althoughe it did flatter vs, and with pleasant prosperitye conten­ted our minde: but now seing it is fraught with so many miseries and di­uers afflictions, and that our sorrowes and crosses do daily encrease and be doubled, what doth it els but crye vnto vs that we sholde not loue it.

Ma [...]y more thinges yet remaine of the worthy actes of Gods seruauntes, [Page] but because I haue resolued vpon an other course, I wil passe ouer with silence.

For as much as I perceiue, that ma­ny Christians doe doubt of the im­mortality of the soule, after the disso­lution of the bodye: I beseech you for the spirituall goode of manye, to sett downe some reasōs for proffe thereof: or the examples of some soules which haue testified the same, yf you remem­ber any: to the end that those which be troubled with any such tentations, may learne that the soule doth not dy together with the bodie.

This is a worke of great labour, es­pecially for one that is busied with other affaires, and hath other thinges to attende vnto: yet yf any profit by my meanes may redound to others, willingly doe I prefer that before myne owne will and pleasure: and [Page 344] therfore Gods grace assisting me, in this fourth booke followinge, I will clerely shewe that the soule doth liue after the death of the body.

THE FOVRTH BOOKE OF S. GRE­GORIES DIALOGVES.
CHAPTER I.

AFTER that the first pa­rēt of mankinde, was for his synne bannished from the ioyes of Paradise, he fell into the miserye of this ignorance and ban­nishment, which to this yerie daye we doe all indure: for his synne was the cause, that he coulde not any lon­ger see those ioyes of heauen, which before by contemplation he possessed: for during the tyme of his residence in Paradise, he vsually hearde God tal­king with him, and by purity of harte, [Page 352] and heauenly vision, was present with the quires of the blessed Angels. But after his fall he lost that lighte of sou­le, which before abundantly he en­ioyed. From whom we beeing by car­nall propagation deriued, that liue now in this darcke ignorance of ban­nishmēt do heare indede of an heauen­ly countrye, and howe it is inhabited by the Angels of God, and that the soules of iust and perfect men do there keepe them companye. But yet such as be carnall, because they can not by experience knowe those inuisible creatures, doubt whether there be any such, seing with theire corporall eies they can not behold them: from which doubt, our first Parent was altogether free: for althoughe he was exiled from the ioyes of Paradise, yet did he still kepe in memorye what he had lost, because he had before behelde the sa­me: but these men can not by any meanes call to minde such thinges as they heare others speake of, because they neuer had of them any former experiēce as our first father Adam had.

For it is in this case as yf a woman bigge with childe, sholde be putt in [Page 353] prison, and be there deliuered of a son­ne, which neuer went forth, but were there continually broughte, vp: for yf his mother sholde tell him of the sun­ne, mone, starres, mountaines: and speake of the fieldes, the flying of bir­des, and running of horses: her childe that had continually bene broughte vp in the prison, and acquainted with nothing els but blacke darckenes: might well heare what she saide, but with a doubt whether it were true or no, because experience taught him not any such thinge. Euene so men that are borne in this darcke worlde, the place of theire bannishmēt, do hea­re that there be wonderfull, strange, and inuisible thinges: but because they are not acquainted with any els but terrestriall creatures, which only be visible, they doubt whether there be any such inuisible thinges as are re­ported of, or no: for which cause the creator him selfe of all thinges both visible and inuisible, and the only be­gotten sonne of the eternall father, came into this worlde, for the re­demption of mankinde: and sent the holy Ghost vnto our hartes, that [Page 354] quickened by him and his grace, we shoulde belieue those thinges, which as yet by sence or experience we can not possibly vnderstande: and therfore so many of vs as haue receiued this spi­rit, the heauenly pledge of our inheri­tance, make no doubte of Gods inuisi­ble and immortall creatures: and who so euer as yet is not setled in this be­liefe, out of all question, he oughte of reason to giue credit to the wordes of them, that be more learned and holy, and belieue them that throughe the grace of Gods holy spirit, haue expe­rience of those thinges that be inuisi­ble: for he were a very foolishe childe, that thoughte his mother lied, when she spake of lighte in other places, be­cause him selfe where he was, beheld nothing els but the darckenes of the prison.

That you say doth wonderfully content me: yet he who beleueth not that there be any inuisible thinges, out of question in myne opinion is an in­fidell: and he that is an infidell, in that thinge whereof he doubteth seeketh [Page 355] not for faith, but for reason.

CHAPTER II.

I Speake boldlye yet trulye, that an infidell liueth not without faith: for yf I demaunde of him, who is his fa­ther or mother, straight-waies he will tell me, such a man and such a woman: and yf I presse him further, whether he doth remember the tyme when he was first conceiued, or the houre when he was borne into this worlde, he wil answer me, that he neuer knewe or sawe any such thinge: and yet for all this doth he beleue that which he ne­uer behelde, seing he beleueth without all doubt, that such a man was his fa­ther, and such a woman his mother.

I must nedes confesse, that I neuer knewe before this tyme, that an infi­dell had any faith.

Infidels haue faith, but not in God, sor then they were not infidels: but worthly are they by the former rea­son to be blamed, and thereby also to be prouoked to imbrace true faith: for yf concerning theire visible bodye, they beleeue that which they neuer sawe, why do they not also beleeue so­me thinges, which with theire corpo­rall eyes they can not beholde.

CHAPTER III.

FOr that our soule doth liue after the death of the bodye, reason doth teach vs, assisted and holpen with faith: for almightye God created three kindes of spirites hauing life. One al­together spirituall without bodye: an other with a bodye, but yet which dieth not with the bodye: the thirde that which is both ioyned with the body and also together with the body [Page 357] doth dye. The spirites that haue no bodyes be the Angels: they that haue bodies but dy not with them, be the soules of men: those that haue bodies and by together with them, be the soules of cattail and brute beastes. Man therfore as he is created in the middle state, inferior to Angels and superior to beastes, so doth he partici­pate of both: hauing immortalitie of soule with the Angels, and mortalitie of bodye, with beastes, vntill the daye of dome: for then the glorye of the resurrection, shall take away and con­sume the mortalitye of the bodye: for being then reunited to the soule, it shall be preserued for euer: as the soule ioyned to the body, is preserued for God. Neither shall the bodyes of the damned, lying in tormentes euer per­fectly perish: for thoughe they alwaies decaye, yet for euer shall they conti­newe: and as they synned both with soule and bodye, so liuing alwaies in bodye and soule, they shall alwaies dy without ende.

All your discourse is consonant to [Page 358] that reason, which Christian religion teacheth: but I beseech you, yf there be so great difference betwixt the soules of men and beastes as you affirme, why doth Salomon speake in this man­ner? I haue said in myne hart of the sonnes Ecclesias. cap. 3. of men, that God wold proue them, and shew them to be like vnto beastes: therfore here is one death of men and beastes, and theire state is both alike: and prosecutinge afterward more exactlye that opinion of his, thus he writeth. As a man dieth, so do bea­stes dye: Al thinges breath alike, and man hath nothinge more then beastes. After which wordes, he addeth also this generall conclusion. Al thinges are subiect to vanity, & all thinges goe to one place: of the earth they were made, and into the earth they returne againe.

CHAPTER IIII.

SAlomons booke in which these say­inges are founde, is called Ecclesiastes: as much to say properly as The preacher. [Page 359] And in a sermon, the manner is to haue an opinion sett downe, by means whe­reof the tumultuous sedition of com­mon people may be appeased: and whereas diuers haue diuers opinions, yet are they all by the Preachers argu­mentes and reasons, broughte to vni­ty and agreement: and therfore this booke is called, The preacher: because in it Salomon doth as it were take vpon him, the person and wordes of the vn­rulye vulgar sort, and by way of inqui­sition speaketh those thinges, which haply ignorant men thoroughe tenta­tion doe verily thincke: and therfore so many questions, as he doth by waye of inquirye propounde: so many di­uers persons doth he in a manner take vpon him selfe [...] but the true Preacher doth as it were with his hande, com­pounde all the [...]re doubtes and disagre­mentes, and bring them all to concor­de and vnitye of opinion, when as in the ende of his booke he saith. Let vs all Eccles. cap. 12 together heare an end of speaking: Feare God, keepe his commandementes, for this is euery man. For yf in that booke he had not by his discourse taken vpon him the per­son of diuers▪ why did he admonish [Page 360] all to make an ende of speaking, toge­ther with him, and to heare.

He therfore that in the conclusion of the booke saith. Let vs altogether heare: doth giue euident testimony of him selfe, that he tooke many persons vpon him, and that he spake not all as of him selfe: and therfore some thinges there be in that booke, which are mo­ued by waye of disputation, and other some which by reason giue satisfa­ction: some thinges which he vttereth in the person of one that is tempted, and who as yet followeth the pleasu­res of the worlde: and some other thinges, in which he disputeth them according to the rule of reason, and to drawe the minde from vaine plea­sure and delighte: for as there he saith. This therfore seemeth vnto me goode, that a Eccles. 5. man sholde eate and drincke: and takeioye of his labour: so afterwarde he addeth. It is better to goe vnto the house of mourning, then to the house of feasting. For yf it be good to eate and drincke, it semeth better to goe vnto the house of feasting, then to the house of mourning: and therfore by this it is euident, that he vttered that former saying in the person of [Page 361] fraile men, and pronounced this latter, according to the rule of reason: and therfore doth he straighte-waies sett downe the groundes of his reason, and sheweth what commodity is gotten by going to the house of mourning, saying thus: for in that we are put in minde Eccles. 11. of the end of all men: and the liuing man thincketh what he shall be. Againe there we finde it written. O yong man reioice in thy youth: and yet a little after is ad­ded: for youth and pleasure be vaine thinges.

Seing therfore he doth afterward reproue that for vaine, which before he seemed to allowe: plainely doth he declare, that he spake those wordes as it were of carnall concupiscens, and the other of a righte and true iudge­ment. Therfore as he doth in the first place, expresse the delighte of carnall thinges, and pronounceth it to be goo­de to cast awaye all care, and to eate and drincke: so afterwarde with rea­son and iudgement doth he reprou [...] that, when he saith, that it is better to goe vnto the house of mourninge, then to the house of feasting: and thoughe hee saith that a yonge man oughte to reioice in his youthe: yet [Page 362] doth he vtter that, as proceeding from the resolution of a carnall minde: seing afterwarde by definitiue sentence, he reproueth both youth and pleasure, as vaine thinges. Euen so and in like man­ner, doth our Preacher sett downe the opinion of mans suspicion, as it were in the person of those that be weake, and subiect to tentation, when he saith. The death of man and beastes is one, and theire condition both a like: As man dieth, so they also dy: Al thinges doe breath alike, and a man hath not any more then beastes: who notwithstanding afterwarde, putteth downe his owne opinion, proceeding from iudgement and reason in these wordes. VVhat hath a wise man more then Eccles. 6. a foole, and what a poore man, but that he may goe thither where life is? He therfore that saide: A man hath no more then bea­stes: saide also with mature delibera­tion, that a wise man hath not only more then a beast, but also more then a foolishe man, to witt that he goeth to that place, where life is: in which wor­des he doth also teache vs, that mans life is not in this worlde, seing he affir­meth it to be els where: wherefore man hath this more then beastes, [Page 363] because they after death doe not liue: but he doth then begin trulye to liue, when by mortall death he maketh an end of this transitorye life: and ther­fore longe after he saith. VVhat soeuer they hand can doe, instantly worcke: because with them in h [...]l whether thou goest, there shal be neither wor [...]ke, nor reason, nor know­ledge, nor wisdom: how then is the death of man and beastes all one, and howe is theire condition and state alike? or how hath not a man more then bea­stes, when as they after death liue not, and the soules of men after the death of there bodies, be for there wicked deedes caried to hell, and do not dye, when they depart this life? But in both these sayinges, which seeme con­trary each to other, it is made manifest, that the Preacher speaketh the truth: vttering the one of carnall tentation, and yet afterwarde vpon deliberation and according to truth resolutely set­teth downe and defineth the con­trarye.

Glad I am, that ignorant I was of that question, which I demanded: [Page 364] seing I haue by meanes thereof, come to so exact an vnderstanding of that, which before I knewe not. But I be­seeche you to take it patiently, yf I also like to this our Preacher, take vpon me the person of weake and fraile men: that I may the better, as it were by theire demanding of questions, be profitable to them in theire weakenes and infirmities.

Why sholde I not beare with you, condescending to the infirmities of your neighbours? when as Paul saith: 1. Corint. [...]. To al men I became al thinges, that I might By this we see, that men may in a goode sōce be called Sauiours, without any iniury to our Sauiour Christ. saue al: and surely you are the more to be reuerenced, for condescending to theire weakenes vpon charity, & the­rein do you imitate the steppes of an excellent preacher.

CHAPTER V.

IT chaunced so, that I was present, when one departed this life. Who suddainlye as he was a speakinge, gaue vp the ghost: and whom before I heard talking with me, in an instant I sawe deade: but whether his soule went out of the body or no, that I did not see: and it seemeth verye harde to beleeue that thinge, which no man can be­hould.

What maruaile is it Peter that you sawe not the soule departing out of the bodye, seing you behould it not, when it remayneth in the bo­dye: what? do you beleeue me to haue no soule, because whiles you nowe talke with me, you can not see it? The nature of the soule is [Page 366] inuisible, and therfore inuisibly doth it depart out of the body, as it doth inui­sibly remayne in the body.

That the soule hath life, so long as it remaineth in the bodye, easily do I perceiue by the motion thereof: for yf the body were destitute of the soule, the members coulde not possibly mo­ue at all: but that the soule liueth when it is out of the body, by what motions or actions I sholde gather, de­sirous I am to be informed by you: to the end that by such thinges as I do see, I may knowe that thinge which I can not see.

Thoughe not with any great [...]ubti­lity of discourse, yet confidentlye do I affirme it to be most true, that as the power of the soule, doth quicken and moue the bodye: so the power of God, doth fill all thinges which he hath created: and to some thinges doth he giue life, by breathing it into them: to other thinges, he vouchsafeth life in an other manner: and vpon some other [Page 367] thinges he bestoweth only a being, without any life at all. Seing therfore you doubt not, but that God is the creator and preseruer of all thinges, that he doth fill and imbrace all thin­ges, that he doth excell all thinges, and also mainetayneth them, that he is in­circumscriptible, and inuisible: so nei­ther ought you to doubt, but that he is serued with inuisible creatures, seing they that serue, oughte to be some­what like vnto him, vpon whom they attende, and so consequently that we ought not to doubte, but for as much as he is inuisible in him selfe, that they also be of the same nature: and what creatures can these be els but his holy Angels, and the soules of iust men? wherfore as you knowe when you see the bodye moue, that the soule remai­neth in the body, and you gather this from the bodie which is lowest: so oughte you to thincke of the life of the soule that departeth from the bo­dye, deducing a reason from God who is the highest: to witt that the soule li­ueth inuisibly, seing it is to remayne in the seruice of the inuisible creator.

All this is verye well saide: yet our minde can hardelye be broughte to beleeue that, which with our corporal eies we can not beholde.

Seing S. Paul saith, that faith is the Hebr. 11. substance of thinges to be hoped for, the ar­gument of thinges not appearing: truly are we saide to beleeue that which can not be seene, and by no meanes to beleeue that which with out eies we doe behold: yet in fewe wordes to bring you home againe to your selfe, I saye, that no visible thinges be seene but by the means of inuisible: for althoughe your bodily ey beholdeth all sensible creatures, yet coulde it not beholde any such thinge, did it not receiue force from that which is in­uisible: for take awaye the soule, which none doth see, and in vaine be the eies opened, to loke vpon any thin­ge. Take away the soule from the bo­dy, [Page 369] and the eies out of all question may remaine still open as before. Yf then our eies did [...]ee of them selues, howe commeth it to passe, that nowe the soule is gone, they see nothinge at all. Learne then by this, that visible thin­ges them selues are not sene, but by meanes of them that be inuisible. Let vs also imagin, that we sawe before vs, the building of houses, huge timber and stones to be lifted vp, great pillers to hang vpon engines: what I pray you effecteth all this? the visible bodye that with handes draweth and mo­ueth those huge and massy thinges, or the inuisible soule that giueth life to the bodye? for take awaye that which is not seene in the bodye, and straight­waies all those thinges which before did moue, will temayne without any motion at all. By which we may easi­ly gather, that nothing can be dispo­sed of in this visible worlde, but by an other creature, which is inuisible: for as almightye God either by inspira­tion, or by replenishing those creatures which haue reason, doth both quicken [Page 370] and moue those thinges which be in­uisible, so in like manner those thinges which be inuisible, doe giue motion and sence to carnall bodies which are visible.

Willingly ouercome with these reasons alleaged, I confesse that I am enforced almost to thincke, that these visible thinges are nothing: whereas before, taking vpon me the person of weake and vnlerned men, I doubted whether there were any inuisible creatures or no: wherfore your who­le discourse doth very well please me: yet as I am assured of the life of the soule by the motion of the bodye, so desirous I am to knowe by some su­re and certaine demonstrations, that the soule doth also liue, after it is de­parted from the body.

CHAPTER VI.

HErein most readye I am to satis­fye your request: and for proffe of this pointe, no difficultye do I finde: for thincke you that the holy Apostles and martirs of Christ, wolde haue contemned this present life, and offe­red theire bodies to death, had they not knowne that theire soules did most assuredly liue for euer? You con­fesse that you knovve the life of the soule remayninge in the body by the motion thereof: beholde then howe these that lost theire liues for Christ, and beleeued that soules liued after death be renoumed for theire daily miracles: For sicke persons come vnto Pilgrina­ge to Sainctes bodies. theire deade bodies, and be curied: per­iured persons repaire thither, and be possessed with deuiles: possessed with [Page 372] deuiles visit them, and are deliuered. Lepers come, and be clensed: deade fol­ke are broughte, and they be raised vp againe. Consider then in what sort theire soules do liue in those places, where they liue, whose deade bodies liue also in this worlde by so many miracles: yf then you gather the life of Miracles wroughe by relic­kes. the soule remayninge in the body, by the motion of the members: why do you not likewise by the deade bones which work miracles, inferre that the soule doth liue after the death of the body.

No solution as I thincke can ouer­throwe the force of this reason allea­ged: by which we are constrained through visible thinges, to beleeue tho­se, which we see not and be inuisible.

CHAPTER VII.

A Little before you complained, for that you coulde not see the [Page 373] soule of one when it departed out of his bodye: but that was your fault, who desired with corporall eies to beholde an inuisible thinge, for many of vs that by sincere faith and plenti­full praier, haue had the eye of our sou­le purified, haue often seene soules going out of theire bodies: and ther­fore nowe I thincke it necessarye to sett downe, both howe, and in what sort, menes soules departing out of theire bodies haue bene seene: and also what wonderfull thinges haue bene reuealed vnto them, at the tyme of theire departure: that by this meanes, examples may satisfye our wauering and doubtfull mindes, which reason can not so full ye perswade. Wherfore to begin. I remember that in the se­cond booke of this worcke, I tolde you howe venerable Bennet (as by relation of his owne monkes I lear­ned) beeing far distant from the city of Capua, behelde the soule of Germanus (Bishop of the same place) at mid­nighte to be carried to heauen in a fiery globe: who seeing the soule as it was ascending vppe; behelde [Page 374] also in the largenes of his owne soule, within the compasse of one sunne beame, the whole world as it were gathered together.

CHAPTER VIII.

BY the relation also of the same monkes his disciples, I vnderstoo­de howe two noble men that were brethren, and very well learned in hu­manity: the one called Speciosus, the other Gregory, entred into religion, there to liue vertuously vnder the di­rection of his rule: whom the venera­ble father placed in a Monastery of his, harde by the city of Teracina. The­se men whiles they remained in the worlde, were verye riche, but for the redemption of theire owne soules, they Volunta­rye po­uertye. had giuene all to the poore, and ledd theire life in the same Monasterye. One of these twaine, to witt Speciosus being sent vpon busines of the Mona­sterye to the Capua: his natu­rall brother Gregory in the meane ty­me sitting at table at dinner amongest [Page 375] the other monkes, rapt in spirit, behel­de his brothers soule thoughe so far distant, departing out of his bodye: which forthwith he tolde vnto the other monkes, and straighte after in all hast tooke his iornye to Capua, wher he founde his brother newlye buried: and there vnderstoode how he died at that very houre, in which he sawe his soule going out of his bodye.

CHAPTER IX.

A Certaine religious man, and one of great credit, (at such tyme as I liued in the Monastery) tolde me that certaine sailing from Sicilye to Rome, as they were in the the middest of the sea, be­helde the soule of a certaine seruant of God caried to heauen, who had bene an Anchoret in the Iland of Samnium. Landing afterward in the same place, Anchore­tes. and making enquiry of that thinge, they vnderstoode that holy man to ha­ue departed this life vpon that very day, in which they saw his soule ascen­ding to heauen.

CHAPTER X.

VVHiles I liued as yet in my Monasterye, I vnderstode by the relation of a verye reuerent man, a certaine thinge which I will now tell you. A venerable father the­re was, called Hope, who had built an Abbey in a place called Cample, distant almost six miles from the old o [...]tye of Nursia. This man, almightye and mer­cifull God by temporall affliction, preserued from euerlasting miserye: and gaue him great grace and quiet of mynde: for how deerely he loued him, yea at that very tyme when he sent him affliction, was afterwarde made apparant to the worlde, when he vouchsafed perfectly to restore him to his former health. This man ther­fore was for the space of fourty yeres, punnished with such a continuall blin­denes of his eies, that he coulde not so much as beholde any lighte at all. But because none in aduersitye can without the helpe of Goddes grace stande: and vnlesse the same mercifull father, who sendeth punnishement, gi­ueth [Page 377] also patience: straighte-waies his chastising of our synnes, doth by im­patience more increase them: and so it pitifully falleth out, that our synne is by that very thinge made greater, by which an end of all synne mighte ve­ry well haue bene expected. God therfor seeing our infirmitye, together with affliction, by his swete prouiden­ce keepeth and preserueth vs: and is in his correction which he sendeth his chosen children in this worlde, so iust with mercy, that they maye become such, to whom afterwarde he may iu­stly shewe mercie: and therfore thou­ghe he did laye his crosse of blindenes vpon this venerable man, yet did he not leaue him destitute of inwarde lighte: for as his bodye was weried with paine, so by the prouidence of Gods holy spirit, his soule was refre­shed with heauenly comfort.

At length when he had continewed fourty years in this kinde of blinde­nes, our good Lorde restored him, to his former sighte, giuinge him also to vnderstande, that he was shortly to leaue this worlde: and therfore admo­nished him to preache the worde [Page 378] of lyfe vnto all such Abbeies, as were about him: and that for as much as him selfe had receiued the light of his body, he wold goe and open vnto them the spirituall lighte of the soule: who forthwith obeying Gods commande­ment, visited the foresaide Albeies, and preached vnto them such preceptes of goode life, as him selfe before had in conuersation practised. Returning after fiftene daies to his owne Abbeye, he called his monkes together, and in theire presence receiued the Sacra­ment of the body and bloude of our Lorde, and straighte-waies began to­gether with them the mysticall hym­nes of the Psalmes: afterwarde falling with attention to his praiers, whiles they continued on theire singing he gaue vp the ghost: at which very tyme all the monkes sawe a doue commin­ge out of his mouth, which in theire sighte flying forth throughe the topp of the oratory being then opened, as­cended vp into heauen. And surely it is to be thoughte, that his soule by diuine prouidence, did in that manner appea­re in the likenes of a doue, that almigh­ty God mighte thereby shewe, with [Page 379] what a true and simple heart that ho­ly man had alwaies serued him.

CHAPTER XI.

NEither must I forget that, which the reuerent Abbot Steuen, (who not long since died in this city, and whom you kne we very well) tolde me to haue happened in the same Pro­uince of Nursia: For he saide that a Priest dwelled in that countrye, who in the feare of God, gouerned the Church committed to his charge: and althoughe after he had taken or­ders he did still loue his old wife as his ene­my: and neuer wolde he permit her to come neare him vpon any occasion: Priestes after holy orders, bounde to abstayne from the carnal company of theire former wiues. abstayning wholy from all intercour­se of familiarity. For this is a thinge proper to holy men, often tymes to depriue them selues of those thinges which be lawful, to the end they may remaine the more free from such as be vnlawfull: and therfore this man not to fal into any synne, vtterly refused al [Page 380] necessary and requisit seruice at her handes.

When this reuerent man, had long liued in this worlde, the fourtith yeare after he was made Priest, by a great and vehement agewe was broughte to the last cast: his olde wife beholding him so far spent, and to ly as thoughe he had bene deade, putt her heade neare vnto him, to see whe­ther he did breath or no: which he perceiuing, hauing yet a little life lefte, enforced him selfe to speake as well as he coulde, and in greatferuor of spirit, brake out into these wordes. Gett the awaye woman: a little fire is yet lefte, away with the strawe: after she was gone, his strength some-what in­creasing, he began with greatioy to cry out: welcome my Lordes, wel­come my Lordes: why ha [...]e you vouchsafed to visit me your vnwor­thy seruant? I come, I come: I thancke you, I thancke you: and when he did often repeate these and the like wor­des, his friendes that were present, asked him to whom hespake, to whom with a kinde of admiration he answe­red: what? do you not here beholde [Page 381] the holy Apostles? Do you not see the chiefe of them S. Peter and S. Paul? and so turning him selfe againe tow­ardes them, he saide. Beholde I co­me, beholde I come: and in speaking those wordes he gaue vp his happy ghost. And that he did indede verily beholde the holy Apostles, he testified by that his departure with them. And thus it doth often fall out by the sweete prouidence of God, that goode men at theire death do beholde his Sainctes going before them, and lea­ding as it were the waye, to the end they sholde not be affraide at the panges thereof: and that whiles theire soules do see the Sainctes in heauen, they maye be discharged from the pri­son of this bodye, without all feare and griefe.

CHAPTER XII.

COncerning which thing I must also tel you that, which the seruāt of God Probus, (who now in this ci­ty liueth in an Abbey) gaue me to vn­derstande of an vncle of his, called al­so Probus, who was Bishop of the ci­tye of Reati. For he saide, that being grieuously sick, & in great extremity of death, his father whose name was Ma­ximus, caused many Phisitions to be sent for, to see, whether by theire skill he could any waies be holpen: who all vpon the feeling of his pulse, gaue sen­tence of speedy death. When dinner ty­me was come, and the day some what far spent, the venerable Bishop more carefull of theire health, then of his owne, desired them that they woulde goe vp with his old father into the hi­gher part of his pallace: and after thei­re great paynes, to refresh them selues with a poore dinner. Wherevpon all went vp, and none remayned with him, but a little yonge boy, who as [Page 383] Probus saith, is yet liuing. The little boye standing by his beddes side, suddainly sawe certaine men comming into the man of God, apparrelled in white stoales, whose faces were far more bewtifull and brighte, then the white­nes of theire garmentes: whereat being amazed and affraide, he began to crye out, and aske who they were: at which noise the Bishop also loking vp, behelde them comming in and knewe them, and therevpon comforted the little boye, bidding him not to crye, or be affraide, saying, that they were the holy martirs S. Iuuenall and S. Eleutherius that came to visit him: but he not ac­quainted with any such strange vi­sions, ran out at the dores as fast as he coulde, carying newes hereof both to his father & the phisitions: who going downe in all hast, found the Bishop departed: for those Sainctes whose sighte the childe coulde not endure, had carried his soule away in theire company.

CHAPTER XIII.

NEither will I conceale that, which I receiued by the relation of those that are graue, and of goode credit. In the tyme of the Gothes, an honorable yonge maide called Galla, daughter to Simmachus the Consull, was bestowed in marriag: whose hus­bande before the yere came about de­parted this life: and thoughe both plen­tye of wealth, and her yonge yeres we­re great allurementes to a seconde marriag, yet she made choise rather to be married spiritually to God, in which after mourninge euerlasting ioy doth followe: then to become againe subiect to carnall matrirnonye: which alwaies begineth with ioye, and in conclusion endeth with sorrowe. But because she had a passing highe co­lour, the Phisitions tolde her, that vn­lesse Nunnes maye not marrye. she did marrye againe, that she wolde throughe abundance of heate contrary to nature, haue a bearde like vnto men: which afterwarde fell so [Page 385] out indede: but the holy woman little regarded outwarde deformitye, which in wardly in her soule was inamored with the bewtye of the heauenly spouse: and feared not, yf that in her became foule, which she knewe that her caelestial spouse did nothing loue. Wherfore straight vpon the death of her husbande, casting of her secular Nunnes weare no secular habit [...] habit and attire, she rendred her selfe for the seruice of God to that Nunne­ry, which is by the church of the bles­sed Apostle S. Peter: where she liued for the space of many yeares in praier and simplicitye of harte, and bestowed almes plentifullye vpon needy and poore people.

At lengthe, when almightye God determined to bestowe vpon her an euerlasting rewarde, he sent her a can­ker in one of her brestes. Two can­dles she had vsually in the nighte ty­me burninge before her bed: for louing lighte, she did not only hate spirituall darckenes but also corporall. One nighte lying sore afflicted with this her in firmitye, she sawe S. Peter stan­ding before her bed, betwixt the two candlestickes, and being nothing [Page 386] affraide but glad: loue giuing her cou­rage, thus she [...]pake vnto him. How is it my Lorde: what? are my sinnes for­giuen me? to whom (as he hath a most gratious countenāce) he bowed dow­ne a little his heade, and saide. Thy sin­nes are forgiuen the, come and sol­lowe me: but because there was an other Nunne in the Monasterye which Galla loued more then the rest, she straight-waies beseeched him, that sister Benedicta might goe with her: to whom he answered, that she could not then come, but an other sholde: and as for her (quoth he) whom you now request, thirtye daies hence shall she follow you: and when he had thus sai­de, he vanished out of her sighte. After whose departure, she straighte-wayes called for the mother of the Conuent, and tolde her what she had sene and hearde: and the thirde daye following, both she and the other before mentio­ned, departed this life: and she also whose company Galla desired, the thir­tith daye after d [...]d follow them. The memory of which thinge continu­eth still fresh in that Monasterye, so that the Nunnes which novve liue [Page 387] there, (receiuing it by tradition from theire predecessors) can tell euerye lit­tle pointe thereof, as thoughe they had bene present at that tyme when the miracle happened.

CHAPTER XIIII.

HEre also we haue to knowe, that often tymes at the death of Gods seruauntes, heauenly musicke is hearde, to the end that whiles they gi­ue willing eare to that melodye, the soule may haue no leysure to feele, when it departeth from the bodye. For I remember that in my Home­lies Homelia 15. vpon the Gospell, I tolde howe in that porche which is in the waye to S. Clements Churche, there laye a cer­taine man called Seruulus, whom I doubt not but you also do remember: who as he was poore in welth, so ri­che in merites. This man had longe Mer [...]. tyme bene a [...]cted with sickenes: for from the first tyme that I knew him, to the very last hour o [...] his [...] neuer [Page 388] can I remember but that he was sicke of the palsey, and that so pitifully, that he could not stande, nor sitt vp i [...] his bedd: neither was he euer able to putt his hande vnto his mouth, or to tur­ne from one side to the other. His mo­ther and brethren did serue and atten­de him, and what he gott in almes, that by theire handes he bestowed vpon other poore people. Reade he coulde not, yet did he buye the holy scriptu­res, which verye carefull ye he caused such religious men as he entertained, to read vnto him: by meanes whereof according to his capacitie, thoughe as I saide he knewe not a letter of the booke yet did he fullye learne the holy scripture. Very carefull he was in his sicknes alwaies to giue God thanckes, and day and nighte to prai­se his holy name.

When the tyme was come, in which God determined to rewarde this his great patience: the paine of his bodye strooke inwardlye to his harte, which he feeling, and knowing that his last houre was not far of, called for all such strangers as lodged in his house, desi­ring them to sing hymnes with him, [Page 389] for his last far well and departure out of this life: and as he was him selfe sin­ging with them, all on a suddaine he cried out a loude, and bad them be si­lent sayinge: do ye not heare the great and wonderfull musicke which is in heauen? and so whiles he lay giuing of care within him selfe to that diuine harmonye, his holy soule departed this mortall life: at which tyme all that were there present, felt a most pleasa­unt and fragrant smell whereby they perceiued howe true it was that Seruu­lus saide. A monke of myne, who yet liueth was then present, and with ma­ny teares vseth to tel vs, that the sweetnes of that smell neuer went awaye, but that they felt it continually vntill the tyme of his buriall.

CHAPTER XV.

IN the same Homilyes I remember likewise howe I tolde a certay­ne thinge, which Speciosus my fel­lowe Priest doth also verify to be most true. At such tyme as I entred into religion, there dwelt in this [Page 390] city neare to the church of our blessed Lady, a certaine old woman called. Redempta, liuinge in the habit of a Nun­ne, Habit of Nunne. a disciple of that Hirundina, which was famous for vertue, and lead an ere­miticall life (as they saye) in the mouu­taines, Eremites, and ore­mitical life. by the city of Preneste. This fore­saide Redempta had two scollers which ware the same habit that she did: the one called Romula; and the name of the other vvhich yet liueth I can nortel, thoughe by sighte I knovve her very vvell. These three together in one lit­tle house liued a poore life, yet riche for pietye and vertue: and of these tvvaine Romula far excelled the other in meritt of life: for she vvas a vvo­man of maruailous patience, passing obedient, a great obseruer of silence, and one that vvith greate zeale be­stovved her tyme in continuall praier.

But because it often falleth out, that they vvhom the vvorlde thincke to be perfect, haue yet in the eies of almigh­ty God some imperfection (as many tymes vnskillfull men do commende seales of armes, as excellently vvell engrauen, vvhich yet the cunninge vvorckeman doth better consider, and [Page 391] laboureth to make more perfect) this foresaide Romula fell into such a pi­tifull palsye, that she was faine to kee­pe her bedd: where she laye, depriued almost of all the vse of her members: which great crosse notwithstanding, drewe her not to any impatience, but rather the sicknes of her bodye, was the health of her soule, and the cause of her greater increase in vertue: for the lesse she could doe in other thin­ges, the more she did in praier and de­uotion. Vpon a certaine nighte she called for Redempta (who as I sayde brought them both vp as her daugh­ters) saying. Come mother, come mo­ther: who straighte-waies with her other disciple rose vp, and (as my selfe and many more haue heard it from theire owne mouthes) when they we­re about midnighte by her beddes si­de, suddainlye there came a lighte from heauen, which filled all that cell: and such a brightenes there appeared, that it put them both into a vvonderfull feare, and as them selues did aftervvar­de report, all theire bodye became colde, in such sorte, that there they stoode amazed: for they heard a noise [Page 392] as it were of many that came in, and the cell dore shaken and thrust open, as thoughe there had bene a greate presse of people: and as they saide, they heard a greate company come in, yet they saw no body, and that by reason of great feare, and much lighte: for both feare did make them to hold thei­re eies downe-warde, and the brigh­tenes of such plentye of lighte did so dazell them, that they coulde not be­holde any thinge.

Straighte after that lighte, followed a wonderfull pleasaunt smell, which did greatly comfort theire fearefull heartes. Romula perceiuing that they coulde not endure that abundance of lighte, with sweete wordes comforted Redempta, that stoode trembling by her beds side saying: Be not affearde mo­ther; for I shall not dy at this tyme: and when she had often repeated those wordes, by little and little the lighte vanished awaye, but yet the sweete smell remayned still, and so continued both the next and the thirde day after. Vpon the fourth nighte, againe she cal­led for that her mother, and when she was come, she desired to receiue the [Page 393] Sacrament, and so she did: and beholde before Redempta or her other disciple departed from her beddes side, suddain­lye they hearde two quires singing be­fore the dore without: and as they sai­de, they perceiued by theire voices that the one was of men, that began the psalmes, and the other of wemen that answered: and whiles these heauenly funerals were in celebratinge before the cell dore, that holy soule departed this life, and was caried in that man­ner vp into heauen: and the higher those two quires did ascende, the lesse did they heare that celestiall musick, vntill at length they heard no more: and beside that sweet and odoriferous smell which before they felt vanished quite awaye.

CHAPTER XVI.

SOmetyme also for the com­fort of the soule that departeth, there appeareth vnto it, the author him selfe of life, and rewarder of all vertue: for proffe whereof I will [Page 394] here report that, which I remember al­so to haue spoken of in myne Home­lies, concerninge myne aunt Tarsilla: who in the company of two others of her sisters, had for continuance in praier, grauitye of life, singularity in abstinence, arriued to the topp of per­fection. To this woman, Felix my great grand-father sometyme Bishop of this sea of Rome, appeared in vision, and shewed her the habitation of euerla­sting lighte, speaking thus: Come with me, and I will entertaine you in this dwelling place of lighte. Shortly after, taken with an agew she was brough­te to the last cast: and as when noble men and wemen ly a dyinge, manye do visit them for the comfort of theire friendes: so diuers both men and we­men, at the tyme of her departure we­re come, which stoode round about her bedde: at what tyme she suddainlye casting her eies vpwarde, behelde our Sauiour comminge: wherevpon loo­king earnestly vpon him, she cried out to them that were present. Away, awaye: my Sauiour Iesus is come, and so fixinge her eies vpon him, whom she behelde, her holy soule departed [Page 395] this life: and such a wonderfull fra­grant smell ensued, that the sweetnes thereof gaue euident testimony, that the author of all sweetnes was there present. Afterwarde, when her deade bodye according to the manner, was made ready to be washed, they founde that vvith long custome of praier, the skin of her armes and knees, vvas like a camels become harde: and so her deade bodye gaue sufficient testimo­nye, vvhat her liuing spirit had conti­nually practised.

CHAPTER XVII.

NEither must that be forgotten, vvhich the seruant of God befo­re mentioned, called Probus, vsed to tell of a little sister vvhich he had called Musa: for he saide that one nighte our blessed Lady appeared vnto her in vi­sion, shewing her sundrye yonge mai­des of her owne yeares doathed all in vvhite, vvhose company she much de­siring, but yet not presuminge to go amongest them, the Blessed Virgin [Page 396] asked her, whether she had any [...]ninde to remaine with them, and to liue in her seruice: to whom she ansvvered that willingly she wolde. Then our blessed Lady gaue her in charge, not to behaue her selfe lightely, nor [...]o liue any more like a girle, to abstaine also from laughinge and pastime, telling her that after thirty daies she sholde amongest those virgins which she then sawe, be admitted to her ser­uice.

After this vision the yonge maide forsooke all her former behauior: and with greate grauitye, reformed the le­uitye of her childish yeares: which thinge her parentes porceiuing, and demanding from whence that change proceded, she tolde them what the blessed mother of God had giuen her in commandement, and vpon what daye the was to go vnto her seruice. Fiue and twenty daies after she fell sicke of an agewe: and vpon the thir­tith daye, when the houre of her de­parture was come, she behelde our blessed Lady, accompanied vvith tho­se Virgins vvhich before in vision she savve to come vnto her, and being [Page 397] called to come avvaye, she ansvvered vvith her eies. modestlye cast do vvne­vvarde, and very distinctlye spake in this manner: Beholde blessed Lady I come, beholde blessed Lady I come: in speaking of vvhich vvordes she gaue vp the ghost, and her soule departed her virgins bodye, to dvvell for euer vvith the holy virgins in heauen.

Seing mankinde is subiect to many and innumerable vices, I thincke that the greatest parte of heauen is reple­nished vvith little children and in­fantes.

CHAPTER XVIII.

ALthoughe we oughte not to doubt but beleeue that all infan­tes which be baptized, and dye in theire infancye goe to heauen: yet no pointe of our beleefe it is, that all little ones vvhich can speake, [Page 398] do come vnto that holy place: because some little children, are kept from hea­uen by theire parentes, which bring them vp wickedly, and in lewde life. For a certaine man in this city well knowne to all, some three yeres since had a childe as I thinck fiue yeres olde, which vpon too much carnal affection he brought vp very carelesly: in such sort that the little one (a lamentable case to speake of) so sone as any thinge went contrary to his [...]inde, straighte-waies vsed to blasphe [...]e the name of God.

This childe in that great mortali­ty which happened three yeres since fell sicke, and came to the pointe of death: and his father holding him at that tyme in his armes, the childe (as they saye, which were then present) behelde with trembling eies, certaine wicked spirites comminge towardes him: at which sight he began to crye out in this manner. Kepe them away, father, kepe them awaye: and crying so out, he turned a waye his face, & wol­de haue hidd him selfe in his fathers bosome: who demaundinge why he was so affraide, and what he savve. O [Page 399] father (quoth he) there be black a mo­res come to carry me awaye: after which wordes straighte-waies he blas­phemed God, and so gaue vp the ghost. For to the end, God mighte ma­ke it knowen to the worlde, for what synne he was deliuered to such terri­ble executioners, he permitted him at his very death to iterat that synne, for which his father whiles he liued wol­de not correct him: so that he which throughe Gods patience had longe li­ued a blasphemer, did at length by his iust iudgement, blaspheminge ende his life, that the father mighte both knowe his owne synne, and also how by neglectinge the soule of his little sonne, he nourished and brought vp not a little synner for hell fire. But nowe to surcease from further speeche of this sadd and melancholy matter: let vs prosecute as we haue begunne our former ioyfull narration.

CHAPTER XIX.

BY the relation of the same Probus, and other religious men, I came to [Page 400] the knowledge of such thinges, as in my Homelies I told to myne aucitors, concerning the venerable father Ste­uen. For he was a man as Probus and ma­ny more affirme, who had no welth in this worlde, nor cared for any, lo­uing only pouerty for Gods sake: in aduersity alwaies did he kepe patience: secular mens companye did he auoid: and his desire was, alwaies to praye and serue God: of whom I wi [...]l here report one excellent vertuous act, that by one, many other which he li­kewise did, each man may ponder with him selfe. This man therfore ha­uing vpon a tyme caried his corne which he reaped with his owne han­des, into the barne, being the only sub­stance vpon which he and his disci­ples were to liue al the yeare: a certai­ne wicked wretch pricked forwarde by the deuill, sett it all on fire: which an other perceiuing, ran in all hast and tolde it to the seruaunt of God: and after he had done his message, he added these wordes saying. Alas and woe fa­ther Steuen, what in yll chaunce hath befallen you. To whom straight-waies with a pleasaunt countenance and [Page 401] quiet minde he answered, nay what an yll chaunce and misery is befallen him that hath done this: for to me what hath happened? By which wor­des of his it appeareth, to what great perfection he was arriued, that tooke so quietlye the losse of all his worldly wealth, and was more sorye for the others synne, then grieued for his ovv­ne losse: and more thoughte vvhat his neighbour had inwardly lost in his sou­le, then vvhat him selfe had outvvar­dly lost in his substance. When this man lay a dying, manye came to visit him, and to commend theire soules to his, that vvas novve leauing this vvorlde: and standing about his bedd, some of them behelde Angels com­ming in, but yet vvere not able to tell it vnto others then present: others there were, that sawe nothing, but yet such a great feare fell vpon them all, that none coulde indure to remayne in that place, when his soule departed the bodye: and therfore all of them terrified and wholy possessed with feare fled awaye: by which they per­ceiued of what power he was, that receiued his soule going out of [Page 400] [...] [Page 401] [...] [Page 402] this worlde: seing at that tyme no mortall creature coulde endure to be there present.

CHAPTER XX.

BVt here we haue to vnderstande, Merit. that sometyme the merit of the soule, is not so truly knowne at the ty­me of the departure, as it is afterward: and therfore diuers holy martirs haue suffred many great tormentes at the handes of insidels: who afterwardes at theire deade bones, were famous for si­gnes Miracles wrought by the re­lickes of martirs. and miracles as before hath bene noted.

CHAPTER XXI.

For the vertuous man Valentinus, who afterward as you knowe was in this citye Abbot of my Mona terye, hauing had before in the prou [...]nce of [Page 403] Valeria the gouerment of an other Ab­bey: into which as he tolde me the cruell Lombardes entred in, and hunge vp two of his monkes vpon a tree, who in that manner ended theire life. When euening was come, both theire soules began in that place to singe so plainely and distinctlye, that they also who had killed them, hearing that kinde of musick, became wonderful­lye affraide. All the prisoners likewise that were there present hearde it, and afterwarde witnessed the same: which strange melodye, Gods prouidence wolde haue knowne, to the ende that mortall men liuinge yet vpon earthe mighte thereby learne, how that yf theye serue him truly in this worlde, that they shall after death verily liue with him in the worlde to come.

CHAPTER XXII.

AT such tyme as I yet liued in the Monasterye, I vnderstode by the relation of certaine religious men, that in the tyme of the Lombardes, in this [Page 404] very Prouince called Sura and not far of, there was an holy Abbot called Su­ranus, who bestowed vpon certaine prisoners which had escaped there handes, all such thinges as he had in his Monasterye: and when he had giuen avvaye in asmes all his ovvne appar­rell, and vvhatsoeuer he coulde finde either in the monkes celles, or in the yardes, and nothing vvas lefte: sud­dainlye the Lombardes came thither, tooke him prisoner, and demanded vvhere his golde vvas: and vvhen he tolde them, that he had nothing, they carried him to an hill hard by, vvhere there vvas a mightye great vvode in vvhich a certaine prisoner that ran avvay from them had hidd him selfe in an hollovve tree. There one of the Lombardes dravvinge out his svvorde slevve the foresaide venerable Abbot, vvhose bodye as it fell to the ground, suddainly al the hill together with the woode did shake, as thoughe the earth by that tremblinge had saide, that it coulde not beare the waighte of his holines and vertue.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AN other Deacon also there was in the Prouince of the Marsori, a man of holy life, whom the Lombardes had taken, and one with his sworde had cutt of his heade. But as his body fell to the grounde, he that slewe him was possessed by a deuill, and so he fell downe at the holy mans feete, shewing thereby that he was deliuered to the enemy of God, because he had so cruellye slaine the friende of God.

What is the reason I beseeche you, that almightye God suffreth them to be put to death: whom afterwarde he doth make knowne to the worlde, that they were holy men, and his dere seruauntes.

CHAPTER XXIIII.

SEinge we finde it writter, that what death so euer the iust man dieth, that his iustice shall not be taken from him: what hurt commeth to Gods elect seruates, (vvalking no que­stion the way to euerlasting life) yf for a little while, they haue some pitifull end: and perhappes it procedeth from some small synne of theires, which by such kinde of death Gods pleasure is that it sholde be purged. And here of it commeth, that reprobates receiue supe­rioritye and power ouer others, who at theire death, be so much the more punnished, for that they vsed theire cruell authoritye against Gods ser­uantes: as the foresaide wicked and wretched man, whom God suffred not to triumphe ouer that venerable Deacon, thoughe he permitted him to kill his bodye: which thinge to be true we learne also out of holy scriptures. For that man of God which was sent [Page 407] against Samaria, because contrarye to 3. Reg. 19. Gods commandement he did eate in in his iorny, was slayne by a lion: and yet in the same place we reade, that the lion stoode by the mans asse, and did not touche his dead bodye. By which we perceiue, that his synne of disobe­dience, was by that his death pardo­ned: because the same lion that feared not to kill him, presumed not yet to touch his dead carcasse: for licence he had for the one, but no leaue was graunted for the other, because he that was culpable in his life, hauing his syn­ne of disobedience now punnished, was iust by his death: and therfore the lion that before slewe the body of a synner, preserued afterward the corps of a iust man.

Your discourse pleaseth me very well: yet willing I am to knowe, whe­ther before the resurrection, the soules of iust men do enter into the kingdo­me of heauen:

CHAPTER XXV.

THis thinge speaking generallye Al iust men go not straighte to heauen of all iust men, can neither be af­firmed nor denied: for the soules of some iust men, remayninge as yet in certaine mansions, be differ [...]ed from heauen: by which staye of theirs, what els do we learne, but that they lacked some-what of perfect iustice. And yet is it more clere then daye that the soules of them that be perfect, do straighte after death possesse the ioyes of heauen: the truthe where of Christ him selfe assureth vs when he saith: VVheresoeuer the body shal be, thither will the Luc. 17. eagles be gathered together: for where our Sauiour is present in bodye, thither without all question doe the soules o: [...] iust men assemble them selues: and S. Paul saith: I desire to be dissolued and to [...] Philip. 1. with Christ. He therfore tha [...] doubteth not Christ to be in heauen, how can [Page 409] he doubt that S. Paules soule is in the same place: which Apostle speaketh al­so of the dissolution of his body, and his dwelling in heauen in these wor­des. VVe knowe that if our terestrial house of 2 Corint. 5. this habitation be dissolued, that we haue a buildinge of God; and house not made with handes, but euerlasting in heauen.

If iust mens soules be already in heauē; what then shall they receiue for a rewarde of theire vertuous and iust life at the daye of iudgement?

Whereas nowe theire soules be only in heauen, at the day of iudgement, this further increase of ioye shall they haue, that theire bodies, also, shall be partakers of eternall blisse, and they shall in theire fleshe receiue ioye: in which for Christes sake, they suffred griefe and to [...]mentes. In respect of this there douole glorye, the scripture saith. In theire land, they shal possesse double Esay. 61. thinges: and it is written of the soules of the iust, that before the day of resurre­ction. To euery one of them white stoales Apocalip. 6. [Page 410] were giuen: and it was saide to them: that they should rest yet a little tyme, vntill the number of theire fellow-seruantes and brethren were complete. They therfore that now receiue but one stoale, in the daye of iudgement shall euery one haue two: because nowe they reioyce only for the felicitye of theire soules, but then shall they enioye the endlesse glorye of bodye and soule together.

I graunt it to be as you saye but what I beseech you, is the reason that ostentymes those which ly a dyinge, do prophecye and tell of many thin­ges to come.

CHAPTER XXVI.

SOmetyme the soule it selfe by rea­son of the spirituall nature vvhich [Page 411] it hath, doth foresee some thing which will so fall out: and sometyme soules before theire departure, come to the knowledge of future thinges by reue­lation: sometyme also when they are straight-waies to leaue the body, by heauenly inspiration they penetrate with theire spirituall eies, the secrets of heauen. For that the soule by reason of the spirituall nature which it hath, doth knowe thinges to come, certaine it is, by that which happened to a cer­taine aduocate in this citye, who died two daies agoe of a paine in his side. For a little before his death, he called for his boye, to giue him his apparrel, that he mighte rise vp and walke: who supposinge him not to knowe what he saide refused to do what he willed him. Where vpon herose vp, put on his clothes, and saide that he wolde go to the churche of S. Sixtus, which is in the waye called Appia: and when not longe after, his sicknes increasing lie departed this life, determined it was, that his bod [...]e sholde be buried in the churche of S. Ianuarius the martir, which standeth vpon the way called Prenestina. But because they which had [Page 412] the care of his buriall thoughte i [...] too far of, suddainlye they resolued vpon a newe course: and so going forth with his corps by the waye called Appia, not knowinge what he had saide, they bu­ried him in that church, which before he mentioned: and seing it is well knowne, that he was a man giuen to the worlde, and one that soughte after earthly gaine, how coulde he know that which fell out, but that the force and spirituall nature of his soule, did foresee what shoulde become of his bodye?

That those also which lye a dyinge, do oftentymes by diuine reuelation foretell what shall happen afterwarde, we may learne by such thinges as ha­ue fallen out amongest vs in diuers Abbeyes. For ten yeares since, there was a monke in my Monasterye, cal­led Gerontius, who lying sore sicke, sawe by vision in the nighte tyme, certaine white men bewtifully ap­parrelled to descende from aboue into the Monasterye, and standing by his beddes side, one of them saide. The [Page 413] cause of our comminge hither is, to choose out certaine of Gregories mon­kes to sende them abroade vnto the warres: and forthwith he com­manded an other to write in a bill the names of Marcellus, Valentinian, Agnellus, and diuers others, whose na­mes I haue nowe forgotten: that being done he saide further. Putt dow­ne also the name of him that nowe beholdeth vs. By which vision he being assured of that which would come to passe, the next morning he tolde the monkes, who they were that should shortly dy out of the Monaste­rye, adding also that him selfe was to followe them. The next day the fore­saide monkes fell more dangerously sicke, and so died all in that verye or­der, which they were named in the bill. Last of all him selfe also de­parted this life, who hade foretold the departure of thee other monkes before him.

Likewise in that mortalitye which three years since lamentablye affli­cted this towne, there was in the [Page 414] Monasterye of the citye of Portua, a yonge monke called Mellitus, a man of wonderfull simplicitye and humilitye, whose last daye being come, he fell desperatlye sicke of the common di­sease: which when venerable Felix Bishop of the same place vnderstoode, (by whose relation my selfe haue lear­ned this storye) verye carefull he was to visit him, and with sweete wordes to comfort him against death: adding not-withstandinge, that by Gods gra­ce he mighte liue longe in this worlde. To whom the sicke man answered, that his tyme was at hande, saying that there came vnto him a yonge man with letters, willing him to open and reade them: which when he had done, he saide that he founde both his owne name, and all the rest of them which the Easter before had bene baptized by that Bishop, written in letters of gol­de: and first of all he saide that he foun­de his owne name, and afterwarde the rest of them that were christned at that tyme: by which he made no doubt but that both him selfe and the rest, shoulde shortly depart this life, and so it fell out, for he died that very daye: [Page 415] and after him followed all those which had before benebaptised, so that with­in the space of a fewe daies, no one of them was left aliue. Of whom no que­stion can be made, but that the reason why the foresaide seruaunt of God saw them written in gold was, becau­se theire names were written in hea­uen in the euer lasting sighte of God.

And as these men by diuine reuela­tion, knewe and foretolde such thinges as were to come: so sometymes soules before theire departure, not in a drea­me but waking, may haue some taste of heauenly mysteries. For you were well acquainted with Ammonius a mon­ke of my Monasterye, who whiles he liued in a secular vveede and vvas Secular weede [...]. married to the daughter of Valerianus a lavvyer in this citye, continuallye and vvith all diligence he follovved his busines: by reason vvhereof, he knevve vvhatsoeuer vvas done in his father in lawes house: This man tolde me, hovv in that great mortalitye vvhich hap­pened in this citye, in the tyme of that noble man Narsus, there vvas a boye in the house of the foresaide Valerianus, cal­led Armentarius, vvho vvas verye simple [Page 416] and passing humble: when therfore that mortall disease entred that law­yers house, the foresaide boy fell sicke thereof, and was brought to the poin­te of death: who suddainly falling into a traunce, and afterward comming to him selfe againe, caused his master to be sent for, to whom he told that he had bene in heauen, and did knowe who they were that should dy out of his house. Such and such (quoth he) shall dye, but as for your selfe feare no­thinge, for at this tyme dy you shall not. And that you may be assured that I haue verily bene in heauen, beholde I haue there receiued the gift to spea­ke with all tongues: you knowe well ynoughe that ignorant I am of the greke tongue, and yet will I speake greeke, that you may see whether it be true that I saye or no. Then his master spake greke, and he so answered him in that tongue, that all which were pre­sent did much maruaile. In the same house there was a Vulga [...], seruant to the foresaide Narsus, who in all hast being brought to the sicke person spake vnto him in the Vulgarian ton­gue: and the boye that was borne and [Page 417] broughte vp in Italye, answered him so in that barbarous language, as thou­ghe he had bene borne and bredd in that countrye. All that hearde him thus talking wondred much, and by experience of two tongues which they knewe very well that before he knewe not, they made no doubt of the rest, thoughe they could make no trial thereof. After this he liued tvvo daies, and vpon the thirde by vvhat secret iudgement of God none can tell, he tare and rent vvith his teth his ovvne handes and armes, and so departed this life. When he was deade, all those whom before he mentioned did quic­klye follow after: and besides them, none in that house died at that tyme.

A verye terrible thinge it is, that he which merited so great a grace, should be punnished with so pitifull a death.

Who is able to enter into the secret iudgements of God? Wherfore those thinges which in diuine examination we can not comprehend, we ought rather to feare, then curiouslye to dis­cusse.

CHAPTER XXVII.

ANd to prosecute what we haue already begun, concerning the propheticall knowledge of those that dye, I will nowe tell you that which when I was in the citye of Centumcellis I vnderstoode by the relatiō of many, touching Theophanius Earle of that pla­ce. For he was a man of great mercye and compassion, and one that did ma­ny goode worckes, but especiallye he was giuen to goode house-keeping and hospitalitye. True it is that following the affaires of his Earldom, he spent much tyme about earthly and worl­dlye busines, but that rather of neces­sitye and duty, then according to his [Page 419] owne minde and desire, as his vertuous ende afterwarde declared. For when the tyme of his death was come, there arose a great tempest, which was li­kelye to hinder the funeralles: where at his wife pitifullye weeping asked him in this manner: what shall I do? or how shall we carye you to be buried seing the tempest is so terrible, that none can stir out of doores? To whom he answered thus: weepe not good wife, for so sone as I am deade you shall haue faire wether: and when he had so saide, he gaue vp the ghost: and straighte-waies the aier became clere, and the tempest ceased: after this mi­racle one or tvvo more follovved. For vvhereas his handes and feete, vvere vvith the goute before svvolne and fe­stered; and by reason of much corrupt matter, did sauour and smell: yet vvhen he vvas dead, and his body after the manner came to be vvashed, they founde his handes and feete so sounde and vvhole, as though they had neuer bene trobled vvith any such sores at all. Fovver daies after his burial, his vvife vvas desirous to haue the mar­ble stone that lay vpon him changed: [Page 420] vvhich being done, such a fragrant and pleasant smell came from his bodye, as thoughe in steade of wormes, spices had sprunge out of that corrupt car­casse: of which strange thinge when I did in my Homelies make publicke mention, and certaine incredulous persons doubted thereof: vpon a daye as I was sitting in the companye of diuers noble men, those very vvork­men which had changed the tombe stone, came vnto me about busines of theire owne: whom in the presence of the clergye, nobilitve, and common people I examined, touching that mi­racle: and they all affirmed it to be most true, sayinge that they were in a strange manner replenished with that swete smell: and they added also cer­taine other thinges concerninge his sepulchre, that made the miracle grea­ter, which not to be ouer longe I meane to passe ouer with silence.

I perceiue nowe that my former question is sufficientlye satisfied: yet an other remaineth which troubleth [Page 421] my minde, and that is, seinge you affir­med before, that holy mens soules which departe this life be nowe in heauen: it followeth consequentlye, that the soules of the wicked be also in hell: and yet ignorant I am whether it be so or no, for mans ymagination can not conceiue, howe the soules of syn­ners can be torme [...]ted before the daye of iudgement.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

YF by the testimonye of holy scri­pture, you beleeue that the soules of holy and perfect men be in heauen: by the same reason ought you also to beleeue, that the soules of the wic­ked be in hell: for as iust men do re­ioice and be glad at the retribution of eternal iustice, so necessary it is that the wicked at the same iustice [Page 422] sholde be grieued, and tormented [...] for as heauenly felicitye doth glad the elect, so vve oughte to beleeue that from the daye of theire departure, fire doth afflict and burne the reprobat.

With vvhat reason can vve beleeue, that corporall fire can holde and tor­ment an incorporall thinge.

CHAPTER XXIX.

YF a spirit vvithout a body, can be holden and kept in the bodye of a liuing man: vvhy like vvise after death maye not an incorporal spirit, be hol­den and kept in corporall fire?

The reason vvhy an incorporal spi­rit in euerye liuing man is kept in the bodye, is, because it doth quicken and giue life to the bodye.

Yf an incorporall spirit Peter may be kept in that, to vvhich it giueth li­fe: vvhy also for punnishement may it not be kept there, where it continually dieth? And we saye that a spirit is hol­den by fire, to the end that in the tor­ment thereof, it maye both by seeing and feeling be punnished: for the soule by seeing of the fire is afflicted, & bur­ned it is, in that it seeth it selfe to be burned: and so it falleth out, that a cor­porall thinge may burne that vvhich hath no bodye, whiles that an inuisible burninge and sorrowe is drawne from visible fire, and the incorporall soule by meanes of corporall fire maye be tormented with a spirituall and incor­porall flame: although out of the Gos­pell we also learne that the soule is not only tormented by seeing the fire, but also by the feeling thereof: for the riche glutton as our Sauiour saith was buried in hell. And he giueth vs to vnderstande, that his soule was kept in fire, in that he telleth vs how he did beseech Abraham, speaking to him in this manner. Send Lazarus Luc. 16. [Page 424] that he may dipp the topp of his finger into the water, and may refrethe my tongue: because I am tormented in this flame. Seing then, truth it selfe assureth vs, that the sinfull rich man was condemned into fire, what wise man can deny that the soules of the reprobat be detained in fire.

Both reason and testimonye of scripture draweth my minde to be­leue what your saye: but yet when I thinke not of them, it returneth againe to his former opinion: for I nei­ther see nor can perceiue, how a corporall thinge can holde and tor­ment that, which is incorporall and without bodye.

Tell me I praye you, whether do you thincke that those Angels which fell from heauen, haue bodies or no?

What man that hath his wittes, vvill say that they haue any bodies.

And whether do you thincke that the fire of hel is corporal or spirituall.

I make no doubt but that it is cor­porall, seinge most certaine it is, that bodies be burned therewith.

And as certaine it is, that at the daye of iudgement, our Sauiour shall saye to the reprobate: Go into euerlasting Math. 25. fire, which is prepared for the deuil and his angels. Yf then the deuill and his angels, thoughe without bodies shall be tormented with corporall fire, what maruail is it, that the soules after theire departure, and before they be vnited againe to theire bodies, may in like manner suffer corporal tormen­tes?

The reason you giue is very plaine, and therfor now there is not any fur­ther doubte touchinge this question, that doth troublemy minde.

CHAPTER XXX.

SEing with such difficulty you are broughte to beleeue: I thincke it worth my labour, to let you vnderstad such thinges concerning this very pointe, as I haue receaued from them that be of goode credit. Iulian who died almost seuen yeres since, & had a wor­shipfull office in this church of Rome, in which nowe by Gods prouicence I serue, vsed often to visit me (liuing as yet in my Monastery) and to talke with me of spirituall thinges for the goode of both out soules. This man vpon a daye tolde me this storye. In the tyme of kinge Theodoricus (quoth he) my wiues father being the [...] in Si­cilye was to returne into Italy. The shipp in which he came, arriued at the Ilande of Liparis: where he vnderstood Solitary men and Anchore­tes. that there dwelt a certaine solitary man of great vertue, whom he thoughte goode, whiles the mariners [Page 427] were occupied about mendinge of theire shipp and tacklinge to visit, to talke with him, and to commende him selfe to his praiers: and so he did in the company of others. When they were come to the man of God, amongest other talke which they had, he asked them this question. Do you (quoth he) heare that kinge Theodoricus is deade? to whom they quickly answered: God forbidd, we lefte him aliue at our de­parture from Rome: and before this pre­sent we neuer hearde of any such thinge. Then the seruaunt of God told them, that certainly he was deade: for yesterdaye (quoth he) at nine of the clocke he was without shoes and girdle, and his handes fast bounde, broughte betwixt Iohne the Pope, and Symmachus the Senator: and throw­ne into A rup­ture of the earth, that ca­steth forth fire. Vulcanes gulph, which is not far from this place. When they hearde this nevves, carefullye they vvrot dovvne the tyme, and at theire returne into Italy, they vnderstood that kinge Theodoricus died vpon that verye daye, in vvhich his vnhappy passage out of this worlde & punnishement, vvas reuealed to the seruant of God. [Page 428] And for as much as he had by misera­ble inprisonment bene the death of Pope Iohne, and also killed Symnachus: iustlye did he appeare to be throwne of them into fire, whom before in this life he had vniustly condemned.

CHAPTER XXXI.

AT the same tyme, when I first desired to leade a solitary life: a certaine old man called Deusdedit, pas­sing well beloued of the whole citye, and one also that was my friende and familiar acquaintance, tolde me that in the tyme of the Gothes, a certaine worshipfull man called Repararus ca­me to dye: who lying a longe while with his countenance changed, and his body stiffe: many thoughte in ve­rye deede that he had bene deade [...]: and when diuers of his friendes and fami­lye wept for his departure, all on a sud­daine he came to him felfe, to the great admiration of his mourning [Page 429] house-holde. Being returned thus to life, he bad them in all hast to send a boye to the church of S. Laurence in Damafo (so called of him that built it) and quicklye to bringe worde what was become of Tiburtius the Prlest. This Tiburtius as the speeche went, was much giuen to a dissolute and wanton life: and Florentius who at that tyme was a Priest in the same church, re­membreth full well his conuersation and manner of life. When the mes­senger was gone, Reparatus that was returned to life, tolde them that in the place where he was, he sawe a great woode-pile made readye, and Tiburtius broughte forthe and laide vpon it, and there to haue bene burnt with fire. Then an other fire (quoth he) was prepared, which was so highe, that it reached from earth to heauen, but althoughe they deman­ded for whom it was, yet did he not tell them: for when he had spoken the­se wordes straight-waies he died: and the boy vvhich vvas sent to see vvhat vvas became of Tiburtius, returned vvith newes, that he found him a little [Page 430] before his comming departed this life. By vvhich vve may learne, that seing this Reparatus vvas caried to the places of tormentes to see them, returned af­ter vvarde to life to tell vvhat he had there behelde, and straighte after left this vvorlde: that he savve not all these thinges for him selfe, but for vs that yet liue, and haue tyme graunted to amende our vvicked liues. And the reason vvhy Reparatus savve that great vvoode-pile burning, vvas not that vve sholde thincke that the fire of hell is nourished with any woode: but be­cause he vvas to make relation of the­se thinges to them, that remayned still in this vvorlde, he savve that fire pre­pared for the vvicked, to be made of the same matter of vvhich our fire is, to the ende, that by those thinges vvhich vve knovve, and be acquainted vvith: vve should learne to be affraide of those, vvhich yet vve haue not sene nor haue any experience.

CHAPTER XXXII.

MAximianus Bishop of Siracusis, a man of holy life, who for a lon­ge tyme in this citye had the gouern­ment of my Monasterye, often tolde me a terrible storye, which fell out in the Prouince of Valeria. A certaine courtier vpon Easter euen was God­father to a yonge maide, who after the fast was ended returned home to his house: where drinckinge more wine then ynoughe, he desired that his God daughter might tarry with him: whom that nighte which is horrible to speake of, he did vtterlye vndoe. In the morning vpp he rose, and with guilty conscience, thought goode to go vnto the bathe, as thoughe the water of that place coulde haue washed awaye the filthines of his synne, yet he went and washed him selfe. Then he began to doubt whether it vvere best to goe vnto the church or no: fearing on the one side vvhat men wolde say, yf he vvent not vpon that so great a [Page 432] festiual day: and on the other yf he did go, he trembled to thincke of Gods iudgement. In conclusion shame of the worlde ouercame him, and therfore to the churche he went: where yet he remained with great feare and horror, loking euery instant that he should haue bene deliuered to the deuile, and tormented before all the people. At that solemne masse Solemne. masse. though he did wonderfully shake for feare, yet he scaped free from all pu­nishement: and so he departed very ioyfully from churche: and the next day after, came thither without any feare at all: and so merilie and securely he continewed for six daies together, thincking with him self, that either God savve not that his abhominable sinne, or els that mercifully he had pardoned the same. Vpon the seuenth daye, by suddaine death he was taken out of this vvorlde. And being buried, for a longe time after in the sighte of the whole to vvne a flame of fire came out of his graue, vvhich burnt his bones so longe, vntill it consumed the very graue it selfe, in such sor [...]e that the earth vvhich was raised vp with [Page 433] a little bancke, appeared lower then the rest of the grounde. By which fact almightye God declared, vvhat his soule suffred in the other vvorlde, vvhose dead body flaminge fire con­sumed in this. To vs also he hath lefte a fearefull example, that vve may the­re-by learne, vvhat the liuing and sen­sible soule suffreth for synne commit­ted, vvhen as the sensible bones by such a punnishement of fire vvere burnt to nothinge.

Desirous I am to knovve vvhether in heauen the goode knovve the goo­de, and the vvicked in hell knovve one an other.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THe truthe of this question vve finde most clerelye resolued in those vvordes of our Sauiour before alleaged: in vvhich vvhen it is saide [Page 434] that, There was a certaine rich man, and he Luc. 16. was clad with purple and silke, and he fared euery day magnificallye: and there was a cer­taine begger called Lazarus, that lay at his ga­te ful of sores, desiring to be filled of the crom­mes that fel from the rich mans table, and none did giue him, but the dogges also came and lic­ked his sores: straighte—vvaies it is there also saide, that. Lazarus died, and was car­ried of the Angels into Abrahames bosome: and the rich man also died, and was buried in hell: who lifting vp his eies being in tormentes, sawe Abraham a far of, and Lazarus in his bo­some, and he cried saying: father Abraham ha­ue mercye on me, and send Lazarus that he may dippe the tippe of his finger into water, for to coole my tongue, because I am tormented in this flame. To vvhom Abraham an [...]vve­red. Sonne, remēber that thowe diddes [...] recei­ue goode thinges in thy life tyme, and Lazarus likewise euil. By vvwhich wordes, the rich man hauing no hoope of saluation for him selfe, beginneth to make sute for his friendes saying: Father I beseeche the that thow woldest send him vnto my fathers house, for I haue fiue brethren, for to testify vnto them, least they also come into this place of tormentes. In which wordes we see plainlye, that the good do knowe the [Page 435] goode, and the badd haue knowledge of the badd. For yf Abraham had not knowne Lazarus, neuer wolde he haue spoken to the riche man being in tor­mentes, and made mention of his affli­ction and misery past, sayinge: that he had receiued euil thinges in his life. And yf the badd, did not know the badde: ne­uer wolde the rich man in tormentes haue remembred his brethren that were absent: for shall we thincke that he knewe not them, that were present with him, who was so carefull to praye for them that were absent?

By which we learne also the an­swer to an other question, which you demanded not: and that is, that the goode do knowe the badde, and the badde the goode. For Abraham knewe the rich man, to whom he saide. Thow hast receiued goode thinges in thy life: and Lazarus Gods elect seruant, vvas also knovvne to the rich reprobat, vvhom by name he desired, that he mighte be sent vnto him saying: Send Lazarus, that he may dippe the tippe of his finger into water, and coolemy tongue: by vvhich mu­tuall knovvledg on both sides, the re­vvarde like wise to both partes encrea­seth, [Page 436] for the goode do more reioice, when they beholde them also in felici­tye, whom before they loued: and the wicked seeing them, whom in this worlde not respecting God they did loue, to be now punnished in theire cōpanye, tormented they are, not only with theire owne paines but also with the paines of theire frendes. Beside all this, a more wonderful grace is besto­wed vpon the saintes in heauē: for they knowe not only them, with whom they were acquainted in this worlde, but also those, whom before they ne­uer sawe, and conuerse with them in such familiar sort as thoughe in [...]ymes past they had sene and knowne one an other: and therfore when they shall see the auncient fathers in that place of perpetual blisse, they shall then knowe them by sighte, whom alwaies they knewe in theire liues and conuersa­tion. For seing they doe in that place with vnspeakeable brightenes (com­mon to all) beholde God, what is the­re that they knowe not, that knowe him who knoweth all thinges?

CHAPTER XXXIIII.

FOr a certaine religious man of my Monasterye, that liued a vertuous life, dying some fower yeres since, sawe at the very tyme of his departu­re (as other religious men do report, that were present) the Prophet Ionas, Ezechiell, and Daniell, and by there na­mes called them his Lordes, saying, that they were come vnto him: and as he was bowing his heade downe­warde to them for reuerence, he gaue vp the ghost: whereby we perceiue what perfect knowledge, shall be in that immortall life, vvhen as this man beinge yet in corrupt [...]ble fleshe, knewe the Prophetes whom he neuer sawe.

CHAPTER XXXV.

ANd sometyme it falleth out, that the soule before it depar­teth, knoweth them with whom by reason of equalitye of synnes or re­wardes, it shall in the next worlde re­mayne in one place. For old Eleutherius a man of holy life, of whom in the former booke I spake muche saith, that he had a naturall brother of his, called Iohne, who liued together with him in his Monasterye, who fourtene daies before hande tolde the monkes when he was to dye: and three daies before he departed this life, he fell into an agewe, & when his time was come, he receiued the mysterye of our Lordes body and bloude: and calling for the monkes about him, he willed them to singe in his presence, prescribing them [Page 439] a certaine antheme concerning him selfe, sayinge. Open vnto me the gates of iu­stice Psal. 17. v. 19. and being gone into them, I will confesse vnto our Lorde: this is the gate of our Lorde, iuste men shall enter in by it: and whiles the monkes about him were singinge this antheme, suddainlye with a loude and longe voice he cried out, saying: Come awaye Vrsus: straighte after which wordes his soule departed this mortall life. The monkes maruailed, because theye knewe not the meaning of that, which at his death he so cried for: and therfore after his departure, all the Monastery was in sorrow and af­fliction. Fower daies after, necessary busines they had, to send some of thei­re brethren to an other Monastery far distant: to which place when they ca­me, they founde all the monkes in great heauines, and demanding the rea­son, they tolde them, that they did la­ment the desolation of theire house: for fower daies since (quoth they) one of our monkes died whose life kept vs all in this place: and when they inqui­red his name, they vnderstoode that it was Vrsus: asking also at what houre he left this wo [...]lde, they found that it [Page 440] was as that very instant, when he was called by Iohne who died with them. Out of which we may learne that the merites of either were alike: and that in the next worlde they liued fa­miliarly together in one mansion, who at one tyme like fellowes depar­ted this life.

Here also will I tell you what I hearde from the mouthes of my neighbours, at such tyme as I was yet a lay man, and dwelled in my fathers house, which descended to me by in­heritance. A certain widow there was not far from me called Galla, which had a younge man to her sonne, who­se name was Eumorphius: not far from whom dwelt one Steuen called also Optio. This Eumorphius lying sicke at the pointe of death, called for his man, commanding him in all hast to goe vnto Steuen Optio, and to desire him without all delaye to come vnto him, because there was a ship ready, to carry them both into Sicily. But be­cause his man refused to goe, supposing that through extremitye of sicknes he knewe not what he spake, his ma­ster [Page 441] very earnestlye vrged him for­warde sayinge: Goe thy may and tell him what I saye, for I am not mad, as thow thinckest. Here-vpon away he went towardes Steuen, but as he was in the middest of his iornye, he met one that asked him whether he was goinge, and when he tolde him, that he was by his master sent to Ste­uen Optio: You lose your labour (quoth the other) for I come nowe from thence: and he died this verye hou­re. Backe againe vpon this newes he returned to his master Eumorphius: but before he coulde get home, he founde him deade. And so by conferring theire meeting together, and the length of the waye, apparaunt it was that both of them, at one and the selfe same instant departed this mortall life.

Very terrible it is that you saye: but what I praye yow is the reason, that he sawe a shipp at his departure: or [Page 442] why did he sayo, that he was to goe in­to Sicily?

The soule needeth not any thing to cary it: yet no wonder it is, yf that ap­peared to the soule being yet in the body, which by meanes of the bodye it had often tymes before sene: to the end that we should thereby vnderstan­ne whether his soule mighte spiritual­ly be carried. And in that he saide he was to goe into Sicily, what els can be ment therebye but that there be in the Ilandes of that countrye mo­re then in any place els, certayne ga­ping gulphes of tormentes, castinge out fire continually. And as they say that knowe them, dailye do they wax greater, and enlarge them selues: so that the worlde drawinge to an ende, and so consequently more comming thither to be burnt in those flaminge dungeons, so much the more do those places of tormentes open and become wider. Which strange thing almighty God, for the terror and amendement of the liuing wolde haue extant in this world, that infidels which beleeue [Page 443] not the vnspeakable paines of hell, may with their eies see the places of tor­mentes, which they list not to credit when it is told them. And that both the elect and reprobat, whose life and conuersation hath bene alike, shal after death be carried to like places, the sayinge of our Sauiour doth teach vs, thoughe we had no examples to proue the same: for of the elect him selfe saith in the Gospell. In the house of my father, Ioan. 14. Inequali­ty of re­wardes in heauen. there be many mansions. For yf there were not inequalitye of rewardes in the euerlasting felicitye of heauen, then were there not many mansions, but rather one: wherfore there be many mansions, in which diuers orders and degrees of Gods sainctes be distin­guished, who in common do all reioice of the society and fellowship of theire merites, and yet all they that labored, receiue one penny, thoughe they re­mayne in distinct mansions: because the felicitye and ioye which there they possesse is one, and the rewarde which by diuers and vnequall good Worckes they receiue, is not one but diuers: which to be true our Sauiour assureth vs, when talkinge of his comminge to [Page 444] iudgement he saith. Then I wil say to the Math. 13. reapers: Gather vp the cockle and binde it into bundels to burne. For the Angels w [...]ich be the reapers, do then binde vp in bundles the cockle to burne, when li­ke with like are putt together in tor­mentes: as the proude to burne in hell with the proude, carnall with the car­nall, couetous with the couetous, de­ceiptfull with the deceiptfull, inuious with the inuious, and infidels with in­sidels: when therfore those that were like in sinfull life, be condemned to like tormentes, then be they as it were cockle bounde together in bundels to be burnte.

You haue giuen a sufficient reason for satisfaction to my demande: yet I beseech you to informe me further, what the cause is, that some be called out of this vvorlde as it vvere throu­ghe error: vvho aftervvarde returne againe to life, saying that they hearde, hovv they vvere not the men vvhich vvere sent for out of this life.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

VVHen this happeneth Peter, it is not, yf it be vvell consi­dered, any error, but an admonition. For God of his great and bountifull mercy so disposeth, that some after theire death do straighte-vvaies re­turne againe to life, that hauing seene the tormentes of hell, vvhich before vvhen they hearde they vvolde not beleeue, they may novv at least treble at, after they haue vvith theire eyes be­held them. For a certaine Sclauonian, vvho vvas a monke, and hued vvith me here in this city in my Monasterye, vsed to tell me, that at such tyme as he dvvelt in the vvildernes, that he knevve one Peter a monke borne in Spaine, vvho liued vvith him in the vast desert, called Euasa: vvhich Peter. Eremites. [Page 446] (as he saide) tolde him how before he came to dwell in that place, by a cer­taine sicknes he died, and was straight­waies restored to life againe, affirming that he had sene the tormentes and in­numerable places of hell, and diuers who were mighty men in this vvorl­de, hanging in those flames: and that as him selfe was caried to be throwne al­so into the same fire, suddainly an An­gel in a be wtifull attire appeared, who wolde not suffre him to be cast into those tormentes: but spake vnto him in this manner. Go thy way backe againe, and hereafter carefully looke vnto thy selfe, how thow leadest thy life: after which wordes his body by little and little became warme, and him selfe waking out of the slepe of euerlasting death, reported all such thinges as happened about him: after which tyme he bounde him selfe to such fasting and watchinge, that thou­ghe he had saide nothing, yet his very life and conuersation did speake vvhat tormentes he had sene and was affrai­de of: and so Gods mercifull prouiden­ce wroughte in his temporall death that he died not euerlastinglye.

But because mans harte is passing obdurat and harde, hereof it commeth that thoughe others haue the like vi­sion, and see the same paines, yet do they not alwaies reape the like profit. For the honorable man Steuen, whom you knevve very vvell, tolde me of him selfe, that at such tyme as he vvas vpon busines resident in the city of Gonstantinople, that he fell sicke and died: and vvhen they sought for a surgeon to bovvell him, and to embalme his bodye and coulde not get any, he laye vnburied all the nighte follovving: in vvhich space his soule vvas carried to the dungeon of hell, vvhere he savve many thinges, vvhich before when he heard he little beleeued. But vvhen he vvas broughte before the iudge that satt there, he vvolde not admitt him to his presence sayinge: I commanded not this man to be broughte, but Ste­uen the smith: vpon which wordes he was straighte-way restored to life, and Steuen the smith that dwelled harde by, at that very houre departed this life: whose death did showe that the wordes which he heard were most true. But thoughe the foresaide Steuen [Page 448] escaped death in this manner at that tyme, yet three yeares since in that mortalitye vvhich lamentably vvasted this citye, (and in vvhich as you knovve, men vvith theire corporall eies did behold arrovves that came from heauen, vvhich did strike diuers) the same man ended his daies: at vvhich tyme a certaine soldiar being also broughte to the pointe of death; his soule vvas in such sort caried cut of his bodye that he lay voide of all sence and feelinge, but comminge quickely againe to him selfe he tolde then that vvere present, vvhat present, vvhat strange th [...]nges he had sene. For he saide (as many re­port that knowe it very well) that he sawe a bridge, vnder which a blacke and smoakye riuer did runne, that had a filthy and intollerable smell: but vpon the further side thereof there were pleasant grene medowes full of swete flowers, in which also there we­re diuers companies of men apparrel­led in white: and such a delicate sauour there was, that the fragrant odour the­reof did giue wonderfull content to all them that dwelt and walked in [Page 449] that place. Diuers particular mansions also there were, all shining with brightnes and lighte, and especiallye one magnificall and sumptuous hou­se which was a buildinge, the brick whereof seemed to be of golde, but whose it was that he knewe not.

There were also vpon the bancke of the foresaide riuer certaine houses, but some of them the stinking vapour which rose from the riuer did touche, and some other it touched not at all. Nowe those that desired to passe ouer the foresaide bridge, were subiect to this manner of triall: yf any that was wicked attempted to go ouer, downe he fell into that darcke and stincking riuer: but those that were iust and not hindred by synne, securely and easily passed ouer to those pleasant and deli­cate places. There he saide also that he sawe Peter, who was stewarde of the Popes familye, and died some fower years since, thrust into a most filthy place, where he was bounde and kept downe, with a great waighte of yron: and inquiring why he vvas so [Page 450] vsed, he receiued that answere, which all we, that knewe his life can affirme to be most true: for it was told him, that he suffred that paine, because when him selfe was vpon any occa­sion to punnishe other, that he did it more vpon cruelty, then to shewe his obedience: of which his mercilesse dis­position, none that knewe him can be ignorant. There also he saide that he sawe a Priest whom he knewe: who comming to the foresaide bridge, pas­sed ouer with as great security, as he liued in this worlde sincerelye.

Likewise vpon the same bridge he saye, that he did see this Steuen, whom before we spake of, who being about to go ouer, his foote slipped, and halfe his bodye hanging beside the bridge, he was of certaine terrible men, that rose out of the riuer, drawne by the legges downewarde: and by certaine other white and bewtifull persons, he was by the armes pulled vpwarde: and whiles they stroue thus, the wic­ked spirites to drawe him downe­warde, and the goode to lifte him vp­warde: he that behelde all this strange sighte returned to life, not knowing [Page 451] in conclusion what became of him. By which miraculous vision, we lear­ne this thing concerninge the life of Steuen, to witt, that in him the synnes of the fleshe did striue with his worc­kes of almes. For in that he was by the legges drawne downewarde, and by the armes plucked vpwarde, apparant it is, that both he loued to giue almes, and yet did not perfectly resist the syn­nes of the fleshe, which did pull him downewarde: but in that secret exa­mination of the supreme iudge, which of them had the victorye, that neither we knowe, nor he that the sawe it. Yet most certaine it is, that the same Steuen after that he had sene the places of hell as before was saide, and returned agai­ne to his bodye, did neuer perfectly amend his former wicked life, seing many yeares after, he departed this worlde, leauing vs in doubt whether he were saued or damned. Wherebye we many learne, that when any haue the tormentes of hell showne them, that to some it is for theire commodi­tye, and to others for theire testimo­nye: that the former may see those mi­series to auoide them, and these other [Page 452] to be so much the more punnished, in that they vvolde not take heede of those tormentes, vvhich they both knevve and vvith theire eies behelde.

What I beseche you was ment by the building of that house in those places of delight, with brickes of golde. For it semeth very ridiculous, that in the next life vve sholde haue nede of anye such kinde of mettall.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

VVE haue also to knowe that sometyme the soules whiles they are in theire bodies, do beholde some spirituall punnishement: which yet happeneth to some for theire ow­ne goode, and to others for the edifica­tion of them, that heare thereof. For there was one Theodorus (which storye I remember that in myne homiles to the people I haue also spoken of) who was a verye vnrulye ladde, and more vpon necessi [...]ye then of his owne good will, in the companye of his brother entred into my monasterye: and so sittle pleasure he toke in spiri­tuall talke, that it was death to him to heare any thinge tending to the goode of his owne soule, for he was so far from doing any goode worcke, that he could not endure to heare thereof: and [Page 458] he wolde openly protest sometymes by swearing, sometymes in anger, and sometymes in scoffing sorte, that he neuer ment to take vpon him the ha­bit of a religious life. This vntoward [...]he ha­ [...]it of re­ [...]igious [...]en. boye, in the late mortalitye which consumed the greatest parte of this ci­tye, was grieuously strooken: whereof he lay sore sicke, and being at last come to the pointe of death, all the monkes repaired to his chamber, to praye for the happy departure of his soule, which semed not to be far of: for the one halfe of his bodye was already deade, and only in his brest a little life remayned, and therfore the nerer they sawe him to his ende, the more fer­uentlye did they commend him to Gods mercye. Whiles they were thus busied, suddainlye he cried out to them, and with great clamor went about to interrupt theire deuotions sayinge. Depart and away, for behol­de I am deliuered ouer to a dragon to be deuoured, and your presence doth let him, that he can not dispatch me. My heade he hath alreadye swallowed vp in his mouthe, and therfore go your waies, that my tormentes be not the [Page 459] longer, and that he may effect that which he is about to do: for yf I be gi­uen him to deuoure, why do you keepe me here in longer paine. At these fear­full wordes the monkes saide vnto him, why do you speake thus good brother? blesse your selfe with the si­gne The sig of the h [...]ly crosse vsed against the deu [...] of the holy crosse: to whom he an­swered, willinglye I wolde, but I can not, I am so loaden with this dragons scales. Vpon these wordes the monkes fell prostrat vpon the earth, and in great zeale with teares they prayed to God for his deliuerye out of the ene­mies handes, who mercifully hearde them, for vpon a suddaine the sicke person began to cry out, and saye: God be thancked, beholde the dragon that had me to deuoure, is fled awaye, and ouercome with your praiers, here he could not tarry. Now I besech you, make intercession for my synnes, for I am ready to turne vnto God, and wholy to renounce all kinde of secular life: and thus he that was halfe deade as before was saide, reserued now to a longer life, turned to God with his whole harte, and so after he had put on a newe minde, and was a longe tyme [Page 460] punnished with affliction: then his soule departed from the miserie [...] of this mortall life.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

BVt Crisorius on the contrarye (as his kinseman Probus of whom I made mention before tolde me) was a substantiall man in this worlde, but as full of synne as of wealth: for he was passing proude, giuen to the pleasures of the fleshe, couetous, and wholy set vpon scraping of riches together. But when God determined to make an ende of so many synnes, he sent him a greatsickenes: and when his last ty­me drewe nere, in that very houre in which his soule was to leaue the bo­dye, lying with his eies open, he sawe certaine cruell men and blacke spiri­tes stande before him, pressing vpon him to carrye him awaye to the pitt of hell: at which fearfull sighte he be­gan to tremble, to wax pale, to sweate, [Page 461] and with pitifull outcries to craue for truce: and often with faltring tongue to call for his sonne Maximus (whom when I was a monke, I knewe also to professe the same kinde of life) saying, Come away Maximus, with all speede: Neuer in my life did I any harme to thee, receiue me nowe in thy faith. His sonne greatly moued at these outcries, came vnto him in all hast: and his whole familye lamentinge and crying out, repaired also to his chamber: none of all which behelde those wicked spi­rites, which did so vrge and vexe him: but by his trouble of minde, by his pa­lenes, and tremblinge, they made no doubt of theire presence: for he was so affrighted with theire terrible lookes, that he turned him selfe euery way in his bed. Lying vpon his lefte side he coulde not indure theire sighte: and turning to the wall, there also he founde them: at last being ve­ry much beset, and dispairing of all meanes to escape theire handes, he cried out with a lowde voice saying: O truce till to morrow, ô truce till to morrow: and crying out in this sort he gaue vp the ghost. This being [Page 462] the manner of his death, certaine it is that he sawe this feareful sight not for him selfe, but for vs: that his vision mighte do vs goode, vvhom Gods pa­tience doth yet vvith fatherly longe sufferance expect to amendment. For vvhat prosit reaped he by seeing those fowle spirites before his death, and by crauing for that truce which he coulde not obtaine?

There is also nowe dwelling amon­gest vs a Priest of Isauria called Athana­sius, who telleth a very fearefull storye which in his tyme happened as he saith at Iconium. For there was in that place as he reporteth a Monasterye called. Thongolaton, in which there liued a monke that was had in great accoun­te: for he was of goode conuersation, and in his life verye orderlye: but as the ende declared, he was far other­wise then he outwardlye appeared: for thoughe he did seme to fast with the rest of the monkes, yet did he secretlye take his meate: which vice of his none of the other monkes euer vnderstoo­de. But at lengthe it came forth by this meanes: for falling grieuously sicke, so that no hope of life remayned, he [Page 463] caused all the monkes of the Conuent to be called together, who all willin­gly came, verily thincking that at the departure of so notable a man, they shoulde haue hearde some sweete and goode exhortation: but it fell out farr otherwise, for with great trouble of minde, and tremblinge of bodye he was inforced to tell them, that he died in a damnable state saying: when you thoughte that I fasted with you, then had I my meate in secret corners: and beholde nowe I am deliuered to a dra­gon to be deuoured, who with his tai­le hath in wrapped fast my handes and feete: and his heade, he hath thrust into my mouth, and so he lieth sucking and drawing out of my breath: and spea­king these wordes he departed this life, and had not any tyme giuen to deliuer him selfe by penance from that dragon with he sawe. By which we learne, that he had this vision only for the commoditye of them that hearde it, seing him selfe could not escape from the enemy which he behelde, and into whose handes he was giuen to be de­uoured.

Desirous I am to be informed, whe­ther we ought to beleeue, that after death there is any fire of Purgatorye.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

OVr Lorde saith in the Gospell: VValke whiles you haue the lighte: Ioan. 12. and by his Prophet he saith: In tyme accepted haue I hearde the, and in the day of saluation haue I holpen the: Esai. 49. which the Apostle S. Paul expounding saith: Beholde nowe 2. Corint. 6. is the tyme acceptable: beholde nowe the the daye os saluation. Salomon likewise saith, whatsoeuer thy hand is able to doe, Ecclesiastes. 9. v. 10. worcke it instantlye: for neither worcke, nor reason, nor knowledge, nor wisdome, shal be in hel, whether thow doest hasten: Dauid also saith. Because his mercy is for euer. By Psal. 117. which sayings it is plaine, that in such state as a man departeth out of this life, in the same he is presented in [Page 465] iudgement before God. But yet we Purga ry fire the [...] life fo [...] smal si nes. Math. must beleeue that before the daye of iudgement there is a Purgatorye fire, for certaine small synnes: because our Sauiour saithe, that he which speaketh blasphemye against the holy Ghost, that it shal not be sorgiuen him, neither in this worlde, nor in the worlde to come. Out of which sentence we learne, that some synnes are forgiuen in this worlde, and some other may be pardoned in the next: sor that which is denied concer­ninge one synne, is consequentlye vn­derstoode to be graunted touching so­me other. But yet ths as I saide we haue not to beleeue but only concer­ninge little and very smal synnes, as for example, daily idle talke, immode­rate laughter, negligence in the care of our family, (which kinde of offences, scarce can they auoide, that knowe in what sorte sinne is to be shunned) igno­rāterror in matters of no great waigh­te: all which synnes be punnished after death, yf men procured not pardon & remissiō for them in their life tyme: for whē S. Paul saith, that Christ is the foūdatiō: 1. Corin 3. and by & by addeth. And if any man build vpon this soundation, gold, siluer, pretious stones, [Page 466] woode, hay, stubble: the worcke of euery one of what kinde it is, the fire shal trye, if any mans worcke abide which he built therevpon, he shal receiue rewarde: if any mans worcke burne, he shal suffre detriment, but him selfe shal be sa­ued, yet so as by fire. For althoughe these wordes may be vnderstood of the fire of tribulation, which men suffre in this worlde: yet yf any wil interpret them of the fire of purgatorye, which shall be in the next life: then must he care­fully consider, that the Apostle saide not, that he may be saued by fire, that buildeth vpon this foundation [...]ron, brasse, or lead, that is the greater sort of synnes, and therfore more harde, and consequently not remissible in that place: but woode, haye, stubble, that is little and very lighte synnes, Litile and light syn­nes. which the fire doth easilye consume. Yet we haue here further to consider, that none can be there purged, no not for the least synnes that be, vnlesse in his life tyme he deserued by ver­tuous worckes to finde such fa [...]or in that place.

CHAPTER XL.

FOr when I was yet in my yonger yeares, and liued a secular life, I hearde from the mouth of myne el­ders, who knewe it to be true: how that Paschasius a Deacon of this Roma­ne churche (whose sounde and elo­quent bookes of the holy Ghost be ex­tant amongest vs) was a man of a wonderfull holy life, a maruailous gi­uer of almes, a louer of the poore, and one that contemned him selfe. This man, in that contētion which through the exceding hote emulation of the clergye, fellout betwixt Symmachus and Laurence, made choise of Laurence to be Bishop of Rome: and thoughe he was afterwarde by common consent ouer­come, yet did he continewe in his for­mer opinion vntil his dying daye: lo­uinge and preferring him, whom the The Bi [...]shop o [...]Rome, [...]uernor the church Churche by the iudgement of Bishop­pes refused for her gouernor. This Deacon ending his life in the tyme of Symmachus, Bishoppe of the Apostolike [Page 468] sea: a man possessed with a deuill, ca­me [...]elickes [...]isposses [...]euiles. 4 dalma. [...]icke or [...]unicle, is [...]hat ve­ [...]timent, [...]vhich the Dea­ [...]on vseth [...]t the tyme of Masse. and touched his dalmatike, as it laye vpon the biere, and was forth­with deliuered from that vexation. Longe tyme after Germanus Bishop of Capua, (before mentioned,) by the counsell of Phisitions, for the recoue­rye of his health went to the bathes: into which after he was entred, he founde there standinge in those [...]ote waters, the foresaide Paschasius ready to doe him seruice. At which sighte being much affraide, he demanded what so worthy a man as he was did in that place: to whom Paschasius returned this answere. For no other cause (quoth he) am I appointed to this place of punnishement, but for that I tooke parte with Laurence against Symmachus: and therfore I beseche you to pray vnto our Lorde for me, and by this token shall you knowe that your Praier for soules de­ [...]parted. praiers be hearde, yf at your commin­ge againe, you finde me not here. Vpon this, the holy man Germanus be­tooke him selfe to his deuotions, and after a fewe daies he went againe to the same bathes, but founde not Pas­chasius there: for seing his fault proceded [Page 469] not of malice, but of ignorance, he mighte after death be purged from that synne. And yet we must with all thincke that the plentifull almes which he bestowed in this life, obtai­ned fauour at Gods handes, that he mighte then deserue pardon, when he could worcke nothing at all for him selfe.

What I praye you is the reason, that in these latter daies, so many thin­ges come to lighte, which in tymes past were not knowne: in such sort that by open reuelations and manifest signes, the ende of the worlde se­meth not to be far of.

CHAPTER XLI.

So it is, for the nerer that this presē [...] world draweth to wards an end, so [Page 470] muche the more the worlde to come is at hande, and sheweth it selfe by more plaine and euident tokens. For seing in this worlde, we knowe not one an others cogitations, and in the next, mens hartes be knowne to all, what fitter name can we giue to this worlde then to terme it nighte, and what better to the next, then to call it daye? But as when the nighte is almost spent, and the daye beginneth to brea­ke, darkenes and lighte be in a certai­ne manner ioyned together, vntil the lighte of the day followinge doth per­fectly bannishe away the darke rem­nantes of the former nighte: euen so, the ende of this world, is as it were mingled together with the beginninge of the next, and with the darckenes of this, some lighte of such spirituall thin­ges as be in that doth appeare: and so we see many thinges which belonge to that vvorlde, yet for all this, perfect knovvledge vve haue not anye, but as it vvere in the tvvilighte of our soule beholde them before the risinge of that sonne of knowledge, vvhich then abundantly vvill cast his beames ouer all.

I like very well of your speeche, yet in so worthy a man as Paschasius was, this doubt doth trouble me, howe he was after his death caried to any place of punnishement, seing the touching of his garment vpon the biere did dis­possesse a vvicked spirit.

Herein appeareth the great and manifolde prouidence of almightye God, by whose iust iudgement it fell out, that Paschasius for sometyme enter­tayned inwardly synne in his soule, and yet in the sighte of the worlde wroughte miracles by his body after his death, who in his life tyme did as they knowe many goode worckes: to the end that those which had sene his vertuous life, shoulde not be deceiued concerning the opinion of his great almes: and yet him selfe should not without punnishement haue remis­sion of his synne, which whiles he li­ued he thoughte to be no synne, and therfore did not by teares washe it awaye.

I vnderstande very well what you say, but by this reason I am driuen [...]n­to such straightes, that I must stand in feare both of those synnes which I knowe, and also of those which I know not. But because a little before you discoursed of the places of tor­mentes: in what part of the worlde I beseech you are vve to beleue that hel is, vvhether aboue the earth or be­neath the same?

CHAPTER XLII.

TOuchinge this pointe I dare not rashelye desine any thinge: for some haue bene of opinion, that hell vvas in some place vpon the earth: and The latin [...]ord for [...]el signi­ [...]eth a [...]ace be­ [...]eath. others thincke that it is vnder the earth: but then this doubt ariseth for yf it be therfore called hell or an in­fernall place, because it is belovve, then as the earth is distant from [Page 473] heauen, so likevvise shold hel be distant from the earth: for which cause per­happes the Prophet saith. Thow hast de­liuered Psal. 8 my soule from the lower hel: so that the higher hell may seme to be vpon the earth, and the lower vnder the earth: and vvith this opinion, that sen­tence of Iohne agreeth, who when he had saide, that he sawe a booke sealed with Apocal. seauen seales: and that non was found, worthy neither in heauen, nor in earth, nor vnder the earth, to open the booke and loose the seales the­reof: he added forthwith. and I wept much: which booke notwithstanding after­warde he saith was opened by a lion of the tribe of Iuda. By which booke, what els can be ment, but the holy scripture, which our Sauiour alone did open: for being made man, by his death resurrection, and ascension, he did re­ueale and make manifest all those my­steries which in that booke were clo­sed & shutt vppe. And none in heauen, because not any Angell: none vpon earth, because not man liuinge in bo­dy: not any vnder the earth was, foun­de worthy: because neither the soules departed from theire bodies could opē vnto vs, beside our Lord him selfe the [Page 474] secretes of that sacred booke. Seing then none vnder the earth is said to be founde worthy to open that booke, I see not what doth lett, but that we sholde beleeue that hell is in the lower partes, vnder the earthe.

I beseech you: Is there one fire in hell, or accordinge to the diuersitye of sinners, be there so many sortes of fires prepared in that place?

CHAPTER XLIII.

THe fire of hell is but one: yet doth it not in one manner tor­ment all synners. For euerye one there according to the quantit [...]e of his syn­ne hath the measure of his paine. For as in this world, many liue vnder one and the same sunne, and yet do not alike feele the heate thereof: for some be burnt more, and some lesse: so in that one sire, diuers manners of bur­ninge be founde, for that which in [Page 475] this worlde, diuersity of bodies doth, that in the next doth diuersitye of synnes: so that althoughe the fire be there all alike, yet doth it not in one manner and alike burne and torment them that be damned.

Shall those I pray you which be condemned to that place, burne al­waies, and neuer haue anye ende of theire tormentes?

CHAPTER XLIIII.

CErtaine it is, and without all doubt most true, that as the goo­de shall haue no ende of theire ioyes, so the wicked neuer any release of theire tormentes: for our Sauiour him selfe saith. The wicked shal goe into euerla­sting Math. 2 punnishment, and the iust into euerlasting life: seing then true it is, that which he hath promised to his friendes: out of al question false it can not be, that which he hath threatned to his enemies.

Whar yf it be saide that he did threaten eternall paine to wicked li­uers, that he might thereby restrayne them from committing of synnes?

Yf that which he did threaten be false, because his intent was by that meanes, to keepe men from wicked life: then likewise must we say that those thinges are false which he did promise: and that this minde was the­rebye to prouoke vs to vertue. But what man though madd dare presu­me so to saye: For yf he threatned that which he ment not to put in execu­tion: whiles we are desirous to make him mercifull, inforced we are like­wise (which is horrible to speake) to affirme him to be deceiptfull.

Willinge I am to knowe howe that synne can iustlye be punnished with­out ende, which had an end when it was committed.

This which you saye mighte haue some reason, yf the iust iudge did only [Page 477] consider the synnes committed, and not the mindes vvith which they were committed: for the reason why wicked men made an end of synninge was, because they also made an end of their life: for willingly they wolde, had it bene it theire power, haue liued with­out ende, that they mighte in like manner haue sinned without ende. For they doe playnely declare, that they desired alwaies to liue in sunne, who neuer so longe as they were in this world, gaue ouer theire wicked li­fe: and therfore it belongeth to the great iustice of the supreme iudge, that they sholde neuer want tormentes and punnishement in the next worlde, who in this, wolde neuer giue ouer theire vvicked and sinfull life.

But no iudge that loueth iustice ta­keth pleasure in crueltye: and the ende vvhy the iustmaster commandeth his vvicked seruaunt to be punnished is, that he may giue ouer his levvd life. Yf then the vvicked that are tormen­ted in hell fire neuer come to amend them selues, to vvhat ende shall they alvvaies burne in those flames?

Almightye God because he is mer­cifull and full of pitty, taketh no plea­sure in the tormentes of wretched men: but because he is also iust, therfo­re doth he neuer giue ouer to punnishe the wicked. All which being condem­ned to perpetuall paines, punnished they are for theire owne wickednes: and yet shall they alwaies there burne in fire for some ende, and that is, that all those which be iust and Gods ser­uantes, may in God beholde the ioyes which they possesse, and in them see the tormentes which they haue esca­ped: to the end that they may thereby alwaies acknowledge them selues gra­tefull to God for his grace, in that they perceiue throughe his diuine assistaun­ce, what synnes they haue ouercome, which they beholde in others to be punnished euerlastinglye.

And how I praye you can they be holy and sainctes, yf they pray not for theire enemies, whom they see to ly in such tormentes? when it is saide to [Page 479] them: Pray for your enemies. Math. 5 v. 44.

They praye for theire enemies, at such tyme as theire hartes may be tur­ned to fruitfull penance, and so besa­ued: for to what purpose els do we praye for our enemies, but as the Apo­stle saith that God may giue them repentance 2. Timoth 2. v. 25. to knowe the truthe, and recouer them selues from the deuil, of whom they are held captiue at his will?

I like very well of your sayinge: for howe shall they pray for them, who by no meanes can be conuerted from theire wickeones, and broughte to do the worckes of iustice.

You see then that the reason is all one, why in the next life, none shall praye for men, condemned for euer to hell fire: that there is nowe of not praying for the deuill and his angels, sentenced to euerlasting tormentes: and this also is the very reason why holy men do not nowe pray for them [Page 480] that dye in theire infidelitye and knovvne vvicked life: for seing certai­ne it is, that they be condemned to endlesse paines, to vvhat purpose should they pray for them, vvhen they knovve that no petition vvill be ad­mitted of God theire iust iudge. And therfore yf novve holy men liuing vpon earth take no compassion of tho­se that be dead and damned for theire synnes, vvhen as yet they knovve that them selues doe some thinge throughe the frailty of the fleshe, vvhich is also to be iudged: hovv much more straigh­tly and seuerelye doe they beholde the tormentes of the damned, vvhen they be them selues deliuered from all vice of corruption, and be more nerelye vnited to true iustice it selfe: for the force of iustice doth so possesse theire soules, in that they be so intrinsecall vvith the most iust iudge, that they list not by any meanes to do that vvhich theye knovve is not confor­mable to his diuine pleasure.

The reason you bringe is so clere, that I can not gaine say it: but novv an [Page 481] other question commeth to my min­de, and that is, how the soule can tru­ly be called immortall, seing certaine it is, that it doth dye in that perpetuall fire.

CHAPTER XLV.

BEcause there be two manner of liues, consequently also there be two manner of deathes. For one kin­de of life there is, by which we liue in God, another which we receiued by our creation orgeneration: and ther­fore one thinge it is to liue blessedlye, and an other thinge to liue natural­lye. The soule therfore is both mortall and immortall: mortall, because it loo­seth the felicitye of an happy life: and immortall, in that it alwaies keepeth his naturall life, which can neuer be loste, no not when it is sentenced to perpetuall death: for in that state thou­ghe it hath not a blessed life, yet it [Page 482] doth retaine still the former being and naturall life: by reason whereof it is in­forced to suffer death without death, defect without defect, and end with­out end: seing the death which it indu­dureth is immortall, the desect w [...]ich it suffereth neuer faileth, and the end which it hath, is infinite, and without ende.

What man is he thoughe neuer so holy, that comming to leaue this mor­tall life, hath not iust cause to fea [...]e the vnspeakeable sen [...]n [...]e of damnation: for althoughe he knoweth what he hath done, yet ignorant he is not, howe straightlye his worckes shall be examined and iudged.

CHAPTER XLXVI.

IT is euen so Peter as you saye. And yet sometyme, the only feare of death, doth purge the soules of iust men from theire smaller synnes, as you [Page 483] and I haue often hearde of a certaine holy man that was very much affraide when he came to dye: and yet after he was deade, appeared to his disciples in a white stoale, reporting to them in what excellent manner he was recei­ued, when he departed out of this worlde.

CHAPTER XLVII.

SOmetyme also almightye God doth by diuine reuelation streng­then the mindes of them that be fea­refull to the end that they should not be affraide of death. For a certaine monke there vvas called Anthonye, that liued together with me in my Mona­sterye, who by daily teares laboured to come to the ioyes of heauen: and when as he did verye carefullye and with great zeale of soule meditate vpon the sacred scriptures, he soughte not so muche for cunninge and knowledge, [Page 484] as for teares and contrition of hart, that by meanes thereof his soule mighte be stirred vp and inflamed: and that by contemninge all earthly thin­ges, he mighte with the winges of con­templation flye vnto the kingdome of heauen. This man vpon a nighte by reuelation, was admonished in this manner. Make your selfe readye be­cause our Lorde hath giuen comman­dement, for your departure, and when he answered, that he had not where­with to defraye the charges of that ior­ny: straighte-waies he hearde these comfortable wordes. Yf you take care for your synnes, they be forgiuen you: which thinge thoughe he had hearde once, and yet for all that was in great feare, an other nighte he had againe the same vision: and so after fiue daies he fell sicke of an agewe, and as the other monkes were in praying and weeping about him, he departed this life.

An other monke there was in the same Monasterye called Merulus, who was wonderfullye giuen to [...]eares, and bestowing of almes: and no tyme almost passed him, except it were [Page 485] when he was at meate or a slepe, in which he did not sing psalmes. This man by vision in the nighte, sawe a crowne made of white flowers, to descende vpon his heade: and straighte after falling sicke, he died with great quiet and ioye of minde. Fouretene yeares after, when Peter who nowe hath the gouernment of my Monaste­rye, went about to make a graue for him selfe harde by Merulus sepulchre, such a fragrant and pleasaunt smell as he saith came out of it, as thoughe it had bene a storehouse of all manner of swete flowers. By which it appeared plainlye, that it was verye true, which before he had sene by vision in the nighte.

Likewise in the same Monasterye there was an other called Iohn, who was a yonge man of great towardnes, and one that ledd his life with greate circumspection, humility, swetenes, and grauitye. This man falling sore sicke, sawe in his great extremitye by vision in the nighte, an olde man to come vnto him, who touched him with a wande sayinge. [Page 486] Rise vpe, for you shall not dye of this sickenes: but make your selfe readye, for you haue not any longe tyme to staye in this worlde: and forthvvith thoughe the phisitions dispaired of his health, yet he recouered, and became perfectlye well. The vision which he sawe he told to others, and for two yeares followinge as I saide he serued God in such sort, that his great deuo­tion surpassed his yonge yeares. Three yeares since an other monke died who was buried in the churche-yarde of the same Monasterye, and when we had ended all his [...]uneralles, and were departed, this Iolme as him selfe with pale face, and great trembling tolde vs, remayned there still, where he hearde that monke which was buried to call him out of the graue: & that it was so indeede, the end following did shewe: for ten daies after he fell sicke of an agewe, and so departed this life.

Willingly wolde I learne whether we ought to obserue such visiōs, as be reuealed to vs by nighte in our slepe.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

COncerninge this pointe, Peter you must vnderstande, that there are six kinde of dreames. For somety­me, they procede of too much fulnes or emptines of the stomacke: sometyme by illusion: sometyme both by thought and illusion: sometyme by reuelation: and sometyme both by thoughte and reuelation. The two first, all by expe­rience knowe to be true: and the fower latter we finde mentioned in holy scripture. For yf dreames did not so­metyme procede by illusion from our secret enemye, neuer wolde the wise man haue saide. Dreames haue made ma­nye Eccles. 34. to err, and hooping in them haue they bene deceiued: and againe. You shall not be soth­saiers, nor obserue dreames: by which wor­des we see, howe they are to be dete­sted, that are compared with sooth­sayinges. Againe yf dreames did not sometyme procede both of thoughte [Page 488] together with illusion, the wise man vvoulde not haue saide: Dreames follow ccl [...]s. 5. many cares. And yf sometyme also they did not come by mysticall reuelation, Ioseph had neuer knovvne by dreame [...]enes. 37. that he sholde haue bene exalted aboue his brethren: neither the Angell vvol­de Aath. 2. euer in a dreame haue admonished the spouse of our Ladye to flye avvaye vvith the childe into Egipt. Againe, yf sometyme they did not also procede both from thoughtes and di­uine reuelation, neuer vvolde the pro­phet Daniell disputing of Nabuchod mo­sors dreame, haue begun from the roote of his former thoughtes saying. Thow Daniel. 2. ô king diddest beginne to thincke in thy [...]edd, what should happen in tymes to come: and he that reuealeth mysteries, did shewe the what thinges should come: and a little after. Thow diddest see, and behold as it were a great sta­tua: that great statua, and highe of stature did stand against the &c. Wherfore seing Daniell doth with reuerence insin [...]ate that the dreame shoulde come to passe, and also declareth from what cogita­tion it did springe, plainlye do we lear­ne that dreames sometymes do come both of thought and reuelation toge­ther. [Page 489] But seing dreames do growe from such diue [...]s rootes, with so much the more difficultye oughte we to be­leeue them: because it doth not easily appeare vnto vs, from what cause they do proceede. Holy men indeed by a certaine in warde spirituall tast, doe discerne betwixt illusions and true reuelatiōs, by the very voices or repre­sentations of the visions them selues: so that they knowe what they receiue from the goode spirit, and what they suffer by illusion from the wicked: and therfore yf our mynde be not herein, verye attentiue and vigilant, it falleth into many vanityes, throughe the de­ceipt of the wicked spirit: who some­tyme vseth to foretell many true thin­ges, that in the ende, he may by some falshoode insnare our soule.

CHAPTER XLIX.

AS not longe since it is most certai­ne, that it befell to one that liued [Page 490] amongest vs, who being much giuen to obserue dreames, had one nighte in a dreame longe life promised him: and when as he had made prouision of great store of money for the mainte­nance of his manye daies, he was so suddainlye taken out of this life, that he lefte it all behinde him, without euer hauing any vse thereof, and caried not with him any good worckes to the next worlde.

I remember verye well who it was: but let vs I praye you prosecute such questions as we began to intreat of: Doth any profit thincke you re­dounde to mens soules yf theire bo­dies be buried in the churche?

CHAPTER L.

SVch as dye not in mortall synne ne si n­mor­and ne not. receiue this benefit by hauing thei­re bodies buried in the churche: for [Page 491] when their friendes come thither, and beholde their sepulchres, then do they remember them, and pray vnto God for theire soules [...] but those that depart Praier for the deade. this life in the state of deadly synne, re­ceiue not any absolution from theire synnes, but rather be more punnished in hell, for hauing theire bodies buried in the churche: which thing shall be more plaine yf I do briefly tell you what concerninge this pointe hath chaunced in our tyme.

CHAPTER LI.

FElix Bishop of Portua, a man of holy life, vvho was borne and brought vp in the Prouince of Sabina saith, that there liued in that place a certaine Nunne, which thoughe she were chast of her bodye, yet had she an vngratious and foolishe tongue: which departing this life, was buried in the church: the keeper whereof the nighte following, saw her by reuela­tion [Page 492] brought before the holy altar, where she was cutt in two peeces, and the one halfe was burnt in the fire, and the other was not touched at all. Ri­sing vp in the morning, he tolde vnto others what a strange vision he had sene, and shewed them the very place in which she was burnt, the marble whereof appeared with the verye marckes and signes of a fire vpon it▪ as thoughe that woman had bene there burnt in very dede with corporall fire. By which we may plainely see, that such as haue not theire synnes pardo­ned, can reape small benefit by hauing theire bodies after deathe buried in holy places.

CHAPTER LII.

IOhn also an honorable man, one of the gouernors of this citye, and one that is of great grauity and credit as all knowe, tolde me howe one Va­lerianus, that was a gentleman of the ci­ty of Bressa departed this life, whose bodye for money the Bishoppe was [Page 493] content sholde be buried in the chur­che. This Valerianus euene to his verye old age, led a lighte and wanton life: refusing vtterlye to giue ouer synne and wickednes. That verye nighte in which he was buried, the blessed mar­tir Faustinus, in whose churche his bo­dye laye, appeared to the keeper the­reof sayinge. Goe & bid the Bishoppe cast out that stinckinge carcasse vvhich he hath here buried, and he yf he vvill not do it, tell him that thirty daies hence he shall dye him selfe. This vi­sion the poore man vvas affraide to re­port vnto the Bishoppe, and thoughe he vvere admonished the second tyme to do it, yet he refused: and so vpon the thirtith day, the Bishoppe goin­ge safe and sounde to bedd, (neuer fea­ring any such thinge) suddainly depar­ted this life.

CHAPTER LIII.

THere be also at this tyme here in the city, our venerable brother Ve­nātius [Page 494] Bishop of Luna, & Liberius a noble man and one of very great credit: both which do saye that them selues knowe it, and that theire seruantes were pre­sent in the city of Genua, when this strange thinge happened. One Valenti­nius who had an office in the churche of Millan died there, a man in his life ty­me giuen to wantonnes & all kinde of lightenes, whose bodye was buried in the church of the blessed martir Sirus. The midnighte followinge a great noise was hearde in that place, as thoughe some bodye by force had be­ne drawne out from thence: where­vpon the keepers ran thither, to see what the matter was, and when they vvere come, they savve tvvo verye terrible deuiles that had tied a rope a­bout his legges, and vvere dravving him out of the churche, him selfe in the meane tyme crying and roaring out: at vvhich sighte they vvere so frighted, that they returned home againe to theire beddes: but vvhen the morning vvas come, they opened the graue in vvhich Valentinus vvas buried, but his body they coulde not finde & therfore they sought vvithout the churche to [Page 495] see vvhere it vvas, and so founde it throwne into an other place, with the feete still bounde as it was drawne out of the churche. Out of which Peter you may learne that such as dye in mortall synne and cause theire bodies, to be buried in holy grounde, are punnished also for that theire pre­sumption: the holy places not helping them, but rather the synne of theire temeritye accusing them.

CHAPTER LIIII.

FOr an other thinge also which happened in this citye, the compa­nye of diers dwelling here do testifye to be most true, and it is concerning one that was the chiefe of theire pro­fession, who departed this life: and was by his wife buried in the church of S. Ianuarius the martir, neere to the gate of S. Laurence: whose spirit the nighte followinge in the hearinge of the sextin cried out of his graue saying: I burne, I burne: and when he conti­nued [Page 496] a longe tyme crying so: the sex­tin tolde it to the diers wife, who the­revpon sent certaine of his owne pro­fession to the churche, to see in what case his body was in the graue, who so cried out in that pitifull manner, and The man­ner of Italy is to bury men in theire garmen­tes. when they had opened it, there they founde his garmentes safe and sound, which be still kept in the same chur­che, for a perpetuall memorye of that which happened: but his body by no meanes could they finde, as thou­ghe it had neuer bene buried there: by which we maye, gather to what tor­mentes his soule was condemned, whose bodye was in that sort turned out of the churche: what profitt then doe holy places bring to them that be buried there, when as those that be wicked & vnworthy, be by Gods ap­pointement throwne out from those sacred places?

What thinge is there then, that can profit and relieue the soules of them that be departed?

CHAPTER LV.

YF the synnes after death be par­donable Some sin­nes par­donable after death. then the sacred oblation of the holy host vseth to helpe mens soules: for which cause the soules so­metyme of them that be deade, do de­sire the same: for Bishoppe Felix whom we spake of before, saith that a ver­tuous priest who died some two yeares since, and dwelt in the diocesse of the citye of Centumcellis, and was Pastor of the churche of S. Iohn, in the place cal­led Tauriana told him, that him selfe did vse (when he had neede) to wash his bodye in a certaine place, in which there were passing hote waters: & that going thither vpon a tyme, he founde a certaine man whom he knewe not, ready to do him seruice, as to pull of [Page 498] his shoees, take his clothes, and to at­tend vpon him in all dutifull manner. And when he had diuers tymes done thus, the Priest minding vpon a day to go to the bathes, began to thincke with him selfe, that he would not be vngratefull to him that did him such seruice, but cary him some-what for a rewarde, and so he toke with him two synging breades: and comming thither he founde the man there ready, and vsed his helpe as he was wont to do: and when he had washed him selfe, putt on his clothes, and was readye to depart, he offered him for an holy re­warde that which he had broughte, desiringe him to take that courteous­ly, which for charity he did giue him. Then with a sadd countenance, & in sorrowful manner he spake thus vnto him: why do you giue me these father? This is holy breade, and I can not eate of it, for I whom you see here was so­metyme Lorde of these bathes, and am now after my death appointed for my synnes to this place: but yf you de­sire to pleasure me, offer this breade vn­to almighty God, and be an intercessor for my sinnes: and by this shall you [Page 499] knovve that your praiers be hearde, yf at your next comming you finde me not here: and as he vvas speaking these vvordes, he vanished out of his sighte: so that he vvhich before semed to be a man, shevved by that māner of depar­ture that he vvas a spiritt. The goode Sacrifices for the deade. Priest all the vveeke follovvinge gaue him selfe to teares for him, and dailye offered vp the holy sacrifice: and after­vvarde returning to the bath, founde him not there: vvhereby it appeareth vvhat great profit the soules receiue Soules de­parted holpen by the holy sacrifice. by the sacrifice of the holy oblation, seing the spirites of them that be dea­de, desire it of the liuing, and giue cer­taine tokens to let vs vnderstande, hovve that by meanes thereof they haue receiued absolution.

Here also I can not but tell you that vvhich happened three yeares since in myne ovvne Monasterye. A certaine monke there vvas called Iustus, one ve­ry cunninge in phisicke, and vvhiles I remayned in the Abbey, serued me ve­ry diligentlye, attending vpon me in my often infirmities and sickenes. This man him selfe at lengthe fell sore sicke, so that in very dede he vvas broughte [Page 500] to the last cast. A brother he had called Copiosus that had care of him, who yet liueth. Iustus perceiuing him self past all hoope of life, tolde this brother of his, where he had secretly laid vp three crownes of golde: but yet they were not so closelye conuaied, that they coulde be concealed from the monkes: for they carefully seeking and tossing vpp all his medicines and bo­xes, founde in one of them these three crownes hidden. Which thing so sone as I vnderstoode, very much grieued I was, and could not quietly disgest so great a synne at his handes, that liued with vs in communitye, because the rule of my Monastery was, that all the Monasti­cal pouer­tye. monkes thereof should so liue in com­mon, that none in particular mighte possesse any thinge proper to him selfe. Being therfore much troubled and grieued at that which had hap­pened, I began to thincke with my selfe, what was best to be done, both for the soule of him that was now dying, and also for the edification and example of those that were yet liuing. [Page 501] At lengthe I s [...]nt for Pretiosus Prior of the Monasterye, and gaue him this charge: Se (quoth I) that none of our monkes do so muche as visit Iustus in this his extremitye, neither let any giue him any comfort at all: and when his last houre draweth nighe, and he doth desire the presence of his spi­rituall brethren, let his carnall bro­ther tell him, that they do all detest him, for the three crownes which he had hidden: that at least before his death, sorrow may wounde his hart and purge it from the synne commit­ted: and when he is deade, let not his body be buried amongest the rest of the monkes, but make a graue for him in some one dunghill or other, and there cast it in, together with the three crownes which he left behinde him, crying out all with iointe voice: thy money be with the vnto perdition, and so put earth vpon him. In either of which thinges my minde and desire was, both to helpe him that was lea­uing the worlde, and also to edifye the monkes yet remayninge behinde, [Page 502] that both griefe of death mighte make him pardonable for his sinne, and such a seuere sentence against auarice, might terrifye and preserue them from the like offence: both which by Gods goodenes fell out accordinglye: For when the foresaide monke came to dye, and carefullye desired to be commended to the deuotions of his brethren, and yet none of them did either visit him, or so much as speake to him: his brother Copiosus tolde him, for what cause they had all giuen him ouer: at which wordes he straight­waios sigh the [...] for his synne, and in that sorrowe gaue vp the ghost. And after his death he was buried in that manner, as I had giuen in commande­ment: by which fact all the monkes were so terrified, that they began each one to seeke out the least and basest thinges in theire celles, and which by the rule they might lawfully keepe: and very much they feared, least some thing they had, for which they might be blamed.

Thirty daies after his departure, I began to take compassion vpon him, and with great griefe to thincke of his [Page 503] punnishement, and what meanes there was to helpe him: wherevpon I called againe for Pre [...]iofus Prior of my Mona­sterye, and vvith an heauy heart spake thus vnto him. It is nowe a goode while since that our brother which is departed, remayneth in the tormentes Purgato­rye. of fire, and therfore we must shewe him some charity, and labour what we maye to procure his deliuerye: wher­fore go your waye and see that for A Trenta of masses. thirty daies following sacrifice be of­fred for him, so that no one day passe in which for his absolution and dis­charge, the healthfull sacrifice be not offred: whoforth with departed, and put my commandement in execution. [...]n the meane tyme, my mynde being busied about other affaires, so that I tooke no heede to the daies how they passed: vpon a certaine night the same monke that was deade, appeared to his brother Copiosus: who seing him enqui­red of his sta [...]e in this manner: what is the matter brother? and how is it with you? to vvhom he ansvvered thus: Hitherto haue I bene in badd ca­se, but novve I am vvell, for this day haue I receiued the communion: [Page 504] with which newes Copiosus straight­waies comming to the Monasterye tolde the monkes: and they diligentlye counting the daies, founde it to be that, in which the thirtith sacrifice was of­fred for his soule: and so thoughe nei­ther Copiosus knewe what the monkes had done for him, nor they what he had seene concerning the state of his brother, yet at one and the same tyme both he knewe what they had done, and they what he had seene, and so the Soules de­liuered out of Purgato­ry hy the holye sa­crifice. sacrifice and vision agreing together, apparant it vvas, that the deade monke vvas by the holy sacrifice deliuered from his paines.

The thinges you report be passing strange, and yet ful of ioy and comfort.

CHAPTER LVI.

ANd that we should not cal in que­stion, or doubte of that vvhich the dead report, vve haue for confir­mation [Page 505] of the same thinge, the factes of the liuinge. For Cassius Bishop of Narnye a man of holy life, vvho did vsually euery daye offer sacrifice vnto God: (and vvhiles he vvas at the my­steries of those sacrifices, did also im­molat him self in teares) receiued from our Lorde this message by one of his Priestes. Doe that thow doest: worcke that thow worckest: let not thy foote cease, let not thy hand cease, vpon the natiuitye of the Apostles, thow shalt come vnto me, and I vvill giue the thy reward. And so seauē years after, vpon that very daye of the Apostles, after Cassius offered sa­crifice and saide masse. he had ended the solemnity of Masse and receiued the mysteries of the sa­cred communion, he departed this life.

CHAITER LVII.

THat also which I haue hearde, is knowne to manye, to witt, how one was by his enemies taken and putt [Page 506] in prison with irons vpon him: for Oblation of sacri­fice. whom his wife caused vpon certaine daies sacrifice to be offered: who longe tyme after returning home to his wi­fe, By this appeareth how auai­lable the holy sa­crifice is. tolde her vpon what daies his boltes vsed to fall of: by whose relation she founde, that it was vpon those very daies, in which sacrifice had bin offered for him. By an other thinge like wise which happened seauē years since, the verye same truthe is confirmed. For when Agathus Bishop of Palermo (as many faithfull and religious men both haue and still do tell me) was in the ty­me of my predecessor of blessed me­mory, commanded to come to Rome, The Bis­shop of Rome cōmanded Bisshop­pes of other countries. and in his iornye fell into such a tem­pest at sea, that he despaired of euer comming to lande. The mariner of the shippe called Baraca (who nowe is one of the clergy and serueth in the same churche) gouerned an other small ves­sell, tied to the poupe of the former shipp: the roope whereof breaking in peeces, awaye it went with man and all, and amongest the huge mountai­nes of waters, quickly vanished out of sighte. The shipp in which the Bishop was, after many great danugers, at [Page 507] length arriued all weather beaten at the Ilande of Ostica: and when three daies were past, and the Bishop coulde heare no newes of the foresaide mari­ner that was so violently caried awaye with the storme, nor see him in any part of the sea, very sory he was, and verily beleeued that he had bene drowned: and so vpon great charity bestowed one thing vpon him being yet aliue, which was not due vnto him, vntill he was deade: for he willed Sacrifice offered for the soules de­parted. that the sacrifice of the healthfull obla­tion, shoulde be offred vnto almighty God, for the absolution of his soule: which being done accordinglye, and the shipp newe rigged, awaye he depar­ted for Italy, where arriuing at Portua, he founde the mariner aliue, whom he verilye supposed to haue bene drow­ned: vpon which goode chaūce altoge­ther vnlooked for, very glad he was, and demanded of him, how it was pos­sible that he coulde escape so many daies, in so great a daunger and so terri­ble a tēpest: who told him, how in that storme he was tossed with that little shippe which he gouerned, and how he did swimme with it being full of [Page 508] water: and so often as it was turned vpside downe, how he gat vpon the keele, and helde fast there: adding also that by striuing and laboring thus con­tinuallye daye and nighte, at lengthe with watchinge & hunger his streng­the began to faile him: and then he tol­de how by the singular prouidence and mercye of God he was preserued from drowninge: for as euen to this verye day he still affirmeth, so then did he verifye the same to the Bishoppe, telling him in this manner. As I was (quoth he) striuing and labouring in the sea, and my strengthe began to faile me, suddainlye I became so heauy of minde, that me thoughte I was nei­ther waking nor yet a slepe: and being in that case in the middest of the sea, I sawe one come, who broughte me breade to refreshe my tired bodye: which so sone as I had eaten, I recoue­red my strengthe againe: and not lon­ge after, a shipp passing by toke me in, and so was I deliuered from that dan­ger of death and set safe a lande. The Bishoppe hearing this, inquired vpon what day this strange thing happened, and he founde by his relation, that it [Page 509] was that verye daye, in which the Note how auailable the holy sacrifice is. Priest in the Ilande of Ostica, did sacri­fice for him vnto God, the hoast of the holy oblation.

That which you report, my selfe also hearde at my being in Sicily.

I for my part doe verily beleue, that the reason why by Gods prouidence, this thinge sal [...]eth out thus apparant­lye to them that be liuing, and thincke nothing thereof is, that al may knowe Some sin­nes par­donable after death. The holy sacrifice profiteth some after theire death. how yf theire synnes be not irremissi­ble, that they may after death obtayne pardon and absolution for them, by the oblation of the holy sacrifice. But yet we haue here to note, that the ho­ly sacrifice doth profit those kinde of persons after theire death, who in their life tyme obtayned, that such goode workes as wereby their friendes done for thē might be auailable to their sou­les, after they were out of this worlde.

CHAPTER LVIII.

ANd here also we haue diligent­ly to consider, that it is far more [Page 510] secure and safe, that euery man s [...]ould doe that for him selfe whiles he is yet aliue, which he desireth that others should doe for him after his death. For far more blessed it is, to depart free out of this worlde, then being in prison to seeke for release: and therfore reason teacheth vs, that we shoulde with our whole soule contemne this present worlde, at least because we see that it is nowe gone and past: and to offer vn­to God the daily sacrifice of teares, & Note what was the daily sacrifice in the primatiue churche. the dailye sacrifice of his bodye and blood. For this sacrifice doth e [...]pe cially saue our soules from euerlasting dam­nation, which in mystery doth renewe vnto vs, the death of the sonne of God: who althoughe being risen from death, doth not nowe dy any more, nor death shall not any further preuai­le against him: yet liuing in him selfe immortallie, and without all corrup­tion, he is againe sacrificed for vs in this mysterye of the holy oblation: for the­re his body is receiued, there his fleshe The real [...]presence. is distributed for the saluation of the people: there his bloode is not nowe shed betwixt the handes of infide [...]s, but poured into the mouthes of the faith­full. [Page 511] Wherefore let vs hereby meditate what manner of sacrifice this is, ordai­ned for vs, which for our absolution doth alwaies represent the passion of the onlye sonne of God: for what right beleeuing Christian can doubt, that in Ponder attenti­uely thes [...] wordes. the verye howre of the sacrifice, at the wordes of the Priest, the heauenes be opened, and the quires of Angels are present in that mystery of Iesus Christ: that highe thinges are accompanied with lowe, and earthly ioyned to hea­uenlye, and that one thinge is made of visible and inuisible.

CHAPTER LIX.

BVt necessary it is, that when we doe these thinges, we shoulde al­so by contrition of hart, sacrifice our selues vnto almightye God: for when we celebrate the mystery of our Lor­des passion, we ought to imitate what we then doe: for then shall it truly be a s [...]crifice for vs vnto God, yf we offer [Page 512] our selues also to him in sacrifice. Care­full also must we be, that after we ha­ue bestowed some tyme in praier, that as much as we can by Gods grace, we keepe our minde fixed in him, so that no vaine thoughtes make vs to fall vn­to dissolution, nor any foolishe mirth enter in to our hart: least the soule by reason of such transitory thoughtes, lose all that which it gained by former contrition. For so Anne deserued to ob­taine that which she craued at Gods hande, because after her teares she pre­serued her selfe in the former force of her soule: for of her thus it is written. And her lookes were not any more chaunged to 1. Reg. 1. diuers thinges. She therfore that forgot not what she desired, was not depri­ued of that gifte which she requested.

CHAPTER LX.

VVE haue also further to knowe, that he doth [...]ight­ly and in good sorte demande par­don for his owne synne, who doth for­giue [Page 513] that, which hath bene done a­gainst him selfe. For our gifte is not receiued, yf before, we free not our soule from all discorde and lacke of charitye: for our Sauiour saith. Yf thow Math. 5. offer thy gifte at the altar, and there thow re­member that thy brother hath oughte against the, leaue there thy offering besore the altar, and goe first to be reconciled to thy brother, and then comming thow shalt offer thy gift. Whe­rein we haue to consider, that whe­reas all synne by a gift is loosed, howe grieuous the synne of discorde is, for which no gift is receiued: and therfore we oughte in soule and desire, to goe vnto our neighbour thoughe he far of, and many miles distant from vs, and there to humble our selues before him, and to pacifye him by humility and harty goode will, to the end that our creator beholdinge the desire of our minde, may forgiue vs our owne syn­ne, who receiueth a gift for synne. And our Sauiour him selfe teacheth vs, how that seruant which did owe ten thou­sande talentes, by penance obtained of his Lord, the forgiuenes of [...]hat debt: Math. 18. but yet because he would not forgiue his fellowe seruant, an hundred pence, [Page 514] which were due to him, that was agai­ne exacted at his handes, which befo­re was pardoned. Out of which sayin­ges we learne, that [...] doe not from our hart forgiue [...] which [...]s com­mitted against vs, [...]ow that is againe required at our handes, whereof befo­re we were glad, that by penance we had obtayned pardon and remission. Wherfore whiles tyme is giuen vs, whiles our iudge doth beare with vs, whiles he that examineth our synnes doth expect our conuersion and a­mendement: let vs mollyfy with tea­res the hardenes of our harte, and with sincere charity, loue our neigh­bours: and then dare I speake it boldly that we shall not haue any nede of the holy sacrifice after our death: yf before death, we offer vp our selues for a sacrifice vnto almightye God.