CHAP. I. Of his Linage.

BLESSED Aloysius Gon­zaga, whose actes & con­uersation we haue heere determined to put in wri­ting, was the eldest sonne of Ferdinand a Prince of the Empire, & Marques of Castilion in Lombardy, and of Martha Tana Santenia of Chery in Tu­rino, being both of them most illustrious and most excellent personages. This Marques Ferdinand the Father of our Aloysius, being sprung frō the same stock with VVilliam duke [Page 2] of Mantua, was from him but three degrees remoued, & bare rule in that foresayd coast descending to him by inheritance from his ancestors, which is scituated betweene Ʋero­na, Mantua, & Brescia, not far from the lake Benaco. And his wyfe Martha being descen­ded from the principall familyes amongst those of Turino, had for her Father Baltazar Tanus extracted from the Lord Santenes, and for her Mother one Anne, from the auncient bloud of the Lords Roborci, being a neere kinswomā of Hierome Roboreus the Cardinall, and that most reuerend Arch-bishop of Tu­rino.

The marriage betweene these parents of B. Aloysius was celebrated in Spayne in a man­ner after this sort. There liued in the Court of Philip the second, the Catholike King, this Marques Ferdinand, & in the same place Martha preuailed much in grace and autho­rity amongst the principall women with Isa­bel Valots the Queene, daughter to Henry the second the French King, wife to the said Phi­lip. Vpon this occasion the Marques disco­uering those her excellent ornaments & sin­gular endowments of mind, became desirous to gaine her for his wife. Which when with mature deliberation he had determined, he so brought to passe, that both the King and Queene should be certified of this his pur­pose. Their consent therfore being had, & a conuenient dowrie assigned, with addi­tion likewise of Iewells, and other mar­riage [Page 3] guiftes, which the Queene in testimo­ny of her affectiō towards Martha bestowed vpon her, the Marques espoused her. But whilst these espousalls are accomplished, & this whose busines of the marriage con­triued, there fel out certayne things of such remarkable sanctity, that it sufficiently ap­peared what fruite in tyme they should bring forth. For Martha, so soone as she knew from the Queene, that there was held a treaty of this match, to the end that it would please God to blesse the successe ther­of, caused often to be offered a great num­ber of Masses, to the most holy Trinity, to the holy Ghost, to Christ, interposing the recitation of his bitter Passion, imploring the assistance of the Virgin Mother, of the Angells, and other Saintes. Afterward when they had written into Italy to both their friends, that they would be pleased to con­descend vnto this match, answere was opor­tunely returned to the letters, at that time when all were imployed in procuring the ce­rimonies of the Iubily, lately diuulged at Rome. Therfore vpon the day of the Natiui­ty of S. Iohn Baptist, this marriage was fitly sanctifyed betweene them both, with the mysteries of the blessed Eucharist, and the religious participation of the Iubily. Vpon which day Martha (as she her selfe after re­counted vnto me) determined with all her endeauours, from that tyme forward to ap­ply herselfe to actes of piety.

[Page 4] Furthermore the Queene, when as at that time she was newly with child, & could not as then forgo the cōpany of Martha, whome euen from her comming out of France, she had vsed as a companion for her solace, re­sting confident in her loue, she forbad her publique conuersation with her husband, before her deliuery. It was done as she com­maunded. The day therfore being set dow­ne by the Queene, whereupon there fell out commodiously the celebration of a certaine other Iubily, or plenary Indulgence, they iterating the sacraments of Pennance & the Eucharist, were piously (as becometh Chri­stians) all sacred rites being duely perfour­med, ioyned in marriage, when as God was vnto them most appeased, and propitious. And now this is no lesse worthy of memory, that amongst the nuptiall rites, and festi­uall pompe, the Decrees of the Tridentine Councell, which accidentally at that tyme were promulgated throughout Spayne, be­gan first at this marriage to be put in execu­tion.

After the marriage, the Marques being li­cenced both from the King and Queene to returne with his wife into Italy, & to the cō ­fines of his owne dominion, was first before he departed from the court denounced the Kings most honourable Chamberlaine, and with all endowed with goodly reuenewes out of Campania and Lombardy, during the lyfe of him, and one of his Sonnes. And not [Page 5] long after this, the same King made him Generall ouer certayne Italian forces; which degree of honour the most Noble of the Princes and Dukes of Italy, would take to be vnto them a great aduauncement.

CHAP. II. Of his Natiuity.

AFTER they were arriued at Castilion, the Marques his wife, so soone as she perceaued herself to be disburdened of the imploiments & incumbrances of the Court, and had gotten leasure, and commodity to apply herselfe more seriously to matter of deuotion, according to her accustomed affe­ction therūto, & according vnto that which she lately resolued with herselfe in Spayne, she bent herselfe more carefully vnto the same then euer heretofore. But her princi­pall desire was to obtayne a Sonne, who in time to come might dedicate himselfe vnto God, in some society of religious mē. Which desire she did, not only afterward, not lay downe, but to the intent she might be made partaker therof, she did incessantly adore & inuocate Allmighty God. That her prayers were not in vaine, the successe it selfe may giue vs to vnderstād, seeing that she first be­came Mother to this sonne, who afterward being ioyned to the Society of Iesus, both lead, and finished his life therin with singu­lar sanctity.

[Page 6] Neither truly ought it to seeme strange to any one, that a sonne of so great sanctity, & with so holy an intention desired, should be giuen by God at the request of his Mother. For often we read, in the liues and actes of Saints, that God hath concurred with such like desires. As namely when at the suite of Anna, the Mother of Samuel the Prophet, (who was before voyd of all issue) he gaue a sonne, who afterward might be deuoted to his God-head. The same we read of S. Nico­las Tolentine, who in lyke manner was gi­uen at the supplication of his barraine mo­ther. Likewise of S. Francis of Paula, who in himselfe, made both his fruitlesse parents partakers of their desires: and so of others. Verily I am of this opinion, that the selfe­same God who suggested to the mind of this Noble Lady to beg of him this boone, was both willing, according to his accustomed clemency, to be preuailed withall, & to cha­lenge likewise as his proper due, this her first fruite. Cōformable vnto this, it seemeth that it was the pleasure of Allmighty God to make Bless. Aloysius first his, before he had fully issued out of his Mothers wombe: for nether came it to passe without the spe­ciall consent, and prouidence of Allmighty God, that when he was not yet wholy deli­uered into this world, he should be washed with Baptisme, & that also the most Blessed Virgin Queene of Heauen, to whome euen from his child-hood he was so much deuo­ted, [Page 7] out of her especiall fauour towards him should be assisting at his birth. For the Mar­ques his wife herself was wont to recount it in this manner, that when she drew neare to the time of her child-birth, she was vpon the suddaine oppressed with such sharpe paines, that voyd of all hope of deliuery, she seemed to be brought to the last period of her life; when the Marques sending for diuers Phi­sitiās, gaue them in charge, that if they were diffident of the life of the child, they should at least by baptisme bestow eternall saluatiō on it, and endeauour to preserue the life of the mother. They hauing in vaine attempted all arts and remedies, for the facilitating of the birth, gaue ouer the safety both of mo­ther and child, as desperate and forelorne. This when the mother vnderstood, in the middest of all despaire of humane helpe, determined to flie for refuge vnto God, & his Virgin-mother. Therfore sending for her husband into the Chamber, she desireth him to giue her leaue in this extremity, to make a vow vnto the Virgin-mother: when he had giuen his consent, she voweth, that if she escape this danger, she would go in pil­grimage to our Ladies House of Loreto, together with her little Infant if life befell it. Her vow being made, she seemeth to be out of all present danger, and beginneth to yield birth to the childe. Yet seing that it appeared vnto the Phisitians that she could not escape death, and the Marques insisted [Page 8] vpon it earnestly, that they should at least prouide for the safety of the childs soule, the mid-wife so soone as she perceaued the child so far forth discouered, as that it might be capable of Baptisme, falls first to christning it, before it was wholy deliuered. So the li­ues of them both were saued, & in the child the grace of God, and that better, & Diuine birth, out-stript this mortal one, not with­out the singular fauour of God, who would appropriate him to himselfe, from the very bowells of his mother, with a strict kind of vasallage. In which respect he was twin-bro­ther to Mechtildes that holy Virgin, as it is written in her life, Almighty God declaring, that it was his pleasure, that to the intent he might at the very first sanctify her soule, as a temple to himselfe, and preuent it with his grace from the very first instāt of her birth, in feare of like danger her Baptisme should be hastened.

B. Aloysius was borne in the castle of Ca­stilion, which is the head of that Territory in which his Fathers dominion is placed, in the Diocesse of Brescia, Pius V. being Pope, the yeare from Christs Natiuity 1568. the seauenth of the Ides of March (to wit, the ninth of the moneth) vpon a Tuesday, three quarters of an houre after the three & twen­tith, which is about sun-set. The mother pre­sently takes him into her armes, signes him with the signe of the crosse, & bestoweth vpō him a thousand happy welcomes. After this [Page 9] for the space of an houre, he lay still with­out any mouing, that no one could discerne whether he were liuing or dead. And after­ward hauing giuen but one only crye, he from that time forward rested, & tempered those babish cries, vnto which other infan­tes, for the most part, are so much inclined. And I belieue, that this was a presage of the mildenesse of mind, and suauity of con­uersation, which he shewed in the whole course of his life afterward. In the same year vpon 12. of the Kalends of May, and in like manner vpon a Tuesday, in the Church of the Saints Nazarius and Celsus, he was by Iohn Baptista Pastorius Archpriest of Casti­lion, with as much pompe as might be, ini­tiated with the sacred rites which are wont to be vsed in Baptisme, and in memory of his Fathers Grandfather was called Aloy­sius, or (which is all one) Lewis. He had God­father VVilliam Duke of Mantua, who sent Prosperus Gonzaga (a very Noble Gentlemā and kinsman to the Marques) who might supply his place by proxy at the Christning. It was entred into the Tables of the curate of that Church; in which I obserued, that whereas the christnings of others of the same age, are rehearsed in Italian, to this his name alone (whether it was as an attribute to his noble descent, or that it fell out by some di­uine instinct) there were adioyned certaine latin wordes, such as are not added to any of his brothers, and the euent it selfe doth [Page 10] shew that they did well agree vnto him. The writing was in this manner: Sit felix, carus (que) Deo ter optimo, ter (que) maximo, & hominibus in sternum viuat. That is to say; Happy and deare be he vnto the thrice good, and thrice mighty God, and to men, of eternall me­mory.

CHAP. III. Of his Education till the seauenth yeare of his Age.

NOw, with what care and industry he was bred vp from his very childhood, it may easily be gathered by this, for so much as he being the head of his house, was travned vp, not only in hope of his Fathers inheritance, but of two vneles likewise, na­mely of Alphonsus who was Lord ouer Castle Godfrey, and of Horatius also, Lord of Sul­phurino. For wheras they held their liuing by Fee farme from the Emperour, and the one of them had none, the other no Male issue, their estates were of necessity to de­uolue to Aloysius, as heyre generall, and ne­phew to them both. It was the speciall care of the mother, as she was herself of singular piety, that her sonne should be inured from a very little one, to haue God and his Saints in great reuerence. Therfore when he could scarcely speake, she wold reach him to make the signe of the crosse, to prononce the most holy names of Ies vs and Maria, to learn [Page 11] without-booke our Lords Prayer, the An­gelicall salutation, and other prayers. And she commaunded the nurse, and others who were imployed about him eyther for ser­uice, or solace, also to do the like. By which meanes he conceaued so much reuerence & feare towards Almighty God, that euen by the cleare dawning of this his morning, we might presage what the future splendour of his noone-tyde would be. This in like-mā ­ner did the mayds testify (who when at such tyme, as they attended vpon the mother, had also in charge to dresse and vndresse the child) that they found in him, being but then an infant, a singular, and religious feare of God. They recount two things very wel­worthy of memory, to be noted euen then in his disposition. The one was, that in seeing the need of poore people, he was moued with mercy to shew himselfe boun­tifull towards them. The other was, that as soone as he could with-draw himselfe to his home, he vsed often to hide himself in cor­ners, and after long search they should find him in some solitary place close at his pray­ers. By which circumstance they gaue a cō ­iecture euen then what the future sanctity of his life would be. Neyther want there those that affirme vpō oath, that they by the only imbracing of him, haue from thence-forth beene affected with such an intrinsecal sense of Piety, as if they had entertayned into their armes, some celestiall Angell.

[Page 12] This his loue, & affection towards God, and celestiall thinges dayly increasing, did very much delight his Mother. But his Fa­ther being a Martialist, who had vndergone many martiall affayres vnder the Catholike King, did rather desire to haue him instru­cted in his artes. Wherfore he being not as yet aboue foure yeares of age, he prouideth for him little dagges, gunnes, and such other small weapons appropriated to that age. Ac­cording vnto this, when by the designes of the same King, being to lead vnder his ensi­gnes three thousand Italian foot to Tunis, he mustered them in the field of Cremona, at the Greater Cassall, which is a towne with­in the Dukedome of Millane, he tooke him thither with him, being but a child taken out of the womens hands, and the tuition of his mother, when he was not passing foure or fiue yeares of age. There those dayes that the Companyes were mustered, he com­maunds him to go before the ranckes, ar­med with a light Brigantine, and carrying vpon his shoulder a little speare, after a mi­litary manner. And he was merueilously re­created, when he saw the boy delighted in this kind of exercise. He hauing stayed cer­tayne moneths at Cassall, as that age is apt to imitate all things which it sees done, whilst he dayly playeth, and talketh with the souldiers promiscuously, by little and little he takes vnto him military affections, and he shewed by very pregnāt signes to be [Page 13] affectionately carrryed towards that glory, whither his Fathers incouragement, and e­xample called him. The refore it often fell out, that medling both with other weapons, and especially with peeces of ordinance, he did much indanger himselfe, had not God who reserued him to a more holy kind of life, in a manner aboue the course of nature diuerted him. Surely of this a testimony was giuen, when once in shooting off a small gunne, he fouly besmeared all his face with the hoat-burning steame of the powder.

Another tyme, when in the summer the Marques about noone-tyde tooke his re­pose, & he (which you would wonder at in one of so small age) hauing no ones helpe thereunto, casting certaine powder which he had gathered out of the souldiers purses whilst they tooke their none-sleepe, into a litle peece of ordinance, which stood before the Castle-walls, and putting fire therto, es­caped very narrowly frō being ouerthrown with the violent recoyling of the carriage­wheeles flying backward. The Marques be­ing roused with the suddaine noise, fearing least some mutiny had byn risen amongst the souldiers, sent one to discouer what vnwonted insolency this was. When he had vnderstood the whole matter, he would haue corrected his sonne, had not the soul­diers (who were very much delighted with the great-vndertaking spirit of the child) begged his pardon. These and other preser­uations [Page 14] of the like kind, he was wont after when he liued amongst religious persons of­ten to recount, as testimonies of the singu­lar goodnesse of Almighty God towardes him, by whose assistance he had escaped so great dangers. Neyther as then was he quite voyd of scruple for that litle powder which he had so purloyned from the Souldiers, had he not extenuated it with that comfor­table opinion, that the Souldiers would most willingly haue bestowed it vpon him, if he had asked it of them.

The Marques being to go with his forces to Tunis, sendeth back Aloysius to Castilion, where he continued the same course of lyfe which he vndertooke at Cassall. And as for the most part, these common souldiers are giuen to licentious, and dishonest speaches, he likewise by consorting with them had learned some such like kind of talke, which he not knowing the meaning thereof did sometymes vtter; as afterward he gaue ac­count to F. Hierome Platus, when he inqui­red of him his whole course of life which he lead in the world, being now consecrated to Religion. This, when vpon a certaine tyme Peter-Francis Turctus had vnderstanding of, (who as we haue said before was Tutour to him in his childhood) he did so vehemently inueigh agaynst it, that as the selfe same Tu­tour after affirmed vnto me, he neuer af­ter was obserued to vtter any other, then honest and decent speaches. Yea, and more [Page 15] then that, when afterward he heard any one speaking debausly, he would straight way with a modest coūtenance, with his eyes cast downe to the ground, or turned some other way, eyther seeme to diuert his mynd, or signify that the words were troublesome to him to heare. Wherby we may vnderstand, that he would neuer haue vsed these kind of speaches, if he had first knowne what their meaning had beene. But in the whole course of Aloysius his life, I find no sinne commit­ted by him, which was more culpable, then were these wordes pronoūced by him being a very child, and ignorant what the things signifyed by thē should be. Which so soone as he vnderstood that they were vitious, and disgracefull to his degree & calling, so great a shamefastnes ceased vpon him, (as he af­terward acknowledged) that he could scar­cely persuade himselfe to vnfould them to the Priest that was inquisitour of his Con­science. Neyther truly did the penitency of this fault which seemed so great vnto him, euer forsake him during his life. And as he had committed nothing worse, that his cō ­science accused him of, so after he came in­to Religion, to the intent that for the ouer­cōming and vilifying of himselfe, he might shew himselfe guilty of frailty from his very child-hood, he would often recount to cer­taine of his familiar friendes, these kind of passages. It is not vnlike, that God vpon set purpose suffered this kind of blemish to [Page 16] stick close by him, that whilst he thought that to be a fault in himselfe, which in res­pect of the ignorance of his childish age, and of the thing it selfe, is more probable was none, in the middest of so many heauenly guifts, and vertues with the which his mind was afterward enriched from God, he might haue some matter of humiliation; and that, as S. Gregory wrot of S. Benedict, quem in in­gressu mundi posuerat, retraheret pedem; That he might pull back that foote which he had newly set into the world.

CHAP. IV. How he behaued himselfe from the seauenth, till the eight yeare of his age.

BVt when he attained the seauenth yeare of his age (which seemeth vnto Aristo­tle, & the holy Doctours, to be ripe for rea­sonable discourse, and euen for vertue, or vice) he conuerted himselfe with so much feruour to the seruice of God, and did so wholy consecrate himselfe vnto him, that he was wont afterward to call that the time of his conuersion. He could therfore to those fathers who were the reformers of his life, vnto whome he vnfoulded the secret of his hart, that he esteemed this amongst one of the most especial benefits of Almighty God towards him, that from the very seauenth yeare of his age, he was conuerted to God from the loue of the world. Now with what an assistance of celestiall guifts, euen [Page 17] now from the first tyme that he began to haue the vse of reason, Almighty God did eyther preuent, or second all his endeauours may be manifest heerby, in so much as foure Priests, who in diuers places, and at diuers tymes tooke his Confessions, euen those which contained the discouery of his whole life, both before and after his entrance in­to the Society, and amongst these Robert Bel­larmine that most illustrious Cardinall, who at his death heard the confession of his whole life, all of them, allthough ignorant of ech others testimony, did with one con­sent set downe in writing, that he neuer committed so much as one deadly sinne, or lost the grace of God which he obtayned in Baptisme. The which thing is so much the more to be admired, for that he passed the most vnstable part of his age, not in Monaste­ries and sacred Cloisters of Religious men, in which, in respect of the small occasions of sinne, or the supply of so great company of men deuoted to God, both for holy con­uersation and the help of ones mind, it is a great deale easier to preserue the grace of God, then in a vulgar course of liberty; but he euen from his very cradle beganne to cō ­uerse in Princes courts. For besides that time in which he was borne & bred vp in his Fa­thers house, he spent many yeares after with the Duke of Florence, the Duke of Mantua, and the King of Spayne, being alwayes stri­ctly tyed to the neere conuersation of Prin­ces [Page 18] and great Noble-men, and to the promi­scuous commerce of all men of what condi­tion soeuer, as occasion serued. And yet in the middest of the delicacies of his fathers house, and the prouocations of the Court, he preserued that integrity of lyfe, which he put on as a white garment in his Baptisme, pure from all blemish and vnspotted. Wher­fore most worthily did Cardinall Bellarmine vpon a certaine time, when in a speach which he had with me, and diuers others, of the singular vertues of Aloysius euē then liuing, by many arguments teach, that there neuer wanted in this our Church (although di­stressed with a doubtfull conflict) certaine men of excellent sanctity of life, who euen whilst they liued, were confirmd in a stedfast degree of grace, in the sight of Allmighty God, & namely adioyned these wordes: In horum numero, quitam arcta at (que) indissolubili ne­cessitudine Deo sunt adiuncti, equidem, quem mi­nimè fugit quid in eius mente agatur, Aloysium nostrum Gonzagam collocandum censeo. In the number of these which are adioyned vnto God with so strict and indissoluble a bond of friēdship, surely I (as one that is very well acquainted with the affaires of his mind) thinke our Aloysius Gonzaga to be placed. Furthermore the same Cardinall in that re­markable testimony authentically signed & sealed, added another certaine thing, which with those that are not altogether ignorant of the leading of a holy & retired course of [Page 19] life, and that do prize the authority of this witnesse, will moue far greater admiration. For he affirmeth that B. Aloysius euen from the very seauēth yeare of his age, led a per­fect course of life, euery way accomplished with the exact rules of sanctity. The dignity of which prerogatiue I leaue to the estima­tion of the wise.

And it seemeth to haue bene the pleasure of allmighty God, that euen the wicked spi­rits themselues, should proclaime his sancti­ty of conuersation, and the glory allready prepared for him in Heauen, when he was but yet a child. For when as a certaine reli­gious man, of that order of S. Francis which they call Friars Obseruants, being of excel­lent fame whersoeuer he trauailed, comming to Castilion, rested in a Monastery of his Or­der called S. Maries, one mile from the tow­ne, there was made great recourse vnto him to see him, and request his prayers. And for so much, as the report went that he did some thinges aboue humane power, many posses­sed and vexed with diuels were brought to him, that they might be helped by his exor­cismes. There, when this priest, in the sight of a great assembly of people, together with diuers noble-men, and amongst these, the child Aloysius, and his other younger bro­ther, according to his custome cast forth di­uerse execratios against the diuel; those vn­cleane spirits cry out with a loud voyce, and with a hand stretched forth towards Aloy­sius: [Page 20] Ʋideti sne illum? hie demum est, quem celum & multa inibi manet gloria. Do you see that boy? he it is for whome heauen at the last, & much glory there, is prouided. That voyce was carried in memory & diuulged throgh­out all Castilion. Neither are there wanting those at this day, who testify that they were present at the hearing of that speach. And although there be no credit to be giuen to the words of Diuells who are the Fathers of lyes, notwithstanding I could easily be perswaded, that they, to the intent they might be more ashamed of their owne mad­nesse, were compelled by diuine force (as of­ten at other times) to declare the truth.

For so singular was the opinion of men, euen at that time of this holy young man, that in his life and manners, they did seeme to behould the forme of some Angell des­cēded from heauen. For daily at home vpon his knees he recited those prayers that are called the Dayly Exercise, the seauen psal­mes, the office of the Blessed Virgin, either alone, or togeather with some other com­panion, and performed other offices of piety. He was so accustomed in that sort to kneele vpon the bare ground at his prayers, that he would not suffer a cushion, or any such like thing to be put vnder his knees; & this afterward did he solemnly obserue in the whole course of his life, as I shall after declare.

About that time he was vehemently hād­led [Page 21] with a Quartane Feuer, for the space of eighteene whole moneths, although, because at the first it was more extreme, afterward it held him lesse in his bed. In the meane while he patiently endured this infirmity, neither did he euer omit, but that he would daily say the Graduall, & the penitentiall Psalmes & other set-prayers. Notwithstāding some­times when as he was more weake then or­dinary, he sent for some of the maides that waited vpon his Mother, that so they might help to say with him for his ease. These are the foundations which the B. Aloysius laid of Christian vertue, when he was but seauen yeares of age, that it ought not much to be merueiled at, if afterward it brought him to so great a height, as we shal declare herafter.

CHAP. V. He is brought by his Father to Florence, to apply his studies.

VVHEN the Marques Ferdinand ha­uing staid more then two yeares in the Spanish Court after the voyage to Tunis, returned into the territories of his [...]owne Dominion, as soone as he foūd Aloy­sius, the head of his house, full of modesty & piety, hauing laid downe his accustomed military ardour; he did both admire that his [...]re towardlinesse, & prudence beyond his [...]ge, and in like manner reioyced very much [...]hat he was prouided of an heyre, so fit to [...]ouerue the people, that were in his subie­ction. [Page 22] But he being now eight yeares of age, had far different designes in his mind, & had taken vnto him thoughts of a certaine hig­her degree of vertue. Neither did he doubt vpon a certaine time to make thē known vn­to his mother, whom whē he had often heard say, that if she shold be blessed with diuers children, it wold be a most acceptable thing vnto her, to see some one of them addicted to religion, he in secret speaketh vnto her in this manner: Mother, sayth he, you haue af­firmed, that it would be a thing acceptable vnto you, if you might haue some one of your sonnes, who might sort himselfe in some religious family: surely I am confidēt, that God will reward you for this gratious disposition. And another day, when he had iterated the same wordes, he added, that he hoped also that he should be that sonne. His mother although, for so much as he was her eldest, as one disliking this speach, brake it off, and commaunded her sonne, togeather with this his discourse out of her presence, notwithstanding she laide them vp in her mind, & for that she saw him much conuer­sāt in the exercise of piety, she belieued that it would come to passe, as he had said: all­though (as he afterward confessed when [...] was entered into Religion) he had at that time no certaine resolution of one side or o­ther, but only followed his owne custom [...] of pious life.

Whilst these thinges passe, it is much bru [...] [Page 23] abroad that the plage increaseth throgh­out all Italy. For feare therof it seemed good vnto the Marques, to remoue himselfe to­geather, with his whole family to Monte-Ferrato. Whilst he resideth there, he began to be afflicted with grieuous torments of the goute. Wherfore by the aduise of the Phisi­tians he determineth to go the Bathes of Lu­ca, and to carry with him Rodulphus another of his sonnes for the cure of a certaine infir­mity which he had, and in like manner his sonne Aloysius, with an intent, that at his re­turne he might take Florence in his way, and there leaue them both in the Court of Fran­cis Medices the great Duke of Tuscany, ether to the intent, that he might continue that friendship which he had begun with him in the Court of the Catholicke King, or for that they might be the better accommoda­ted for learning the Tuscane tongue. Ther­fore in the beginning of the Sommer the yeare 1577. he wēt directly towards the ba­thes, when he departed from his wife very much complaining, that her children of so tender yeares shold be so far separated from her. From thēce, after that he had made suf­ficient vse of the waters, he went towards Florence, whither when he neere approched, and vnderstood that the gates therof were diligētly guarded with watch-men for feare of the plague, he betooke himselfe to Fiesoli the place where his familiar friēd Iames Tur­cius kept his residence. In the meane while [Page 24] he commaunded notice to be giuen to the Great Duke, that he came with intention to salute him. Hauing receaued an answere, he entereth the citty, and is intertained by the Duke, with remonstrance of singular affe­ction. This Duke when the Marques presen­ted vnto him his sōnes, was so much deligh­ted with that present, that he would haue them lodged in no other place, but in his owne pallace. But for that he was desirous to haue his children instructed, not only in Courtlike deportement, but likewise in the liberall studies, not long after by the Dukes good leaue, be bringing them home, be­stoweth them in a towne called Angelo. Af­terward before his departure, he appointeth as Gouernour ouer them, and all that fami­ly, Francis Turcius who now gouerneth the house of Iohn Medices, a principall man, who was one of many yeares experience, and of great fidelity, and prudence whilst he serued him both in Spayne and Italy. He ordained for Chamberlaine, Clement Ghisonius now Go­uernour ouer the Marques his house who this day is Lord of Castilion. There was ad­ioyned vnto these, besides the rest of the fa­mily worthy of their renowne, Iulius Brixia­nus of Cremona, being a priest of singular de­uotiō, who might informe them both in the Latin tongue and in honest manners. Aloy­sius was now complete nine yeares of age, when he was left by his Father at Florence, where he spent two yeares in learning the [Page 25] Latin, and Tuscan language. Vpon festiuall dayes he resorted to the Court, and that he might be obedient to the Gouernour of his child-hood, he did sometimes dispose him­selfe to some recreation. But he was so far from being giuen to disports, that as Leo­nora Medices the Duches of Mantua recoun­ted; he being inuited for recreations sake to the gardens by her, and her sister Mary, who at this day is the Queene of France, being then both of them in a manner children, was wōt to deny, that he was delighted in passe­times; & that he had rather busy himselfe in erecting litle Altars, and in such like exer­cises of piety.

CHAP. VI. He voweth to God his virginity in his childhood, and flyeth the company of women.

HE had not long remained at Florence, when he made excellent progresse in the practise of heauenly thinges, in so much as afterward he was wont to call Florence, the mother of his piety. And especially he con­ceaued in his mind so much obseruance to­wards our Lady, the most B. Virgin-Mother, that as often as he entred into speach of her, and reuolued in his mind the most holy mysteries of her life, he seemed euen to melt with celestiall ioy. He was very much inci­ted herunto both by the singular reuerence which the commō people of Florence do ex­hibite to the Image of this B. Virgin, which [Page 26] in that Citty is worshipped by the name of Annuntiata, and in like manner by the rea­ding of that litle booke which Gasper Loar­tes, a Priest of the Society of IESVS, wrote of the mysteries of the Rosary. In the rea­ding of this booke, when he perceaued him­selfe to be inflamed with a desire to do som­thing that might be gratefull, and accepta­ble to the Queene of Heauen, it came into his mind, that nothing could be perfour­med, more pleasing, or better accommoda­ted vnto her, then if out of a desire to imi­tate her chastity (as far forth as lyeth in hu­mane power) he should by vow oblige, and consecrate his virginity vnto her. Therfore when vpon a certaine time he prayed before that Image which I spake off before, to the intent that he might likewise turne it to the honour of B. Ʋirgin, he voweth vnto God that he will for euer preserue his virginity entyre and inuiolable; which vow he did al­waies after so religiously, and exactly per­forme, that euen therby it is manifest, how much it was ratifyed with God, and with how especiall loue the Virgin-mother toke him into her charge and tuition. For they vpon whome he relyed as ghostly fathers, & namely Cardinall Bellarmine, in that testimo­ny, which he confirmed by oath, and much more at large Hieronymus Platus in those pa­pers written in latin, do affirme, that both the body of Aloysius whilst he liued, was free from all sense and motion of lust, and [Page 27] his mind of all obscene cogitations and re­presentations, which might in the least mā ­ner impuge this his vow, and purpose.

Which thing being beyond the compasse of all humane strength and industry, it suffi­ciently appeareth to haue beene giuen by God as a certaine peculiar guift, at the re­quest of his most Deare Mother; which of how high a nature it is, he may estimate, who shall call to mind, that S. Paul (whe­ther he spake of himselfe or some other) did thrice beseech our Lord that he would take from him, the stinge of the flesh: That S. Hierome in the wildernes seeking to rebate the same, did often strike his naked breast with stones: That S. Benedict casting away his garments, wallowed himseife all in the briars: and in like manner, that S. Francis tumbled himself naked in the winter-snow: That S. Bernard plunging himselfe vp to the neck in an yey poole extingnished this im­petuous ardour: That certayne few Saints which almighty God pleased to endow with this singular guift, haue obtained a rescue from this tyranny. And if there haue bene any, they haue arriued vnto it by daily prai­ers and teares. Such did S. Gregory that Great in his Dialogues, recount Equitius that ho­ly Abbot to be, who when in his youth he perceaued such kind of fires to be enkindled in him, did not cease to petition Almighty God with long and frequent prayers, till he sending an Angell, deliuered him from all [Page 28] such kind of allurements and inflāmations, as if he had bene but a new-borne infant. In like manner Cassianus relateth, that the Ab­bot Serenus when by frequent fastes, prayers and teares, he had obtayned of God clean­nesse of mind, did vndergo another as great a busines, that he might also procure cleānes of body; and that it was at last effected by the ministery of an Angell, so that after that tyme, neyther sleeping nor waking he was stirred with any the least motion. To con­clude S. Thomas a man neerer to our memory, who obtayned the name of Angelicall Do­ctour, when he had with a burning fire-brād driuen from him a certain lasciuious womā, & that an Angell afterward had girded him with a certayne girdle, was himselfe also made partaker of this truly Angelicall be­nefit.

Neyther was it out of any naturall frigi­dity, or stupidnesse of senses that B. Aloysius had all his members so peaceable, and obe­dient, and the secret cogitations of his hart so pure, whome they who were familiarly acquainted with him, do all ioyntly affirme to haue bene of a sanguine complexion, full of spirit, sharpe, and industrious in the mā ­naging of his affayres. Let vs therfore con­fesse it to haue bene a diuine, and vnusuall guift, proceeding from the singular fauour of the Virgin mother of God towards him, whom from that tyme forward in the whole course of his life he entertayned for his mo­ther [Page 29] with a certaine tender kind of loue, and piety, and reposed in her a great hope in the prosecution of all his affaires. Notwithstan­ding the singular vigilancy which himselfe vsed in the seuere moderation of his senses, was of no small moment for the maintaining of this so excellent a benefit. For although nothing of this kind did very much trouble him, notwithstanding out of his loue of vir­ginall, and holy chastity, he began euen frō that day to stand vpon his guard euer more, and to suruey, & obserue all his senses with a certayne exquisite care: And especially, to restraine his eyes alwayes from all vicious allurements, and chiefly for that cause to go in publike with them continually fixed vp­on the groūd: but he did so much, throughout the whole course of his life, auoyd the fa­miliarity, and company of women where­soeuer he conuersed, that you would thinke he had with them a kind of naturall antipa­thy. In so much, as that he could not suffer himselfe to behould them.

At Castilion he receaued his mothers com­maunds, and returned an answere in very few wordes, to those Noble women which sometimes she sent from her company to his chamber to deliuer some message vnto him, and he would talke with them no otherwise then through the doore halfe shut, with his eyes cast vpon the groūd, least he should be­hould them. But that is not a thing much to be marueyled at; For he would not so much [Page 30] as indure to speake to his mother her selfe, without witnesses. Therfore if at any tyme, whilst he was conuersant with her, in the Chamber, or in the Parlour, others in the meane while should chaunce to with-draw theselues, he would likewise presently take some occasion to depart, and if he found none, he would blush with a modest kind of bashfullnesse. So singular was his solicitude and carefulnesse. He being asked vpon a cer­tayne tyme, by a certaine learned man who obserued it, why he had this auersion from behoulding any woman, and euen his mo­ther herselfe? least he should make knowne his vertue, he rather ascribed it to his natu­rall bashfulnesse.

Besides other things which were agreed on betweene him & his father this was one; that he should commaund him in all things, but only in the visits of women. That in o­ther things he would be, as is duty was, at his disposing. Therefore the Marques after that he perceaued him so constant in this purpose, not to trouble him, he was allwais obseruing to his will heerin. He himselfe in like manner would affirme, that he had ne­uer beheld certayne noble women who were very neere of kin vnto him. And this his cu­stome was so well knowne, that in iest he was oftentymes by his familiar friends cal­led, the Women-hater.

CHAP. VII. At Florence he maketh great progresse in a more holy course of life.

MOREOVER, when he was at Florence he began more often to purge his cō ­science by cofession, then he had as yet done at Castilion, with a certaine priest of the So­ciety of IESVS, designed vnto him by his Gouernor, who at that time gouerned the college in that Citty. When he came first vn­to him to confession, hauing much and long before, both meditated and prepared him­selfe at home, he conceaued in the presence of him so much reuerence, bashfulnesse, and submission of himselfe, as if he had exceeded all mortall men in the multitude of his sin­nes. He is scarcely kneeled at his feet, but he falls into a sound, and of necessity being ta­ken vp by his gouernor is carried home. Af­terward returning thither he discouered all the sinnes of his life past: of which thing we haue often heard him recount, after he was ioyned to the Company of religious men, that he rested satisfied in that confession which he made at Florence of his whole life. For so much as this was the beginning of knowing himselfe, and vndertaking the course of a more strict kind of life. For then he began carefully to discusse euery one of his actions, & if he found any imperfection therin, he would wholy imploy himselfe, in [Page 32] searching out, & pulling vp the very rootes therof. First of al therfore he obserued him­selfe, to be somewhat of a cholerick nature, to be sometimes easily transported with a certaine kind of stomake, which though it did not breake forth, notwithstanding it ve­xed his mind with some griefe and indispo­sition. He gaue himselfe therfore to consider of the foule deformity of anger, which he said, did manifestly appeare and discouer it selfe, when the mind being recalled to his former tranquility, he might perceaue that a man whilst he was possessed with anger, was in some sort besides his senses. When he had discouered that, he determined in time, to come to bend himselfe to the repressing & supplanting of that corrupt disposition of his mind. At the last, by the assistāce of God and his owne great industry, he did so abso­lutely ouercome it, that he seemed after­ward to be voyd of all motion of anger.

Furthermore he perceaued that oftenti­mes in company, some one word or other fell from him that might tend to the defa­ming of others. And allthough, as he him­selfe afterward confessed, of what quality soeuer that sinne was, it was scarcely at any time so great, that it might be numbred a­mongst those, which for their slendernesse are accounted veniall; notwithstanding for this cause he was displeased with himselfe, & to the intent that he might not any more be compelled to accuse himselfe, of any such [Page 33] like fault to the Priest, he did eschew the company and discourse, not only of other friends, but euen of those which were most familiar vnto him, and began very much to addict himselfe to retirement and solitude, where he might neither speake, nor heare any thing that might cast vpon his conscien­ce any the least spot. Some did ascribe that to-too much scrupulosity and seuerity: But he doubtlesse made but small account of what others thought. And from that time, all the course of his life after, he did perpe­tually abstaine from all kind of sport. Fur­thermore he was so much affected to the obedience of his superiours, that his Gouer­nor denied, that euer he omitted any com­maund of his, how little soeuer it was. And which is more, if at any time he saw his yon­ger brother Rodulph take in ill part the re­prehensions of his maister, either of manners or learning, he would with a check exhort him to submit himselfe to gouernement.

He had such respect ouer his seruants, & in such sort commaunded them, that he made them ashamed not to obey him. For so much as they deny, that euer he commaun­ded them imperiously, but euen in these formes of speach: Nisi tibi molestum est, licet hoc facias: si tibi commodum est, hoc abs te velim: Amabo te, hoc mihi effectum da. That is to say: If it be not troblesome vnto you, you may do this: if cōmodiously you may, this would I haue you doe: I pray thee dispatch this [Page 34] for me. Which when he said, there euer ap­peared so much sweetnesse in him, that he shewed himselfe much to be moued with commiseration ouer his seruants. By this behauiour he did much oblige the mindes of them vnto him.

He was of so singular modesty, that he blushed in euen behoulding his chāberlaine whē he apparelled him in the morning, and in putting on his breeches, he would scar­cely thrust his toes out of the bed-cloathes, so fearful he was to discouer any naked part. He was present euery day at Masse, and vpon festiuall dayes at Euensong. All that time he had knowne nothing as yet of the contēpla­tion and meditation of celestiall thinges, ap­plying himselfe only to the reciting of his vocall prayers. Therfore euery morning by breake of day, he recited those which are contained in the daily Exercise, & the other which I spake of before, humbly and atten­tiuely. Notwithstanding allthough in very deed he had not as then determined in his mind to abandone all the goods of Fortune, neuerthelesse he was fully resolued, that if he did retaine thē, he would be take himselfe to a most innocent, and exact course of life.

And with this grauity of manners was B. Aloysius endowed being but of that age, & had attained to those degrees of diuine Phi­losophy, which those often times are far short of, who haue spent many yeares in the disci­pline of a more seuere life.

CHAP. VIII. Being recalled backe to Mantua, he determineth to renounce the Marquesate, and to lead an Ecclesiasticall life.

BLESSED Aloysius had now liued at Flo­rence for two yeares, when by his father (vnto whome VVilliam the Duke of Mantua had then giuen the gouernment of Monte-Ferrato) he was commanded togeather with Rodulph his yonger brother to liue at Mātua. Thither therfore, by the great Dukes good leaue, he betooke himselfe, in the moneth of Nouember the yeare 1579. when he was 11. years of age, and 8. moneths. There whilst he prosecuteth his custome, which he be­gan at Florence of exercising a pious life, with no lesse graue aduise then he had before be­gun it, he determineth to renounce the tit­le and commodities of the Marques of Casti­lion, with the which he was now by the Im­periall authority adorned, and to resigne thē ouer to Rodulphus his yonger brother. And although he did now of late certainely re­solute to abstaine from mariage, notwithstā ­ding at that time, his indisposition of health, by reason of the straightnesse of his water, gaue no small confirmation to this his new resolution. For when he feared least that malady should increase, it seemed good vnto him by the aduise of the Phisitians to indea­uour to consume those bad humours by ab­stinēce, [Page 36] which were the matter of his disease: vnto which abstinence he gaue himself with so much rigour, that it is strange, how he could escape death. For if sometimes at sup­per he did eate but one whole egge (which seldome tymes he did) then he seemed to himselfe to haue feasted very royally.

This seuere abstinence he obserued, both all that winter which he remained at Man­tua, and all the sumer following at Castilion, though dissuaded now by the Phisitians & all others, not so much for his health, as it was generally thought, but (as he, after he was adioyned to the religious Society con­fessed to Hierome Platus) for deuotion sake. For although the loue of his health did at the first driue him to that so rigid a course of dyet, by degrees notwithstanding he turned it into a custome, and out of that loue which he bare to Almighty God, it began to be a pleasure to him. But as it preuayled in dri­uing away that disease which was growing vpō him (as one who al his life after was free from it,) so did it very much impayre the whole state of his health otherwise, for with that slendernesse of dyet he did so far forth weaken his stomacke, that afterward when he most would, he could not take meate, & if agaynst his appetite he tooke it, could he by any meanes retaine it. Therfore wheras hertofore he had beene somwhat corpulent, he was always afterward of a leane habit of body: moreouer his former strength being [Page 37] decayed, in place of that naturall vigour there succeeded a very great weakenesse that vtterly corrupted the whole state of his body, which notwithstanding brought this fruite to his mind, that for this respect he was destitute of many sportes which if he had bene of entire health he could not haue auoyded.

Therfore he did seldome go forth in pu­blike, vnlesse he went to some Church, or religious house, where he did oftē discourse of celestiall things. It fell out also once whē he went to see Prosperus Gonzaga his Cosen, and a prime man, that in the entrance of his house, going into a priuate Chappell, he ap­plied himselfe for a certaine time to his de­uotions, but afterward he so discoursed with him, and with the rest of his familiar frien­des, with so much feruour, and subtility of diuine thinges, that euen then all of them esteemed him to be a holy man. The rest of his time for the most part he spent alone and at home, sequestred from the company of men, sometimes reading those histories of Saints which Surius collected, with which he was very much delighted, sometimes reci­ting his set-prayers, & in frequenting other actes of piety. The which actes he did so daily increase, that wheras out of his affe­ction to that quiet kind of life, he grew by little and little weary of all humane conuer­sation, he at last determined, that yielding vp the honors, and riches of Marques to his [Page 38] brother Rodulph, he would deuote himselfe to the Church; not out of any hope to ob­taine Honours therein (which, being by many often offered him, he had alwais most constantly refused) but for that he might in that kind of life bestow himselfe wholy, more frely & quietly in the seruice of God. Whē he had determined this in his mind, he began earnestly to importune the Marques that he wold giue him leaue, being dischar­ged of Court imployments, to apply him­selfe vnto the study of learning. Notwith­standing he concealed frō him in the meane while, his determination of following an Ecclesiasticall course of life.

CHAP. IX. Returning to Castilion he obtaynes from God an excellent hability in mentall prayer.

THAT which for the most part the Prin­ces Gōzaga's do euery yeare, to wit, the winter being ended they retire themselues from Mantua into diuers places, till the sū ­mer-heates be past; the same doth the Mar­ques commaund Aloysius by letters, & that he should with his younger brother re­turne to Castilion, as thinking indeed that his naturall climate would be more holsome to him, then that of Mantua. Neyther did his hope deceaue him, for he was much a­mended with the pleasantnesse of that place, situated vpon a faire hill, most pleasant to behould: and I do not doubt, but, especially [Page 39] by that cure which his mother would haue applied to him, he might haue bene wholy recouered, if he could haue perswaded him­selfe to haue remitted any thing of that ri­gor of life: vnto which he begā to giue him­selfe at Mantua. But he doubtlesse being more solicitous of the health of his mind, then of his body, was so far from any relaxa­tiō of those endeauours of piety, vnto which he had accustomed himselfe, as that he did rather straighten them. For he added vnto that strictnesse of diet which he had impo­sed vpon himselfe, with great rigour, conti­nuall solitarines, in which he shrowded him­selfe for the loue of diuine thinges, auoiding all humane society.

Wheras therfore he daily separated, and estranged himself from the common sort of men, who are only drawne with these mor­tall respectes; God according to his singular goodnesse in rewarding those who fayth­fully serue him, did vouchsafe to declare, how gratefully he accepted this mynd, so pious and so desirous of his honour, with which a youth but of twelue yeares of age did with so much innocency of manners co­secrate himselfe vnto him. Therfore for so much as to that very day he was instructed by no man, of the manner of meditating v­pon celestiall matters, nor had any vse ther­of; it was the pleasure of God that without humane help, he would himselfe instructe him with his owne inspiration. For hauing [Page 40] once most fitly prepared his mind, in respect of the excellent purity therof, for the re­ceauing of heauenly riches, he brought him to the most hidden treasures of his guiftes, and powred vpon him with a full hand (as they say) his endowments. For when as he had enlightned his mind with a certaine ce­lestiall light, which exceeded in clearnesse all human capacity, he taught him a way of me­ditating, & pondering vpon the Almighty power and greatnesse of God, far more cu­rious and high, then it could haue bene done by the precepts of any mortall man. Whē he perceaued, that this so easy an entrance as it were to the plentifull pasture, and cheerfull food of his soule, was so boūtifully laid opē vnto him, by way of seruiceable gratitude, for this his loue shewed towards him; he re­mained whole dayes trasported in thinking sometimes of those admirable things which fell out in the working of our saluation; o­ther sometimes in meditating vpon the ti­tles, and attributes of Almighty God, when in the meane while he was surprised with so great ioy, that he could by no meanes mo­derate his teares. So as with them he of­ten moistned not only the garments which he wore, but euen the floor of his chamber. Therfore for the most part all the day he was close shut vp, least if he shold haue gone forth any whither, he might ether haue lost that sense of piety, or being found by any one to haue wept, might haue bene hindred [Page 41] from prosecuting the same. This when his seruants obserued, they would often throgh the chinkes of the doore descry what he was doing. For oftentimes they saw him knee­ling before a crucifix for diuers houres to­gether, with his eyes fixed vpon it, with his armes sometimes stretched out, sometimes placed before his brest in the forme of a crosse, when he shed so many tears, that the very sobs & grones might be heard throgh the doores. And sometimes they perceaued him to remaine vnmooued, with his mind abstracted from his senses, euen like a statue, with his eyes not so much as once cast down. At which time his Gouernour, & others that were of his chamber, do affirme, that he was therin so alienated from all sense, that nei­ther with passing through his chamber, nor with making any other noise, they could di­uert his mind. When the fame of these thin­ges had spred it selfe abroad, not now his fa­miliar acquaintance only, but they also who were none of the Court, being admitted to the same chinkes, and made eye-witnesses of the same thinges, could neuer sufficiently admire them. Oftentimes also did the do­mesticall seruitours heare him, in going vp the staires, say vpon euery staire an Ane Ma­ria. But now both at home, and abroad, whe­ther he was carried in coach, or went on foot, he neuer cast off his mind from the meditation of heauenly mysteries. In which exercise of piety, as I said before, he made vse [Page 42] of no Maister but the holy Ghost, who en­dued his mind with this diuine guifte, as it were with a pretious ointmēt. And although he now obserued a certaine manner of me­ditating, notwithstanding he had not as yet learned to performe it in methode & order, neither did he sufficiently vnderstand, what places he should especially choose for it. Therfore at that time he fitly light vpon a certayne little Booke of Peter Canisius, a Deuine of the Society of IESVS, in which certaine heads of meditation, were after a certaine methodicall manner, set downe. Therby he was not only more vehemently enkindled towards the loue of Diuine con­uersation, but also vnderstood what course he should insist vpon in meditation, & what times he should obserue. Although then truly he confined his meditations within no certaine limits of time, but according to the copiousnesse of the subiect, & according as his mind was put on forward with diuine impulsions, he eyther made them longer or shorter: but in such sort as that he neuer de­parted from them, but eyther with his mind illuminated with new lightes from heauen, or with his will inflamed with new ardour, or with his whole hart steeped in new sweet­nesse.

CHAP. X. The beginning of his loue towards the Society of IESVS, and of his zeale of soules.

HE was wont afterward to recount that this selfe-same litle Booke, of which I made mention, togeather with the Indian Epistles did very much win his mind to the Society of IESVS. The Booke truly, for that he sayd, he did very much approue, and re­lish the order of things therin, & much more the spirit by the impulsion whereof it was written. And the Epistles, for that by them he vnderstood how much God cooperated with the fathers of the Society of IESVS in reducing nations to Christ in those climats. Therfore he stirred vp his mind to the imi­tating of these excellent enterprises for the sauing of soules which cost God so deare, though it should be with the expense of his owne life. Neither did he cease, euen in that his so tender age to indeauour to helpe thē according to his power. For that cause also he went euery festiuall day to the schooles of Christian Doctrine, and laboured with infinite feruour himself also to instruct chil­dren in the rudiments of our Religion, and to giue them precepts of fayth and innocent manners. The which he did with so singular modesty, and loue of humility, that he auoi­ded not the familiarity of any boy though he were vnder his owne charge, and least of [Page 44] all those that were poore, and did most ear­nestly excite the mindes of all the behoul­ders to the loue and worship of God. Fur­thermore if he vnderstood of any discord a­mongst the seruants of the Court, he endea­uoured to make them friends. In like man­ner, if he heard any, eyther cursing or spea­king against God, or his Saints, he reprehen­ded the. Those which he knew in the towne to be of depraued manners, he did with great clemency exhort, & seriously solicit that they would correct and reforme them­selues. He could in no sort endure that Al­mighty God should be offended.

He obserued it as a solemne custome, that he would intertaine no other discourse but of diuine matters, & that with so great gra­uity of wordes and sentences, that when a­bout that tyme he went with his mother to Dertona, to salute the Duches of Loraine, a very noble Lady, who togeather with her daughter the Duches of Brunswike tooke her iourney thither, he did with speaking asto­nish all that Princes pages. Therefore they iointly affirmed, that whosoeuer had heard his voyce discoursing so excellently, and so wisely of God, and had not also scene his face, that he would haue seemed vnto him a man ripe in age and wisedome, not a child.

CHAP. XI. By the exhortation of Cardinall Borromeus he beginneth to frequent the sacred mysteries.

THESE things were done in the yeare of our Saluation 1580. wherin Charles Bor­romeus, Cardinall and Archbishop of Milane, a man of excellent Sanctity, was by Pope Gregory the thirteenth created Apostolicke Visitour, ouer all those Dioceses which were in his prouince, and came to Castilion, whilst he visited the Dominiō of Brescia, with on­ly seauen men, which he had chosen out of all his retinue, least he might become trou­blesome to the Ecclesiasticall men which he came to visit. Then, wheras he performed many other thinges, excellently, and alto­gether with an Apostolike spirit, he in like manner in the yeare aforesaid, the 11. of the Calends of August, which is S. Mary Magda­leus day, being vested in his Pontificall ro­bes, in the Church of the Saints Nazarius & Celsus, which is the chiefe of that towne, made a very fruitfull sermon to the people: and although the Princes sending diuers messengers vnto him, did very much impor­tune him, that he would be pleased to take his intertainement with them in the castle; notwithstanding he could neuer be persua­ded to rest in any place, otherwise then with the Archpriest, whose house was neare adioining to that holy Church. When B. A­loysius being now but of the age of 12. yeares, [Page 46] and foure moneths, resorted thither vnto him for the tendering of his duty, it is in­credible how much ioy he conceaued by the only behoulding of this child, being euen like one of the Blessed celestiall Angells, gratious in the sight of God; & he spent so much time with him, in long discourses of Diuine matters priuately in his closet, that it moued great admiration to all them that waited before the doores. Questionlesse it was an infinite contentment to this good Cardinall, to behould this tender plant, in the middest of the thornes of diuers secular Courts, without the industry of any mor­tall husbandman, by the only inspiration of heauenly breath, flourishing with so comely vigour, and brought vp to such an height of Christian vertue. The holy child in like mā ­ner very much reioyced, that he had gotten a mā, vnto whome he might confidently de­clare himselfe, and of whome he might re­quest an explication of those thinges which seemed obscure in the pursuite of true ver­tue. For wheras he had heard much of the sanctity of this Cardinall, which was very much spoken of, he did earnestly ingrosse (as it were deliuered by the oracle of God) all his words and precepts which he deliuered, of the keeping, and following of a setled forme of huing.

B. Charles asked of him, whether he had euer receaued the blessed Eucharist or no: which whe hedenied, the Cardinall who had [Page 47] now perceaued the integrity of his mind, & his maturity of wisedome, together with his vnderstanding of heauenly matters drawne from God, did very seriously exhort him not only to receaue it, but also to frequēt it. Furthermore in a short discours he set down vnto him an easy forme, both rightly to pre­pare himselfe, and piously to receaue this fountaine of all diuine bounty. Besides this, he did seriously exhort him, that he should often, and diligently peruse the Roman Ca­techisme, set forth by decree of the Triden­tine Councell, at the commaund of Pius Ʋ. the Pope, which booke in respect of the ele­gancy of the Latin tongue, this Cardinall did so much esteeme of, that reiecting Cicero & other profane Latin authors, he thought it only fit to be explicated to youths in the Schooles, to the intent that therby they might both reape piety, and a copious Latin tongue. Neither did he doubt to put this in practise in the Seminary at Millane. But when by vse it selfe he found, that it fell not out according to his desire, he did by commaūd as it were, reuiue the old authours againe. To conclude when he had giuen his benedi­ction to Aloysius, and had shewed other te­stimonies of his great good will towards him, he gaue him leaue to depart.

This Blessed child omitted not to com­mit to memory the admonitions of so holy a Cardinall. Therfore he began afterward with great contentment to peruse that Ca­techisme, [Page 48] both for that it was replenished with excellent learning for all māner of san­ctity, and Christian instructions; & also be­cause he was inuited to the reading therof by the counsell of so excellēt a man, whome according as he well deserued, he did with all dutifull respect honour. And likewise he was very importunate by the authority of so worthy a perswader, to incite others to the reading of the same booke. He also began to enioy the diuine Eucharist, to which before he came, it is incredible how diligent prepa­ration he vsed. For first of all least he should suffer any vnseemely thing to rest in his mind, which might be offensiue to the eyes of God, whome he expected as a guest, verily he made a carefull & exact discussion of the course of all his life past. Afterward he com­meth to accuse himselfe to the Priest, whom he did edify with so excellent testimonies of a penitent and humble mind, witnessed with his teares, that he seemed rather to come vn­to him as a maister, then as a guilty person. And doubtlesse, if he were culpable of any thing, that was nothing of fact, but of omis­sion only, as he supposed, of his duty. For wheras he persuaded himselfe that he neuer came, euen with that immortall light which God had set before his mind of aspiring dai­ly to higher degrees of vertue, questionles he seemed alwaies vnto himselfe a loyterer and a truant. Furthermore, during all those dayes, which went before the prefixed time [Page 49] of this his heauenly banquet, the memory of that only tooke place, both in his mind, and speach. He made search what others haue excellently written therof, he did with him­selfe meditate therof, that he might be made partaker therof: he did daily so offer vp his prayers, that his familiar friends would say, that he seemed euen to expostulate with the very walls, so often did he, now in this, now in that corner of the house, set himselfe downe vpon his knees to pray.

But what the feruorous piety of his in­ward mind was, when he was first receaued to the diuine banquet, & how much his will was inflamed with loue, was only knowne to God, who beheld the hidden secrets of his heart. Surely I could neuer find any mortall man, who was euer able to relate any thing of them vnto me. I only remember, that I haue read this one relation in his publike actes, that he in receauing the Eucharist, had all the powers of his soule recollected, and very attentiue, that he was wont to be reple­nished with plentifull delicacies, and that he was openly a notable exāple of piety to all. Hauing taken this diuine repast, remaining vpon his knees in the sight of all the people he continued in the holy Church. After that time he did not cease often to receaue the holy communion.

Moreouer, this is a thing of very good me­mory, which I haue heard both frō his mo­ther, & from others who did often obserue [Page 50] it; that truly from this time he had in so ex­ceeding great veneration the Blessed Sacra­ment, that daily when he was present at holy Masse, after that the Priest had in expresse wordes consecrated the body of Christ, be­ing with infinite force of piety, dissolued in­to teares, he would moisten the very groūd vnder him. In the same manner he stood affe­cted, all the course of his life after, sauing that only vpon festiuall dayes, when he him­selfe was refreshed with that sacred bāquet, he powred out teares more abundantly.

CHAP. XII. Going to Monte-Ferrato, he vndergoeth a great hazard of his life: there he conuerseth with Religious men.

IT was told vnto the Marques Ferdinand, who at that time liued at Casall of S. Eua­sius, where the pallace of the Gouernour of Monte-Ferrato is, that Aloysius truly seemed to be somewhat recouered of his former in­firmity, but that he was so broken with fre­quent fasts, and those scarcely to be suppor­ted by any mortall man, which he vnder­tooke of his owne accord, that his stomake being destroyed, he cold scarcely either take or retaine his meat nor concoct it, and that it was not likely to go any better with him, for so much as his owne courses were oppo­site to his health. The Marques who placed his chiefest contentment in the life & health [Page 51] of this his sōne, being hopefully persuaded, that if he had him in his owne power, he might find some remedy for his disease, or at leastwise that some prouidence might be v­sed, that it might grow no further, he sen­deth for Aloysius, togeather with his mother and Rodulph, to come vnto him. They ther­fore in the end of the sommer of that yeare 1580. betooke themselues to their iourney from Castiliō towards Monte-Ferrato, wherin Aloysius did vndergo a manifest danger of his life. For wheras the riuer Ticino being very much increased with often shewers, was vpō necessity to be passed at one of the foar­des, in the middest of the very streame of the water, the coach wherin Aloysius togeather with Rodulphus and their Gouernour went, was broken in the middest. The forepart thereof wherein Rodulphus was, being ioy­ned to the horses, although not without some labour & danger, was drawne by them, to the further bancke, whether the other coaches had now arriued: the hinder part, which carried Aloysius and his Gouernour, being by the violence of the current carried far off, had brought both their liues into doubt, for whether the streame had ouer­throwne, or swallowed it vp, Aloysius must of necessity haue perished in the waters. But verily it was the pleasure of God, according to the singular care which he had of this child, to prouide, that this part of the coach should by a great trunke of a tree, which the [Page 52] force of the waters had brought into the middest of the riuer, be a little while suppor­ted, whilst they that were landed vpon the other banke, sent a man skilfull both in the Country, and the water, who riding into the riuer vpon a horse, brought forth Aloysius behind him, and thither afterward returned to fetch, and transport his Gouernour. Ha­uing escaped this danger, assembling their company togeather, they went to the next holy Church, humbly to thanke Almighty God, by whose beneficiall fauour they had auoyded this so distressefull accident. In the meane time, the fame went that they were drowned. His mother being gone before in the formost coach, hearing this message, full of griefe and feare, came backe a great part of the way. Furthermore this rumour had spred it selfe euen to Casall, to the Marques his owne eares. He sends away a man in post hast to discouer the businesse, neither after­ward tooke any rest till he knew the truth of the matter. But shortly after, the arriuall of his wife and children disburthened him of all care and griefe.

B. Aloysius remained at Casall in Monte-Ferrato aboue halfe a yeare. During which time he both diligently applied himselfe to the learning of the Latin tongue, wherin he profited indifferently well, and moreouer aduanced himselfe further towards perfect vertue, by the most innocent and Saint-like conuersation of those holy Fathers, who [Page 53] first tooke their denomination from S. Iohn Beheaded, or according to the more vulgar report, from S. Barnaby, in whose Church at Millane, they first had their Origen. Wher­as he vsed the familiar company of these men, and accustomed in their Church to fre­quent the Sacred mysteries of pennance and the Eucharist, he did daily enkindle vnto himselfe a new light, to more firme procee­dings in celestiall discipline. And as by his excellent indeauours he did euery day more then other deserue at Gods handes new or­naments; so did he disclose vnto his mind new lightes of eternall learning, and euer­more with new instinct, as it were with cer­taine spurs driuing him away from transito­ry thinges, excite him by degrees to the de­sire of greater, and greater sanctity.

Therfore although his Father endeauou­red to offer him diuers occasions of recrea­ting and delighting his mind, to the intent that he might remit somewhat of that his so earnest pursuite of piety; notwithstanding he neuer suffered himselfe to be any whit at all withdrawne from that duty, which he had vndertaken towards God. It was his chiefest recreation, for deuotion sake to fre­quent the Church of our Lady the Virgin­mother, surnamed de Crea, which neere to that place is held in great veneration, for the great concourse of people; and sometimes to go to the Monastery of the Capuchins, and sometimes to that of the Barnabites, and to [Page 54] confer with them both, of courses of piety: from whom, in so much as he found so great agreement in their opinions, it seemed im­possible to withdraw him. He did chiefly ad­mire that cheerfullnesse of countenance, which for the most part he obserued in thē all; that contempt of mortall things; those set-times both for prayer and the quire, hat quiet throughout all their houses voyd of all noise; that equality of mind, either liuing or dying.

CHAP. XIII. He giueth his mind to Religion.

MAKING these obseruations, he by little and little addicted his mind to the like kind of life. Then especially, when entring the house of the Barnabites, he at leasure considered with himselfe the happy estate of Religious men, euen in that respect, for so much as abandoning all the goods of Fortune, to the intent that they might the more readily serue God, they did as it were necessarily submit themselues to his care. Wherfore, (as he himselfe afterward related to me and others at Rome) he argued thus with his mind.

Dost not thou see, Aloysius, how happy a Reli­gious course of life is? These Fathers free from all secular snares, are placed far of from all oportuni­ties of sinning. All that time which the commō sort of men spend in the hunting after casuall riches, and deceitfull ioyes, they bestow in treasuring vp [Page 55] immortall riches, & in these kind of gaines, which togeather with being infinitely meritorious in the sight of God, do tye him eternatly vnto themselues; neither haue they any cause to feare, that those pious labours which they vndertake can euer be in vaine. To conclude, Religious men are they (who­soeuer else are) who in the leading of their life fol­low reason as their guide; neither are they subiect to the dominion of sensuall desires. They sue for no honours, they make no esteeme of terrene, & tran­sitory goods, they are not stirred vp with the inci­tementes of emulation, they gape not after any o­ther mens fortunes, being in that only seruice of God happy, whome to serue, is to raigne. And what wonder is it, I pray you, that they being allwaies quiet, and merry, feare neither death, nor the Tri­bunall of God, nor the punishmentes of hell, for so much as they haue their mindes guilty of no sinne? VVhat wonder is it, that they day & night store vp celestiall riches, seing that being neuer otherwise imployed then in actes of piety, they ei­ther alwaies worke with God, or for God? The te­stimony therfore of innocency which their con­science it selfe giueth them, doth beget in them an inward peace & tranquility of mind: from whēce proceedeth the serenity which we may obserue in their countenance, and also, that their confident hope of celestiall riches. And what thing can be more ioyfull, then when they call to mind whome they serus, & in whose band they lead their liues? But thou, what dost thou? what thinkest thou? what hindreth thee from choosing this kind of life? See now at last in thy mind, what rewards are [Page 56] propounded vnto them by almighty God. Consider how much leasure & commodity thou maist haue freely to apply thy selfe to piety. If (according as thou hast determined) transferring the dignity of Marques vnto Rodulph, thou witt not depart frō it, thou mayst perhaps see many thinges which thou caust not approue of. VVitt thou seeme not to see it, but then the conscience of thy neglected anty will not cease to prick thee. Ʋ Ʋnt thou reprehend it, but then thou witt be troblesome, or surely spend thy speach in vaine. Ʋ Ʋhat, when as being ini­tiated in Priesthood, thou shalt liue amongst Ec­clesiasticall men, dost thou then at last confidently belieue, that thou shalt be able to keepe thee to thy vowes? No, rather hauing professed a certaine more exquisite kind of vertue, then men of the world are subiect to, thou shalt be perplexed with the same kind of dāgers that they are. Ʋ Ʋith the same said I? yea verily the allurements to sinne will more vehemently intice thee, then those that are bound in wedlock. It is impossible for thee altogether to a­uoid, but that thou shalt flatter profane men in their opinion, and to it conforme thy manners, soo­thing them vp in their corrupt desires. For if thou suffer thy selfe to be detained in the world, thou must of necessity for the inscharge of thy duty, haue recourse vnto, & obeige vnto thy selfe one Prince after another. Now if thou auoide the familiarity of Noble-women, who are by kindred somewhat allied vnto thee, thou shalt incur the censure of men. And if thou apply thy selfe therunto, thou wilt questionles breake that thy principall vow. By the admittance of Piesthood, & Ecclesiasticall [Page 57] honours, thou shalt plunge thy selfe into far grea­ter imploiments, then now thou art tied vnto, and those more estranged from piety. If thou refuse them, thou shalt by thy owne kindred, and allies be tearmed an idle fellow, and the reproach of thy family: neither will they euer cease to persecute thee, till they haue thrust thee forward to the vn­dertaking of honours.

But truly if thou imbrace a Religious course of life, thou shalt as it were with one stroke cut in sunder all these bonds which hould thee. Further­more thou shalt shut thy selfe out from all dan­gers; then shalt thou lay downe the carefull and earnest pursuit of all vaine and friuolous humane indeauours. To conclude thou shalt place thy selfe in that state, where nothing may violate the peace of thy mind, or hinder thy desire of seruing God with all vertuous industry.

These, and other such like considerations did Aloysius reuolue with himselfe at that time, as appeared by his owne relatiō, which had so established his mind, and transported it from the senses, that his familiar friendes might easily vnderstand, that he who had his cogitation so busily set a worke, did proiect some great matter with himselfe. No man notwithstanding was so bould, as to aske him what his debatement was. To conclude, after he had often humbly petitioned Al­mighty God, after he had refreshed himselfe often with the Blessed Eucharist, that it would please him to vouchsafe him his light for the discussing of deliberations of that [Page 58] consequēce; supposing this resolution to be inspired into him by God, bidding farewell to the world with all secular affaires, he de­termined to be take himselfe to some Reli­gious family, where he would by vow ob­serue, besides Virginity which before he had deuoted to Almighty God, also Obedience and Euangelicall pouerty. But for so much as hauing not as yet passed the thirteenth yeare of his age, it was not expedient for him to put his thoughts in execution; he neither assigned vnto himselfe any family, nor dis­closed vnto any one that which he had in his mind. But notwithstanding, those Fathers hauing discouering somewhat of his inten­tions, became hopefull that he would at last adioyne himselfe to their company.

In the meane while, he, least his manners might disagree from the purpose of his mind, began more strictly and vigilantly to order the whole course of his life, and a­mongst secular and Court-delicacies, to ex­presse in all vertue, the conuersation of Re­ligious men; to retire himselfe longer to his chamber; not to haue any fire in the winter season kindled, or brought into the same, where hitherto he was wont to haue some in respect of the tendernesse of his handes, which were accustomed to swell and breake with cold: in like manner abroad neuer to come neere the fire, and if for company of others it was requisite to do otherwise, to take that place wherin he might be sensible [Page 59] of no warmenesse; to take with significa­tion of a gratefull mind, those remedies which were brought him by those of the house to allay the swelling of his hādes, but setting them a side to make no vse of them; to do all thinges out of a loue to suffer ad­uersity for Gods sake.

Moreouer, he auoyded all concourse of people, & much more did he abhorre Co­medies, late suppers, and delicious bankets, to which he was oftē inuited, but neuer cold be persuaded by his Father sometimes euen stomaking that his so vnusuall desire of so­litude. Therfore others resorting thither, he only remained at home, and there spent his time, sometimes in holy meditations, sometimes in communication of learning or piety, with one, or other graue and learned man. And other sometimes he went to the Capuchin Fathers, and to the Barnabites; and wheras he could no more be carried away with the pompes, & pleasures of the world, he inioyed their holy discourses.

Vpon a certaine time, his Father tooke him in his cōpany to Millane, that he might behould the transportation of all the horses of that prouince, wherat it was requisite that he for the discharg of a certaine office which he mannaged, should togeather with many other principall men, be present. Wheras therfore, for so much as this was a thing rare and thought very well worthy the seeing, there resorted a great concourse of people [Page 60] vnto it. Aloysius, who least he should incense his Father, commaunding this precisely out of his authority, could do no otherwise but goe, yet made vse of this new art, to wit, he neuer suffered himselfe to be set in those principall seates, from whence the whole pompe might cōmodiously haue byn seen: and which is more; as far forth as he might, he endeauoured, either still to sit with his eyes shut, or turned some other way.

To conclude, I may very truly affirme, that he passed ouer his childhood, without euer playing the child. For he was neuer found in that age, to haue done any thing that might sauour of leuity. He neuer hand­led any dishonest, or vnprofitable bookes. He was much delighted to read the actes of Saints set downe by Surius, and Lippomanus. Of profane writers he for the most part read those, who write of manners, as Seneca, Plu­tarke, and Ʋalerius Maximus. He made vse of examples taken out of them, at such time, as he exhorted others to frame the course of their life out of the preceptes of Christ, or Philosophy. For he sometimes vttered spea­ches, either openly with diuers others, or priuately with some one alone, so repleni­shed with most wise sentences, so elegant, so feruent, that all being astonished, would say, that his doctrin did far surpasse the capacity of his age, and that it was therfore deriued frō God. That in like manner was the cause, why his kindred (whereas they were not ig­norant [Page 61] of his conditions, and beheld not without displeasure, so much rigour of diet, and apparrell, and contempt of all thinges which the world commendeth, notwithstā ­ding hauing in reuerence his prudence, and singular vertue, and neuer being so bold as to aske why he did so;) let him go forward with his course.

CHAP. XIV. Being returned to Castilion with his Father, he leadeth his life in great austerity, being very much addicted to Prayer.

AFTER the Marques hauing perfor­med his gouernment of Monte-Ferrato went backe with his whole family to Casti­lion. Aloysius was so far from any relaxation of that zeale of prayer, & sharp affliction of himselfe, that he did so much more strai­ten it. A great maruell it is therfore, that he either was not oppressed with some grie­uous disease, which might vtterly haue o­uerthrowne his health, now lōg since much impaired, or that his parentes in whose sight he did these things, had not out of their au­thority forbidden him. For to that spare & hard diet, which (as I said before) he vsed at Mantua, and neuer after left off, he added many other entire fasts, as namely he ob­serued three set-fasts at the least euery weeke; That is to say, vpon Saturday, in ho­nour of the most blessed Virgin-Mother; v­pon [Page 62] Friday, in memory of the passion of Christ our Sauiour, vpon which day being only contented with bred and water, in the morning with nothing else but three mor­sells of bred dipped in water, and at euening for his hungry resection, he liued vpon one only cutting of bread, a litle tosted, & soa­ked in water. To conclude, vpon wednesday sometimes he abstained from all thinges, except bread and water; sometimes he ob­serued the receaued custome of fasting in the Church. There were added vnto these other extraordinary fasts, which of his owne ac­cord he imposed vpon himselfe, as often as either the time moued him therunto, or that he perceaued himselfe drawne by the loue of God, and ardour of piety. Furthermore he was so moderate in eating, that some of his Fathers family maruelling, how he was able to maintaine his life, determined at vn­awares to him, to waygh how much meate he tooke at one meale; & after, that by bal­lance-waight they had examined his bread togeather with his meat, they affirmed by oath, that his vsuall dinner or supper, did not fully amount to one Ounce waight. Which waight is so far from supplying the ordina­ry necessity of nature, that we must ne­cessarily confesse that which we haue heard of other Saints, that his life was sustained by some diuine assistance, without which it see­meth impossible to liue of so little meate.

Moreouer, it was euer his custome, to cast [Page 63] his eye vpon that which he thought to be the worst dish on the Table, and tasting a litle therof to leaue the rest vntouched. But in the later ending of his time in a secular life, vpon those dayes that he did not fast, he would take no meat but by waight, saying that, that was inough to maintaine life, and that the ouerplus was to be refused as super­fluous. And these thinges that haue bene re­lated of the course of his diet, both others, and also he that was his cup-bearer, and ta­ster, and other of his Table-wayters deli­uered vpon their oathes.

He adioyned in like manner to this seuere abstinence, other austere punishments which he inflicted vpon his body. Therfore euery weeke he disciplined himselfe three times at at least: but in those last yeares that he con­uersed in the world, he vsed it euery day, & at last three tymes within the space of the night and the day, till he imbrued himselfe in his owne bloud. But for so much as at the first he wanted a whippe made for this vse, he scourged himselfe with such kind of thō ­gues as they are wont to tye dogs in, which by chaunce he found about the house; or with the endes of ropes, or as some say, with an iron chayne. They who for obseruance­sake wayted before his doores, do witnesse that they haue oftenseene him kneeling v­pon his knees and scourging himself. In like manner when they made his bed, they foūd hidden vnder his bolster certaine scourges [Page 64] made of whip-cordes, with which he vsed to discipline himselfe. Moreouer his shirtes were often shewed to his mother all bes­meared with bloud which followed the stri­pes of the lashes. The Marques being certi­fied of these thinges, did both at other times often inueigh vehemently against him, and also once turning himself to his wife, vttered this out of much bitternesse of griefe: This child seemeth to haue a desire to make away himselfe.

And oftentimes he couered with the shee­tes of his bed, some end of a board, or other peece of wood, to the intent that he might giue some disturbance to himselfe in his sleepe. But least his body shold be free from perpetuall punishmēt, insteed of a haire cloth which he wanted, he wore (a thing strange & vnheard of) next to his naked body, certaine spurs, prepared to spur the sides of horses, which did so fasten in his soft flesh their iron towels, that they vexed him with a cruell torment. By which thing it sufficiently ap­peareth, how wholy he resigned himselfe ouer to a more holy course of life, who be­ing but of the age of thirteene yeares and a halfe, borne in the middest of so delicate and flourishing a fortune, by the instruction of no maister, handled his body with so great austerity. This holy child accōpanied these forsaid fasts, and other incommodities with which he of his owne accord afflicted his body, with the exercise of his mind, and es­pecially [Page 65] with so great a custome of prayer, that certaine Officers of his Court, being at these publike acts solemnly sworne, denied that they euer came into his closet, but they found him busy at prayer, and oftentymes before he would make an end thereof, they were forced to attend long before the doo­res.

In the morning, after he was risen out of his bed, he spent a whole houre in the me­ditation of heauenly things, which he did not measure by the running of an houre­glasle, but by the impulsion of his charity towards God, & the sense of celestiall swet­nesse. Moreouer, he was dayly present at Masse, and oftentymes assisted the Priest; with which office he was wonderfully de­lighted. Furthermore, he sorted himselfe with the Religious men of the towne, as a singular example of edification vnto them, at such time as they offered vp their publike prayers, and prayses vnto God; the rest of the day he retyred himselfe to the reading of holy bookes, or to the consideration, & deepe discussion of the hidden mysteries of holy Scripture.

In the euening, before he tooke himselfe to rest, he bestowed two houres in prayer with so much sense of deuotion, that you would thinke it impossible for him to ob­serue any meane therein. His chamberlaines who waited at the doores, that they might do him seruice at his going to bed, were so [Page 66] farre from being wearied with this stay, that they profited much by his example, in the way of vertue. Therfore sometimes they be­held through the chinkes of the doore, how he be haued himselfe in prayer, other som­times in imitation of their maister, they thē ­selues became likewise humble suppliants to Almighty God. What should I adde any more? He was so frequent in his retirement, and cogitation of holy things, that it could not be imputed to vauity, if a man should constantly affirme, that he had his mynd cō ­tinually fixed vpon God. Therefore often did the Marques complayne, that he could very hardly draw him out of his chamber, & he did recount to Fa. Prosperus Malauolta, that he had often seene the place wherein he set himselfe to prayer, moistned with his teares.

Neither truly did he, when the care of any businesse called him out of this priuacy, suffer his mind therfore to wāder from that which he had meditated vpon. For whether he had in the morning meditated of Christs passion, or of any other subiect, he did so deeply imprint it in his mind, that no im­ployment in the day was able to blot it out of his memory. What shall I say? for that he did not thinke it inough to apply him­selfe to prayer in the day and late in the eue­ning, but for that intent euen in the night, vnknowne to all his seruants, his stepped out of his bed, and whilst they were a sleep, [Page 67] in nothing else but his shirt, in the darke and silent night, in the middest of the cham­ber, allwaies far from any resting place, he kneeled vpon the bare ground, & in the de­batement of celestiall matters, spent the bet­ter part of the night.

Neither did he vse this only in the Sum­mer, but also in the Winter season, which time of the yeare, in Lombardy is very sharp with cold; with which he did so tremble all his hody ouer, that he was somewhat diuer­ted from his prefixed meditatiōs. Which he imputing vnto himselfe as a fault, did so lōg exact of himselfe with great violence, to be­come attentiue in his mind towards God, til at last, being as it were abstracted from his senses, he was neuer more vexed with the torment of any cold. But neuerthelesse his body in the meane while, its vitall heat ha­uing forsaken all the members, would grow so stiffe and starke, that being no more able to kneele vpon his knees, and hauing an a­uersion both from sitting & lying, he would euen sinke groueling, vpon the bare and cold ground, and lying in that manner, he prosecuted the meditation which he had be­gun. Wherfore it seemed vnto me a strange thing, how he was preserued from falling in­to some grieuous disease, or from staruing or perishing with the violence of the cold. Verily he himselfe when he was now conse­crated to religion did confesse to certaine of his familiar friendes, vnto whome he did cō ­fidently [Page 68] relate these vnaduised, (for so he called them) & ouer-feruorous deeds of his, that whilst he lay so prone vpon the ground, he was sometimes so vtterly destitute of strength, that being not able to spit from him with his mouth, he was compelled to swallow it.

CHAP. XV. By Gods assistance, he escapeth burning. His con­fidence in God, and contempt of the world.

BY this endeauour of B. Aloysius, to haue all the partes of his mind recollected in his praier, came that paine of his head, which did vehemētly vexe him all his life after. But he out of a desire to suffer annoyances, and especially such a like paine, as Christ suffe­red by his crowne of thornes, was so far frō seeking any remedy for the allaying of it, that he rather tooke diuers courses to nou­rish & increase it: & supposing it to be hol­some to him, seing that it did in a manner nothing hinder him from the mannaging of his affaires, it brought into his memory the torments of Christ, & gaue him occasion of meriting some reward in Heauen. On a time it happened, that being more sharply hand­led with that torment then ordinary, he went sooner to his bed then he was wont. But afterward, as soone as it came into his mind, that he had not as yet that day accor­ding [Page 69] to his custome, recited the seauen peni­tentiall Psalmes, he forthwith determined neuer to close his eyes to sleepe til he had performed that taske. Therefore he com­maunded the boy that wayted on him in his chamber, to leaue the candle by his bed side, and so to go away. Hauing ended those seauen Psalmes, being oppressed both with sleepe, and the head-ach, he forgot to put out the candle. The which being wholy cō ­sumed, the fire, when it had taken one side of the bed without any flame, crept & spred it selfe so far, til it had set on fire all the bed­clothes which couered the bed, & one mat­tresse stuffed with straw, & three with wool. Whilst the fire had much wasted these thin­ges, Aloysius being awaked, so soone as he felt so great a heat, and moreouer was very much afflicted with the paine of his head, did at the first suppose that he had bene sick of a feuer: but when he found that all thin­ges else were no lesse hoate to his touch, he could not imagine from whence the violence of that vnusuall heat should proceed: yet ne­uerthelesse he assaies againe to sleepe, but all in vaine. Wherfore when he was almost suffocated with the increasing of the heat & smoke, he leaps out of his bed, and opening the doore calleth vpon the boy. He had scarcely set his foot in the entry, when the flame breaking forth consumed the other part of the bed. Which least the whole house should take fire frō the same, the souldiers, [Page 70] who watched in garrison about the Castle, being raised, did cast downe out of the window into the ditches which were vnder­neth. Neither is it to be doubted, but that if he had neuer so litle deferred the going out of his bed, being especially in a litle cham­ber as I my selfe saw afterward & that shut, he might either haue bene consumed by the fire, or else haue perished by being choked with the smoke. But questionlesse God, by an especiall prouidence of his, did deliuer from all hurt, him, whome he had now desi­gned for Religion, being not ignorant for whose sake he was in this danger. Therfore all with one vniforme consent ascribed his preseruation to God, and report also was brought to the Dukes themselues at Man­tua, that there had happened a certaine mi­raculous thing to the elder sonne of the Marques: and I know not how long after, Leonora of Austria herselfe, did in her pre­sence desire to be informed of the whole matter by himselfe. He so soone as he knew the matter to be diuulged, (perhaps euen least it should be know ne that his candle should be suffered to burne so neere him) would very much be abashed at that que­stion. Aloysius was wōt afterward, as one that had now well experienced, in diuers chaun­ces, the watch, and care which the eternall Prouidence had ouer his life, to préfer his prayers before all other counsels, & to com­mit himselfe to the powerfull disposall of [Page 71] Almighty God in all Fortunes, and in all both his owne, and his Fathers affaires: hū ­bly beseeching, that he would only fauour (for in a māner in those very wordes was he wont to cōmend his businesse to God) that which was best to be put in execution. Nei­ther did this hope, & confidence of the loue of God towards him euer deceaue him. For he himselfe did once not feare to professe, (which surely seemeth very strange) that he neuer petitioned God at any time in vaine, were his petition great or small: neither that he euer committed to his Prouidence any businesse, how intricate soeuer it were, and desperately lost in other mens opinions, which did not succeed according to his own harts desire. So open was alwayes the Diuine bounty to his prayers.

Out of this same daily conuersation with God, seemeth that his excellency and great­nesse of mind proceeded, despising & estee­ming as nothing, whatsoeuer the world pos­sessed; then which endowment, he said none was of more valew. Therfore in the pallaces of Princes, whilst he beheld gould, & siluer, plate, apparrell, furniture, the obsequiouse­nesse of seruants, and other thinges of the like kind, for so much as he had a vild con­ceipt of all these thinges, as vnworthy to be estimated so much in the iudgment of men, he could scarcely in the meane while for­beare laughing. Wherfore he did often in the discours which he had with his mother, [Page 72] most confidently affirme, that be could not sufficiently wonder, nor coniecture, what cause mortall men could alledg, that they should not all become Religious: For it is more cleare then the sunne at noone-tide, said he, that the cōmodities are more exqui­site, which Religion bringeth, not only to that future, but euen to this mortall life, se­ing that the fiuitiō of those which are estee­med principall in this life, is but short, & the thirsters after them are punished with euills both liuing and dying. His mother when she heard him discours in this manner, although she easily perceaued, what intentions he had in his mind, yet for some respect she did not at that time, so much as reply one word vn­to him.

And although truly, he did in a manner abstaine from the society of all men, yet when he gaue himselfe therunto, he did for the most part accōpany himselfe familiarly with Ecclesiasticall and Religious men, who liued at Castil on. but for so much as very ma­ny honest men, hauing beene borne in that towne, were conuersant in diuers holy Fami­lies, dispersed through other Countries, and which did sometimes returne to visit their owne, these so so one as Aloysius had notice of their arriuall, he went vnto them to talke of diuine matters, accepting also at their hands with a great desire, and sense of piety, meddalls of Indulgences, Agnus-Dei, and other such like things belonging to piety. [Page 73] But he conceaued the most pleasure by the comming of certaine reuerend Monkes of Cassino, of the Order of S. Benedict, who whē his life was called in question at Modena, yiel­ded vnto him an excellēt testimony of pious sanctity. Neither was he lesse inclined to­wards certaine Reuerend Fathers of the Or­der of S. Dominicke, who in the Sommer time for their recreation came to Castilion, with whome in like manner he conferred fami­liarly of matters touching his soules health. Amongst these was the R. Fa. Fr. Claudius Fi­nus of Modena, Doctour and reader of Diui­nity, and a preacher of great fame in Lombar­dy. He both at other times, and also a little before his death, before the Tribunall of the Bishop of Modena, being questioned con­cerning that matter, answered vpon oath in these wordes, which in respect of the autho­rity of that man, I thought good here to re­late.

CHAP. XVI. The testimony of the R. Fa. Claudius Finus Do­ctour of Diuinity, of the Order of S. Domi­nicke, of the sanctity of Aloysius.

I VVAS well acquainted with the most illu­strious Lord Aloysius Gonzaga, (to whome belonged the inheritance of the title, & fortunes of the Marques of Castilion) not only by sight, but also by frequent discourse with him, when to­geather with my fellowes I retired to Castilion, [Page 74] and to other places seated in the dominion of his family. For very willingly his mother endeauou­red that he should both confer with others, and especially with me. Verily I departed from him astonished, and not without a certaine pleasant gust of mind, more inflamed in the loue of vertue, in respect of the singular example of sanctity, which shined in his manners, sententions speach, & ge­sture. All his familiar speach in a manner tended to a certaine exquisite desire of humble deport­men of himselfe, and to the prayse of those who separate themselues from those thinges, which to blind mortall men seeme so goodly & magnificent. Once also he said vnto me; There is no cause why we should insolently boast of our ancestours, seing that there is no other difference betweene the ashes of Princes and beggars, but that those of Princes stincke more grieuously. In his tender age, he made no shew of childishnes, being of notable mo­desty, often with drawing himselfe from company, and in the meane while remaining silent, musing, graue, and pious. Often he had in his mouth these speaches: O how willingly would I burne with as much loue of God, as might be wor­thy of so great a maiesty? my very hart melts with griefe, when I see christians so vngrate­full towards him.

A token likewise of his modesty, and loue of ho­nesty, was that his bashfulnesse, so full of candour, and sincerity, that if any one euen in iest, and mer­riment had but vttered any one word differing ne­uer so little from modesty, he would with a decent blushing, and with a very modest signe of griefe, [Page 75] shew a kind of commiseration of his errour. In the meane while, whilst he heard any one talking of the preceptes of a more perfect life, or relating of any who entred into any Religious Order, he see­med to compose his face to greater serenity, and to put on another aspect. Sometime also he cried out with a sigh: Good God, how much pleasure is there in those solid ioyes of Heauen, seing that we are so much delighted with the speach of them heere vpon earth?

Sometimes I went with him into the Church. There he showing the signes of a mind most humbly and submissely worshipping God, did far surpasse, being but a child, the examples of men of riper yea­res, and of long experience in the profession of Re­ligion. Sometimes being as it were in lamentation, other sometimes his eyes being fixed vpon some one of the Saintes pictures, he neither gaue eare to those that called him, nor spake to them, neither would he without interposing some delay, yield thē any answere; whereby it manifestly appeared his mind was alienated from his senses. He did of­ten affirme vnto me, that he bare a singular deuo­tion to the Blessed Ʋirgin Mary, & that with the only hearing of her name, his hart abounded with incredible ioy. Truly I knew him not after he had entred into a stricter course of religion, notwith­standing I haue heard, from diuers very graue men at Milane, Brescia, Cremona, Ferrara, Genoa, Mantua, and else where, that he being ioyned to the Society of Iesus, liued therin with great opi­nion of sanctity in the iudgmēt of all men: & ma­ny religious men of great authority do testify, that [Page 76] he in like manner dyed in the same sanctity: and some were of opinion, that it was more safe to commend our selues to his blessed soule, then his soule to God. Furthermore the same of the mira­cles, prodigies, and other benefits which Almighty God worketh for his sake, and of the celestiall ho­nour which is had of his Reliques, is diuulged far and neere. These are the words of that Re­uerend Dominican Father.

CHAP. XVII. He goeth with the Marques into Spayne, and is made Page of Honour to Iames the Prince. And of the life which he lead in the Court.

IT was the yeare of Christ 1581. in the Au­tumne whereof Mary of Austria daughter to the Emperour Charles the V. daughter­in-law to Ferdinand the first, wife to Maxi­miltan the second, mother to Rodulph the se­cond who raigneth at this day, and sister to Philip the second the Catholike King, tooke her iourny out of Bohemia into Spayne. To do her honour, some Italian Princes, that were obliged to that Kingdome, & amongst these the Marques Ferdinand Father of B. A­loyseus, were by that King commaunded to atted her in passage out of Italy into Spayne. And whereas his wife Martha at the request of the Empresse accompanied him, they tooke likewise as companiōs in their iourny their three children; one daughter whose name was Isabell, who remaining afterward in Spayne, ended her life amongst the princi­pall [Page 77] maids of Honour to Isabella Clara Enge­ma the Infanta of Spayne, Aloysius his eldest sonne being now of the age of thirteene yeares and a halfe, and Rodulph being some­what younger then he. In this iourny which Aloysius made out of Italy into Spayne, he ne­uer omitted his vsuall custome of daily me­ditating vpon diuine matters, nor to make vse of that ardour of piety. Therfore he had alwaies his mind busied in such likes cares. It was bruited in the Galley which they went in, that they were in some danger of falling into the handes of the Turkes; heere he in­flamed with a suddaine desire, said: Vtinam, ita casus ferret, vt Martyres fieremus, I would to God, it would so come to passe, that we might be made Martyrs. Moreouer his mo­ther recounted vnto me, that he found a­mongst those rockes of the Sea, a little stone distinguished with certaine markes, which seemed to represent the fiue most sacred woūdes of our Sauiour. But he whose whole mind was alwayes set vpon piety, supposing the same to be manifested vnto him by Al­mighty God, to giue him to vnderstād that he should suffer the like paines that Christ did, turning to his mother: See Lady, sayth he, what God hath represented vnto me, & will my Father yet with-hould me from be­ing a Religious man? After that he did long beare an honour to that stone, for so much as it was a token of Christs passion.

After they came into the Court, the Mar­ques [Page 78] vndertooke his ancient office of Chā ­berlayne, Aloysius and Rodulphus being cho­sen for Pages of Honour, serued Iames the Prince sonne to the Catholique King Philip the second, elder brother to Philip the third who at this day raigneth Aloysius continued more then two years in Spayne, during which tyme he did very diligently apply himselfe to the study of learning. A certayne Priest singularly learned, read Logick to him. And one Dimas the Kings Mathematician deliue­red vnto him the description of the Sphere. Besides these, he dayly after dinner, applyed himselfe to a certaine master, who read vnto him naturall Philosophy, and Diuinity: In which he grew so great a proficient, that when by chaunce at that tyme he tooke a iourney to A [...]a, where a certaine student of Diuinity had propounded certayne que­stions to dispute on, and F. Gabriel Ʋasques (whome after he heard explicating Diuinity at Rome) sate as Moderatour [...] at their re­quest he being but the a youth only of four­teene yeares of age, did with exquisite argu­ments, with singular prayse and applause of them that were present, endeauour to proue that the mystery of the most holy Trinity, might be knowne by the naturall force of our vnderstanding.

Aloysius being strictly tyed to these im­ployments of the Court, & of learning, did easily perceaue that there could remaine vn­to him but little tyme for the applying him [Page 79] selfe to mattets of piety, especially for so much as sometymes he had not commodity euē to say those praiers which he vsed to do, nor so often to frequent the Sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist. And now that forward desire so speedily to renounce the commodities of Fortune, & those same fie­ry dartes throwne into his brest by Almigh­ty God, wherewith formerly his mynd was so inflamed, began by litle and little to lan­guish. Wherefore by the powerfull instinct of God, setting light by the rumours, and iudgments of men, he determined to liue in the Court it selfe, with as much Religion, & Innocency, as possibly he could. For that purpose he choose for his Confessarius Fa [...] Ferdinand Paternus a Sicilian, of the Society of Iesvs, who at that tyme liued at Ma­drid. Neyther after that did he euer omit, of­ten to purge his soule by Pennance, and the Eucharist. Furthermore how purely and vp­rightly he conuersed in that Court, aboun­ding with all things which are wont to in­fect the minds of men, the letters of the for­sayd father may testify, dated in the yeare 1594. the beginning of which, was in this manner

Most Reuerend Father, I will resolue you in briefe that which you request of me. I haue alwaies found in Aloysius our brother, whome from his very childhood I was acquainted within Spaine, so singular a candour and innocency of soule, that during all that time, which was for the space of [Page 80] some yeares, I was so far from finding him guilty of any mortall sinne (the which he did abhorre as much as any man, neither did he euer commit any in all his life time, but euen very often not so much as touched with the least veniall sinne which might stād in need of absolution; neither can these thin­ges be attributed to any slownes of nature, or dull­nes of wit, or vnderstanding) as who euen at that age, was far liker an old man, then a youth both in grauity of manners, and sharpenesse of wit and prudence. He was a great enemy to sloath and id­lenesse. Therfore he was alwaies busied in honest exercises, but for the most part in reading the holy Bible, in which his mind receaued great content­ment. In like manner I noted so great modesty in his speaches, that he neuer gaue offence to any one so much as in the least word.

By these wordes of this Father who had heard his confessions, and other which here­after I purpose to set downe, it may very clearly appeare, that he in the very middest of Court-imployments, liued after a cele­stiall and Angelicall manner. For it ought to be accounted a certaine singular commen­dation, when one conuersing in the court, is declared not to be guilty so much as of those sinnes, the which although they are veniall, yet haue need of absolution.

In publike he was so composed, and so modest, that he neuer so much as lifted vp his eyes from the ground. Therfore vpon occasion of such like speach, he declared when he was now a Religious man, that he [Page 81] was not able to find the way without a guid, neither at Madrid where he liued certaine yeares, nor at Castilion where he was borne & brought vp: which guide he was wont al­waies to make vse of, both least there might any occasion be giuen of distracting the thoughts of his mind, and also (as he said) that he might be attentiue to his medita­tions. Concerning this modesty and tempe­rance of his eyes, I do purpose truly to re­late a thing very new and vnheard of, which vpon the testimony of the Prouinciall of Naples of the Society of Iesus, whom he vsed as his familiar friend, is cōfirmed by the pu­blike monumentes. Thus the matter passed. Aloysius as it is said before, tooke his iour­ny out of Italy into Spayne in the company of the Empresse, afterward whilst he remai­ned in the Court, he went almost euery day with Iames the Prince, to salute the same Empresse, and to conclude, was put vpon a thousand oportunities to see and behould her exactly: Notwithstāding so singular was his modesty, that he confessed to that Father which I spake of, that he had not so much as once seene her face or viewed her persō. And who is ignorant, with how great a desire all men are possessed, for the most part, of seing and curious perusing, as often as occasion is offered, all such kind of personages placed in dignity, & what great concourse of mul­titude is made to behould them, in those places where they are to passe?

[Page 82] He began euen then, to haue in great esteeme, ouerworne and old cloathes, and stockins with patches vpon the knees, of which the meanest men are wont to be asha­med. Questionles, he hauing this corrupt world in contempt, made but little esteeme what acceptance his deeds had with them who were slauishly subiect therunto. For in like manner he would defer as long as he could the putting on of those new cloathes which were made by his Fathers command, and when he had once or twice gone appare­led with them, he did most gladly returne to his old ragges againe. Goulden chaines & other ornaments, which the custome of that Court doth applaud, he auoided, saying that this was the furniture of them, who propo­sed vnto themselues, not the seruice of God (as he had resolued) but the delights of the body, & of Fortune. For this respect he had great conflicts with his incēsed Father, who interpreted the modesty of his Sonne, to be the disgrace of him, and his Family. At the last he yielded to the cōstancy of his sonne; and that which for some respectes before he could not approue, he then began to ad­mire. Notwithstanding although Aloysius did himselfe make so deare account of po­uerty, he did neuerthelesse easily suffer, that his seruants and attendants, shold euery one be set forth in apparrell according to their office and dignity. His conuersation with the Nobility of the Court, was so full of [Page 83] grauity & Religion, that if they did but see him comming, or behould him euen a far of, they brake of their licencious & merry dis­courses, and composed themselues to mode­sty. And for so much as it did manifestly ap­peare, that he did punctually obserue, in all his wordes, and actions, all the exact rules of honesty, and that he could not endure to ad­mit vnto his eares any vndecent word, whe­ther it were in iest or in earnest, it was grown a common prouerbe amongst the prime men of the Court: Marchtonem Castilionensem mi­norem, non videri carne constare, that, the yong Marques of Castilion did not seeme to consist of flesh. He let slip no occasion wherby he might profit others. The wind once did blow somewhat boisterously vpō Iames the Prince whilst he looked out at a window, being at that time but a little one, at which he be­ing childishly froward said: Heus vente, impe­ro tibi vt molestiam mihi exhibere desinas, that is to say, Harke Syr wind, I commaund you to cease to troble me. Then Aloysius that stood neere vnto him, taking hould of this opor­tunity said? Potes, Domine, homines tuis dictis obedientes nancisci, in elementa autem solius Dei imperium est, cui & te parere oportet: you may (my Lord) procure men to be obedient to your commaunds, but to God only doth the gouernement of the elements belong, whome also it behooueth you to obey. The King (as of all other affaires of his little sonne, so) like wise being certified of this cō ­maund [Page 84] which he gaue to the wind, & of the prudēt answere which Aloysius gaue to him, iudged it to be spoken both wisely & seaso­nably.

Whilst he remaineth in Spayne, he by chance did light vpon a booke, which Lewis of Granada set forth, of the course of medi­tating piously, and of fixing the mind vpon that only, being recalled frō all other cares. He being perswaded by the reading therof, determined to meditate euery day some sa­cred thinges, at the least one houre, with his mind closely recollected, without any man­ner of distraction. Therfore when he had set himselfe vpon his knees, without leaning to any supporter, he began his meditation, and [...] it halfe an houre, or for example fake three quarters of an houre, in which time if neuer so little other matter came into his mind, which diuerted him from his in­tended purpose, accounting all that former time for [...], he began his meditation againe for another houre, and iterated it afterward so long, till that some one whole houre he had bene void from all distraction of mind. Therfore sometimes it was ordinary with [...] to passe siue houres in meditating, and sometimes more. But least, that whilst he was busied in such like meditations, any either of his friends or strangers should by inter­ [...]osing themselues disturbe him, he hid him­selfe in obscure corners, amongst piles of wood prepared for the fire. There whilst he [Page 85] holdeth on the course of his piety, in contē ­plation and appeasing of Almighty God, he could neuer be found by any of the house, although they much and diligently sought for him. For which, he was then very much reprehended by his Parentes, when some Noble men of his friēds came to salute him. But he doubtlesse who did far prefer the be­nefits, which in the meane while were be­stowed vpon him from heauen, before those triuiall visits of mortall mē, despising all hu­mane respects, nothing fearing to be taxed of want of duty or ciuility towards men, so that he might not incur the fault of slacke piety towardes God, neuer, to become acce­ptable to men, did omit, or so much as inter­rupt those exercises of Religion. This after it was noted by his friendes, they abstained from such thanklesse offices, and left him free from allvayne imploymentes, & secure from all feare of interruption.

CHAP. XVIII. He determineth to enter into the Society of IESVS.

BLESSED Aloysius had now spent tvvo yeares and a halfe in Spayne, when by the instinct of Gods spirit, wherwith he was dai­ly more and more inspired, he thought it now a conuenient time, that according to his determination made in Italy, it was re­quisite to be take himselfe to some Religious course of life. But to the intēt that he might [Page 86] after serious deliberation resolue, what or­der, amongst all others was best to be cho­sen, he applied himselfe with greatet earnest­nesse then euer before to beseech Almighty God, that with his celestiall light he would vouchsafe to thew, what was sit to be done in a busines of so great moment. Many thin­ges at that time did he reuolue in his mind, of which some I haue vnderstood from his mother, vnto whome he imparted them, o­thersome he himselfe declared vnto vs after he had now entred into religion. But in all thinges he aymed at nothing else, but the greater glory of God.

At the first therfore, as he was very much giuen to that seuere course of life, and affli­ction of his body, he seemed in his mind to be inclined, to apply himselfe to the Discal­ceate Fathers which is an Order in Spayne for sharpenesse of life and austerity of habit, e­quall in name, and authority to that of the Capuchins in Italy. And doubtlesse the lowli­nesse it selfe of their aspect, and rigour of their course of life, either in respect of their retirement to solitary places of woods, and groues, of their being adorned in the mid­dest of great cittyes with excellent examples of holy life, doth not a little as for the most part it is wont to do encourage and inuite mindes desirous to accomplish that matter well. Put he departed afterward from this his suit determination, either for that seeing himselfe [...] and weake, and by reason [Page 87] of punishmentes of his owne accord infli­cted vpon himselfe, broken in his health, he might feare, least if he shewed himselfe lesse able to comport with it, occasion might be ministred to his friendes to take him againe out of the company of the Religious: or for that he thought it an easy matter for him, being accustomed to fasting, disciplining, & other corporall afflictions euē in the courts themselues, to insist vpon these without any impeachment, or euen to add new ones vnto them, in whatsoeuer other pious family he should choose to liue. Especially, seing that his mother (whome he consulted withall in this matter) was of an opinion, that it was impossible in respect of his infirme health, for him to liue euen in the world, with such bitter punishmentes wherewith hitherto he had weakened himselfe, much lesse, long to maintaine his life in any more strict course of Religion. And afterward he begā to con­sider with himselfe, whether it might be an enterprise worth his labour, for him to en­ter into some family, where the ancient dis­cipline had bene discontinued, and that he might restore it againe, first to that Mona­stery into which he was receaued, and after by degrees to the whole Order. This truly seemed very much to concerne the generall good of the Church. But he contrariwise being not so bold as to confide in his owne vertue so much, began to feare, least if this his proiect should not take good successe, he [Page 88] might deceaue himselfe, and whilst he goeth about to aid others, depriue himselfe of ne­cessary helpes. It seemed therefore better vnto him to choose some Religious Order, which was euē now standing in a flourishing state, relying vpon its ancient institutions & discipline. Wheras there are many of this sort shining in Gods Church, he made little account of those, which without any study of contemplation, set themselues wholy v­pon action, & accommodate themselues on­ly to do good to the bodies of others, which he said he did not so well relish. Next vnto these there came vnto his mind, those Or­ders, which being wholy separated from the society of mē in woods or townes, only so­licitous of thēselues (of which sort are most of the companies of the Monkes) quietly en­deauour to get the perfect loue of God, by singing vnto him sacred hymnes, and by the reading or contemplating of celestiall thin­ges. And from the life of these, he was so far from being auersed, that he did seeme euen with some willing inclination to be disposed therūto. For what? he that in Princes courts and in the middest of those troblesome noi­ses of men, was able to recall his mind from them, and place it in quiet; should he not more easily find the same, in the houses of Religious men, being sequestred far from the world, and commerce of men? But he who did not only respect that which might make for the quiet of his mind, & the glory [Page 89] of God, but went in continuall quest after whatsoeuer might be auailable for the grea­ter glory of God, thought that any talent which was lēt vnto him by Almighty God, and that he might lay out for the saluation of soules, should by him as it were be buried in solitude, and made of noyse. Moreouer as some affirme, and we hereafter will declare, he had read in that booke of S. Thomas of Aquine the Angelicall Doctour, intituled the Summe of Diuinity, that those Religious orders are in the principall degree of digni­ty, who bestow their labours & endeauours in teaching, preaching, & prouiding for the saluation of soules. For so much as they not content with the contemplation of holsome thinges, do communicate vnto others that which they haue sifted out by contempla­tion. Likewise that they come very neere to the similitude of that life, which the Sonne of God, the square & rule of all perfect ver­tue, lead here vpon earth. For neither was he alwayes retired into desert places, in the a­doration of his Father, and contemplation, neyther did he alwayes instruct his disciples, or preach to the people, but interchāgeably; sometimes he ascended vp to the mountains and solitary places, to offer vp his prayers to God, other sometimes he descending from thence into the company of men, instructed the ignorant with excellent precepts for e­ternall saluation.

Wherfore Aloysius, of his owne accord, [Page 90] waining himselfe as it were from the milke of ease and celestiall delicacies, which he might haue enioyed in that silence, and soli­tude of a Monasticall life, determined to be­take himselfe to some Sodality, which im­ploying it selfe in office, mixt & tempered betweene action and contemplation, might both apply the study of learning, & accom­pany the labour of bringing other men to saluation and perfect vertue, with the care of himselfe. But for so much as there are ma­ny cōpanies in Gods Church assembled for this end, who euery one after their proper manner & institution liue holily therin; he began to compare, amongst themselues, all their seuerall meanes, helpes, & exercises, by the which they endeauour to obtaine that end which they propound vnto themselues. After therfore he had long, & much delibe­rated vpon the whole matter, and had often made his prayers vnto Almighty God, it pleased him in conclusion to make choyce of this, the lowest & latest begun Society of all others, the which he thought to be de­creed for him by God, and most oportunely sorting to his ends.

CHAP. XIX. For foure causes he made choyce of the Society of Iesus.

BVT he alledged foure causes which per­suaded him, to prefer this Society be­fore all other families, and he said, that they gaue him great contentment.

[Page 91] The first was, for so much as the Institu­tions therof, being as it were in the perfect vigour of a confirmed age, do hitherto flourish entire, and vnblemished, and neuer declined into any worse estate, by innoua­tions.

Another was, for that therin a speciall vow is taken, wherby all power of seeking after Ecclesiasticall dignities, or of admit­ting them being offered (vnlesse the autho­rity of the Pope himselfe be interposed) is taken away. For truly he feared, least if he should adioyne himselfe to any Religious order which would not refuse them, that be­ing sometime drawne from thence by the will of his friends, he might be preferred gra­tis to some degree of dignity in the Church; which so long as he continued in the Socie­ty, he vnderstood would not in like sort be in their power.

The third was, for that he saw in the So­ciety, many wayes, and courses to instruct youth in the feare of God, & the precepts of chastity, both by open schooles of good literature, and also by the constituting of pious Sodalities. For whosoeuer doth la­bour in cultiuating those tender plantes, & in defending them by the preseruatiues of pious exhortations, and the vse of holy Sa­craments, both from the frost-biting of vi­ces, & the lustfull heat of all exorbitant de­sires, him he thought both to merit much at the hands of the Diuine maiesty, and to do [Page 92] vnto him a thing infinitely gratefull & plea­sing.

The fourth was, for so much as the Socie­ty, with a peculiar endeauour negotiateth the reducing of Heretikes to the lap of the holy Catholike Church, and the conuersion of Gentiles, Indians, Iaponians, and Americans vnto Christ: Wherfore he was lead with a hope, that one day that fortune likewise might betide him, to be sent for the salua­tion of men into those coastes.

Hauing made this absolute Election, the blessed young man did his endeauour to be made as certaine as possibly he might be, of the wall of God. He determined therfore for this purpose, to receaue the Blessed Eu­charist, vpon some festiuall day of our Bles­sed Lady, that by her meanes commending it to God, he might be instructed what his diuine will was therin. A conuenient day approached, a feast of the memory of her Assumption into Heauen, the yeare 1583. and of his age the 15. and a halfe. When that day came, early in the morning, hauing before prayed very longe, and prepared himselfe with extraordinary diligence, he was refre­shed with that celestiall meat. After this whē he insisted very much vpon rendring than­kes to Almighty God, and beseeching him by the merits of his Virgin Mother, that he would please to instruct him in that which might be most acceptable to his Diuine ma­iesty, behold a cleare, and manifest voyce is [Page 93] vttered, which commaūded him to become a Religious man in the Society of Iesvs, & (as he afterward declared to his mother, and others after his entrance into Religion) that he should impart it presently to his Ghostly Father.

CHAP. XX. He discloseth his vocation vnto his Confessarius, and after to his Mother, and his Father.

BEING thus certified of the wil of God, he returned home, full of ioy, and desire with all possible speed to yield his obediēce therunto; and that very day meting with his Ghostly Father, he related how the matter had passed; he is very importunate with him, that he would deale with the Gouernours of the Society, that they with all expedition would vouchsafe him admittance therinto. The Father, when he had diligently discus­sed both the beginning & progresse of this his intention, at last gaue this answere: that surely this aduise seemed to be very senerai­gne, and giuen from God himselfe, but that it could neuer be effected, vnlesse the Mar­ques his Father consented therunto, for if he should proue repugnant, the Fathers of the Society would neuer admit his Sonne. That it belonged vnto him to delcare vnto his Father this his intention, and to petition him, with as effectuall intreaties and argu­ments as he could, that he would giue him leaue to put it in execution.

[Page 94] But he, wheras his burning zeale of con­secrating himselfe to God brake through all delayes, that very day opened the mat­ter to his mother. She tooke to great con­tentment in this resolution of her sonnes, that she did exhibite humble thankes vnto Almighty God for the same, & very cheer­fully after the example of Anna, did present & dedicare him to his Diuine Maiesty. Mo­reouer she did first certify the Marques of this matter, and wheras he was very much incensed at the heating of this vnexpected message, she did somewhat mitigate his in­dignation. Neither did she euer after omit to fauour & assist him in this busines. Wher­fore the Marques, not knowing with how seruēt a desire his wife wisshed to haue scare one of her sonnes to become the seruant of God in some Religious course, began to suspect, that she was partially carried with some priuate affection towards Roauiph, and to the intent that he might set foot into the inheritance of his Fathers Principality, she would willingly haue the other tied in Re­ligion.

And not much after, Aloysius himselfe with great submission and reuerence went to his Father, and with a bold courage, and most apt speach denounced vnto him, that he was resolued to spend the residue of his life in Religion. Vpon this the Marques be­ing inflamed with anger, rebuking him with many hard and sharpe speaches, bids him a­uoyd [Page 95] out of his presence; moreouer threat­neth him that he would cause him to be whipped naked. Vnto which Aloysius mode­stly replied: Vtinam eo me Deus beneficio digne­tur, vt istuc eius amore perferam: O that it would please Almighty God to vouchsafe me that fauour, that I might suffer it for the loue of him. Hauing said this, he departed. The Marques being deeply wounded with griefe, conuerting his furious anger against his sonnes Ghostly Father though then ab­sent, did, and said these thinges which a di­sturbed mind, & headlong passion dictated vnto him; neither for certaine dayes afer, tooke he any rest at all. So great a stroke did he thinke to be giuen to his affaires, and to receaue so much detriment by this his son­nes purpose. Some few dayes after, sending for the Father whom his Sonne vsed to de­liuer himselfe to in confession, he did vehe­mently expostulate with him, and complay­ned, that he had possessed with this mind, the eldest sonne of his House, vpon whome reposed the whole hope therof. The Father answered, that some few dayes before that time, Aloysius had imparted vnto him this resolution, and that he himselfe was able to testify as much: But yet he did easily con­iecture by the course which he held in his life, that at last he wold intertaine the same. Then the Marques being somewhat milder turning himselfe to Aloysius who stood by, said, that he should lesse haue erred if he had [Page 96] chosen any other order. Vnto whome Aloy­sius gaue so wise an answere, that it tooke from the Marques all power of contradi­ction. That may be vnderstood by the Epi­stle which before I commended of the Fa­ther his Consessarius; in which he speaketh thus of Aloysius.

Concerning the admonishment giuen vnto him from Almighty God for the entring into Religion, two things very well worthy of consideration fell out. Priety I neuer made mention therof vnto him, not withstanding I did euer presage in my mind, by the carriage of himselfe, that which succeeded af­terward. But afterward vpon the day of the As­sumption of the Blessed Mother of God into hea­uen, when he applied himselfe (as often he was wont to do) to the Sacraments of pennance & the Eucharist, about noone he came to disclose vnto me, that when he, in the middest of those Diuine bankets be sought Almighty God by the mediation of the Blessed Virgin, that he would vouchsafe to shew what course of life it was his pleasure he should set downe vnto himselfe, that he heard a c [...]re and manifest voyce, which commaunded him to imbrace a Religious institutiō in the Socie­ty of Iesus. Afterward the Marques his Father, wheras he was vehemently vexed with this resolu­tion of his sonne, and notwithstanding perceaued him so constāt therin, spake vnto him in this man­ner, whrist I was present: Truly my Sonne, I would thou hadst rather chosen any other order then this, for then thou mightst haue bene capable of some dignity, which might [Page 97] haue added to the splendour of our family; of which thou must alwayes rest destitute in the Society, that abandoneth all Honours. Surely, answered the young man, one of the causes for which I preferred the Society before other Re­ligious courses, was euen this, for so much as I desi­red to intercept all passages to ambition. For if I were delighted with any dignity, certainly I would enioy the title of Marques, which Almighty God hath conferred vpon me as my birth-right, neither would I change a certainty, for an vncertain­ty. These are the wordes of the Epistle it selfe.

His ghostly Father being departed, the Marques musing dayly vpon this his sonnes proiect, it came into his mind to suspect, that Aloysius vpon set purpose had inuented this meanes, to reclay me him from gaming, vn­to which he was incredibly addicted; for not many daies before that, he had lost some thousands of crownes. And that very eue­ning wherein Aloysius had thus opened his mynd vnto him, he had plaid away other 600. crownes. Which humour truly of play was so distastfull to Aloysius, that oftentimes his Father being very much engaged in play, he wold retire himselfe into his chamber to deplore him. He said in like manner to those of his chamber, that he did not so much cō ­miserate his Fathers losse, as the iniury which was offered towards Almighty God. Ther­fore this his Fathers suspition did not seeme to be without a cause. Neither was this the [Page 98] opinion only of the Marques, but of all like­wyse that cōuersed in the Court, who disco­uering the passages that were betweene the Marques and his sonne, infinitely extolled the prudence of Aloysius, who out of feare of further losses, attempted to withdraw his Father from play. But when as he being of a constant mind, and firme in his purpose, dai­ly laboured to obtaine leaue, to performe that which he was commaunded by instinct from God, and made profession that he only aymed at the seruice of Almighty God; the Marques, especially when he reflected vpon his life, which from his very childhood, he had after an Angelicall manner spent in the meditation of matters of piety, was at last persuaded, that his sonne spake seriously, & that this intention was put into him by Di­uine inspiration. A greater proofe was ad­ded hereunto by the authority of the most Reuerend Father, Mr. Francis Gonzaga Mi­nister-Generall of the Fathers Obseruant of the Order of S. Francis, who was very neere allied to the Marques in kindred and consanguinity, who when at that time he was imployed in visiting the Prouinces of his order in Spayne, and at the request of the Marques had for the space of two houres, curiously searched into Aloysius, was so far forth satisfyed with his answeres, that he assured his Father, it was not lawfull to doubt, but that this mind was giuen to him by God.

[Page 99] And although the Marques did plainely vnderstand, what the vocation of God was towards his sonne, notwithstanding he could not perswade his mind to resigne him ouerto him, but as long as he could he detained him with faire allurements. This Aloysius obser­uing as one impatient of delaies, after the death of Iames the Prince, who was taken a­way with a feuer (whose funerall rites toge­ther with the whole traine of the Court, he performed in the Escuriall) being freed frō the necessity of seruing the Court, he deter­mined by a certaine politike meanes to try whether he might proceed with his purpo­ses, or no. Therfore, when vpon a certaine time, he came to the Fathers of the Society of IESVS, he willeth his yonger brother Ro­dulfus, and other his familiar friendes who were present with him, to returne home, for he did firmely resolue to remaine there, without euer going backe to his home a­gaine. They, when they perceaued this pur­pose of his to be sincere and not faigned, de­parted homeward, and gaue account to the Marques (then sicke of the gout) of the suc­cesse of the whole matter. He sendeth vnto him Doctor Salustius Petrocenus of the house of Castilion, his Auditour, and commaun­deth him to returne home with him. Aloy­sius giueth answere, that, what must be done to morrow, may be done to day. That it was a great contentment for him to remaine in that place; that he did humbly beseech his [Page 100] Father, that he wold vouchsafe him that so­lace. The Marques hauing receaued this ans­were, thought it an indignity to passe the matter ouer so, and should otherwise be­come an obloquy to the Kings whole court. Therfore sending the same mā againe to im­portune his returne, he sheweth himselfe obedient, and returneth.

Another time, vpon occasion of speach with Father Generall Gonzaga, whome I na­med before, the Marques besought him, by that their kindred, and common friendship, that for so much as he did sufficiently vn­derstād, how much the losse of such a sonne, who was able so wisely & religiously to go­uerne his people, would be against the wel­fare of his dominion, he would be pleased to dehort, & dissuade him from this his inten­tiō of becomming religious; moreouer that in the world insisting in his degree, he might do that seruice, which might be much for the honour of God. Whome the Generall answered in this manner, that he wold please to pardon him, if he were not answerable to this his request, for so much as it was not correspondent to the Institutions of that course of life which he professed, nor euen to the duty of a christian man. The Marques vrgeth that at the least he would deale with him, not to enter into Religion in Spayne, but that he would take his iourny backe a­gaine with him into Italy. And that there he promised him to make him partaker of his [Page 101] vow. The Father Generall who well remem­bred, that he himselfe, when in the Court of the same Catholike King he first applied his mind to be of the Order of S. Francis, after that his parents had spent many dissuasiue wordes in vaine, and that they had gone a­bout with that traine of pollicy to bring him backe into Italy, to the intent that they might more oportunely, with all cunning meanes supplant his purpose, that he at last refused to condescend vnto them, and chan­ged his habit in Spayne, said vnto the Mar­ques that euen this office could not be done with a safe conscience, and that he himselfe did make a scruple therof. Neuerthelesse he denied not to do it. After this, he declared vnto Aloysius both the Marques his request and withall his answere, & added moreouer that he was somewhat scrupulous to deli­uer these his Fathers cōmaundes vnto him, although he promised to giue him full power to dispose of himselfe in Italy. The young man with his accustomed facility made an­swere to the Generall, that he truly would most willingly in this matter giue content to his Father, neither was it any thing at all troublesome vnto him, as who foresaw all things that might fall out, and seemed so constant & stable, in that which he had con­ceaued in his mind, that being assisted by God, no human force was able to wrest him from it. That therfore he had no cause to feare any thing, that might happē vnto him. [Page 102] The Father-Generall informed the Mar­ques of all thinges, and to conclude all was so accomplished, that both their wils con­curred in one.

CHAP. XXI. He returneth into Italy, and meeteth by way of Complement with all the Princes thereof.

IN the yeare 1584. when Iohn Andreas Au­ria, being of late by the Catholike King made Admirall, with great power by sea bent his course with Gallies for Italy; it see­med good to Ferdinand the Marques, to trās­port himselfe, his wife, and his children thi­ther by the same vessels. When he was there ready to take ship, Father Generall Gonzaga hauing now accōplished his businesse, both of visiting his order, and likewise other that he had in Spayne, yielded himselfe cōpanion vnto them in this voyage. I cānot sufficient­ly expresse in wordes, how ioyfull and pro­pitious a fortune Aloysius did repute it to himselfe, that he might enioy the society of so Reuerend a Father, vpon whome so often as he cast his eyes, he might seeme to behold an excellent mirrour of religious life, & se­uere discipline. And he afterward recounted vnto me, that he to the intent that he might reape profit by his example, did very dili­gently obserue all his manners and actions, and that he found him such a man, as might excellently well maintaine the name of Ge­nerall ouer the Friars Obseruant, and that [Page 110] Office likewise, with great accomplishment of vertue, and with singular documents of exemplar life. Furthermore, how true an o­pinion, & that grounded vpon solid reasons Aloysius in that iourny entertained of this man, did euen more clearly disconer it selfe, after that he was first made Bishop of Cefatu in Sicily; and after of Mantua. For so reli­gious and holy was his conuersatiō alwayes in that degree of dignity, that it is now a thing euident, to all that either knew him, or at any time had conuersatiō with him, that he insisted in the footsteps of those ancient Bishops, which were most remarkable for the glory of sanctity, & that he might very worthily be proposed for a maister-peece to all, who out of Religious Families are ad­uanced to the gouernement of the Church. Wherin I would more in large my selfe, were it not, that I might feare to offend the most modest and humble mind of so great a pre­late, who is euen now liuing whilst I write these thinges.

The conuersation of this man abounding so with honesty & innocency, made that na­uigation both very pleasant, & short to A­loysius, whilst they discoursed between them­selues either of the various places of diuine bookes, or of the rules of a pure lyfe, he aduising with this good Father of those thinges which seemed difficult in that kind. They arriued in Italy in the moneth of Iuly in that same yeare, when Aloysius was of the [Page 104] age of sixteene yeares & foure moneths. A­loysius was hopefull to obtaine his purpose very speedily by the cōsent of the Marques his Father, and therfore omitted not to so­licite it. But the Marques denied to condes­cend thereunto, till that he had, togeather with his brother Rodulph saluted in his be­halfe all the Princes & Dukes of Italy. Wher­vpon he was to betake himselfe to this iour­ny. He did that with this pollicy, for so much as he hoped it might by litle & little rebate that his zeale of entring into Religion.

Therfore Aloysius, togeather with his brother and a great retinue, puts himselfe v­pon his way, and very officiously he com­plies with all the Great-ones of Italy one af­ter another. Rodulphus (who had not yet al­together exceeded his childhood) went ap­parelled gorgiously, and accommodated as best might beseeme his dignity: but Aloysius sutable to his modesty, wore a plaine suite of blacke stuff, which they commonly call Flanders-Serge, being still an enemy to all vaine brauery. For wheras the Marques had ordained to be made for him, certaine im­brodered garments, set forth in so costly a manner, that they seemed all couered ouer with gould, with which being apparelled he went to present his seruice to the Infanta of Spayne, wife to the Duke of Sauoy, he could neuer after, so soone as he had once set foot in Italy, be persuaded so much as once to put them on. Sometimes also it happened at [Page 105] Castiliō, that he wore his breeches very much torne, which least they should be perceaued, and changed for better, he couered them with his cloake; but there was a time, when going vp a paire of staires, while he stoupeth to toke vp his beads that were fallen downe, he was noted by his Gouernor to be clothed with such old breeches, that in some places they shewed euen his naked skin. Then said he: Domine Aloysi, quid tandem agis? tibi tuo (que) ge­neri probro non esse sentis? My Lord Aloysius, what do you meane I pray you? are you not sensible of the disgrace that you do to your selfe and your family? and without delay ta­king away those, he commaundeth him to put on others. He fearing I imagine, least the matter should come to Marques his eare, durst not vse any contradiction.

Being vpō his iourny, he busied his mind, either in reciting his prayers to Almighty God, or in meditating daily some things of that nature; neither did he euer omit either his accustomed fasts, or his euening prayers. As soone as he came to his lodging, he reti­red himselfe into some priuate closet, and sought for some picture of a Crucifixe, be­fore which he might pray; if he could find none, he either with a cole, or inck drew a crosse for his deuotion vpon a paper, & fal­ling downe before it vpō his knees, he spent one, or more houres in praying, and enter­taining himselfe with piety toward God. So soone as he came vnto any towne, in which [Page 106] there was any house, or Colledge of the So­ciety, hauing performed the salutatiō of the Princes, he forthwith went to see the Fa­thers, & hauing entred the Colledge, he first of all went straight to the Church, humbly to salute the Blessed Sacrament, and after­ward so long as his leasure might serue him, he enioyed the familiar discourse of the Fa­thers.

Whilst he went to tender his seruice to the Duke of Sauoy, two thinges happened very well worth the memory. The one was when he lodged at Augusta amongst those of Turino, in the house of the most illustrious man Hierome Roboreus his neere Kinsman, who afterward was chosen into the colledge of Cardinals; and being there in a certayne parlour in the cōpany of many noble young gentlemen, an old man of seauenty yeares of age, who was by chance present began to cast forth certaine immodest speaches. This verily did very much disgust Aloysius. Ther­fore with great freedome he contesteth with the man in this manner: Syr, ought you not to be ashamed, being a man so well borne, and ador­ned with so good parts, both of Nature and For­tune, to speake of these kind of things in the com­pany of these Noble Gentlemen? Ʋerily this is to scandalize thē, & expose them to danger of sinne, for so sayth S. Paul: Corrumpunt bonos mores col­loquia praua: Bad discourses corrupt good man­ners. Hauing said this, and taking a little booke of piety into his hand, to the intent [Page 107] that he might shew himselfe to be displea­sed, he departed out of that company, into another with-drawing roome. So that old man being stroken with shame, example of modesty was giuen to the rest. The other was, that when Hercules Tanus his vncle, be­ing certified of his comming to Augusta of Turino, came to salute him, and earnestly in­treated him, that to the intent he might vi­sit his neyghbours, and gratify them all, he would vouchsafe to goe to Cherio, togeather with his brother, where he neuer yet had bene, he condescending to his inuitement tooke that iourny. But wheras for the grea­ter grace of these Princes his nephewes, the same Hercules had prepared a solemne feast, at which as the custome is, there was proui­sion for dauncing, Aloysius at the first endea­uoured all that he could not to be present, afterward being wearied-out with the in­treaties of many, who alledged that all this magnificence was ordained as a friendly re­monstrance of the ioy that they conceaued for his arriuall, he suffered himselfe to be brought into the Parlour, in which there was assembled a great concourse of noble men and women, hauing first before, play­nely professed, though he were present, yet he would neyther daunce, nor do any thing else. This being agreed vpon, he had fear­cely taken his place, but that there ri­seth vp one of those noble Ladies, and in­uiteth him to daunce. Vpon that occasion [Page 108] taking some displeasure, vttering not so much as one word, as it were compelled by some necessity, he withdrew himselfe out of the place, & neuer more returned. Not very long after, Hercules hauing gone forth in vaine to seeke him, at last, when vpon some other busines he passed through the Seruāts lodgings, he seeth Aloysius hidden in a cor­ner betweene a bed and the wall, kneeling v­pon his knees at his prayers. At which thing standing in admiration, not without some improuement in vertue, he neuer presuming to interrupt him, left him to his deuotions.

CHAP. XXII. His purpose is oppugned by diuers meanes.

HAVING performed these officious sa­lutations, remaining confident that the Marques would stand to his promise, & dis­misse him, he returneth to Castilion. But su­rely this hope did much faile him. For he would not endure to heare so much as one word therof, but rather, wheras he cold not be persuaded by any meanes, that this his in­tention was entertained vpon any good ad­uise, but vpon some youthfull forwardnes, which time it selfe would take of; he endea­uoured by all possible meanes and industry to remoue the young man from this his first intention. Moreouer other men of great ac­count, who were neere allied to him both in kindred and fauour, violently set vpon him, [Page 109] with forces, both vnthought-of, and vnex­pected.

And first of all Ʋ Ʋilliam Duke of Mantua, who alwayes bare a speciall affectiō towards Aloysius, sent to him a certaine Bishop, a mā very eloquent, to Castilion where he dwelt, who should declare vnto him as from him­selfe, that for so much as he seemed to set naught by the life of a lay man, as tending too much to liberty, and profanenesse, that he should at least content himselfe in their course, who not despising the commodities of Fortune, do likewise performe the offi­ces of the Church. That there would re­maine vnto him in this kind of life, more a­bility to performe excellent thinges, both for the glory of God, & profit of men, then in that which Religious men, liue in. That there were not wanting men, neither in the memory of our ancestors nor ours, that were singular in sanctity (in the number of which he thought Carolus Borromeus that most Illu­strious Cardinall to be one) who, as they did not abstaine from the wielding of busi­nesses of the Church, so were they more a­uailable therunto then many that spēt their time in Monasteries. Last of all, he promised vnto him all his endeauour & fauour for the obtayning of some such kind of Honour. This Bishop played his part very well, with great force of eloquence, and with very ex­quisite reasons to persuade him. But Aloysius after that he had prudently made answere [Page 110] to them all, most earnestly besought him, that he would please to render great thākes to the Duke, for the loue which he had al­wayes shewed towards him, by the impulsiō wherof he had so much at this tyme enlar­ged himselfe in his respect to him. That he, euen as of his owne freewill he had stripped himselfe of all other Honourable aduanta­ges, which he might haue accepted from his House and Family, so that he did most wil­lingly remit vnto the Duke, this preferment which he so bountifully did offer him. That he, for that reason chiefly, was induced to wish the entring into the Society, for so much as it reiected all kind of honours. For he had fully resolued whilst he liued, to ac­count God for his chiefest treasure.

Another attempt was made vpon Aloysius by Alfonfus, his Vncle by the Fathers side, vnto whome he was next to succeed in the gouernement of Castle-Godfrey, who when he had proposed the like argumentes that the Duke had, receaued the like answers.

Likewise another man of great authori­ty of the same Family of the Gonzaga's, after many arguments vrged for the infringing of his purpose, at last inclined to the with­drawing of him from the Society, & to per­suade him, that seeing he determined to for­sake the world, that passing ouer the Socie­ty, that liueth in the middest therof, he shold betake himselfe to the Capuchins, Car­thusians, or some other Family, far remote [Page 111] from these imployments. Surely I imagine that this he said with that intention, that if Aloysius had wauered in his mind from a will to follow that which he had made choyse of, that he wold haue taken occasion to haue taxed him with inconstācy, & so to haue per­uerted his whole purpose. Or truly (which he might more easily haue done afterward) to the intent that he might terrify him from other religious orders, as being not able to brooke them in respect of the weakenes of his body, and health. Or to conclude, for so much as, out of other Orders, he might more easily be reduced to some degree of dignity in the Church. Vnto these proposi­tions Aloysius answered briefly, that he tru­ly knew not by what other meanes then by entring into the Society, to estrange him­selfe further from the affaires of the world. For if he would signify Riches, vnder the name of the world, there did in the Society flourish an exact loue of Pouerty, where it was lawfull for no one to haue propriety in any thing. But if vnder the denomination of the world, he did comprehend titles of Ho­nour and dignity, that the Society likewise had no way open vnto them, as hauing taken a vow, wherby they professe, that they will neither procure, nor so much as accept those honours which are offered them (which of­tentimes hath bene done by Kings, & Prin­ces) vnlesse the Pope according to his power commaund them. So he put that noble man [Page 112] to silence, and gaue a sufficient testimony vnto others, vnto whome the fame of this matter was diuulged, that he was constant in that intention which was inspired vnto him by God.

The Marques likewise vnderhand sent o­thers, to sound his mind, as chiefly Ioanues Iacobus the Archpriest of Castilion (whose au­thority bare a great stroke with Aloysius) who might persuade him not to renounce the titles of the Marquesate, and the gouer­nement of his Country. But Aloysius ouer­charged this man with so great waight of ar­guments, that he forsaking the embassy of the Father, begā to negotiate for the sonne, and indeauoured to make proofe vnto the Marques, that his mind had a peculiar in­stinct from God, to giue ouer the thinges of the world. And he conceaued so extraordi­nary an opiniō afterward of Aloysius, when he made him partaker of his secrets, that he neuer after made any end of extolling his sanctity. But the Marques rested not yet satisfied with all that industry, with which he had oppugned his sonne; and therefore he most earnestly intreated, a certaine Reli­gious man, a speciall friend of his, (who at that time flourished with the fame of a very eloquent preacher, & afterward being made a prelate ouer a certaine Church, died in that function) that for his fake setting vpon his sonne with all his forces, he would discou­rage him from that his enterprise. He not so [Page 113] much of his owne will, as that he durst not shift of the commaund of the Marques, vn­dertaking that taske, performed it with as much mastery of eloquence as he could. But truly he lost his labour. Therfore, when af­terward he commended the constancy of this young man, to a certaine Cardinall of of principall name, he vsed in a manner these words: They imposed vpon me the performance of the Diuels taske, with this younge man. That being necessitated, I vndertooke with as much wit and industry as I could: but I preuailed no­thing at all: he standeth vnmoueable, & vnsha­ken: he cannot be penetrated.

CHAP. XXIII. The Marques strongly opposeth the vocation of his sonne: at last he yieldeth.

THE Marques finding that the mind of Aloysius was no whit at all moued with so many encounters, wheras being sicke of the goute he kept his bed, to make triall of him, sending for him, asketh him: what now at last his mind was? he truly answered reuerently, and yet positiuely; that he both is, and alwayes was of a mind, to serue God in that course of Religiō that he had spoken of. With this answere the Marques being vehemently enraged, with a menacing cou­tenance and bitter words, bid him auoyd out of his presence. Aloysius interpreting this rebuke as a commaund, departed to the Monastery of Saint Mary, inhabited by [Page 114] the Franciscan Brothers, commonly called the Socculanti, one mile from Castilion. This Monastery is seated by a delicate & pleasant Lake, that taketh its beginning from cer­taine waters, which sliding down from those faire hils are restrained with artificiall banc­kes, being built in that place, which in times past to haue bene of great esteeme, euē these things giue testimony, to wit, both certaine vaults adorned with anciēt checker-worke, and also certaine springs of holsome waters, which in like māner with old work, running through their channels vnder-ground, and about that house (which for the retirement of himselfe, and his children was built by Marques Ferdinand) discouer themselues, & breake forth into a most pleasant well. Into this house did Aloysius withdraw himselfe; whither when he had commaunded his bed, his bookes, & other necessaries of his cham­ber to be carried, he set down vnto himselfe a course of life far remote from the eyes of men, by often disciplining himselfe, and spending all his time in prayer, whilst that in the meane while, no man durst intimate these thinges to the Marques least he should be moued to further anger. Within some few dayes after, the Marques, (who yet by reasō of the goute kept his bed) asked what became of Aloysius? So soone as he knew that he remained in this Monastery, which I spake of before, straight way commaun­deth him to be recalled, and sending for him [Page 115] into his chamber, sets vpon him with many sharpe speaches, and reprehendeth him, that without his commaund (to the intent that, as he said, he might prouoke him with grea­ter contempt) he was so bold, as to go out of his house. But Aloysius quietly, and sub­missiuely answered, that he verily went thi­ther, for that he thought himselfe therin, to be obedient to his commaund, wherby he charged him to auoyd out of his presence. The Marques proceeded in casting forth di­uers terrible and threatning words against him, and in fine commaunded him to betake himselfe to his owne lodgings: then said A­loysius, Quia sic iubes, vado; Because you so cō ­commaund, I goe.

Entring into his chamber, shutting the doores, before a picture of Christ crucified, he becōmeth an humble suppliant vnto Al­mighty God, and there whilst he imploreth of him, a constant and couragious mind in such aduersity, his teares flow plentifully: And with daily whipping of himselfe he se­condeth his teares. In the meane-while the Marques, in whose brest the naturall loue of his sonne, made warre against his consciēce, for so much as he both feared to offer vio­lence to the will of God, neither yet could he so far get the conquest ouer himselfe, as to be depriued of so deere and vertuous a sonne, fearing least he had contristated him too much with so sharpe a chiding, some­what relenting for that which he had done, [Page 116] sending for the Lieutenāt of the towne who then wayted in the outward Hall comman­deth him to go see what Aloysius doth.

He in the entry of his chamber, found his Chamberlayne, who could vnto this man, that Aloysius shutting the doores, for­bad them to trouble him. But the Lieute­nant, when he said that he had order giuen him from the Marques, that he should ob­serue what he was doing, commeth to the doore, and finding himselfe shut forth, he boreth the same somwhat with his poyniard betweene the chinkes. From hence doth he behould Aloysius, with his backe all naked & kneeling with his knees all bare, before a Crucifix, weeping, and rigorously scourging himselfe. The Lieutenant being moued with this spectacle, and melting with a certaine sense of piety, with his cheekes all bedewed with teares returneth to the Marques, and said, that he would neuer go about to recal Aloysius from Religion, vnto which he was resolued to dedicate himselfe, if he did but behould what thing he was in doing. At last being asked what it was that he had seene, and why he wept so? he answered, that ve­rily he had seene those thinges, which no man could behould without weeping: and withall he relateth the whole matter to the Marques being all astonished, and scar­cely giuing credit to that which the man spake.

The day after, at the same houre, vpon set [Page 117] purpose, being certified what he was doing, he commaundeth himselfe to be carried in a chaire to his chamber, which was built v­pon the same floore with his, and through a certaine hole which was already open, he saw his sonne againe weeping and executing voluntary punishment vpon himselfe. The behoulding of this thing did so mooue the Marques, that he stood there for a certaine time transfixed with astonishment, and as it were in an extasy. But afterward seeming to take no knowledge of that which had pas­sed, he causeth a noyse to be made, and the doores to be knocked at. After this, entring in with his wife, he findeth the ground be­sprinckled with diuers drops of bloud by his whipping, and that place where he had kneeled, all moist-ouer with his teares, as if water had bene spilt. This spectacle, and the dayly prayers wherwith his sonne importu­ned him, at last compelled him to put on a mind, to giue him leaue, to put in execution that which he desired.

Therfore writing his letters to Rome, he intreated Scipio Gonzaga a very noble Gent­leman (who then was Patriarch of Hieru­salem, and after created Cardinall) that in his name he would vouchsafe to offer his el­dest sonne, that was (as he termed him) the dearest thing that he had, & vpon whom he had founded his greatest hopes, to the Ge­nerall of the Society of IESVS, who at that time was Fa. Claudius Aquaniua, sonne [Page 118] to the Duke of Atri, & withall to know his pleasure, whither he would haue him go to make his Nouiship. The Generall gaue such an answere as this busines seemed to require, and for many causes thought no other place fitter to be designed for his Nouiship, then Rome. This so wished-for a message, did ele­uate Aloysius with incredible ioy, neyther could he containe himself, from giuing infi­nite thankes by his letters to Father Gene­rall for so great a benefit; and as though he could find no wordes able to equalize the greatnesse of his affection, he at last gaue himselfe wholy vnto him. Father Gene­rall meruelously delighted with his letters inflamed with so great sense of piety, wrote backe againe, that he accepted him for his sonne, and presently expected him.

CHAP. XXIV. Aloysius vrgeth the renuntiation of the Marquesate.

AFTER this, he began to treat about renouncing of the Marquesate, which as hath bene said else where, had heretofore bene namely conferred vpon him by the Emperour. Therfore the Marques being de­sirous, that he should impart the same to his Brother Rodulfe, willingly consenting thereunto, called vpon them to hasten this businesse, and gaue them leaue to draw the writings of renuntiation in what forme they [Page 119] would. Whatsoeuer in that matter should seeme good vnto the Marques, should like­wyse be acceptable vnto him, so that the thing being speedily effected, and he dis­missed of all mortall thinges, might betake himselfe to Religion. Therfore the instru­mentes were drawne in this forme, that A­loysius renounced all his Fathers dominion, and his rents in fee-farme, which should haue descended vnto him by inheritance, & that of all his substance, he should reserue vn­to himselfe in present, two thousand crow­nes in ready money, which he might dispose of at his pleasure, and after that for euery yeare whilst he liued 400. crownes. The coppy least any thing ambiguous or subiect to strife might rest therin, after it had bene shewed both to diuers Lawyers, and also to the Senate of Millane to be perused, at last was sent to the Emperours Court, without whose authority, for so much as all the free dominion of these Princes, is held by free tenure from the Emperour, the transferring of this Estate could not haue stood good.

And that the Emperor might allow of the same, Leonora of Austria the Duches of Mā ­tua did very much auaile, whose help Aloy­sius earnestly implored as far forth as she was able, and truly in these kind of businesses she was wont to be very willing. And that she endeauoured in this behalfe, it is recounted in her life, which is put in print, in the third booke wherof, and the fifth chapter, these [Page 120] words are read. It happenned that a certaine noble young man, a Marques, and the greatest of her family, resolued by Diuine instinct, (notwith­standing all that men could striue against it) to quit himselfe of the goods of Fortune. Ʋ Ʋhen this gentleman was of necessity before to obtaine of the Emperour, that he might depart with his domi­nion held in Fee-farme, to his younger brother; Leonora, vnto whome he had recourse for this purpose, diligently wayghing the whole cause, and discouering the towardinesse of him that desired to be discharged of his fortunes, she did not only excite him that he should show himselfe obedient to the calling of God: but also writing her let­ters very carefully to Rodulph the Emperour, she obtained his sute. Hereupon it came to passe, that this young man shewing himselfe obedient to this so holy a desire, a few yeares after ending his life, by that course which he had obserued of pious li­uing, was transferred to the enioying of celestiall felicity.

CHAP. XXV. He is sent to Millane for the dispatch of certaine businesse: and what thinges were done there.

VVHILST they stand in expectation to haue this abdication authori­zed by the Emperour, there fell out in the meane while to the Marques a certaine busi­nesse of great importāce at Milane, in which seing that himselfe was not able to nego­tiate by reason of the goute, he determined to send Aloysius, in whose prudence & iudg­ment [Page 121] he reposed great confidence. Neither was he deceaued heerein. For wheras there were imposed vpon him many businesses with diuers Princes, he accomplished & dis­patched all according to his harts desire. Going therfore to Milane to performe his Fathers commaund, in the space of eight or nine moneths, during the time he was con­pelled to stay there, he did with so great pru­dence and dexterity dispatch these affaires, although difficult and perplexed, that they sorted to the same end that his Father desi­red they should. Neither did he himselfe at this time rest voyd of taking some fruite. For hauing as we said before finished his stu­dies of Logicke in Spayne, at Milane in the Colledge of Brera of the Society of IESVS, prosecuting the knowledge of naturall thin­ges, & being of an excellent wit and sharpe iudgment, he proued therin no small profi­cient. He was daily at the schooles both before noone, and after, from which if at any time his businesses hindred him, that which in the meane while was deliuered by the Maister, he commaunded to be written out, to the intent that afterward he might study it at home. He kept disputations, not only as an auditour, but also as a party, either in defending his questions, or oppug­ning others according to the example of his equals. Moreouer whether he tooke in hand to proue any thing by argument, or to refute it, as there alwayes appeared in him a marue­lous [Page 122] sharpenes of wit, so was his modesty so singular, that, as it remaineth very manifest by his maisters testimony, he gaue no shew either in his gesture or speach of any youth­full liberty. For which respect all carried him both in their eyes, and in their harts.

Besides this, he did daily apply himselfe so diligently to a certaine Mathematician, whilst he explicated one Lecture in the same Colledge, that, for so much as he did not di­ctate the same, least by little and little he might be surprised with obliuion, so soone as he returned home, did to a certaine Cham­berlaine of his dictate what he had heard, so promptly, so clearely, and so happily out of his memory, that when that same Chamber­laine, who at that time was a Library-kee­per shewed me at Castilion those notes, which euen to this day he preserueth as sacred reli­ques, I could not sufficiently wonder, that he neuer so much as omitted any one De­monstration, that he neither changed the number, the measure, the reasōs, the point, the line, to cōclude that he neuer so much as let passe any one of those words, with which those writings abound, that were in a man­ner proper to this discipline.

He went to the Schoole very modestly, with his apparrell of blacke Florentine cloth, which they call Rash, without any sword, si­lently, vsing no words euen to his neerest pa­ges, & for the most part vpon foot, although at home he had great store of horses. One of [Page 123] his sports & recreations whilst he remained at Millan was this, to conuerse with the Fa­thers of the Society, & to spend a great part of that tyme, which was voyd of imploy­ment, in the Colledge, sometime with this, sometime with that Father in conferring of learning or piety. His maister in Philosophy obserued, that he was wont to discours with so great reuerence, and shew of obseruance with all religious men, & those which were placed in any ciuill or Ecclesiasticall digni­ty, that he kept his eyes alwayes deiected, neither did he, vnlesse it were very seldome, so much as be hould their face.

Neither truly was he willing to conuerse familiarly with Priests only, or with them that follow the study of learning, but with those likewise whome they commōly vse in the seruice of domesticall affaires, and espe­cially with the Porter. And if he did some­times lend him the keys of the Gate, whilst he went for any one of the Fathers, he estee­med it as a great fauour. Doubtlesse he wit­tingly admitting of this errour, persuaded himselfe that he was, euen for this litle while of the same Society. And for so much as he vnderstood that euery weeke vpon Thurs­day (if no festiuall day fell thereupon) the Fathers of the Colledge, for the exercise of their bodies, and relaxation of their mindes from their serious studies, were went to go to a certaine Village called Chilalfa a mile and a halfe from the Citty, without the Case [Page 124] of Como, he by breake of day going into that quarter, leauing his seruants for a litle space behind him, walking a while vp and downe either read some booke of contemplation, or, being in the Spring-time, gathered vio­lets, til he saw some Fathers comming that way. Whilst they passed by him he curteous­ly saluting them, followed them softly, and with his eyes, which he continually fixed v­pon them, beheld them as far forth as he could in their right way going before him. Surely euen the very behoulding of them, brought him so great contentment, as if he had seene some celestiall Angels; and thin­king them most happy, for that they had not such hind erances as he had, but that they might freely serue God, he deeply sighed af­ter their course of life. As soone as they arri­ued at the Village, he went backe the same way, to meet others, & in conclusion came home very much recreated.

In the dayes, that they call their Carniuall, which by a certaine more licētious custome are precedent to the Lenten-fast, to the in­tent that he might be absent from the plaies and Theaters, and might in the meane while maintaine pious discours, he hid himselfe in the Colledge, often saying that the Fathers of the Society of Iesvs, were his spectacle, which brought vnto him greater delight then any mortall thing else. He spake so cō ­temptibly of those pleasures of vayne men, that clearly it did appeare, how easily he [Page 125] could be without them. Once vpon one of those dayes of Carniuall, when at Millane there was celebrated a certaine Knight-like exercise, with great concourse of the whole Citty, & especially of the young Knights, and euery one of them were mounted vpon braue steeds, and according vnto euery ones ability magnificently trapped, he to the in­tent that he might haue the glory of this world in more cotempt, & might ouercome himselfe, determined to be present. But al­thogh, as I said before, he had the cōmaund of diuers horses, wherof one being lead co­uered with a veluet foot-choth, did for the most part follow him, notwithstanding then whilst they in this extraordinary manner rid through the thronged streetes, he attended only with two pages, was carried vpon a lowly Mule, setting the world no lesse at naught, then the world did him. This fact of his was very ioyfull, and exemplar to diuers Religious men, who beheld and noted it. In matter of piety he still held his solemne cu­stome, neither did he euer omit his vsuall māner of holy meditation. He loued to fre­quent places of noted Sanctity, & chiefly the Church of our B. Lady, which is called that of S. Celsus, being at that time much renow­ned through the fame of miracles. Euery sunday, and festiuall day at the Church of S. Fidelis, which belongeth to the Society of IESVS, whilst he addressed himself to the re­ceauing of the B. Eucharist, he gaue forth so [Page 126] many documentes of a submisle and deuout mind, that he seemed to inspire religion, and sanctity into all his behoulders. Verily a cer­taine priest who at that time made a sermon to the people doth affirme, that he, as of­ten as he desired in his preaching, to inflame his mind with more plentifull piety, would but turne his eyes toward Aloysius, who was presēt alwayes right opposite to the pulpit, and moued with his only aspect, as of some sacred thing, that he was filled with a cer­taine celestiall ioy. So great euen then was the fame of his Sanctity.

CHAP. XXVI. The Marques oppugneth him with new practises.

NOw were the Emperors letters broght wherby he was inabled to passe ouer all his titles to his Brother. And he being of the age of seauenteene yeares, was no further of from his hopes then that his Father shold recal him home to Castilion, when a suddaine storme arising, he was driuen from the hauen which he was in a manner possest of into the maine sea againe. For the Marques, whether supposing, that the desire wherwith Aloysius was at the first inflamed, had now with daily delay waxed cold, or out of his Fatherly indulgence, wherby he was deteined from forgoing his sonne, being moued with hu­mane reasons, determineth himselfe to go to Millan, to the intent that he might both by himselfe and others solicite him, and fi­nally [Page 127] make triall, whether being so young a man, he had takē to him a matter of so great importance, by Diuine instinct, or no. So soone as he vnlooked for, had arriued there, he demaunded of Aloysius, what now at last his mind was? And when he found him as resolute and constant as euer heretofore, he be gā to be tormēted with very great griefe, & after that he had thundered out the boy­ling rancour & indignation of his stomake, he fell to deale with him in a friendly man­ner, and to let him vnderstand, that he was not so ill a Christian, that he wold conceaue offence against God, or gainesay his will; but if he did but euen obserue the course of rea­son, that he seemed vnto him, not so much carried with the instinct of God, as with some proper humour of his owne: for so much as his very obedience towards his Fa­ther, contained vnder one of Gods com­maundments, and other reasons appertai­ning to the honor of God, did persuade the contrary to that which he had designed in his mind. To conclude with what argumēts he could, which either his loue, or griefe did suggest vnto him, he attēpted to proue, that if he bound himselfe in Religion, he would become the blotter-out of his house, for so much as he being taken away, is was of ne­cessity to be ruinated.

More ouer he set before his eyes how well he was himselfe accommodated by nature, and nothing flexible to be draw at from the [Page 128] course of an honest life. That there was ther­fore no cause why he shold doubt to retaine the commodities of Fortune, seeing that in the middest of them it was possible for him to obserue the course of Religious men, and moreouer to moue by his exāple the people which God had committed to his dominion to obey the commandements of God, and imbrace Christian piety. That this questiō ­lesse might open also a way for him to Hea­uen. That he should call to mind how much he was honoured, esteemed, and beloued of all the men belonging to his dominion; how earnestly they expected him, and euen as humble suppliants lifting vp their hands to Almighty God, did beseech him, that they might forthwith be committed vnto him to be ruled and gouerned. He reduced likewise into his memory, how great fauour he had allready gotten of the Princes, with whome he had both acquaintance and correspondē ­ce, and who were singularly well conceited of him. And now he obiected vnto him the feruorous disposition of his brother (vnto whome if he entred into religion he was to resigne) being in respect of his vnripe yeares of no experience, nor as yet fit for gouern­ment, and if he should get the bridle in his teeth, in that headstrong spurt of his youth, that he would become a prey to shame and disgrace. In conclusion he sayd: Haue com­miseration vpon me, poore distressed man, afflicted with continuall torments of the goute, & so wea­kened, [Page 129] that I can now scarcely wield my selfe, who now at last haue great need, and truly euen now by thee might be holpen in managing the trouble­some affaires of the Common wealth. But if for sa­king me, you shall goe into Religion, I shall be en­utroned with businesses, with which being vnable to deale, I shall be oppressed with the miseries both of cares, and sicknesse, and you will thus become ac­cessory to my death. And hauing said this, his teares gushed forth in great abundance, in­terming led with words full of griefe, and af­fection.

Aloysius, who with patience had giuen at­tention to his speaches, after that he had hū ­bly rendred thankes for the loue & Father­ly care which he had shewed towards him, answered; that he, truly, had reuolued all these things in his mind, or at least the grea­ter part of them, & that he was not ignorant what belonged to himselfe. And that if he were otherwise called then by God to this course of life, that thē truly he should not do well, in vndertaking these thinges which he had rehearsed, & moreouer he should chiefly be necessitated to obey & serue his Father, vnto whome next after God he was most in­debted. That now, seing that he was not in­cited to the courses and institutes of Reli­gious men, by any particular rashnesse of his owne mind, but by the inspiration of Al­mighty God, vnto whose calling it be hoo­ued him to giue eare, that he hoped the same God, whose Prouidence extendeth ouer all, [Page 130] would prouide, that all thinges should not only sort themselues according to the plea­sure of his diuine Maiesty, but euē both for the dignity and profit of his family, and do­minion; and that they could promise them­selues no lesse from his infinite goodnesse. The Marques knowing well, that it was a thinge manifest vnto his sonne, that this in­tention was giuen vnto him by God, & that was the only cause of his so firme resolu­tion, perceaued, that vnles his mind were de­priued of this persuasion, he could neuer be drawne off from his purpose. Therfore he made it his greatest busines, that diuers men both Religious and Secular should sound & true his mind, and the instinct wherwith he was moued, and that they should draw the young man into the opinion, that he might thinke it agreable to the honour of God, if he should spend his life in the gouernement of his dominion.

All these when to please the Marques, they had day after day, euery one seuerally com­mended this course of life, & with as much art of s [...] each as possibly they could, laying open the trobles of a Religious life, endea­uoured to cast before him terrours, and by other meanes had made triall of his con­stancy, in fine, confessing themselues to be cleared of all doubt, and standing in admi­ration at the firme resolution of the young man, they manifested vnto the Marques that this instinct seemed to be from God, not [Page 131] without enlarging themselues much in his commendations. When these thinges were recounted to the Marques, & that there was so great agreement in all their opinions, to the intēt that at the last he might somewhat moderate his desire of searching, whether this was the will of God or no, wheras the Gout suffered not him otherwise either to goe or ride, he commaunded them to carry him in his chaire to the Church of S. Fidelis, which belongeth to the Society of IESVS, and there retiring to a certaine priuate clo­set, sending for a Father of great Name in that citty, said vnto him, that in so waighty a cause, in which was treated the losse of his eldest sonne, and that of a sonne of so great worth, he was certainely resolued to stand to his iudgment, and to rest aduised by his opinion. But that he did first desire, that he would question with the young man him­selfe diligently in their presence concerning that which he had purposed in his mind, and that he would take it into mature conside­ration.

Moreouer, that he besought him, accor­ding to the excellency of his wit & learning, that he would vrge all effectuall reasons that might be to dissuade him. To conclude that he promised as far forth as he was able, to get the conquest ouer himselfe, & wold rest satisfied with that order which he should set downe herein. This Father to the intent that he might conforme himselfe to the [Page 132] Prince in this his request, tooke the matter vpon him, & sending for Aloysius in the pre­sence of them both, began very seriously to sound him, spent a whole houre partly in questioning him, partly in expoūding what­soeuer things may be found out either by wit or subtility, for the triall and cleare dis­couery of the spirit of a man, and of the Di­uine motions and incitements of his mind. And for so much as he had made choyse of the Institute of the Society, he set before him all those difficulties into which it was possible for any one to fall, who placed his affectiō vpon this kind of life. And he accō ­plished all this labour of inquisition which he had taken vpon him, so to the life, that he seemed to speake from his very hart; & A­loysius himselfe grew suspitious, as after he scould me when he was in Religion, that the Father seemed not any thing to dissemble the matter.

Therfore, for so much as he did cōfide in him, and attribute much to his authority; neyther had there hitherto bene any one, who, as if he had felt his pulse before hand, did discours thereupon so sitly to moue his mind, and as he said, so properly; he stood for a space with his mind suspended. Not­withstanding in the meane time he answered with notable confidēce to all that was asked him, and so clearly dissolued all difficulties which occurred, not only with reasons, but also with authorities of holy Scripture, and [Page 133] learned men, in so much as the Father did not only reioyce to see him so constant in his resolution, but also admired to see him so excellētly wel read in the bookes of God and Godly men. After this, seing that all his answeres were so accomplished, & as it were deriued out of the very bowels of the cause it selfe, he began to suspect that he had read those thinges that are disputed by S. Thomas in his summe of Theology, concerning reli­gious Orders. Therefore in conclusion he brake forth into these wordes. Aequum po­stulas (Domine Aloysi) neque dubium esse potest quin sit vt dicis. Mihi quidem stimulos admouisti, neque vllum preterea quaerendi locum reliquisti. My Lord Aloysius, it is no otherwise then right that you require, neither is there any doubt but that it is as you say. Truly you haue moued me very much, neyther haue you left me any scope further to cōplaine.

These words questionles did very much recreate the younge man, and did sufficient­ly declare, that he was of another opinion, then he seemed to be, when he for a little while tooke vpon him the person of a triall­maker. Afterward Aloysius being departed, the Marques freely cōfessed that he was now persuaded that it was Gods pleasure it shold be so, and beginning to rehearse the whole course of his life, so piously lead from his ve­ry cradle, in conclusion promiseth that he will giue him leaue to betake himself to Re­ligion. A few dayes after this, he goth backe [Page 134] to Castiliō, giuing order that Aloysius hauing solicited but one cause more of his which yet depended in suite, shold follow him thi­ther, to renounce his principality. But Aloy­sius thinking euery houre which he spent out of Religion to be a thousand years, vr­ged expedition.

CHAP. XXVII. Blessed Aloysius going first to Mantua, retireth himselfe to the spirituall Exercises.

THE time drawing neere, that Aloysius was to returne to Castilion, whē by that which had happenned at Millan, he con­iectured that some new storme hunge ouer his head, before he departed from Millan, he sent very ardent letters to the Generall of the Society of Iesvs, wherin recounting the dangers which he had gone through, he asked counsell what he thoght was best for him to do, if the Marques should goe about againe to stop, or at least to deferre his en­trance into Religion? whether it might be lawfull for him, by his good leaue, neuer ex­pecting his Fathers commaund, to flye into some house of the Society? For now it was euident to euery one, that he followed the instinct of God herin. The generall, althogh he tooke cōmiseration vpō the young man, & was much vrged with this difficulty, not­withstanding he iudged that he should in no wise attempt this without his Fathers con­sent; that he should therfore do his vtmost [Page 135] endeauour to do it by his permission. That, that would altogether be most for the ho­nour of God, & most conducible to him, & the whole Society. It seemed good vnto A­loysius to follow this Counsell.

Hereupon going from Millan, before he came to Castilion, he went to Mantua, there partly for the refreshing of his mind, partly for the confirming of his purpose, & corro­borating his mind against that impetuous storme which as he feared might come vpon him, he became desirous to retire himselfe to the sacred Exercises of B. F. Ignatius, in some Colledge of the Society. It was then the mo­neth of Iuly the yeare 1585. at which time the Iaponian Embassadours were daily expected at Mantua: for they comming to Rome out of those foraine coasts, that they might pro­fesse the Sacred Supremacy to reside in S. Peters Sea, and that they might in the be­halfe of their King, and all his subiects in those countries conuerted vnto Christ, sub­mit themselues to the Popes Holinesse, as Christs Vicar vpon earth, and might fayth­fully promise to be vnder his authority: and their whole Embassy being now perfor­med first with Gregory the 13. in whose raigne they came, and afterward with Sixtus V. the successour of Gregory, who whilst they re­mayned at Rome was made Pope, they went back-againe to their Country: so as ma­king their iourny by the holy house of Lo­reto, & surueying a good part of Lombardy, [Page 136] in the moneth of Iuly they came to Mantua, where by Ʋ Ʋilliam the Duke, & the Prince Ʋincentius with magnificent preparation, & great honours they were entertained in very Royall manner.

When therfore there was a great con­course of people frō all the bordering Coū ­tries, to be hould these pompes and shewes, and chiefely to see the Embassadours them­selues, with whose only aspect, men being somewhat transfixed with astonishment, wayted vpon them with a thousand happy welcomes: in the meane while Aloysius pre­ferring his retirement & solitude, before all other sports and spectacles, went into the Colledge in the extreme heate of Sommer, and hiding himselfe two or three weekes within the walls of a very strait chamber, did with so seruent zeale spend all his time in holy meditation, that he did not so much as suffer the least part thereof to ouerslip him, but that either he said his vocall pray­ers, or meditated in silence, or perused some booke of piety. At that same time he was of so sparing a diet, that he could hardly be perceaued to eate any thing. Wherfore they that brought him his dinner into the cham­ber, could neuer sufficiently admire, that it was possible for a man to liue with so little meate. there vndertooke to instruct him in the Exercises, a certaine Father, who for that he had for the space of fiue and twenty yeares gouerned and taught nouices of the [Page 137] Society in the Prouince of Ʋenice, was very prudent, and of singular experience in those matters, and of the whole course of contem­plation. With him doth he purge by confes­sion, all the spots of his forpassed life, with a certaine particular sense of piety, and an in­ward feeling of ioy, leauing in the mind of his Confessarius maruelous great admiration, and loue of his rare vertues. Which he hath both restified to posterity by setting downe in writing, and also by his oath at Nouellara vpon the inquirv made by order of Lepidus Bishop of Rhegio. For he being there asked whether he knew B. Aloysius to be a young man of a ceraine perfect course of life, ador­ned with many vertues and spirituall guiftes or no? answered in these very words which I will here set downe. I truly, Syr, not only by the relations of our Fathers, but much better by a cer­tayne young man of great vertue, whome he made vse of for his priuate Chamberlaine, for the wri­ting down of his lectures, & as it were for the com­panion of his studies, from whome I was giuen to vnderstand, certaine notable things of the volun­tary punishments which he inflicted vpon himself, of his frequent retirement, of the admirable exam­ples of vertue and sanctity giuen by this yonng man. There was likewise another more certaine way of informing my selfe of him, offered vnto me about that time, vpon occasion of connersing fa­miliarly with him, and applying my industry in expounding vnto him the sacred Exercises of the Society, in which he (as he said vnto me) desired [Page 138] to be instructed, to the intent that he might more clearly discouer the will of God in the choosing of a Religious life, for so much as the Excellēt Prince his Father the Marques desired to be throghly assured therof. There it came to passe, that in the way of pennance, I tooke the confessions of his whole life. Vpon which although I did long, and much pon­der, I could not call to mind any of them, which in my iudgment could be accounted deadly, but that therin appeared certaine arguments of meruelous sanctity, and of a life singularly well lead. Surely this can I affirme, that by his confessions I entred into a certaine great opinion of his sanctity, inno­cency, and integrity, and for such a one extolled him vnto all.

This Father departed afterward (I do not know vpon what occasion) from that Col­ledge, and another succeded him in this of­fice of deliuering the exercises to Aloysius, & being often vsed in taking his confessions, did vpon his oath auerre, that his good­nesse, purity, his desire of worshipping God, and despising, and bringing vnder himselfe, seemed vnto him singular and admirable. Moreouer in that same place, were shewed vnto him the Rules of the Society of Iesvs, which hauing diligently read, he said, that there was no one of them, from which by reason of the difficulty, his mind had any a­uersion. Being to depart from thence, he de­sired to be granted vnto him a coppy of those meditations, which consist of that hi­story of the passion of Christ, to the intent [Page 139] that being gone from thence, he might oftē make vse of them.

CHAP. XXVIII. Aloysius being returned to Castilion, maketh earnest suite to haue leaue to enter into Reli­gion. His course of life there.

TO conclude, he returnes to Castilion, whither so soone as he came, he desi­red truly to vrge his cause, but least he shold exasperate the mind of the Marques, he stood in expectance some few dayes, till he of his owne accord might vtter some speach of it. In the meane while being admired of all the Garrison-souldiers, and people, it is very stange to see with what recollection & sanctity he perseuered to carry himselfe. For as often as he passed out of the Castle, he had his eyes alwayes deiected, but only when he saluted his retayners, towards whome his courtesy was so great, that he went as it were continually with his head bare. Comming with his brother into the holy Church to Masse, their Forme was laid with a cloth of state and cushions of veluet; vpon them Ro­dulphus according to his dignity was wont to leane. But Aloysius both in the Church & at home, despising all cushions and carpets kneeling with both his knees vpon the bare ground, with his eyes deiected, first atten­ding vnto Masse, afterward reciting his ca­nonicall prayers, or silently reuoluing holy things in his mind, spent many houres. But [Page 140] vpon festiuall dayes & Sundayes, vpō which he receaued the sacred Eucharist, he spent so much time in thanks-giuing, that Rodulphus for his recreation, going forth to exercise his body, and returning to accompany him home, found him still busied at his prayers. At Euensong, from which he was neuer ab­sent, for bearing to sit, and continually knee­ling vpon his knees, he excited no small mo­tions of piety in the minds of them that be­held him.

At home he obserued his accustomed mā ­ner of abstinence and prayer, & for the most part being solitary in his chamber, he kept so vigilant and exact silence, that very often he suffered diuers dayes to pasle without vt­tering scarcely so much as one word: but if iust occasion were offered of speach, he gaue way to necessity, or piety. Truly he was wōt to assure vs, that he had spoken more words after his entrance into Religion, in one day then before in many moneths: and that if at any time, he were to returne into his Coun­try, that it should be altogether necessary to change his course of life for a time, least he should scandalize them who had knowne him before in the world, and might thinke that he was made more dissolute by Reli­gious discipline. And to vs it was very well knowne, that he was most obseruant of si­lence, as who did neuer breake it, vnlesse by his Superiours he was commaunded to re­create his mind by discours, after his serious contemplations.

[Page 141] But now he had so much increased his vo­luntarily corporall afflictions that for very faintnesse he was scarce able to stand vpon his legges. In which proceeding it cannot be denied, but that he exceeded all discret mo­deration, and with the ardour of piety was transported beyond the bounds of prudēce. But questionlesse thinking himselfe able to brooke them, he followed the feruour of his mind for his guide, seing he was destitute of any other. Therfore his mother, both for other reasōs, & chiefly for this, was a meanes to the Marques her husband, that he would giue him leaue to enter into Religion; for that she said, if he should any longer be de­tained at home, they should in short time be depriued of him. And that it could not pos­sibly be, that continuing that course of life he cold long subsist. But that if he might be limited by Religious rules, that his Supe­riors would be carefull to moderate this su­perabundant feruour, and that he should be­come subiect to their power. Verily it fell out as she presaged. For he himselfe did o­penly confesse, that Religiō proued not only holsome for his mind, but euen for his bo­dy: and that he did acknowledge himselfe behoulding to them for their Charitable helpe, who cast the bridle vpon those his immoderate (as he called them) and head­long endeauours.

At that same time, he more earnestly then euer heretofore, endeauoured to informe [Page 142] with precepts of piety his Brothers, being euen then of tender yeares, and to teach thē the manner of praying, which that they might do the more willingly, he rewarded them after their prayers with sugar-junkets & cherished them with other blandishmēts. But of all his brothers, Francis seemed alwais to be most dearey vnto him, who at this day is the Marques of Castilion, in which principa­lity he succeeded his brother Rodulfus, the third day of Ianuary, in the yeare of Christ 1593. towards whom that loue of Aloysius was caused, eyther for that he being now of an age capable of discipline, shewed forth signes of a certaine quiet setled iudgment; or for that he presaged in his mynd (as some sup­pose) how great a safeguard and ornament he should become to his whole family & do­minion. For his mother was wont to recoūt that she on a time heared Francis being a ve­ry little boy pratling, and festing with her foot boyes, and that [...] and being stro­ken with feare she looked out of the doore, and with all sayd vnto Aloysius, that she did much feare, he all they should hurt that child, that then Aloysius did answere: Ne dubita Domina matter, quin Francisco ad so tuendum satis sit futurum animi: quanimo demitte in ani­mum quod aico: Francisous demum erit qui Fami­liam nostram suslentabit. Doubt not Lady-Mother, but that Francis will haue courage inough to defend himselfe: yea & which is more, remember well that which I say: Fran­cis [Page 143] at last shall be he, who shall sustaine our Family. The Marques his wife laid vp these words in her mind, vnto which how pun­ctually the euent was answerable, no man can be ignorant, who hath but heard by re­lation, how prudently he behaued himselfe in those former tragedies with which his fa­mily was perplexed, & behouldeth the now flourishing estate into which by him it is re­stored. Furthermore, for the predictions of things to come, Franciscus Turcius his Tu­tour is a sufficient witnes, that Aloysius whilst he yet continued in the world, did vnto di­uers of his followers prophesy many things, which fell out altogether as he said.

CHAP. XXIX. Another hinderance, and delay of the Marques.

NOw, some dayes had passed, during which time the Marques made no me­tion of Aloysius his cause; so as he being ve­ry desirous to dispatch the busines determi­neth to grow very earnest. Therfore taking a conuenient time, with befitting words he aduertiseth the Marques, that it was now high time to put in execution that which he had designed in his mind. Here the Marques perceiuing a necessity to be imposed vpon him, either of granting or denying what he requested, deeply smothering his inward griefe, denieth that euer he gaue this leaue, [Page 144] and moreouer, that he would not giue it, til his iudgment had arriued to more maturity, and that himselfe for performance therof was of a more confirmed age, such as is wont to be about the age of fiue & twenty yeares. Aloysius being astonished at so vn­looked-for an answere, beginneth with prai­ers and lamentation to beseech the Marques by that loue which he oweth to God, to suf­fer himselfe to be preuailed with all, in that which was both equity & iustice. But when as he being stil more obstinate, precisely de­nyeth to giue way to his intreatyes, and in these difficult affaires taketh time to con­sult, full of griefe he betaketh himself to his chamber to weep. He then tooke this time, to commend the matter to God, & to aske Counsell thereof by his letters of Fa. Ge­nerall: but the Marques maketh such hast to vexe and oppresse him, that wheras he was not able to stay for the Generals opinion, he chose that which seemed to be lesser of two euils. The summe of his answere was this.

That although nothing in this life could fall out vnto him more bitter, nothing more opposite to the quiet of his mind, then this delay and hindrance of that seruice, which he desired to exhibite to God in Religion, notwithstanding to the intent that he might be obedient to his Father, vnto whome he was of his owne disposition very desirous to be conformable in whatsoeuer thinges he lawfully might, and in this very cause accor­ding [Page 145] to the commaund of Fa. Generall he ought to be, as far forth as might stand with his filiall duty, without offence to God: that vpon two conditions he would suffer him­selfe to be delayed from his purpose two or three yeares. And that, if one of these two might not be admitted, that he would neuer be persuaded, for the obtaining of his Fa­thers fauour, to incurre the displeasure of God; and, that if he should be reiected by the Fathers of the Society, he had rather a­gainst his Fathers will to wander as a bani­shed man all the world ouer, then to depart in the least degree from the square of a good conscience. The conditions were these. The one was, that all that time wherin his en­trance into Religion should be deferred, he might reside at Rome, where he might both more commodiously haue recourse to Fa. Generall, and apply his study in learning. The other was that the Marques would now send letters to Fa. Generall, by which he wold giue leaue that his sonne that time be­ing past might be admitted into the Society; to wit, that after this, there might remaine no difficulty.

These conditions being heard, which the Marques perceaued to be aduerse to his driftes, becomming more angry, when for two whole dayes he had obstinately refused to promise the sending him vpon any cer­taine time, or to do any thing else, at last be­ing ouercome with Aloysius his constancy, [Page 146] whose demaund he saw to be no other then iust, and vnlesse he should vndergoe some o­ther course more opposite to his liking, he feared to exasperate him too much, suffering himselfe to be persuaded, he vndertooke to performe all his requests. Aloysius imme­diately certifieth Father Generall of the whole businesse, relating the conditions which in that couenant with his Father he had obserued, and with those very wordes he concludes his epistle, which might serue for an argument, how much griefe he con­ceaued for the deserring of this so wished­for a matter.

During that time, this holy young man euen grew-old with griefe, and with many teares deplored this (as he called it) his sini­ster fortune, that he was borne in so Illu­strious a degree, & that truly the principall amongst his other brothers. And contrari­wise he had a holy Enuy against those, who being extracted from more obscure paren­tage, were freed from these impediments, which against their wils would driue them from the entrance into Religion. But verily that good God, who is wont to be a com­fort to them that mourne, & to looke with pitty vpon them, that inuocate him out of their calamity, cutting-off at one blow be­yond the expectatiō of all men, whatsoeuer impediments stood betweene Aloysius and the enioying of his desires, in an instant wi­ped away all griefe from his afflicted mind. [Page 147] For after they began to treat of his manner of liuing at Rome, the Marques thought that he were best to soiorne in the house of Ʋin­centius Gonzaga the Cardinall; and he had al­ready intreated the Duke of Mantua, that he would please by his letters to commend this matter to the Cardinall, and he in respect of his singular loue towards Aloysius, had easily promised to do this office; when I know not what cōtrouersy arising betweene the Duke and the Marques, who should haue the prio­rity in writing, neither of them yielding to the other for certaine causes, the matter stood stil at the same stay, neyther was there any thing else done in it: but that this was the speciall prouidence of Almighty God, was both manifest in it selfe, as also in the free acknowledgment of Aloysius. For if the Duke to pleasure the Marques, had sent his letters to the Cardinall, he himselfe confes­sed, that for the very receipt of this bene­fit, he should so much haue engaged him­selfe vnto him, and should by that meanes haue fallen into such a kind of seruitude, that for many yeares after he should hardly haue disengaged himselfe from the same.

This determination being dissolued, it came into the Marques his mind, to place him in the Roman Seminary, so that in some part therof, designed for him and some ser­uants, as the dignity of his person required, being separated from the commerce of the rest, he might according to the discipline of [Page 148] the Society be instructed in good artes, til the prefixed day. But for so much at that was opposite to the custome of that place, from which euen to that very day no mā was euer exempted, sending vnto Rome a certaine man with letters, he laboured with Scipio Gonza­ga a most Illustrious man, that he would be pleased to negotiate this matter with F. Ge­nerall, and intreat that they might do this by his permission. He performed very dili­gently whatsoeuer was in his power. But ha­uing allegations made vnto him, why this might not conueniently be granted, con­trary to his opinion, he certified the Mar­ques by letters, how the matter succeeded. He being not as yet out of hope to obtayne this suite, had a determination to exhort Aloysius, that he would intreat Leonora of Austria the Duches of Mantua, a womā well deseruing of the Society, to request this fa­uour to be done her by Fa. Generall. A­loysius answered wisely, that this charge wold better befit any other then him. For so much as that request was contrary to the resolu­tions of his mind, and to his reputation, as being in possibility to moue suspition, ei­ther that his mind was altered, or his zeale remitted, especially seing that not lōg since, in obtaining leaue of the Emperour to re­nounce his inheritance, he had made vse of that great womans mediatiō. Therfore this proiect went not forward.

CHAP. XXX. He mitigateth, and ouercometh the mind of his Father, with a vehement protestation.

VVHILST they deliberate of some other course, Aloysius, when he had confirmed himself, renewing his ardour, be­takes him againe to those holy afflictions of his body, his fastes, and his prayers, neyther is he euer made partaker of the sacred Eu­charist, but he humbly beseecheth Almighty God, that he would now at last vouchsafe to take away those obstacles that cast such de­layes vpon his desires. And especially, when vpon a certaine time for this intent he had bestowed foure or fiue houres in continuall prayer, he found his mind to be carried, and incited with a certaine instinct, that he shold go vnto the Marques lying grieuously sicke of the goute, and renewing his suite of be­ing dismissed, should endeauour all that he could to persuade with him. He supposing that this motion was sent vnto him by some peculiar instinct of the Holy Ghost, goes from his prayers straight to the Marques his chamber, and sets vpon him very seriously with these very wordes, being indeed very vehement ones: Equidem Domine pater, in tua me potestate fore profiteor. De me statue vt lubet: verumtamen tibi denuncio, me a Deo ad Societa­tem IESV vocatum esse. Itaque dum hac in re mihi obsistis, Dei voluntati obsistis. Verily my [Page 150] Lord Father, I do freely professe, that I will alwayes rest at your disposing: neuerthelesse this do I denounce vnto you, that I am by God called to the Society of IESVS. Ther­fore so long as in this thing you resist me, you resist the will of God. And hauing said this, staying not so much as one minute of time for any answere, he suddainly steps out of the chāber, leauing his Father grieuously wounded with vnexpected griefe. Then en­tring into consideration with himselfe, and acknowledging, with how great vehemency he had hitherto resisted his sonne, setting on one side Religiō & feare, least he might draw vpon him the wrath of God, on the other reuoluing in his mind, that he should be forsaken by such a child, so bitter griefe in­uaded him, that, turning his face to the wall, he powred out a great aboundance of teares, & by continuall lamentations, sobs, and deplorements, became euen noted of his whole retinue, meruai [...]ing what new thing had befallen him.

A little while after, sending for Aloysius into his chamber he speaketh to him in this manner: Ʋulnus (fili mi) cordi meo inflixisti, qui te amo, semper (que) amaui merito tuo, atque in te spes omnes meas, familiae (que) nostre defixeram. I am vero quoniam al [...] te, vt ais, Deus vocat, non equidem vltra te morabor. Vade (fili mi) quo tibi collibitum est. Id vt bene & feliciter [...]ueniat, precor. O (my deare sonne) thou hast inflicted a wound v­pon my hart, who doe, and alwayes haue lo­ued [Page 151] thee according to thy desert, and vpon thee, built all both my owne, and our fami­lies hopes. But now, for so much as thou saist that God calleth thee to another course, truly I will no more be thy hinderance. Goe my sonne whither thou wilt. I beseech God it may fall out vnto thee well, and happily. Which wordes he vttered with so great sense and remonstrance of loue and griefe, that againe he burst forth into great plenty of teares, neither could any one mitigate them with consolation. Aloysius in briefe gi­uing thankes, least he should increase his griefe, betooke himselfe from thence into his lodging. There in priuate, prostrate vpon the ground, with armes stretched abroad, & eyes lift vp towards heauen, he rendreth vn­to God most humble thankes, for putting him into this mind, and for seconding the same with this good successe, and with so cheerfull a mind; doth he offer himselfe vn­to God as an holocaust, that it seemd a thing impossible, that in praysing of God he shold euer be satiated.

CHAP. XXXI. The griefe which they of Castilion conceaued for the departure of Aloysius.

SCARCELY had Aloysius after so many intreaties, obtained this dismission from his Father, but the fame therof extended it selfe to Castilion, causing so great griefe to all [Page 152] that belonged vnto him, that many with their aboundant teares witnessed the same. For in those few dayes which he stayed at Castilion, before he could part from thence, as often as he went through the towne, all both men and women striuing to see & ho­nour him, filled the windows and porches, and therby with weeping eyes, gaue so great a testimony of their loue, that euen he him­selfe scarcely refrained his teares. Moreouer they extolled him like some celestial man, & lamented their vnhappy fortune, who were not able to deserue the happinesse of being gouerned by so holy a Prince. In like man­ner some, who found more easy admittance to the Court, and were of more power with him, weeping sometimes, go vnto him, and speake in this manner. My Lord Aloysius why do you thus forsake vs? there is allotted vnto you a prouince so fruitefull, subiectes so respectiue, who do not only affect you with that loue, which by a naturall instinct is ingrafted in euery one toward their prince, but are euen carried with an extra­ordinary duty toward you. You are the loue of our harts, vpon you reposeth all our hopes: and now when we most expect, that you would put your hand to the gouernement of our publike state, you are snatched away from vs. Aloysius smiling at these their speaches, said: But I professe to you that I had rather purchase vnto my self a crowne in heauē. It is too great a taske for a man endowed with dominion and principality, to obtaine his e­ternall saluation. No man can serue two maisters. [Page 153] God and the world. My vtmost ambition is to se­cure my saluation. Let that be likewise your en­deauour.

He was much possest with a desire as soone as he could to passe out of his Country into the house of God. But he was compelled to continue some few weekes therein, partly whilst he attendeth the returne of his mo­ther, who was gone to Turino to salute the Infanta of Spayne, then Duchesse of Sauoy, partly whilst he procureth and vrgeth his abdication, at the confirming of which Co­uenant, by the expresse commaundment of the Emperour, they of the Family of the Gonzagas who were next of his kindred, to whome that dominion (for fault of issue in the Marques his stocke) was to descend by inheritance, were to be present. But for so much as those great mē, had all for the most part their residences at Mantua, the Marques that he might be accommodated better to their oportunity, commaunded himselfe (though sicke) to be carried thither. In his departure from Castilion togeather with A­loysius, not only the Courtiers, both men & women who were to stay there behind him, but also in a manner all the townes-men, when they saw Aloysius carried in a coach, certaine not to returne any more, whome they thought they should neuer againe be­hould, filled all places with mourning, and lamentation.

But for the most part, during all the next [Page 154] ensuing dayes, there was nothing in the mouthes of men, but his sanctity, & vertue, euery one seuerally relating, that which he had obserued in him. Therfore now by their generall consent he was reputed euē a Saint. But that which moued most admiration to all, was, that for the seruice of God, he had reiected the Honour of the Marquesate, and that for the obtaining therof, he had with excellent constancy and fortitude withstood so many stormes of his Father, and other Noble men, and brake his way throgh them all.

CHAP. XXXII. He renounceth the Marquesate, and all his other Fortunes.

ALOYSIVS continued at Mantua al­most two moneths, the most part of which time he passed in the Colledge of the Society, mantaining discourse with the Fa­thers that liued there, and in frequenting the Sacrament of pennance & the Eucharist. By which meanes he did vehemently inkindle with emulatiō the minds of the citty, throgh which the rumour was already dispersed, to what end he was come, the affaires of Illu­strious men being for the most part swiftly published. Therfore with great veneration they beheld him, and confessed that euen his aspect inspired thē with piety. But the cause of his staying so many dayes in that Citty, was, for so much as it was declared before, in the Instrumentes of his abdication that this [Page 155] was one of the conditions, that during his life he shold reserue vnto himselfe the year­ly summe of 400. Crownes, the which he should haue power to dispend in what he pleased, the Marques after he was informed by the Rectour of the Colledge in that Cit­ty, that it was not lawfull for any Religious man to haue propriety in any thing, or to dispose of the same according to his owne pleasure, or to his owne vse, but that it all belonged to the charge, and care of the Superiour, and that the same law was kept inuiolable for the maintaining of the loue of holy pouerty, and that therefore vnto Colledges rentes were allowed only in com­mon, out of which the necessities of euery one of them is prouided for; knowing this, he began to be vnwilling to leaue any thing vnto Aloysius, for that he said when he made that condition, his intent was, that the same mony should be payable to Aloysius his owne hands; and now that he vnderstood it was not lawfull by the institute of the Society, his desire was it should be cancelled. And A­loysius truly foūd no difficulty in permitting this, who nothing passed for the forme of the abdication, so it might be hastned, but some Lawyers deliuered their opinions to the Marques, that for so much as this abdi­catiō was done by the authority of the Em­perour, adding this condition therunto, that it was a thing to be feared, last that being ta­ken away, the whole might be called in que­stion. [Page 156] Whilst therfore this matter is contro­uerted, and recommended to the discussion of diuers learned in the law, in setting down their opiniōs, diuers daies were spent; when as Aloysius remained much weary of this delay, he at last with great importunity ob­tained, that likewise this other impediment might be remoued, and that an Instrument of abdication might be made, withall requi­site cautions that they should thinke good.

That being dispatched, the secōd of No­uember the yeare 1585. at Mantua in the pal­lace which takes its denomination from S. Sebastian, in which the Marques was present, Prosperus Gonzaga a very noble gentleman, who was neerest of kin vnto him, and other principall men whome it concerned, being assembled, Aloysius by couenant drawne in forme, releaseth from himselfe all the orna­ment, and riches of the Marquesate. Those great men that I spake of before do declare, that whilst by the Clarke those long instru­mētes were in reading ouer, the Marques by reason of that griefe wherewith he was op­pressed, was not able to temper himselfe frō weeping: but contrariwise Aloysius, who per­ceaued himselfe to haue atteined to the vt­most scope of his desires, was so much taken with contentment, that the most Illustrious Prosperus affirmed, he neuer saw him mer­rier then vpon that day. Yet notwithstan­ding that very same day, in the morning, a litle before this abdication was made by [Page 157] couenant, some prime and Illustrious men, who in the company of Prince Ʋincentius, who is now Duke of Mantua, had come into the same pallace, euen whilst the Prince cō ­uersed with the Marques, became trouble­some to Aloysius, laughing him to scorne, for that he would enter into Religion, and en­deauouring the most that they could, that this renuntiation might not be made.

The Instrumentes being sealed, Aloysius disburdened of all the cares of his fortunes and dominions, hideth himselfe alone in his chamber, and throweth himselfe with infi­nite gratitude before the feet of Almighty God, for that he had now at last vouchsafed him this wished treasure of holy Pouerty. And, in the meane while, his mind flowed with so many delicaeies & celestiall solaces, that afterward he was wont to declare, that he both often at other times, and vpon that day especially, did sensibly perceaue the ex­traordinary grace & comfort of God to be presēt with him. And truly it is a thing much to be admired, that the Marques Ferdinand, a Prince so renowned forhis liberality, that he was almost reputed to be prodigall, she­wed so much parcimony towards his eldest sonne, and such a sonne, so only deere vnto him. Especially, seing that he himselfe was the only man that gaue order, for the reser­uing of 400. crownes to his owne proper vse. I should verily belieue, that God to the intent that he might exhilerate Aloysius, [Page 158] who whilst he conuersed in the most famous courts of Europe, had alwayes so great a loue of pouerty, did of set-purpose suffer, that the Marques shold incline to that part which was so contrary to his custome.

Hauing rendred thankes to Almighty God, he sendeth-for into his chamber that venerable priest Ludouicus Cataneus, whome when he had requested to hallow with his benediction, the cloth-garments which he had caused to be made priuately for himself at Mantua, according to the manner of the Society, he strippeth himselfe of all his pro­fane apparrell, and euen of his shirt it self, & silke stockings, and being adorned with that sacred habit, vpon the suddaine he en­tred into the Parlour where the Princes stayed for their dinner. They astonished with the newnesse of the thing; could not with-hould from teares, and chiefly his Fa­ther the Marques, who though long endea­uouring, was neuer able all dinner while to keepe from weeping. There Aloysius taking occasion of this present matter, began wit­tily, modestly, and very well to the purpose to discourse of the occasions, & dangers of offending the Maiesty of God, with which men plunged in the worlde do combat, of the vaine frailty of the honours of this life, of the manifold difficulties, with which the way of Princes and great men to their eternall saluation is incombred, of the care which it is requisite euery one should haue [Page 159] for the euerlasting saluation of his soule, & this with so great authority, and vigour of a celestiall spirit, that those Noble-men atten­ded vnto him with great shew of reuerence, and piety. And euen vnto this day his speach is celebrated in many mens mouthes.

CHAP. XXXIII. Hauing obtaïned to be sent to Rome, he goeth by Loreto, & his pious exercises in that Iourney.

THE next day following after this, which was the third before the Nones of No­uember, he tooke his leaue of the Duke of Mantua, and his Sonne, and some other no­ble women there; and that euening at home, he humbly besought his Father, and Mo­ther vpō his knees (for his mother was now lately returned frō Turino) that they would giue him their blessing. Which whilst they do, how many teares they showred downe, and especially the Marques his Father, may easily be coniectured. The next morning he takes his iourney toward Rome, with that at­tendance the Marques had assigned him, in which the principall was, that truly Re­uerend man Ludouicus Cataneus, whome he tooke vnto him in that iourney for the administring of the offices of piety, Petrus Franciscus Turcius his Gouernour, Iohn Ba­ptista Bonus a Doctor, one chamberlaine, & other seruants. Furthermore in this his de­parture, although he be held all weeping, it [Page 160] is incredible, how small propensity of mind he shewed toward his kindred. To his youn­ger brother Rodulph, vnto whome he had gi­uen place in the Dignity of Marques, who followed him in Coach, euen to the riuer Padus (where he tooke ship for Ferrara) all that way and passage he spake very litle. To a certaine prime man in the ship, that said he was of a mind that Rodulph conceaued great contentment for that he was inabled to suc­ceed in his dominion, he answered: Non tanto illum sibi gaudio successisse, quanto ipse illi de­cessisset. That he did not succeed him with so much ioy, as he departed with it to him.

At Ferrara, hauing saluted Alphonsus de Este, Duke of that place, and his wife Marga­ret Gonzaga his kinswoman, he bendes his iourney to Bolonia. He desired very much in this his iourney to visit the holy house of Loreto moued out of a peculiar piety to that place, and also with a desire to performe that vow which his Mother in times past made for him at his birth. For although by the Iu­biley that was promulgated, for iust causes power was giuen them, to make exchange of that Pilgrimage for other good offices, which both of them had already performed, notwithstanding he determined to satisfy that his mothers first purpose, and his owne singular zeale. His determination therfore was, first to go to Florēce to that great Duke Francis, and from thence to turne towards Loreto. But when he came to Petra-Mala, in [Page 161] which place being in the confines of Tusca­ny towards Bolonia, subiect to that great Duke, he found, for feare of the plague, a very straite watch kept. There, although his Companions declared both the name & quality of the man, and the causes of vnder­taking this iourny, notwithstanding they could not preuaile with them to yield them passage. Therfore vpon necessity returning to Bolonia, from thence by his letters he ex­cused himselfe to the great Duke, that he could not as he wished tender his duty, and seruice to him in his presence.

From Bolonia, by Flaminia he tooke his iourney directly to Loreto, whither after he came, it cannot be expressed, with how great delicacies God and his most Blessed Virgin Mother entertained him. The next morning when in that Sacred Chappell, he had fiue or sixt houres without intermission assisted at the holy Masses, he did receaue the Blessed Sacrament with incredible deuotion, & be­ing inwardly penetrated with recognizing the benefit, which in that place, (where so great maiesty and sanctity harboured) all humane kind had receaued, he became all drowned with teares, neither did it seeme possible to draw him from thence. But to the intent that he might haue more leasure to pray and meditate in that holy place all day, he refusing vnto Fa. Rectour of the Society who inuited him to their Colledge, that office of courtesy, be tooke himselfe [Page 162] togeather with all his company to a com­mon Inne. From dinner he returneth to that holy house, and for so much as it was now diuulged who he was, and with what mind he went to Rome, he became remarkable to all, much comforting themselues, to see a young man of that noblenesse of birth, and abundance of riches, that with more indu­stry endeauoured to be reduced to an hum­ble and needy state, then, for the most part, others do hunt after honours, & riches. The next morning following, before his depar­ture he was pleased againe at Masse to be re­freshed with the sacred Eucharist, and to be­stow some time in his prayers. That being done he went towards Rome.

His course of life in his iourney was in a manner this. In the morning so soone as he rose out of his bed, for one quarter of an houre he prayed in silence, afterward he re­cited the Canonicall prayers, which are ac­customed to be sounge, about the Prime, Third, Sixt, and Ninth Houre, with Lewis the priest, of whome in this kind of prayer, of which hitherto he had no vse, he desired to be instructed; he said likewise those pray­ers which we call the Itinerarium, & then he mounted vpon his horse. Many miles he trauailed somewhat remote from all his cō ­pany, sometimes pronouncing the prayers of the daily exercise, sometimes others, som­times according to his custome, applying himselfe to meditation and contemplation. [Page 163] Therefore vpon horse-backe he was no lesse attentiue to offices of piety, thē others that are sequestred in their chambers. For this respect his companions, who well obserued how much he was delighted with solitude & priuacy, vpon set-purpose, iournied some li­tle distance from him. When it was his plea­sure to intertaine talke, sending for vnto him Lewis the priest, he conferred with him of diuine matters. Whilst their horses tooke their baite at noonetide, he likewise tooke some small repast: afterward saying, togea­ther with the same Priest their Euensong, & Compline he returned to horse, and to the way. In the greatest part therof he reuolued in his mind corporall punishments and affli­ctions, vnto which as he was much addicted, so his hope was that becōming a Religious man, he might take his full scope in them: & sometimes he considered with himselfe the affaires of India, and the conuersion of Eth­nicks, and he was set on fire with hope one day to go by mission from his Superiour in­to those coasts, togeather with others, who in great number euery yeare almost, passe out of Europe. Or to conclude, with other such like cogitations he facilitated his way.

At the euening in his Inne, although, for so much as it was in the sharpe winter-sea­son, he was euen halfe frozen with cold; neuerthelesse he neuer warmed himselfe. But straight-way retired all alone into his cham­ber, and there drawing forth, and setting be­fore [Page 164] his eyes, the picture of Christ crucified which he carried with him, throwing him­selfe at his feet, he continually spent two houres with God, intermixing so many tea­res, sighes, groanes, and so great seruour of mind, that his men, who without doores heard this lamentable noise, gazed one vpon another, stroken with amazement & harty pennance. Besides this prayer, he daily for a great space togeather, chastised himselfe with stripes; and then calling into his cham­ber Lewis the Priest, he read the Mattines, and Laudes. Afterward he sate downe to the table, and alwayes abstaining from meates of a more stronger nourishment, he sup [...]ed very soberly and sparingly. He determined to obserue vpon Wednesday, Friday, & Sa­turday his accustomed fasts; but the Priest whē he perceaued him to be brokē & weak­ned with the labors of his iourny, cōmaun­ded him to abstaine from them. Vnto whose commaund truly he was then obedient, but scarcely was he come to Rome, when he be­tooke him to them againe.

When he went to sleepe, he would nether suffer his bed to be warmed, nor his appar­rell to be taken of. Therfore wheras he was not accustomed to weare stockings of cloth til the time that he tooke vpon him the ha­bit of the Society at Mantua, he was very much trobled euery day with drawing them of. But once when the priest taking commi­stration on him helped him, he sound his [Page 165] feet and legs almost starued, neither euen then wold he make any vse of fire, although he very much vrged him therunto.

CHAP. XXXIV. At Rome hauing visited the Churches of greatest same, hauing saluted the Pope and Cardinals, he is adioyned to the Society of Iesvs.

AT Rome, when in the house of Scipio Gonzaga that most illustrious Patriarch he had lighted from his horse, and a litle re­sted himselfe after his iourny, from thence he betooke himself to the house of the pro­fessed Fathers of the Society of Iesvs, where he submitteth himself at the knees of F. Clandius Aquauina the Generall, who had descended into a garden to meete him, & professeth himselfe vnto him both a child and a subiect, so piously and submissely, that it seemed impossible to raise him vp againe from the ground. Going from thence, he be­takes him to salute certaine Cardinals, and chiefly Farnesius, Alexandrinus, de Est, & Me­dices who at this day is the great Duke of Florence, of all which he is intertained with singular beneuolence and courtesy, and es­pecially of Cardinal Farnesius & Medices, who were very earnest with him to remaine with them at their houses.

Hauing saluted all those Cardinals whom out of due respect he cold not pretermit, he went to the seauen most famous Churches [Page 166] of that Citty, & to other places remarkable for sanctity, to offer vp his prayers with in­credible piety. Through those wayes which lead from one Church to another, he either meditated diuine matters in silence, or song sacred Hymnes; but in the very Churches themselues, by a thousand meanes adoring Almighty God, he declared a mind pious, & deuout to his Diuine maiesty. Hauing visi­ted these Churches, he went to Sixtus Ʋ. the Pope, that he might craue his benediction, and deliuer vnto him letters from his Father the Marques. He had scarcely entred into the Popes Anti-chamber, when he was inui­roned with a troope of Courtiers, whome the report already dispersed of his intention had gathered togeather, euen as it were to behould some prodigy. Being admitted to the Pope, after according to the custome he had kissed his feet, he deliuereth the letters from his Father. The pope asketh him many things concerning his intention of entring into Religion, and chiefly whether he had sufficiently foreseene that laborious course of life. So soone as he answered that he had long since premeditated, and considered all thinges, the Pope commending his resolu­tion and courage of mind, bestowing his blessing vpon him, dismissed him.

That same day which was Saturday, ei­ther for that the day before for deuotion­sake he had eaten nothing but bread & wa­ter, or for that this selfe-same day, that he [Page 167] had admittance to the Pope, he had remai­ned fasting till 3. houres before night, or for some other cause, comming home he began to find some indisposition in himselfe, and therfore to feare least that might proue a new impediment vnto him. But this sick­nesse proceeded no further. The next day af­ter, which was Sunday, in the morning, he was present in the Chappel of the Ho­ly Martyrs Abundius & Abundantius, which is vnder the high-altar of that Church of the Society of Iesvs, built by Cardinall Farnesius, and participating of the diuine Eu­charist, he be tooke himselfe to the Quire to heare a sermon: afterward vpon the inuite­ment of the R. Fa. Generall, togeather with Scipio Gonzaga that most illustrious Patriarch he dined with the Fathers in the common refectory, and the Reader at table being si­lenced by Father Generall, one of the Socie­ty preached out of the pulpit. The Patriarch was much taken both with his modesty, and reserued behauiour, & also with his sayings and answeres, and he said, that it seemed a thing strange vnto him, that there fell from this young man no one word in vaine, but all diligently wayed, and as it were examined by a certaine ballance. That also much moo­ued the Courtiers, who tooke speciall note of that, wherof I made mention before, that when in the priuate Chappell of that Illu­strious man he was present at Masse, after the Priest was come to that part of the [Page 168] Masse, wherein according to custome he ele­uated the sacred Host, to be beheld of the people that he powred out euen a showre of teares, and that he laboured in vaine to con­ceale it.

At last vpon Munday, before the VII. day of the Kalends of December, which is dedicated as holy, vnto that Blessed Virgin and Martyr S. Catherine, before noone, be­ing of the age of seauenteene yeares, eight moneths, and sixteene dayes, cheerfully, & with much ioy, accompanied with all his friends, and likewise that Illustrious Scipio Gonzaga, he entred into the Nouiship of the Society of Iesvs at S. Andrews in Monte­cauallo, at such time as F. Ioannes Baptista Pis­cator, a man of excellet sanctity, as I shall de­clare else-where, did gouerne the same, and informe the Nouices. There that most Illu­strious Patriarch, after he had said Masse, ha­uing made Aloysius partaker of the celestiall Eucharist, he togeather with Fa. Generall, who for that cause came thither, tooke his repast.

In the very entring into the house, Aloy­sius turning vnto those that had accōpanied him euen from Mantua, exhorted them to do their endeauour to possesse themselues of e­ternall saluation. He rendred thākes to Do­ctor Bonus for his courtesy, in accompanying him. The Maior-domo of his Fathers house he requested, that going with his letters to Ligorno, he wold in his name salute the great [Page 169] Duke of Florence. The Chamberlaine he de­sired that he would present his duty to his mother. Lewis the Priest he besought, that in his behalfe he would impart these words to his Father, Obliuiscere populum tuum, & do­mum patris tui. (Psal. 44.) Forget thy peo­ple, and the house of thy Father: by which he would giue him to vnderstand, that he frō that very moment, was willing to leaue of all memory of house, country, people, & dominion now already despised by him. Be­ing asked whether he would haue any thing else to his brother Rodulph, he answered, that he should say vnto him, that, Qui timet Deum faciet bona: he that feareth God shall do good thinges. Hauing said this, he left them, very much deploring that they were bereft of so good a Lord, and Prince. To conclude, vnto that most illustrious Patriarch Gonzaga who had imployed great industry in opening him a way to the Society, with all his hart he yiel­ded thankes, and promised him his most fer­uent prayers for his safety. Heere that good Prelate, who was moued with the sweetnesse of his wordes, was not able to refraine from teares, and there professed, that he had an holy emulation towards him, who so well knew, how to make choyce of the better part.

Aloysius hauing now dispatched from him, all both men, and other thinges which estranged him from Religion, the mayster of the Nouices brought him into a chamber, [Page 170] where according to the custome of the So­ciety he should make triall of himselfe, no o­therwise, then if he had entred into some ce­lestiall Paradise, exulting from the very bot­tome of his hart, he made vse of this saying: Haec requies mea in saeculum saeculi; hic habitabo, quoniam elegi eam: This is my resting place world without end, here will I dwell, because I haue chosen it. And afterward being left there alone, he fell downe vpon his knees, with his mind sugered with an inward kind of sweetnesse, with his eyes bedewed with teares which diuine loue raised in them, & gaue humble thākes to God, that deliuering him out of Egypt, had brought him into this Land promised by God, flowing with the milke and hony of celestiall ioyes. And then doth he offer and freely dedicate himselfe to his Diuine Maiesty, as a Sacrifice and Holo­caust. To conclude, he besought him to vouchsafe him assistance, that he might as best became him, dwell in the house of God, perseuer, and end his life in exhibiting his holy seruice therin. He did not omit after­ward to celebrate that as a festiuall day vpon which he entred into Religion, with anni­uersary solemnity, & he chose for his patro­nesse Blessed S. Catharine, vnto whome that day was consecrated.

CHAP. I. How excellently he performed the Nouiship of his Religious lyfe:

FOR so much as we haue declared, what a manner of mā Blessed Aloysius was, before he renounced the commodities of Fortune, and tooke vpon him the course of a more Reli­gious life; time now re­quireth, that we declare, with what conuer­sation and sanctity he liued amongst his fel­lowes, after he was receaued into their nū ­ber. At which time, truly, although in him­selfe [Page 172] he shined like a candle, yet for so much as he was held within the confines of dome­sticall discipline, as a close bushell, and auoi­ded the sight of men, lesse likewise did their eyes and mindes reflect vpon his excellent vertue. For that being a very young man, (when he had not as yet finished his study of Diuinity, nor could not by reason of his young yeares be initiated in Priest-hood) he dyed: and those few yeares that he liued by the will of his Superiours, that boundlesse feruour, wherwith before being carried, he had passed all discreete moderation, was broght to an absolute and temperate course of life. Wherfore vnto those that should measure his actions according to a certaine externall kind of apparency, it may seeme that after he betooke himselfe to the go­uernement of others, omitting those courses which he made vse of in his Fathers house, he lost the greatest subiect of his commen­dations: but vnto them that haue bene lon­ger practitioners in this celestiall Philosophy, that with the eyes of their mind cleared, and illuminated with diuine light, shall behould his religious life, it will manifestly appeare, both how great a proficient he was become in perfect vertue, by the guidance of his su­periours, and how incōparably those things which he performed in Religion, do in di­gnity surpasse the actions of his former life. For being now made a Religious man, for so much as he was enriched with more plenti­full [Page 173] knowledge of Sacred matters, he fol­lowed in his working, a certaine more co­pious kind of light: neither was there any action of his, how litle soeuer, which he did not garnish. both with the combination of many vertues, and with reiecting what­soeuer will of his, that was not altogether correspondent with the only zeale of am­plifying the Glory of God, and with abun­dant ardour of charity towards him.

But amongst all that treasure of his most excellent vertues, which we shall prosecute in this our second part, we may make obser­uation of two certaine thinges. The one, for that being borne and bred-vp in principali­ty, in like manner being of tender & weake health, notwithstanding scarcely had he set his foet with in the house of the Society, but that he accommodated himselfe to their cō ­mon custome of liuing, & their domesticall discipline, so that he semed to differ nothing from the rest, neither did he euer suffer him­selfe by any of the Superiours, either to be intertained more curiously, or to be made singular in any thing, although it was often offered him, especially when he came newly from so differing a state of life: and in the house he condescended so gladly and cheer­fully to all, were they neuer so abiect & base offices, that you would haue said that he to that very day, had neuer bene accustomed to other imployments, but to spend his time in other mens seruice. The other thing was [Page 174] that from the beginning he persuaded him­selfe, that he might be said to haue perfor­med exacty all the rules of Religion, who should omit none of all those, which are de­creed in the holy ordinances of that Insti­tute, and that should be most diligently con­uersant, in all the offices how light soeuer, which are by commaund imposed vpon eue­ry seuerall day. Wherfore no man could be more obseruant, no man more vigilant, in discouering all those thinges, which either by the institute, or custome are daily com­maunded. By which meanes he arriued to so high a pitch of perfect sanctity; that worthi­ly he may be set as a maister-peece of all e­xact and absolute piety, both before all Re­ligious men, who aime at any high degree of perfection, and especially before those men that are of our Society. For which cause in this second Booke, my purpose is, to declare certaine small, & internall matters, that our Brothers may haue from whence to draw an example, in all our domesticall functions. Therfore in his Nouiship it selfe he laid his deepest foundations of all his vertue.

For after that, as I determined to relate, he had entred into his first Probation, all those dayes that he remained secret, his mind tooke great contentment, in reading or me­ditating diuine matters, although for so much as his mind was alwayes fixed vpon God, there was in a manner no difference betweene his reading and meditation. In the [Page 175] meane while, whether it were in respect of the alteration of the climate, and his diet, or the affliction of his body vpon which he insisted, or by reason of too much intense­nesse of mind in meditation, his health be­gan to decline. Vpon that occasion it cau­sed his Superiours, to send him away some­what sooner then ordinary. Which they did so much the more willingly, for that hauing of late at Mantua vndergone these sacred Exercises, & hauing read ouer the Rules & Constitutions in times past, surely he came not altogether ignorāt of our affaires. Nei­ther, truly, hauing bene tried amongst so many aduerse chaunces, seemed it requisite to try him any further. Hauing finished his probation, he is committed for a litle time to the cure of a Phisitian, til he was confir­med out of this indisposition. His linnen which he had worne in his iourney, euen til his comming to Rome, when they were gi­gen to be washed, by the continuall stripes wherwith he had daily disciplined himselfe, were found imbrued with very much bloud.

After he was admitted into the fellow­ship of others, the Maister of the Nouices obserued, that he went somewhat holding downe his head. Therfore for the breaking him of that custome, or for the exercising of a victory ouer himselfe, he commaunded that his nceke should be inclosed in a col­lar of past-bord couered with cloth, to the intent that he might not carry his necke o­therwise [Page 176] then straight vpward. This when he had bene commaunded to weare for cer­taine dayes, he obeyed with meruelous ala­crity, and for that respect he pleasingly smi­led in company. All the other Nouices he did so much obserue and reuerence, as if he had beene the lowest of that family. Neither did he long delay, but that he desired leaue to be giue him, to fast, to discipline, to make vse of haire-cloth, & other meanes to tame either his body, or his mind. But when he obserued, that the Nouices, did not vse, as he hitherto had done, to weare a corner cappe, which is the note of a Cleargy-man, nor their other garments of so fine cloth, as that which he had caused to be made amōgst his friendes, he very earnestly intreated the Superiours, that they would presently giue him leaue to weare a hat like the Nouices, and such apparrell as they wore. And this he obtained. Moreouer by their good leaue, he changed his Breuiary of Canonicall prayers which was guilded both vpon the leaues & couer, for another more playne one. To conclude, to the end he might estrange him­selfe from whatsoeuer might smel of Aegipt, by degrees he stripped himselfe of all things that he brought with him.

CHAP. II. He is exercised by God with a certaine pensiue­nesse; and in like manner by the Diuell.

IT is manifest both by the consent of ho­ly Fathers, and also by the authority of [Page 177] holy Scripture, that they who dedicate the­selues to the seruice of God, and liue fayth­fully therin, are exercised, not by the Di­uel for punishment due vnto any sinne, but principally by God, that he may sift & trye them. Therfore God is wont for a litle time to take away from thē whom he endoweth with the light of Diuine knowledge, that celestiall sweetnesse of mind, which he is ac­customed to yield vnto them who diligently performe his commaundments. S. Bernard (serm. de Cant. Ezech.) alleadging in a certaine speach of his, reasons to this purpose, is of this opinion, that this is not done by God v­pon custome only, but euen necessarily. Al­mighty God did not long suffer his seruant Aloysius to be depriued of this kind of fa­uour. For now at the beginning he found his mind for a litle space voyd of these cōforts. At which time he truly was not vnquiet or disturbed, or more inclined to any kind of vice, but only condoled, that he had lost that sweet cheerfulnesse which euen amongst his secular friendes he enioyed. There remained only one remedy for the mittigating of his griefe, that as often as he gaue himselfe to prayer, he found himselfe altogeather eased therof. And not longe after, all that clowde of sadnesse being driuen away, God, who to the intent that he might trye him, and in­flame him with a greater desire of him, had for a litle while hidden himselfe, shone forth againe vpon his mind, and restored vnto him [Page 178] his accustomed peace and tranquility.

At another time, the Diuell that he might discourage his mind, and deiect him, sugge­sted this cogitation: And what I pray you, will the Society do with you? He straight­way perceauing that he was solicited by the Diuell, made head against him, and within the space of halfe an houre obtained the vi­ctory. He affirmed afterward, that in all the time of his Nouiship he was only tempted these two times. Therfor after this, his mind was alwayes peaceable & quiet. What won­der? soaring aloft aboue all human chaūces, he assigned all to the Diuine prouidence; by which he seemed to aspire to that place, where he is now, not to be shaken with any perturbation.

CHAP. III. His constancy of mind in the death of his Father the Marques.

THIS did he sufficiently discouer to the messenger that brought him newes of his Fathers death the Marques Ferdinand, who dyed six weekes after his entrance into the Society. At the hearing wherof, he was no more moued then if it had nothing at all cōcerned him. Therfore the self-same day at the persuasion of others being willed to cō ­fort his mother by letters, in such sort he began them, that he gaue thākes to God, for that herafter there was no other cause, but that he might say, Pater noster qui es in celis; [Page 179] Our Father which art in Heauen. This see­med very strang vnto all, and especially vnto them, who knew very well the entire loue, affection & obseruance which Aloysius bare towards his Father, which was so great, that abstracting from God and celestiall thinges, he denied any thing vpon earth to be more deere vnto him. Verily, he himselfe confes­sed, that his Fathers death considered of it selfe, could not but be a great griefe vnto him: but so soone as he remēbred that it fell out according to the will of God, it was im­possible that that should seeme troublesome to him which was his pleasure. And this is which before I said, that he was higher then all Fortune, for so much as he wholy depen­ded vpon the will of God. This same so sud­daine end of his Father, gaue Aloysius cause, to take notice of that extraordinary loue, & singular care, that Almighty God had of him. For if the Marques had died two or three moneths sooner then that time of his abdicating his riches, or that his entrance in­to Religion had bene deferred but for three moneths, it might well haue bene feared, that either F. Generall, supposing that, that family ought not to be depriued of so com­modious a head for the gouerning of its af­faires, would haue deserred the acceptance of him; or that they of that Prouince accor­ding to their inflamed loue towards him, would haue attempted the with-houlding him by force; or at least that he himselfe fea­ring [Page 180] to commit this dominion to his yon­ger brother being but euen thēa very child, would haue thought it better, rather for some litle time to apply himselfe to the ad­ministration therof. But what euent that matter would haue had, that doubtlesse is best knowne to God. Now it was his plea­sure who had made choice of him, after that being deliuered out of the shackles of for­tune, he had placed him in Religion, then at last to call vnto him the Marques his Father.

Neither did the same prouidence of God shew it selfe lesse obscure towards the Mar­ques himselfe. For wheras he in his youth was much renowned in the war, for his ser­uice vpon horse backe, and had spent all his time in purchasing to him, and his, the ho­nours & pomps of this world; so soone as A­loysius had now betaken himselfe to Reli­gion, he made such a vertuous alteratiō in his manners, and with so feruent zeale applied himselfe to matter of piety, that he became euen a miracle to all his acquaintance. He vt­terly abandoned his gaming, to which heere­tofore he was too much giuen. And euery day at euening, when he had commaunded to be brought vnto his bed-side, wherin he say sicke of the goute, that picture of Christ crucified which Aloysius had left behind him, before the same, togeather with Ghisonius, whome (hauing bene of late Aloysius his Chā ­berlaine) he kept with him, he recited the seauen penitentiall Psalmes, & the Litanies: [Page 181] Vnto which he sent for his wife & children, and commaunded to answere. In his prayer so extreeemely did he weepe, with such deepe sobs, and groanes that it was an abun­dant testimony, of that penitentiall ardour, with which his mind was inflamed. At last imbracing the crucifix, and often knocking his brest, with teares he prayed in this man­ner: Miserere Domine, Domine peccaui, miserere mei: Mercy O Lord, O Lord I haue offen­ded, haue mercy vpon me. And being asto­nished at this his vnusuall promptnesse of weeping, at last he said: Non ignoro vnde hae la­chrymae fluant: sunt hi Aloysii fructus: Aloysius à Deo Opt. Maximo, vt hoc salutari dolore cor mihi suffigeret, impetrauit. I am not ignorant from whence these teares flow: they are my Aloy­sius his fruites: Aloysius hath obtained of my good and mighty God to transfixe my hart with this holsome griefe. After this he care­fully, and contritely after the manner of a good Christian confessed all the sinnes of his former life, to Ludouicus Cataneus the Priest lately returned from Rome (whither he had accompanied Aloysius) being carried to the Church of the Virgin-mother at Mantua, as the selfe-same Ludonicus the priest recoūted vnto me. Neither did this feruent mind of his euer after decline.

But so soone as he perceaued his disease dayly to increase, he commaunded himselfe to be carried to Millan, to trie there whe­ther any remedy could be giuen by the Phi­sitians [Page 182] to his malady. Neuerthelesse within a few dayes he drew neere his last end. Ther­fore wheras F. Francis Gonzaga, being euen them Generall of his order, & by chaunce liued at Mi [...]lan, came vpon a certaine day when he was in great danger, to visit him, & giue him warning of his death which now neere approached, he himselfe easily suspe­cting what he would haue him to do at that time, of his owne accord requested, that he would send vnto him some one of his order whome he thought most fitte, to heare his confession. He sent one: he was cōfessed. The day following the Generall returning, ex­horts him to make his will: he made it, and setting all thinges in order which were need­full, he cōforted herin his lamenting friends, for that he said there was more cause to re­ioyce, that it pleased God then to cōmaund him out of this life, when he was so wel min­ded. He departed this mortall life on the Ides of February the yeare 1586. His body as he had commaunded being brought to Mantua was buried there in S. Francis Church.

Aloysius being by the Generall Gonzaga, of whome euen now I made mention, & by some of his other familiar friendes certified of those thinges that happened at his Fa­thers death, much reioycing, gaue thankes to God. He was wont to recount that he was thus taught by his Father: That whatsoeuer man doth apply his mind to, in any course of life, or busines, that he should performe that [Page 183] which he taketh in hand as diligently as he may. That wheras this was his Fathers opi­nion, in thinges subject to fortune, it was much greater reason, that he should stand so affected in Gods cause. Neither was he slow in shewing in his deedes themselues, how deeply he had imprinted this saying in his mind, who did alwayes with inflamed desire contend, that he might subject himselfe to the gouernement of reason, & make good the name and renowne of vertue & Christian prudence.

And that we may giue a tast of some few thinges, which euen then were both admired and spoken of concerning him; first of all he so vtterly laid downe all care of his kinsfol­kes, that he seemed euen to haue blotted out of his mind all memory of them. Therfore being asked how many brothers he had, he was not able to giue any answere, before to himselfe he had reckoned their number. At another time a certaine Father asking him, whether he were any thing trobled with the remembrance of his kindred? he denied that he euer had any thought of them, but when he was willing to commend them in gene­rall to God; and that by the benefit of God, he had his cogitations so far forth in his power, that there was neuer any thing oc­curring to his mind, vnlesse he were willing therunto.

CHAP. IV. Of his mortification in the time of his Nouiship; the custody of his Nouiship; the custody of his senses.

HE had fortified all his senses with so diliget a guard, that hauing both eyes & cares, he seemed neither to see nor heare, and with his body placed vpon earth to be conuersant with his mind in heauen. Neuer whilst he was in Religion, was he seene to take into his hand, any odoriserous thing, much lesse any thing that was perfumed: & as often as in the Hospitalls he attended v­po sicke persons, which he often asked leaue to do, he applied himselfe to those that were the most loathsome of all others, and he so easily endured that filthinesse and stinke, that he shewed no signe of loathsomenesse.

He likewise brought-vnder his sease of touching, by inflicting stripes vpo his flesh, by wearing haire-cloth; vsing often for his daily food nothing but bread and water, & by imposing vpon himselfe other corporall punishments and vexations. All which he did very frequently vse, vnlesie in respect of his infirme health, he was permitted by his to vse them lesse then he would. Neither was any thing more grieuous vnto him, then that in this respect he might not follow his owne disposition. Once also he did confidently affirme to a certaine Father, that those punishments which he now vsed [Page 185] for the repressing of the insolency of his bo­dy and mind, were nothing in comparison of those which in his former state of life, he suffered of his owne accord. That this one thing was of great comfort to him, for that he knew Religion much to resemble a ship. in which they saile, no lesse, who by the co­maund of the Gouernour sit idle, then they that sweate in rowing. That day which ac­cording to the custome of the Church fast was obserued, he had obtained of the Mai­ster of the Nouices to abstaine frō all thin­ges but bread & water. But the Maister be­houlding him when he obserued that he did eate almost nothing that was vpon the table, taking him from that, to the intent that he might minister some other matter vnto him of ouercomming himselfe, sending for him vnto him, he commaundeth him to returne to the second table, and to eate of whatsoe­uer should be set before him. He did as it was commaunded him. But then a certaine man who obserued it, he being gone from thence, said in iest: Surely brother Aloysius you haue taken vp a handsome kind of fa­sting, you eate once moderately, to the in­tent that you may eate againe: vnto whome he answered: Quid vis faciam? Prophet [...] dictum cst: Ʋt iumentum fact us sum apud tc, & ago sem­per tecum. What would you haue me to doe? It is the saying of the Prophet: I am become like a brute beast before thee, and I alwayes remaine with thee.

[Page 186] As concerning his sense of hearing, he ne­uer accommodated his cares to them that tould new, or vnprofitable thinges. Ther­fore if conueniently he might, he turned the speach to some other subiect: but if he that spake were one of any account, he suf­ficiently discouered by his silence it selfe, & the habit of his countenance, that those things that were spoken were displeasing to him.

Wheras in that his freer course of life, as we haue declared before, he did seuerely moderate his eyes, he did discouer amongst the Religious, euen much more euident si­gnes of vigilancy. The Nouices are wont sometimes euery yeare for recreation-sake to go forth into a certaine vine-yard. Of­ten had Aloysius gone to the same, when I know not vpon what occasion they were sent to another. After he was returned home frō this, being asked: whether seemed vnto him the pleasanter? he said that he did very much merueile at this question, for so much as hitherto he did thinke that it had bene the very same; which notwithstanding did very much differ from this in the way, in lodgings, and other thinges. Calling to mind at last, he acknowledged, that in this he saw a Chappell, and not the like in the former. When he had now for the space of three moneths taken meate in the refe­ctory of the nouices, he was yet ignorant of the order which was obserued in the tables. [Page 187] Therfore being commaunded by Fa. Mini­ster to bring vnto him a certaine booke which he had left in Fa. Rectours seate, he was first to be informed, which that place should be, and where the Priestes did sit. At another time hauing likewise spent three moneths in the nouiship, he tould the Mai­ster, that he was troubled with a scruple, for that not willingly, but accidentally casting his eyes vpon a certaine person that sate in his company, he beheld, what he was in do­ing That he feared least that might seeme a token of curiosity, yea and moreouer which you will more wonder at, he added, that this was the first scruple that had befallen him concerning the gouernement of his eyes, since his first entrance into the Society.

He seemed altogether to haue lost his ta­ste, so voyd was he in perceauing any taste in his meate, neither did he any thing care whe­ther it were delicate or vile, well seasoned, or vnsauory. It was his only desire to take the very worst of that which was set before him: and whilst he was eating to haue his mind alwayes vpon Diuine matters. For but only at that time which he attended to the reading, at noone he mediated of the gall which was giue Christ to drinke, at euening of that most sacred supper and full of myste­ries, wherwith last of all Christ intertained his disciples.

He was so watchfull in the custody of his tongue, that they who considered not how [Page 188] hurtefull and slippery an instrument it often is, would iudge him to be but too extreme anxious & superstitious. Amongst his pray­ers which he vsed as iaculatory in the mid­dest of his other imployments, euen this Verse out of the Psalme, was very frequent in his mouth: Pone Domine custodiam ori meo, & ostium circumstantiae labijs meis. Puto Lord a watch ouer my mouth, and a strong en­compassing doore before my lippes. Also he often vsed this saying, in the company of men: Qui non offendit in verbo, hic perfectus est vir: & se quis putat se Religiosum esse non refrae­nans linguam suam, huius vana est Religio. That is to say: who doth not offend in word, he is a perfect man: and if any one thinke himselfe to be Religious, not refraining his tongue, vaine is this mans Religion. And far more contentment was it to him to hold his peace then to speake. Therfore it is incredible, how obseruant he was of that law, which in­ioyneth silence to Religious men for cer­taine times.

Being sometimes sent with some priest to walke abroad, for so much as he had heard, that not alwayes leaue was giuen to talke with those that they went out with, he de­termined to read a booke of piety vpon the way, which for this purpose he had carried with him, and he so passed the same partely with reading, partely with meditating, that he gaue no one word to his companion; who being delighted with this example, did him­selfe [Page 189] likewise, letting him alone, fall to me­ditatiō. But he loued silence so much eyther for that he feared to offend God, or for so much as those celestial delights of his mind, which he daily enioyed, vtterly extinguished all desire of cōfort which may be reaped by mutuall discourses. Those men that are of the Society, are wont befor they goe out of the house to acquaint the porter, whither they goe: wheras therfore the Nouices at Rome are wont often to be sent to the House of the Professed Fathers, eyther to serue at Masse, or to heare Sermons, or holy Le­ctours vpon festiuall dayes, Aloysius asked of his Maister, whether he had spoken this word in vaine, if (when to be vnderstood it was sufficient to say he went to the House) he should adioyne also, that he went to the house of the Professed.

That houre which next after dinner and supper, was allowed for the relaxation of their mindes, and which is called the houre of recreation, for so much as that time it is lawfull for them to recreate themselues mo­derately with some discourse; he would ne­uer talke otherwise then of God, and very often would he breake of his intended dis­course, so soone as any thing came into his mind, for which he thoght good to conceale that which he had begun to vtter, & hauing paused a while in silēce, he would neuer suf­fer himselfe to be persuaded to disclose it.

Also as concerning his apparrell, he re­quested [Page 190] that he might haue those that were the most worne, & old in the house. When as therfore by the commaundment of the Rectour a new garment was put vpon him, he conceaued so much griefe in his mind, that it could not but appeare, both to the tailour and others that were present. After­ward expressing this his griefe, it was answe­red him, that that might euen proceed from certaine self soue, & a desire to maintaine his reputation and the opinion that others had of him. O [...]t of which wordes he tooke an occasion, for certaine dayes to sift into all his cogitations and as far forth as he might to found the head and originall of that tro­ble which he was sensible of, in the putting­on of his apparrell. When he had most care­fully examined himselfe, he could neuer dis­couer that he had admitted any such kind of fault. Nay rather, although he found, when he first entred into the Nouiship, that he had certaine cogitations suggested, that might seeme to haue relation to draw him somewhat too much to loue himselfe, not­withstanding of such vigilancy was he, by the assistance of Almighty God, that he did not so much as once remember, that euer he gaue consent vnto them. But to the intent that he might be the more safe against this plague, in all points whatsoeuer which for certaine mone [...]hs he meditated of Christs passion, he did most apply himselfe to that care and cogitation, that weeding vp by the [Page 191] very rootes that preposterous loue of him­selfe, he might plant in his mind a holsome hatred and despising of himselfe.

CHAP. V. He refraineth from the desire of honour; he expli­cateth holsome preceptes to the poore; he ear­nestly desireth to be reprehended publikely.

NOw he applied himselfe so much the more diligētly to those thinges which are wont to be vsed for the repressing of the desire of honour, by how much to men of sound iudgment, he perceaued that those thinges seemed more profitable, and more necessary, then the vexation of the body. Therfore in the vse and practise of making himselfe openly abiect, and exposed as a lau­ghing-stocke to men, he proceeded so far, that he made nothing curious of doing it, ei­ther at home or abroad. Oftentimes he de­sired leaue to be giuen him to beg almes through the citty, in an old cloke, with his shoulder loaded with a wallet. Being asked whether this were any shame, or troble to him? he answered, no. For setting before his eyes the example of Christ, and his fauour & the eternall reward which he shold deserue, that they were sufficient motiues, to vnder­goe all these things, with a mind both wil­ling and ioyfull: And truly, if he should euen waigh the matter according to the common iudgment of men, that he could no way vn­derstand, [Page 192] how it might seeme grieuous vnto him. For said he: Either I am knowne, or not knowne of them that see me▪ if they know me not, I haue no reason to passe for their iudgment; for a­mongst those that are ignorant of my condition there is no losse of estimation to be bewailed. But if they know me, beside this holsome example of mine that they make their profit of, they do not only not diminish their opinion of me, but euen so far forth increase it, that the greater danger is, that my mind should rather thinke it insolently to be glo­ried in, then grieued at. For whosoeuer, borne to a great fortune, shall for the loue of Christ cast him­selfe downe to pouerty, shall euen be honoured of them, who themselues thinke those thinges not to be contemned.

After the same manner when vpon festi­uall dayes in the streetes of the citty & high­wayes, by mission from his Superiours, he deliuered the groundes of Christian do­ctrine to beggars, and rusticks, such was his cheerfulnesse in performing this office, and tender loue towards all, that both the com­mon sort were edified by behoulding him, yea, and gaue Prelates themselues passing by chance, by in their coaches, would som­tymes with a desire to see, and heare him stand still. There was once a certaine man whome he knew to haue abstained from cō ­fession sixe whole yeares, whome he did not cease to solicite, & encourage with the inci­tement of a Diuine spirit, & with ardent per­suasions to exhort, til being inclined to pen­nance, [Page 193] he had brought him to a Priest in­to the Church of IESVS, who might heare his confession and absolue him. The same office did he often performe to others.

There was one thing wherin he confessed that he was somewhat troubled, when open­ly in the Refectory, or Pulpit of the Noui­ces, he was reprehended of his faultes, not for so much as he any thing feared to be no­ted for a man voyd of vertue, which made not any impression in him, but for that as he said, vices were loathsome vnto him. Ther­fore there was nothing that he did more of­ten make suite for, then that he might be publikely accused, which he confessed was very profitable vnto him. And although (as he had an absolute commaund ouer all the motions of his mind) it had bene very easy for him, so to haue transferred his mind frō these reprehensions, that he might not so much as haue heard them; notwithstanding, as he said, to the intent that he might not deceaue his Superiours, and that he might merit more grace in the sight of God, he for­bare to do it. In the meane while, whilst he openly suffered himselfe to be reprehended to his face, imagining that he suffered some aduersity, according to the exāple of Christ, he was eleuated with ioy, that it afforded vn­to him plentifull matter of meditation for a long time.

CHAP. VI. The Master of the Nouices maketh triall of his vertue. For many rare vertues he is reputed holy by his fellowes.

THE Maister of the Nouices, after that he obserued him to be so considerate in all thinges, purposed vpon a certaine time to set vpon him at vnawares, to the intent that he might make triall of him. He com­maūdeth therfore the Presect, that for some certaine days he shold be imployed in swee­ping, rubbing, and preparing the refectory. And he giueth order to the prefect himselfe that by often blaming, and carping at him, he should daily exercise him. He, although he played this his parte, with all the ve­xing diligence he could, notwithstanding neuer could he driue Aloysius, so much as once to excuse himselfe, or to giue any rea­son why he did so: therfore being stroken with admiration of so great mildnesse & pa­tience, he scarcely belieued his owne eyes.

There came vpon a certain time to the house of the Nouices to salute him, the Pa­triarch Gonzaga. He at his departure calling aside the Rectour, asketh of him, how A­loysius demeaned himselfe? Vnto whome he answered, that this he could affirme of him, that there was no one in the house, vnto whome he might not serue as a patterne. To conclude, from the very first moneths of his [Page 195] Nouiship, he was of so composed & sweet a behauiour, so sparing of diet, so much giuen to fasting, so apte to ouercome with such seuerity both his body and mind, especially when it concerned the contemning of ho­nor, so diligently obseruant of all the rules, were it in neuer so litle matters, so despising of himselfe, so affable to all others, so much reuerencing his superiours, & so obsequious to their commaund, so pious, and burning with so much charity towards God, lastly so perfect in all the exact rules of vertue, that he was not only extolled in the mouthes of all the Nouices, as a blessed Cittizen of hea­uen, and for such a one, with all obseruance esteemed in all assemblies, & whatsoeuer he touched, or vsed, they would for piety-sake honour with kisses; but euen they that de­parted out of the Nouiship, would earnestly seeke to obtaine those thinges that he had either handled, or vsed, as the reliques of some extraordinary holy man. Therfore the litle Booke, out of which in his Fathers house, from whence he brought it, he was wont to recite his prayers, and laudes to the Virgin-mother, much about this time being for deuotion-sake taken away, is to this day preserued in Sicily. His Breuiary likewise of Canonicall prayers, being in like manner broght thither by him, is of a certaine prea­cher at this day held in the veneration of a relique; and was so held by others from that time to this very houre: so soone was his rare [Page 196] sanctity and excellency of Vertue, found out.

CHAP. VII. Of the things done by him at Rome in the house of the Professed Fathers, whilst he cōtinued there; his preparation to the Eucharist, and his sensi­ble piety towards the same.

THE Nouices of the Society are wont at Rome after they hauing spent two mo­neths in the house at S. Andrews, and that it is apparent, they are entered into a right course, nor altogeather strangers in Reli­gious Institutions, to bestow some weekes or moneths in the house of the Professed Fa­thers which is called that of IESVS. There, be­ing secluded from the rest in a certayne part of the house, they assist at Masse, read at the table, and performe others offices, euen as they were wont to do in the Nouiship. Be­sides him, who is chosen of their company, and called the Prefect, vpon whome by by the Rectour this charge is imposed, to dispose of the offices, that they be perfor­med by them that are interessed in them, rightly, orderly, & at those certayne houres which it is meet should be obserued; there is also a Gouernourouer them, some Father that is both graue, and expert in matters of contemplation, who serueth for their Con­fessarius, and Directour; and to conclude supplieth the place of the Maister of Noui­ces. Hither therfore was Aloysius sent by the [Page 197] Rectour, whē he had spent about three mo­neths amongst the Nouices. Which com­maund he accepted very ioyfully, for two causes, both which had reference to piety. The one was, that by the examples of the Fathers, who hauing spent almost all their life time in the gouernement of diuers af­faires & businesses of Religion, do there vn­dergoe the offices, either of the Church and House, or do assist with their industry and counsell the chiefe Gouernour of the So­ciety (who keepeth his residēce there) in the common gouernment; and are of such qua­lity, that looking into their liues, as a mir­rour of religious vertue, he hoped much to aduantage himselfe thereunto. The other was, that for so much as he was very deuout to the most sacred mystery of the Eucharist, which alwayes caused, that in his Fathers house, he willingly serued at Masse, he did very much reioyce, that he was designed by profession to this office.

But that he was in his mind deuoted so much to that holy Sacrament, it was so eui­dent to all that had any conuersation with him, that when consultation was had about making his picture, the deuice of many was, that he should be paynted adoring the sa­cred Host vpon his knees. His will was in­flamed with the delightes, and soule-raui­shing fauours, wherewith he was replenished in receauing those sacred mysteries. Neither ought this to seeme strange vnto him, who [Page 198] considereth his integrity of mind, & the ex­quisite preparation which he was wont to make therunto. Togeather, with his recea­uing of one of these bankets, he prepared his mind for the receauing of another.

And besides his other offices of piety, which he tooke time for, he distributed eue­ry weeke in this māner: the three first dayes, to wit munday, twesday, & wednesday, he consecrated to giuing thankes to the three persons of the most holy Trinity seuerally, for that last excellent benefit of the Eucha­rist communicated vnto him. In like manner the three dayes following, thursday, friday, and saturday, he bestowed vpon praying to thos [...] three Persons seuerally, that they would vouchsafe to inable him to come so prepared as was fitting to this heauenly ban­ket the next sunday following. Often euery weeke, at certaine set-houres he betooke himselfe to the holy Church, or the Quire therof, and there adored the Blessed Sacra­ment▪ and spent sometime in offering vp his prayers to God. The day before he was to be made partaker therof, that only mystery found him discourse in all his speach & con­uersation, in which there clearely shone­forth, a certaine diuine and ardent pleasure, where with his mind was in the meane while replenished. This when it was well perceaued by certaine priestes, they did their endea­uour, that vpon Saturday before, at those houres that they had leaue to conferre, they [Page 199] might heare him make discourses, in exqui­site and hidden sentences vpon this inexpli­cable mystery. And they said that they neuer said Masse with more plentifull piety, then vpon the Sunday following. Questionlesse Aloysius his discourses had moued, and set on fire their mindes. And this was a thing so ordinary, that as often as euen vpon any o­ther day besides Sunday, any one had a desire with efficacy and inward gust, either to re­ceaue, or consecrate the Blessed Eucharist, the day before, he would apply himselfe. vn­to him, and of set-purpose endeauour to fall into speach of this matter. Vpon Satur­day in the euening, being possessed with these cogitations, he betooke himselfe to rest, vpon Sunday betimes in the morning so soone as he awaked, he reflected vpon the same, then a whole houre did he meditate of the admirable coniunction of the soule with God, which is accomplished in the Blessed Eucharist. This being done, he went to the holy Church, to heare Masse, at which he al­wayes kneeled immoueably vpon his knees.

Hauing receaued the Eucharist, he retired himselfe into some corner, out of which you might see him (after he had prayed longe time, being as it were alienated from his sen­ses) with some difficulty raising himselfe v­pon his feet, with a feeble pace; to creepe out of the Church. But in the meane while he in­ioyed a cheerful hart, ful-fraught with mo­tiues of diuine loue, & celestiall sweetnesse. [Page 200] The other houres before Noone betaking himselfe to holy silence, he eyther recited prayers to Almighty God, or quietly con­tēplated on him, or piously read some what committed to writing either by S. Augustine, or S. Beraard.

For this respect therfore, he ioyfully went to the House of the Professed Fathers, in which he foūd the discipline of the Nouices to be comitted to Hyeronimus Platus, a man in vertue and study of Diuine things, & in the science of all Christian Philosophy, singular; witnesse are his bookes, then a litle before set forth, and also others like vnto them in argument, which for so much as in respect of his vntimely death, he could not finish, to the great detriment of Religious men, they neuer saw the light. In these with an admira­ble methode & order he set downe a course how to abstract the mind from the deceit­full illusions of fortune, how to tame & mo­derate a mans body; how to bridle all the motions of the mind, and set them in order; how to extirpate all vices and vicious habits; how to get all vertues necessary for a Reli­gious man, both to gouerne himselfe & con­uerse with others: to conclude, how with perfect charity to ioyne himselfe with God. Hauing now finished but two bookes, death bereauing vs of him forced him to leaue his worke vnperfect. Therfore this Father, as being the most pious and prudent amongst the rest, after he perceaued Aloysius to be [Page 201] deliuered ouer to his charge, according vn­to that opinion, which from the very first day of his acquaintance with him, he con­ceaued of him, he was very glad. Further­more, what from the very beginning, his iudgmēt was of Aloysius, is manifest by those letters, which, with his owne hād he wrote concerning those thinges, that happened at the comming of Aloysius to the Society, to a young man of our Society, who at that time studied in the Colledge at Naples. Of which thinges, although before there hath byn made mention, notwithstanding to the intent that by the testimony of so worthy a Father they may be confirmed, it shall not be from our matter, to set downe those let­ters in this place verbatim. He writeth ther­fore after this manner.

CHAP. VIII. The letters of F. Hieronymus Platus, wherby is described Aloysius his vocation to Religion, and his vertues.

Most deare brother in Christ. The peace of Christ be with you.

TRVLY I know not (my deere Vitellesco) what better I may answere to the letters which of late I receaued from you, or more ac [...]p­table, then if I certify you of a certaine No [...]e of our Society of great fame, who fiue dayes since (na­mely vpon S. Catherines day) came to our house of S. Andrew. The name of this young man is A­loysius Gonzaga. He is extracted by the Fa­thers [Page 202] side from a principall Marques, not far from the dominion of Mantua, to the Duke wher­of he is very neare allied, and vpon him as being the eldest of that stock, relied the next hope of suc­cession. But so soone as it pleased God to chalenge him to himselfe, about some two yeares since, when he liued in the Court of Philip the Spanish King, he addicted his mind vnto the Society, & plainely manifested the same vnto his Father the Marques, who himselfe likewise remained in that Court. He after many trials made of him, at last yielded his consent, and not long after retourning out of Spayne, wrote to Scipio Gonzaga a most Illu­strious man of his kindred, who at this day is Pa­triarch of Hierusalem, that he would be pleased to deale with our F. Generall, and in his name offer his sonne vnto him. But for so much as he was the eldest, as I said before, vpon whome the inheri­tance was to descend, it was requisite that iuridi­cally he should depart with his right to his bro­ther: which, wheras it could not be done without authority from the Emperour, there passed in the interim some certaine moneths. Yet neuerthelesse this whole matter being effected, when this good young man was in hope shortly to land at his wi­shed hauen, his Father was his only obstacle, who either out of his vehement loue toward him, or out of the hope which he reposed in him, or, as he now writeth to F. Generall, for that he thought his age as yet vnripe for the vndertaking of so great a matter, suffered not himselfe to be persuaded, to giue consent for his going, and purposed to haue delayed him some yeares more. But here the singu­lar [Page 203] constancy, and feruorous mind of this young man discouered themselues. For although he ho­noured his Father with inexplicable obedience, not withstanding he sought infinite wayes to soli­cite him, and incline his mind; and when he could not obtaine at his hands, this his good, and iust suite, verily he sent vnto F. Generall his most ardent letters, wherby he besought his fauour, that he might come vnto him without euer taking leaue of his Father. VVhen the Generall denied this, the matter was deserred euen til this time. But now, by what art, I know not truly, hauing doubtlesse at last obtained leaue, in Ecclesiasticad habit, ac­companied with about some ten horse-men, he came to Rome. His arriuall was so published, whersoeuer he made his iournies, and euen at Rome those few dayes, that he remained in the house of Scipio Gonzaga, it was already bruted abrode, that he came to enter into Society, that when about the same time, he went to the Popes Holinesse, that by his benediction he might be for­tified for the prosecution of his intended enter­prise, his intention being noised throughout the Court, he was enuironed with a ring of such kind of persons, who for so much as their chiefest cares and ambitions infinitely differed from his, came to gaze vpon him like some monster. To conclude, the next day after, being munday, which as I said was dedicated to S. Catherine, he betooke him to S. Andrewes, the same Patriarch accompanying him, who remained there that he might diue with Fa. Generall.

But now belieue me, of such quality are his en­dowments, [Page 204] that noblenesse of birth (which of late you vnderstood how illustrious it was) is but the meanest of all his graces. He is of so excellent a wit, that although he hath not as yet attained the eighteenth yeare of his age, and hath bene so long conuersant in Princes Courts, notwithstanding he is rarely-well read, hoth in Logick and Natu­rall Philosophy. But so prudent and considerate is he in all his speaches, that (I speake seriously he maketh vs ad adonished. Therof let this one thing seru, you for a [...] argum [...]nt, that the Marques his Father had now already made vse of him, in the businesse belonging to his family; and in his epistle wherby he recommendeth him to Fa. Generall, he affirm [...]th that he bestoweth vpon him, that, then which he neuer had any thing dearer, or of more hope at any time. But in good-sadnesse all these are nothing in respect of his vertue and sanctity. For verily he confesseth that euē from about the eight yeare of his age he began to feare God, & sufficient proofes therof are, the v [...]hement motions of piety wherwith he is agitated. For in time of prayer he aboundeth with continuall teares, and almost al­wayes he hath his mind recollected and attentiue, which is both apparent by his countenance & al­so by his behauiour. Those that are of the same house with him declare, that he applieth himselfe to meditation foure or fiue times in the day: and that he doth as often in the night, but they haue no certainty what partitiō he maketh of his time, for that now a good while since he would suffer no one to help him to bed, but being shut vp in his chamber, according to the proportion of his ardour [Page 205] and piety, he gaue himselfe ouer to the offices of a deuout mind towards God. But least you should thinke me too apt to amplify these matters concer­ning him, let this which I shall tell you, serue for all, which is, that with once only meeting with him, he did so much oblige vnto him Fa. Andreas Spi­nola, and woon him into so great an admiration of his towardlinesse & vertue, that he discoursing with me afterward of him, thought me (whome you see what esteeme I make of him) to haue bene somewhat too coole in his commēdation. Notwith­standing one, and the selfe-sanie is the opinion which F. Generall, and we all, who are heere at Rome, Millan, or Mantua, (where he liued for a certaine time) do hould of him.

Surely I am doubtfull, whether I should say that which remaineth to be said, least as it doth mine, so it may diminish your comfort. Notwith­standing to the intent, that I may excite you to pray for him, I will not conceale it. Know therfore that he neither wanteth naturall, nor celestiall gifts, his health only excepted, which is so weake, that euen his very aspect striketh feare into vs. Moreouer one or two dayes before he entred into the Society he began to haue some infirmity in his brest. He alledgeth this to haue bene the cause therof, wherby you may take knowledge of his loue to piety. He sayth that he had entertained this cu­stome, that euery Friday he would liue with bread and water only, that wheras he had obserued the same, euen the next friday before, and after that the day following going to the Pallace, to the in­tent that he might haue accesse to the Popes Holi­nesse, [Page 206] whose secte according to custome he came to kisse, hauing continued the within three houres of night fasting, was exceedingly weakened. How soe­uer the matter goeth, if he [...] of any cure, by commauna from Fa. Generall, whatsoeuer alligent and careful prouidence may effect, shall be applyed. And already they haue set in hand with it. And perhaps perhaps said I [...] nay verily without all doubt he shall recouer better being tē ­pered by the carefull moderation of the Society, then if he should be exhausted by that vnbridesed and headlong kind of seruour. Therfore pray vnto God for him, and make no question, but if he spare him [...], you shall see him in time to come flourish with humarable exploytes both for the glory of God and renowne of the Society All the se things (al­though many I haue omitted that might haue bene holsome for example) in such sort haue I related to many, that I might communicate likewise to you, this comfort which for the time hath bene tru­ly so great vnto vs all, that there is in a manner no talke of any thing else: Neuerthelesse vpon this condition, that you requite this ioy which I haue brought vnto you, with your prayers to God, that he make me worthy of the sacred friendship, and imitation of so many excellent men, as he vouch­safeth daily to call to this holy Society, that he may as it were with so many iewels garnish the same. God blesse you From Rome the third of the Kalends of Nouember 1585.

Your brother in Christ, and your seruant, Hieronymus Platus.

When this Father wrote these letters, he was [Page 207] not as yet inwardly acquainted with him, yet euery one vnderstandeth with how mag­nificent praises he extolleth him. But so soone as he began to take his confessions, & to haue speach with him of Diuine matters, & of the inward inclinatiōs of his mind, he demaunded of him an account of them all seuerally, which he committed to writing, as is set downe in the beginning of this booke. And so much innocency, so much light in the knowledge of Diuine thinges, so much height of accōplished sanctity did he find in this young man, that he reuerenced him like one ranked in the number of the happy Saints, and so often as he maketh mention of him, he doth always adorne him with the same prayses. But then especially, when dis­coursing with a certaine Father of celestiall beatitude, he affirmed that the inhabitantes of Heauen, who are possest therof, do so far­forth accommodate themselues to the will of God, whome they know and behould, that they do after a certaine manner passe into him, in such sort, as that they neyther loue, nor will any thing but that which God loueth and willeth; he added that it seemed vnto him that there appeared an example herof in our Aloysius, in whose mind, said he, when those heauēly Cittizens see God most pleasingly to rest, they likewise obey this his diuine will, and imploy themselues so wholy in adorning him with immortall endow­ments and guiftes, in storing him with me­rits, [Page 208] and in patronizing him with their com­mendations, that when I behould him so gracious with God and his Saints, and reple­nished with all vertue, and splendour aboue the compasse of nature, they seeme vnto me eue by strife to ouercome him with the pas­sing greatnesse of their benefits.

The same Fa. Platus, when vpon a certaine time he iournyed from Siena, and commen­ded the most excellent vertues of this young man, he affirmed to a certaine Father, that it seemed strange vnto him, that according to that rare sanctity, which he saw shine in him, he did not worke many apparent miracles. I remēber that I haue heard Cardinall Bellar­mine declare, that it caused admiration in him, that so vnusuall integrity of life, should as yet (as far forth as was knowne) want di­uine miracles.

CHAP. IX. Therest of his actes in the house of the professed Fathers: the custody of his eyes; & of his obediēce.

A LOYSIVS stayed longer in that house then other Nouices are wont to do. Euery morning by breake of day, hauing performed one houre in pious meditation, he betooke him to the sacred Vestry, ney­ther would he from thence stir one foote homeward, before he had with very prompt deuotion, and celestiall ioy, serued fiue or sixe masses. So much commiseration did he take of his fellowes, and chiefly of two that [Page 209] seemed to be somewhat infirme of health, that he admonished their Superiours, that they were but too neglectiue of their health, and that they serued too many Masses. The time which was betweene masse and masse, he spent silently, (speaking not so much as one word to any one) in some corner, some­times closely meditating, or offering vp his prayers to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and o­ther sometimes in reading sacred bookes. He went vnto the Sacristane, if he were to be admonished, or aduised about any thing, with his head bare, with his hāds ioyned be­fore his brest, & standing in his presence, he spake vnto him with such reuerence & sub­mission, that he made him often somewhat euen out of countenance. He accepted his and his fellowes commaundes no lesse prō ­ptly and carefully, then if they had bene gi­uen from Christ our Lord.

Vpon Thursday, in holy-weeke the Sa­cristane gaue order vnto him, to take charge of the tapers that were burning at the Se­pulcher of Christ. When he had long conti­nued there, notwithstanding he neuer so much as once lifted vp his eyes, to behould the ornaments and furniture of that place, which with the comelinesse therof had drawne so great a concourse of people to view the same. Therfore his companion as­king him afterward how he liked the Sepul­cher, he denied that euer he saw it. For it see­med to him a thing not lawfull to doe, for [Page 210] so much as the Sacristane had laid another commaund vpon him.

Moreouer, he exhibited so much reuerēce and obseruance towards a certaine Nouice, who had some small iurisdiction giuen him ouer the rest, that he could not euen honour Fa. Generall any more. For he arose to him when he passed by him, he put-of his hat, he gaue him all kind of honour, vntill he, who for very shame could not tollerate so much subiection towards him, complained to the Superiors, who commaunded Aloysius, to moderate his officiousenesse, which he like­wise did. Neither is it any maruell that he so much honoured them, and was so obseruant of their commaund, for so much as he did not so much respect him that he obeyed, as him whose vice-gerent he was, & tooke the voyce of him that commaunded, for the voyce of God, not of Man. Which he said that he did, not only for this respect, that he might merit more grace at Gods hand, but that it was euen as sweet as hony to him, to thinke that Christ spake vnto him, and gaue him some occasion to do him seruice. He ad­ded that he was better pleased to obey them who had a power inferiour and subordinate to their superiours, then those whose power was supreme and independent of any other; and this (as he said) not so much for the loue of humility▪ as out of a certaine kind of glory. For if the matter be cōsidered accor­ding vnto humane iudgment, surely a man [Page 211] would hardly be brought, willingly to sub­mit himselfe to the power of a man, espe­cially if he had neither parity in birth, nor in the guiftes either of nature, or fortune: but that it is a thing the most glorious of all other, to subiect a mans selfe to God, or which is all one, to him that representeth God. And that this doth more euidētly ap­peare, by how much the lesse part humane sense hath in it, and by how much he that gouerneth hath fewer ornamēts, which may conuert and intice mens mindes vnto them.

The fore-noone houres being spent, the Nouices that liue in that house, betake thē ­selues by turnes, some to read, one at the first, another at the second table; othersome to vndergoe the offices of the kitchin. Whē it fell to Aloysius his lot, that he also should apply himselfe to these seruices, he behaued himselfe with like contentment in those, (though base ones) as if he had bene bred vp in that place, or of such a condition, as if the loue of those imployments had bene by a certaine naturall instinct plausible vnto him. When he performed the part of Rea­der, he was considerate in reading, and no­thing hasty. But once it happenned, that there was made, I know not what, noyse in the Refectory whilst he read, so that he was not heard by others. That Nouice who was substituted ouer the rest hauing gotten this occasion, made vse of it to reprehend him, for that by his default, the Fathers and bro­thers [Page 212] at that table were depriued of the fruit of his reading; and this spirituall domage (for so, to the intent that he might trie him, he tearmed it) with many wordes he exagge­rated. Heere Aloysius, such was his patience, would nothing excuse himselfe, but craued pardon, promised amends, and afterward, to the intent that he might redres [...]e the spiri­tuall losse of that his [...]ellow, he of purpose read ouer againe, that which he had read be­fore.

F. Hieronymus Platus, who perceaued him to be so much giuen to prayer, and actions of the mind, to the intent that he might somewhat withdraw him from the same, cō ­maunded that after dinner and supper, he should not only spend one houre, as he was wont, but that he should moreouer for the space of halfe an houre, togeather with them that tooke their refection at the second ta­ble, recreate his mind with discourse. He al­though he had taken his refection at the first table, fulfilled this cōmaund. But the Mini­ster being ignorant of this, finding him a­mongst them that recreated in the other cō ­pany, cōmaundeth him openly to acknow­ledge his fault in the refectory & to do pen­nance for breaking the rule of siléce, beyōd the appointed houre which next insued the time of his meale. He performed that which was imposed vpon him by way of pen­nāce, making no excuse, nor so much as euer mentioning this commaund giuen him by [Page 213] his superiour, and straight-way according to his superiours first commaund he went for­ward, to make himselfe partaker of this se­cond recreation. That being discouered, the Minister was stroken with admiration; and afterward reiterated his pennance, neyther doth he withstand, or alleage any cause to the contrary. After refection F. Platus sen­ding for him, admonisheth him, that he had offended against his fellowes, for that being but yet a Nouice, he had beene admonished twise for one fault. Moreouer he asked him, why he had not made knowne to the Mini­ster, that he did it by leaue from his Supe­riour? He answered, that it came likewise into his mind, that peraduenture his con­cealing therof, might become an ill example vnto others, but that he feared, least that selfe-loue might deceaue him, in alleadging as an excuse, that leaue and commaund of his superiour wherby he was free from that rule, that he perseuered, passing ouer the matter with dissimulation, that he did vn­dergoe pennance once againe, and that if afterward the Minister had moued any fur­ther, least he might offend any one by con­cealement, that he would haue disclosed the commaundment, that had bene imposed v­pon him.

This was of great force to inkindle the minds of others, to see with how prepared and patient a mind he suffered pennance, with how great alacrity he vnderwent what­soeuer [Page 214] penalty, although vndeseruedly im­posed vpon him, either for any fault or ne­gligence of his, which two were neuer, or ve­ry seldome found in him. Yea and very often it fel out, that for that which others had of­fended in, he being by some mistake accu­sed, would willingly, and without making any allegation for himselfe, euen as if he had bene culpable, suffer the pennance. But this did not long lye hid, for so much as they that were in fault, when they saw him do pennance, with a kind of subiecting them­selues, would make open profession of the fault committed.

The rest of the day, he was wont to ac­company some one Father, to the prisons or Hospitals, whither it is the custome of the Priests of that house, that are imployed to that purpose, often euery weeke to go; & in the meane tyme, whilst the Priest bestowed himself amōgst the prisoners or sicke persōs that made their confessions to him, he wold instruct the rest, of the points of Christian fayth, or of the manner of accomplishing the Sacrament of pennance. When he remayned at home, he busied himselfe in sweeping of the house, and other such like humble ser­uices. When vpon a time, togeather with his fellowes, he foulded vp certaine linnen in the garret, which being brought from the washing place was dried there, it came into his mind, that he had read nothing that day in S. Bernard, as he was daily wont to do. [Page 215] Therfore after a litle while he had done that thing which he was about, he was desirous to satisfy his piety. And it was lawfull for him truly, as likewise for the other Noui­ces, so soone as they had bestowed sometime vpon that kind of worke, without blame to depart. But he laid downe this desire, after he had answered his cogitations in this man­ner: D. Bernardus, si eum legeres, quid aliud te do­ceret quàm obedientiam? Fac igitur iam te legisse, & obedientiam adhibe. S. Bernard, if thou shol­dest read him, what other thing would he teach thee, but obedience? Imagine therfore that thou hadst already read him, & practise obedience.

He did so carefully obey all the rules of how litle account soeuer, that for no mans sake of what dignity soeuer he was, would he transgresse them. This appeared, when the most Illustrious Cardinall Roboreus his kinsman, comming into the Vestry of the Church, to see him, he excusing himselfe, said it was not in his power to speake with him. With which excuse he being very well pleased, would haue no speach with him till it was permitted by Fa. Generall. To con­clude so perfect was he in the punctuall dis­charge of his duty, of so vpright and hol­some an example to all, that all that were in that house lodged him in their bosoms, and reputed him for a very holy yoūg man. Ha­uing spent two moneths there, he is recalled to S. Andrewes.

CHAP. X. How he spent the rest of the time of his Nouiship, The purity of his mind; and moderation of his Affections.

ALOYSIVS being returned to the house of the Nouiship which is at S. Andrews, and hauing very much profited in the course of vertue, by the excellent exam­ples of the Fathers which he had seene in the house of the Professed, first of all gaue ac­count to the Maister of the Nouices, of all thinges which had passed inwardly in his mind, during the time of his absence, after­ward with a more seruent mind, and care then euer hertofore, he gaue himselfe to the exercising of the Nouices functions. And so well and carefully did he performe euery point of his duty, that not only others were able to conuince him of any fault, but euen he himselfe truly, who was wont most dili­gently to obserue all his owne affaires, and not only to sift-out all his actions, but his cogitations themselues, cold find nothing in himselfe worthy of reprehension. That discouered it selfe very plainely, when vpon a time he propounded vnto the Maister of the Nouices a certaine seruple to be cleared, which did very much exercise him, decla­ring, that although he had imployed all the diligence that he could, in the narrow search of his mind, he could not find any thing in [Page 217] the same, that might amount to a veniall sinne. And that this was it, which did very much afflict him; for he feared least this came to passe, out of the small vnderstāding that he had of himselfe, and least by this meanes, those inward darke mists should o­uershaddow his mind, which he had often heard of, and truly also read of, that might expose him to very much danger. And by this, how great the purity of his mind was, may easily be gathered. To this were a great help, the many endow mēts of his mind, some of which I purpose to declare in this place, least it may seeme a thing incredible to some, that he could possibly maintaine so great integrity & cleanenesse of conscience.

First of all by daily industry, which from his very first childhood he had bestowed, in subduing the affections of his mind, & ther­by hauing gotten an habit, had now arriued to that perfection, that neither his mind see­med to be disturbed, nor moued with any sense of mortall things, no not so much as with the first motions of any inordinate de­sires. Surely very many with whome he con­uersed when he was in Religiō, haue testified vpon their oath, that they haue beene so far at any time from finding him in any errour that might beare the shew of a veniall sinne, that he neuer so much as discouered any the least signe of a mind suddenly, or without the discourse of reason, stirred either with anger, impatience, or any other distempera­ture. [Page 218] Which immunity from all insolent af­fections, is so much the more to be wonde­red at, for that, as we said in another place, it proceeded not from any dulnesse of nature, as who, besides that he was now in his youth & of a hoat sanguine cōplexion, was of a sub­tile and perspicacious wit, aboue the capa­city of his age. But questionles this is to be ascribed to the speciall grace of God, & the habits of excellent vertues, vnto which, per­petuall meditation, and exercise of bridling and reducing himselfe to the square of rea­son, and celestiall doctrine, had broght him. This also may be added, that in all his actiōs he followed not his affection as a guide, which often times precipitates a mā beyond the bounds of reason, but the light of a pro­uident mind. Therfore he said, he that is go­uerned by his passions, is subiect to many errours.

Neither truly in the meetings, and com­pany of his fellowes, would he euer, for de­sire of victory, descend into any vaine strife of words, but hauing ingenuously declared what his opinion was, if there were any one that contradicted him, he resisted him not, vnlesse sometimes he thought good to ans­were somewhat, in a mild manner, with plau­sible speach, and a peaceable mind, for the patronizing of truth: but if the other persi­sted in a contentious manner, he held his peace, as if the matter had nothing at all be­longed to him.

[Page 219] Moreouer, he did most carefully reiect not only euery indifferent desire, but which is more, euen euery good and holy one that might neuer so litle disturbe the calme, and quiet state of his mind, and awake any su­perfluous cares. Wherfore his mind alwayes enioyed a certaine perpetuall rest and tran­quility, which by continuall vse he had now in a manner turned into nature. Further­more it was a helpe vnto him, then which none could be greater, for so much as he did not only put before the eyes of his mind, Almighty God daily in all his actions (for whose sake there was nothing that he vn­dertook, in which he did not labour with all possible diligence) but also for that he was consociated with him by perpetuall vse of prayer.

CHAP. XI. Of his singular hability in Prayer, and fami­liarity with God.

IN which prayer he placed so much indu­stry, as he reposed therin all his hope of acquiring perfect sanctity. He was of opiniō, that he, who was negligent in prayer and re­collection, could neuer obtaine any abso­lute and continuall conquest ouer himselfe, nor aspire to any higher degree of absolute and excellent vertue and wisedome. Which by his experience it selfe he did sufficiently make shew of. Therfore those imperfections of mind, in some that professe Religiō, those [Page 220] trobled & vnquiet motions, that irkesome­nesse of themselues, he attributed to their neglect of the custome of sacred meditation and prayer. This he said was a compendious and ready way to perfect vertue, and this he desired to persuade all vnto. For he made no doubt, but if any man had but once tasted the sweetnesse therof, he would neuer, suffer himsel [...]e to be drawne from it againe.

He did admire and commiserate the sloth of some men, who when being busied in ne­cessary imployments, haue had by chaunce sometimes no leasure to meditate according to their holsome custome, do by degrees take vp a habit of intermitting this diuine exercise, euen when they do most abound with time and oportunity. But he had so, with his whole affectiō giuen himselfe ther­vnto, that the summe of all his delight see­med to be comprised in that time which he applied to prayer, or meditation. And by those thinges which he had found in him­selfe by long vse, he gathered many very ex­cellent precepts of the right course of medi­tation. Therfore F. Robert Bellarmine (who is now in the number of the Cardinals) when in the Roman Colledge he explicated to di­uers students there, the Chapters of medi­tations, described in that little Booke of spirituall exercises of the Society, hauing deliuered any excellent documēt of order­ly meditating, was wōt to adde, that he lear­ned this of our Aloysius.

[Page 221] He prepared his mind very diligētly, rea­ding for a quarter of an houre, or at the least for halfe a quarter of an houre, certaine pointes which the next day after he would meditate vpon. So soone as it was day in the morning, he did his endeauour, that he might be prepared for meditation, a litle be­fore they rung to the beginning therof. In which time, he laboured to compose his mind being recollected to a calmenesse, and to free it from all care, & whatsoeuer other inordinate desire. For he said, that it could not possibly be, but that the mind should be otherwise set on worke, and refuse to im­print in it selfe the image of God, vnto the similitude wherof he ought most to con­forme him in meditation & contemplation, whilst in the meane tyme it is inthralled with the solicitude, loue, or desire of any o­ther thing. I do remember that I haue heard him, when to that purpose he made vse of this similitude: Euen as the water being wafted with the wind, doth, either by reason that it is tro­bled, not shew at all the shape of that man that stādeth by it: or if it be cleare it doth not shew all the members continuate with the body, but repre­senteth them as it were seuerally cut in sunder, & disseuered: so he said, that a mans mind, who in his contemplation combateth with contrary blasts of perturbations, or is turmoiled with affections and desires, can by no meanes be aptly or rightly pre­pared, to preset the image of God, or conceaue any similitude of so great a maiesty, as he meditateth vpon.

[Page 222] The bell to prayer being rung, with as great reuerence as he possibly could, he fell vpon his knees in his poore oratory, & with so great industry of mind, least he should be distracted with any other care, did he watch ouer himselfe, that for this respect he would not so much as giue way to the necessity of spitting. He gaue himselfe wholy to the co­gitation of those things that he had propo­sed to meditate; and his vitall spirits, togea­ther with his bloud resorting vpward to­wards his higher parts, through the intensiue working of his mind, so great a debility & cold surprised his neather limbs, that his prayer being ended he was not able to stand vpon his feet. Often likewise it happened, that after he arose from the same, his mind being for sometime alienated from his sen­ses, he did not so much as know the place that he stood in. Which then chiefly came to passe, when he considered in his mind those attributes of God, as, his goodnesse, proui­dence, loue towards men, & principally the infinitenesse of all these, for then was he fur­thest abstracted from his senses. In his prayer he had so great a guift of teares, and powred them out so largely, that it was necessary his Superiours should take some course to mo­derate them, for feare least by their abun­dance his head and eyes might receaue some detriment. But by no remedy, could they euer preuaile.

But that which is most admirable, of [Page 223] which both others who tooke his Confes­sions, & also Cardinall Bellarmine is witnesse, that his mynd was neuer wont to be any whit distracted frō his determinate prayer: which how great a guift of God it is, euery one may easily coniecture, by that which he himselfe experienceth in his owne prayers. This so certaine power of bending his mind vpon holy matters, he did not only obtaine by Gods fauour, but by this likewise, that by long meditation, and vse he had made the force of his mind euen so prone & obedient vnto him, (wherby he comprehended and painted liuely in his cogitation euen those thinges that were a far of) as that there was nothing, but what was accommoda­ted to his purpose, that euer came into his mind. And vpon that cogitation which he had vndertaken, so earnestly in the time of his recreation, did he fixe his mind, that he neuer reflected vpon that which others ei­ther did or sayd, and therupon he neuer in­curred any danger of diuerting his mind by any thing whatsoeuer. And although in the house of the Nouices, and in a manner ac­cording to that example, in the Colledges, all the lodgings are perused, wherby it may be discouered, whether all according to their appointed houres, be at their prayers or no, notwithstanding so long as he liued in Religion, he neuer perceaued any one that came in this manner to behould him. Which is a notable signe truly, how far at that time [Page 224] he was remote from all sense, and how at­tentiue to his meditation.

It is decreed by a rule, that euery one of the Society, both at the time of his first en­trance as a Nouice, and all his life-time af­ter, euery sixt moneth to disclose to his su­periour not only his sinnes, but also the giftes, graces, & vertues which he hath re­ceaued frō Almighty God, & to conclude all the secrets of his conscience: which is to the intent that he, whose part it is to gouerne o­thers with his Counsell, hauing by this mea­nes an vnderstanding of all, may in a Father­ly māner, restraine those that [...]alle the boū ­des of moderation, may reseew vnwary per­sons from deceipts, which in a stricter course of life do often fall out; finally that he may prepare a way, to go forward in a perfect course of life, to all that are committed to his charge. And this was that, wherby many of B. Aloysius his vertues were laid open. For out of a desire to obey this rule, & to direct himselfe according to that prescript of his superiours, he did with great candour & sin­cerity detect vnto them, and those his Fa­thers of a better life, how God behaued him­selfe in his hart. That must be very diligently obserued, least it may seeme strange vnto any one, that he declared very many of his vertues. For his desire of obeying his supe­riours, and this rule, brought him vnto this, being accustomed otherwise to speake very sparingly of himselfe. Whē as therfore once [Page 225] he gaue account to the Rectour of the in­ward state of his mind, who asked him whe­ther in prayer he were not sometimes distra­cted in his cogitation to other matters? he answered ingenuously: that if all his extra­uagant cogitations, which within the space of those sixe moneths, had hindered his mind, either in prayer, meditation, or exa­mining his conscience, were put togeather, that all those impediments, would not a­mount to the time, that one might recite one Aue Maria in.

In his vocall prayers that depended vpon his pronunciation, he found greater difficul­ty, not truly for that in those his mind wan­dered vpon any other matter, but because he could not so readily, & fitly apprehend the meaning of the Psalmes, or other things which he recited. Therfore he said that then the case stood so with him, as it doth with a man that standeth before doores that are shut against him, who neither could enter in, nor would goe any whither else. But that otherwise in this kind of prayer also, he a­bounded with exceeding great sense and pleasure of celestiall things; especially in reading the Psalmes, by which he put on certaine pious affections of mind, wherwith they are plentifully stored. Which truly sometimes were so earnest, that scarcely, & not without some violence he vttered his words. Therfore when according to his pio­ty, he had a custome to recite the Canonicall [Page 226] prayers in the time of his Nouiship accor­ding to the manner of the Priests, he be­stowed in his Mattines at the least a whole houre.

As for that which belongeth to the mat­ter of meditation, he did very much insist v­pon the consideration of the torments, and bitter passion of Christ our Lord. and rea­ped therby diuine consolations. The memo­ry therof he daily renewed by pronouncing at noone a certaine briefe Ant-hymne, & by thinking vpon Christ crucified. Which he performed with so cleare sense of piety, and attention of mind, that he said, he daily had before his eyes manifesily, the sanctity of that time, which vpon good Friday in holy­weeke is solemnized. How much spirit, and celestiall solace he reaped by meditating on the sacred Eucharist, hath bene spoken of heretofore. He worshipped with a certaine singular obseruance, and gladly meditated vpon, the holy Angels and especially his An­gell-guardian. At which time how notable sentences Almighty God suggested to his mind of those incorporeall spirits, witnesseth that his no lesse long then elegant medita­tion of the Angells, which F. Vincentius Bruno hath reduced into the second part of his me­ditations, and Doctour Andreas Victorellus hath very commendably cited in his learned booke, Of the Custody of Angels. Which truly, wholy, as well the words as sentences, is B. Aloysius his ofspring. For Father Vincen­tius [Page 227] himselfe declared that he, for so much as he was not ignorant, that Aloysius bare a particular deuotion to the holy Angells, en­deauoured vpon set purpose, that he should set downe in writing what his opinion was of them. There is vnder my custody a cer­taine sheet of paper, written by B. Aloysius his owne hand, which of late I found amogst others, in which distinctly he noteth these things of the Angells.

Certaine offices of piety towards the Angells in generall.

Imagine your selfe to be sorted amongst the nine quires of Angels, mutually praying vnto God, and singing that Hymne: Holy God, Holy and Powerfull, Holy and Immortall haue mercy vpon vs: which Hymne moreouer you shall nine­times iterate, and ioyne your prayers with theirs.

To your Angell-keeper you shall chiefly three tymes in the day commend your selfe. Morning and Euening reciting this prayer, Angele Dei, &c. and about the mid-tyme of the day when you betake your selfe to the holy Church, to offer vp your prayers before the Altar.

Persuade your selfe that you ought in the same sort to follow the conduct of your Angell, as some blind man who being ignorant of the diffe­rence of wayes, confideth in all things to the pro­uidēce of him that leadeth him by his staffe. These were the very wordes of himselfe.

To conclude, it seemeth a thing that may be very truly confirmed. That his Religious life was no otherwise, then a certaine per­petuall [Page 228] practice of prayer. For by reason of the vse of so many yeares prayer, and abstra­cting of his mind from his senses, he had ob­tained such a kind of habit, that hersoeuer he was, what thing soeuer he did, his mind was rather vpon those things which he con­ceaued only with his vnderstanding, then v­pon those, that he apprehended with his senses.

What shall I say? he was now come vnto that state, that he scarcely made vse of his senses themselues as of his eyes for seeing, or of his eares for hearing; so wholy had he turned himselfe from them to the inward parts. In these only he reposed, these were his delightes, from these if the respect of any profit did withdraw him, although he put in execution all things which the matter requi­red, notwithstanding he was as much tro­bled in mind, as if some one of his limmes had bene our of ioynt. Wherfore nothing was more easie vnto him, then to be all the day, with his cogitation fixed vpon God, though it were euen in the middest of bodi­ly occupations, to haue his mind recolle­cted and to hould it still to one & the selfe, same object, nothing more difficult then to distract it. Verily he himselfe once confessed, that how much difficulty others haue (as they themselues say) to fixe their minds v­pon God, he had no lesse in recalling it from God. For so long as he endeauoured to countermaund his thinking vpon God, [Page 229] he combatted with vehement force, seing that he was necessitated to wrastle with him­selfe. With which violent & impetuous con­flict, he more impaired his health, then with his daily consideration it selfe of God. In the day time, though he was neuer so much intangled in businesse. God neuer abstained from replenishing his hart with very plenti­full delectations, and those truly not short, but such as continued sometimes more then an houre. Which verily did so fully possesse his mind, that redounding into his body, did enkindle it with a certaine celestiall ar­dour, which did sufficiently discouer it selfe by the very rednesse of his countenance. And sometimes his hart, being surprised with that ioy, did with so thick and speedy a motion pant, & appeare so plainely throgh his brest, that you would say it would euen leap forth.

These so many internall ioyes, with which his mind was nourished, had so bereft him of all care of his body, that he began euery day more and more to be weakened and wa­sted, and the griefe of his head which should haue bene mitigated, grew greater. When therfore his superiours, that had the gouer­nement of him, obserued that it could not be, that in so much vehement labour of mind, he could long continue with life, es­pecially his health being hertofore distur­bed with voluntary afflictions, they for­bad him all vse of fasting, abstinence, disci­plining, [Page 230] and all other seuere punishments: moreouer they enlarged the time of his sleepe, and contracted that of his prayer, ta­king first away halfe an houre, & afterward also the whole houre; for bidding in like manner the frequent custome of those his short prayers which he was wont to vse in the dispatch of his businesses; and to con­clude denouncing vnto him, that how much lesse time he spent in prayer, so much the nearer should he come to the will of his Su­periours. Besides this, to the intent, that he might be the further sequestred from his mentall meditations, they endeauoured to detaine him in diuers manuall workes, and finally to procure by frequent admonitiōs, to persuade him, that how much the more diligently for his healths sake, he tempered himselfe, so much the more he added to Gods glory.

Neyther was there any great difficulty, to induce him to be of this mind, and to frame him after their owne wills, as who was most obedient & ready vnto all things. This that he might clearly make shew of, this chaunce happened. A certayne Father had brought him into hope, that he would obtaine for him of Fa. Generall, that he might dayly spend one houre in meditation, which as I sayd, was forbidden him by the Mayster of the Nouices. He when he perceaued him to be somewhat too desirous of this leaue, and feared least that being not obtayned, he [Page 231] would be much troubled, supposing that this too much vehemency of mynd, was op­posite both to that moderation and equality of disposition, which subiects ought to haue towards their superiour, as also to that com­maund which was imposed vpon him; se­riously did his endeauour, to worke him off from that conceit, & reduce him to his for­mer tranquillity and indifferency. That one thing most gauled him, that he did not suf­ficiently perceaue, how it might be in his power to performe the commaund of his su­periour. For although he laboured, to di­uert his mynd from the cogitation of diuine matters, notwithstanding by stealth, and at vnawares, it resorted to them agayne, and was absorpt. For euen as a stone naturally seeketh to the midle of the earthly globe, so he as if by a certayne naturall instinct he had rested only in God, being violently rent frō him, was thither agayne snatched, as it were to his proper center. Therfore vpon a tyme being perplexed in mynd, that he could not be obedient to the will of his superiours, he said, to a certaine Priest, that he was somwhat familiar withall: Ʋerily I do not know, what I should do: Father Rectour forbiddeth me to attend to prayer, least by ouermuch busying my mind I should hurt my head; but I am more grieuously wearied and vexed, with recalling my mind from thinking of God, then if I should endeauour dai­ly to thinke vpon him. Which truly by vse is as it were connerted to nature, neither is it now any [Page 232] labour vnto me, but rest and solace. Notwithstan­ding I will striue as well as I may, to accomplish that which he commaundeth me.

So soone as he saw that all kind of prayer was forbidden him, in exchange therof, he would often ascend into the Quire of the Church to adore the Bless. Eucharist. There so soone as he had but fallen vpon his knees he would straight way rise, and least by some cogitation he might be abstracted from his senses, or reflect aduisedly vpon God, he would speedily conuey himself from thence. But this diligence little auailed him. For how much the more out of his loue of obe­dience he laboured to fly, so much the more earnestly did God pursue him, and interest him in him, & cherish his hart with all cele­stiall illuminations and delicacies. Which he perceauing, least he should violate the com­maunds of his Superiour, would actually refuse, and with a submisse mind speaking vnto God, would say: [...]cede a me Domine, recede a me: Depart from me sweet Lord, de­part from me. Likewise it was no small busi­nesse for him, to turne his corporall senses to the performing of their offices. For so soone as his mind was once rapt with God, he neither had vse of eyes, nor eares.

In this sanctimony and height of vertue, he conuersed euen till the end of October of the yeare 1586. in the house of the Noui­ces at Saint Andrews, to the great admira­tion of those Superiours, that directed his [Page 233] mind, and to the greate fruite and edifica­tion of his equals; who to the intent that they might better themselues daily by his communication and example, did with great complacency thirst after his company.

CHAP. XII. Of the notable Sanctity of that Maister, vnder whome he made his Nouiship, and whome he did seriously imitate.

AT what time B. Aloysius made his No­uiship at Rome in the house of the No­uices at Saint Andrewes, in Monte-Cauallo, there gouerned that House, and exerci­sed the Nouices, F. Ioannes Piscator of Nouara, a man of admirable sanctity, & pla­ced in an excellent degree of Christian Phi­losophy; of which his so many schollers, and children in a more diuine life, being so rarely vertuous and good, who glory to haue had so great a maister for their guide, do yield most certaine testimony. This di­uinely-happy man was in the mortifying of his body with daily abstinences, frequent fasts, sharpe hairecloth, and disciplines, to­gether with continuall watchings very rigo­rous. Which although he did endeauour to do as priuately as he might, notwithstading it could not all togeather passe concealed from so many his Children, who had their eyes stedfastly fixed vpon him, with a desire both to obserue and imitate him. Whilst he [Page 234] sate, stood, or went, in such sort did he ac­commodate his apparrell, countenance, and his whole exteriour habit, that he appeared a notable spectacle of modesty. His counte­nance was alwayes cheerfully serene: his mouth was composed to a moderate & plea­sing sinyle, which was able to mollify what­soeuer behoulders troubled mind. He was neuer seene to alter his colour vpon any ac­cident were it ioyfull or sinister, neuer to lay a side the tranquility of his aspect, neuer ei­ther deiected with griefe, or to much elate with vaine mirth. He alwayes kept one and the selfe same tenour, as an index of his sub­dued affections, & of that inward peaceable calmenesse, which he perpetually enioyed; wherupon he neuer discouered so much as the least signe of an impatiēt or angry mind. He thought himselfe more despicable then all the world besides, he had a very humble conceit of himselfe, whatsoeuer he did he reputed himselfe vile.

It is an incredible thing to declare what an inflamed affection he had to prayer. And how much by the benefit of God, he pre­uayled therin, this may serue for a testimo­ny, that sometymes in the night, when o­thers tooke their rest, he was found in the place of exhortation seriously praying, whē by diuine power eleuated the height of some handfull from the ground, he hung in the ayre. This did that Father who suc­ceeded him in that office testify vnto me, & [Page 235] it was committed to print in the letters of the Society of the yeare 1591. in which, where there is discourse of the Colledge at Naples, there are celebrated many of this mans ver­tues.

He obserued very carefully the precepts of a Religious life which are set downe by S. Basil. He was so far in loue with the Colla­tions of Ioannes Cassianus the Abbot, that he had them almost all without booke. But with all his mind he endeauoured to prose­cute in his actions, those precepts which he saw giuen by those ancient Fathers remar­kable for sanctity.

It is scarce credible, how considerate and sparing he was in his words. Therfore there was neuer any word of his, hurtfull to any one, nor otherwise then exemplar vnto all. There was no man of a more sweet conuer­sation; his discourse he seasoned with witty and pleasant conceits, keeping himselfe with in a Religious moderation, for which he was meruelously beloued of all. Towards the poore that loue by begging, & chiefly those that are restrained by shamefastnesse, he was so mercifull, that to cloath them, he is read to haue taken off his owne garments. Now in the gouernement of those that were sub­iect to him, facility tempered seuerity: and with admirable art, to grauity he ioyned af­fability, and the contempt of honour. So he became venerable vnto all, troble some to none. He burned with charity towards all. [Page 236] But of the Nouices, such was his care and so­licitude, that he may well be reputed to the all a Father, a Mother, & a Nurse. He would for a litle while dissemble their faults, til he had cōformed their minds according to his owne desire. For no vice, or offence would he seeme austere to any one: he would ne­uer discouer an offended or incensed mind, nor any change of his former opinion of the guilty person, nor any reseruation of a se­uere, and secret iudgment of mind against him. But rather admonish them sweetly with some excellent tokēs of beneuolence, some­time with some pretty smile, which might serue as a loue-signe, to [...]elpe their bashful­nesse, and to giue them to vnderstand that their errour did not seeme so hainous in his sight. Moreouer he would encourage them, comfort them, dismisse no man from him but sweetned with some pleasant speach, or stirred vp with some exhortation. He would with such charitable facility apply himselfe to so many diuers dispositions, that well might that saying befit him: Omnibus om [...]ia factus sum, vt omnes Christo lucrifacia [...]: I am become all things to all, that I may gaine all to Christ. For hauing sufficiently experien­ced, that it is a thing preposterous to draw all by one way, he pointed out vnto euery one which way he might iourney to perfect vertue, as might best stand with his health & capacity.

He would not haue his Nouices be ouer [Page 237] solicitous to cast themselues into an affected composition, either of countenance, or bo­dy, which shortly after their Nouiship they were to put off againe; but he procured, that they should put on that kind of modesty, which they were willing to maintaine all the course of their life in Religion. Likewise that they should lay for their foundation, solid vertues, and despising of themselues. He desired that Nouices, should reuerence and thinke as truth required, of those that were now their ancients in religion, as being wont to say, that there was as much diffe­rence betweene Nouices, & those that now in Colledges did apply themselues to good artes, as betweene those that learne their first A. B. C. and those that haue arriued to the learning of Philosophy.

I haue beene very well acquainted with many of my fellowes, who passed their No­uiship vnder him, whome I found all of them to haue a great opinion of his sanctity, and their iudgments full-fraught with praise of his manner of gouernment. Verily towards euery one he was very charitable, mild, fa­cill, and (which is most to be esteemed of) he hadled the matter so impartially with them all, that euery one of them thought them­selues to be only & intirely beloued of him, neyther could suspect that any one was ei­ther more esteemed, or more vehemently affected. Wherfore he was exceedingly be­loued againe, and he was an assured refuge to [Page 238] them all in whatsoeuer their necessity. He deliuered the course of a Religious life to his Nouices rather by his example, then ei­ther by his words, or exhortation. For no­thing did he inioyne others which he did not first fulfill himselfe, neither did he euer commit, that by any one he might be noted, to haue declined from any manner of duty, how little soeuer it was.

Many things somewhat miraculous are both spoken and written of him. As namely that with his only aspect he put forth a fire, in the quenching wherof many men had lost both much labour and water. That he had a Diuine instinct, in beholding the factes of his subiects that were absent, and pene­trating into the secrets of their harts, and their inward cogitations. Of which matter many exāples that fel out at Rome & Naples, are by very graue Fathers recounted at this day.

It hath bene now reported from the yeare 1582. that the house of the Nouices being once very much distressed for want of dai­ly victuals, he retired into his chamber, be­sought Almighty God to ease the same, and chat there came vnto his doore an Angell in the habit of a young man, and when hauing sent for the Father he had deliuered into his hands a certaine summe of money, which might relieue their present penury, that he suddenly vanished out of their sight. For respect of these things he was of all held [Page 239] in great estimation of sanctity.

Therfore at Naples, when being vpon his departure out of this life, he had recea­ued his sacred viaticum, he endeauoured to abolish out of the minds of those that were present, this opinion, who in that his last pas­sage had an attentiue eye vpō all his sayings and doings, whome they reputed to be in the number of the Saints. But how much the more he endeauoured to cōceale the excel­lency of his vertue, by so much the more did his singular modesty, and contempt of glory, by the shewing of so remarkable an example, in his very last farewell giuen to earth, and entrance into Heauen, discouer it selfe.

This Father so deere to God, Aloysius with a principall reuerence and loue obserued, not only because he was his Superiour, for which respect he held him as the Vicar of God, but also for so much, as he saw him a­dorned with vertues, perfect & accomplisht with all the exact rules of religion, and loo­king into his life as into a mirrour, he tooke a patterne therby. Therfore curiously did he note all his words and deeds, and desirous to be corrected and instructed by him, he communicated with him all the inward state of his mind. And it was very pleasing in like manner to this good Father to conuerse fa­miliarly with Aloysius, whose mind he per­ceaued to be singularly pure, most fittly dis­posed to receaue the discipline of celestiall [Page 240] things, and replenished with all vertuous & diuine endowments. Which vertues truly & endowments, if he before his death might haue commended to posterity, we should not haue bene so ignorant of many other things concerning B. Aloysius.

CHAP. XIII. Aloysius goeth with the same Father to Naples, & giueth excellent documents of vertue, whilst he remaineth there.

VVHEN as therfore about Autumne in the yeare 1586. this Father be­ing assaulted with a certaine disease did spit bloud, and Fa. Generall with hope of re­couering his health determined to send him to Naples, he asked, as it happened, Aloysius, whether he would go with him to Naples, or no? vnto whome Aloysius without any fur­ther reflecting vpon the matter, answered that he would very willingly. When after­ward the time came, that this Father should depart from Rome, it was Fa. Generalls plea­sure that three Nouices, that were the most infirme in their healths, he should take a lōg with him, to make experience whether by the change of aire they might be bettered in their healths. Amongst these was our Aloy­sius, for whose grieuous head-ake a remedy was sought. Knowing that he was to go, he began to be trobled in mind, for that he fea­red least by simply affirming, that he would [Page 124] willingly accompany the Father, might im­ply some certaine determinatiō of the mat­ter; for said he, Oportebat respondere in Praesidum potestate futurum, neque vilum eo inclinantis, aut abhorrentis animi signum dare. I ought to haue answered, that it shold be in the power of my Superiours, and not to haue giuen any signe of a mind, either inclining or repug­nant therunto: Although F. Generall was mo­ued not so much with his speach, as with respect of his health which he saw so euill disposed. Wherfore it seemed good to A­loysius, not only for euer after that, not to shew any propension to one part or other, but also to procure that others should not affirme him to will, or not will any thing, but with a mind equall to all things to de­pend vpon his Superiours authority. Like­wise making knowne to many, the scruple which came into his mind, he assured them that it was very troblesome vnto him, to do any thing according to his owne will. But so soone as the iourny was manifestly de­creed, being questionlesse very ioyfull of such cōpany, he said to one of his fellowes: Sibi hoc iter gratū futurum, quodè P. Piscatoris dictis as factis rationem discere percuperet, qua hominibus Societatis iter instituendum esset: that this iourny was gratefull vnto him, for that he desired very much out of F. Piscators words & deeds to learne a course how men of the Society ought to order their iourny.

They departed from Rome the 26. day [Page 242] of October of the same yeare. After they were come so far, as that they were loosing the sight of Rome, Aloysius turning towards that Citty, with singular loue & sense of pie­ty recited that Ant-hymne, Petrus Apostolus & Paulus Doctor genti [...] &c. & the prayer of those two Apostles, Deus cuius dextera &c. F. Pisca­tor for so much as he vomited bloud, was according to the aduise of Phisitians carried in a litter. And wheras of those three Noui­ces one of them was ordained to accompany him, the other two to ride togeather, Aloy­sius as far forth as he might, contriued that he might be that his companion in the Lit­ter, preferring the fruite of continuall and most pleasing conuersation with his Maister of a religious life, before the complying with them. But the others, for that they iudged this recreation to be requisite for him, as being somewhat more infirme in health, suffered him to enter into the Lit­ter. Yet he in that commodity, found out a meanes to disaccomodate himselfe. For hauing wrapped vp his gowne as round as a ball, and sitting vpon it, he was carried no lesse vneasily in the litter, then if he had bene vpon horse backe.

He passed all this iourny in reciting, to­geather with this Father, the Canonicall prayers, and in long discourses of Diuine matters. In which he asked many que­stions of him, and endeauoured to store his mind with very many precepts of pious li­uing, [Page 243] and excellent sentences which he ga­thered from him. And this good Father not ignorant that he cast his seed into a fertile ground, very willingly enlarged himself vn­to him, and deliuered the mysteries, and vse of that celestiall Philosophy, which he had attained vnto, in so many yeares whilst he in­structed Nouices. In the Innes it was his whole practise, to yield to his fellowes all things that were most commodious, with in­credible loue and obseruance towards them and to take vnto himselfe the worst of euery thing. Hauing finished this iourney, he assured his fellowes, that by conuersing fa­miliarly, and maintayning long discourses with that Father, and obseruing all his acti­ons and manners in conuersing with secular men, he had profited more in those few daies then by liuing many moneths in the house of the Nouices.

They arriued at Naples on the Kalends of Nouember. At which tyme, when by the Maisters of the Colledg, there was renouatiō made of the studyes of learning, it seemed good to the Superiours, that Aloysius, who as we haue said before had learned the one part of his philosophy, before he gaue ouer the world, should now study the later part therof which remained: and he with all his hart betooke himselfe to this that was com­maūded him. The Father who at that tyme gouerned the colledge, being accustomed to handle himselfe sharpely and austerely, so [Page 244] soone as he found, that this young mā stood likewise so affected, tooke great content­ment truly, and began to giue him leaue, somewhat more frequently to execute these matters, then as yet at Rome he had done, he being very much ioyed, and denouncing himselfe most fortunate in that respect.

At Naples there appeared in him singular modesty, prudence, loue of his owne con­tempt, and obedience of his Superiours, and finally of all sanctimony. Neyther did any one make any mention of him, but with a discouery of the estimation of his vertue. Verily his Maister in Philosophy, whē he had notice of his actes lately performed in the Diocese of Naples, gaue his testimony of him in these words.

Aloysius was a man very well knowne vnto me, being one that seemed to contemne, & thinke very submisly of himselfe: To giue place vnto all, to omit no occasion were it neuer so little, wherby he might tolerate any assront from another man. To be incredibly seuere towards himselfe: to be ve­ry much imployed in offices of piety, in his prayers, and in familiarity with God. Most obseruant of the rules of Religion: no man more affected to the purity of conscience. There was added to the praise of his pure life a sharpe, and generous wit, but such as was voyd of all insolent desire of praise. Which thinges, truly, I am so much the more assu­red of, for so much as I did not only know him by the relation of others, but was euen my selfe an eye-witnesse of him whilst he was one of my audi­tours [Page 245] at Naples, that he gaue an excellent and perpetuall example of these good partes. Therfore in regard of his singular actions, both I and others of the Colledge of Naples intertained a very great opinion of his vertue and sanctity. But aboue o­thers F. Ioannes Baptista Piscator, a man of approued prudence of mynd, and innocency of life (who after he had dictated to Aloysius the first exercise of his religious course, and assisted him in his holy pennance, ended his dayes) reputeth no lesse of him; and in a certaine discourse which he had with me, declared that he obserued in him an extraordinary kind of sanctity. These are the words of the Mayster. Some others, who [...]t that very tyme liued in the same Colledge, do testify by other writings, that he at Na­ples, did what he could not to be knowne; that he often applyed himselfe to the fami­liarity of the house-hold seruants; and that he did his vtmost endeauour as much as he might, to dissembl [...] and hide the splendour of his Descent. Therefore when newes was brought, that Gouzaga the Patriarch, was made Cardinall, he seemed no more to be moued, then if it had nothing concerned him: yet notwithstanding it is sufficiently manifest, that aboue all his kindred he was beloued of him, for so much as he had put to his helping hand in opening him a way to Religion.

The superiours placed Aloysius in that part of the house which was designed for the No­uices, in a chamber the largest, by much, of [Page 246] all the rest, togeather with man chamber­fellowes, to the intēt that many might reape profit by the excellent example of his ver­tues; but for so much as in the night he was ouerwearyed with watching, it was requisite that he shold recompence that which he lost in the night with his morning-sleepe. And yet other his companions, who were to rise before day, were an impediment that he could not so much as then take his rest. By which, when his Superiours perceaued his health to be impayred, they were willing that he shold be placed in a chamber alone by himselfe, where they thought he might more commodiosly repose in quiet. But that likewise was vnder a great chamber, throgh which there was a passage to diuers lodging chambers, in so much as this which Aloysius lay in, did almost alwayes resound with the noyse, one while of one, an otherwhile of another, that went to and fro, and was much lesse fit for that which was desired, thē the other was before. Hauing discouered this thing, he rendred thankes to God, and did in such sort accept this occasion of suffe­ring some aduersity, that he accounted it as a benefit.

And surely that it ought so to be accoun­ted, is euen thereby manifest, for that all­though the Superiours did with all vigilant care cherish him, yet notwithstanding very many things some did obserue, not without admiration, which truly were not vsuall, but [Page 247] might worthily be attributed to the diuine prouidence, suggesting matter to his desire of obedienee, the augmenting of his merit, and the purchasing for him a more glorious crowne. As when once he went out of doors with his gowne extraordinary short, and not only bare and torne, but also so old, that it had all changed colour almost; such a one as the Superiours themselues would haue com­maunded any one else to haue left of for de­cency sake: yet in him, they seemed neuer so much as to take notice of the same. Mor­ouer it often fell out that same winter, that he went togeather with his other fellowes to to the house of the professed Fathers to sing Euensōg, whē it was raine & stormy wether: once when the Minister of the colledge ob­seruing euery one in the porch, commaun­ding others to their chābers would not suf­fer them to stirre one foot out of doores, who were not so infirme in their health as he was, of him as it seemed he neuer refle­cted, which if he had done, without all question he would haue layd vpon him the same commandment.

Moreouer, although in the Colledge of Naples there is vsed so much care and chari­ty towards the sicke as in no house of the Society more; notwithstanding there was a time when Aloysius, being at once sick both of an inflammation and a feuer, with which he was troubled a whole moneth, & though he had very diligent seruitours, yet he wāted [Page 248] all one night the sheetes to his bed, which I verily thinke neuer happened at any tyme to any one of the Society, that hath beene sicke in the Colledge. But in this man God suffered it, to the intent that he might doe a thing acceptable to him. It is very strange how patiently, and with how much serenity of countenance he alwayes sustained that di­sease, althogh it was accompanied with most grieuous torments, & those continuall, car­rying himselfe in his communications with those that came to visit him with great faci­lity and submissnesse. So soone as he reco­uered out of that, finding that, that climate did not stand well with his health, and that furthermore the paines of his head did daily increase, by the will of Fa. Generall, when he had conuersed at Naples, by the space of halfe a yeare, he tooke his iourny towards Rome, the seauenth of May the yeare 1587.

CHAP. XIV. Of his course of life, when he applied himselfe to the study of learning in the Roman Colledge. He publikely defendeth certaine positions in the whole course of Philosophy. He applieth himselfe to the study of Diuinity.

THE returne of B. Aloysius to Rome brought exceeding much ioy both to all the young men of the Roman Colledge, and especially vnto those, who wheras they had knowne him in the house of the Noui­ces [Page 249] at S. Anarews, did hope that they might reape no small fruite, by the excellent exam­ples of his vertues, and religious manners, neither was it lesse comfort vnto him, that he might further continue the course of his studies, where the chiefe gouernement of the Society resided, & where was the chiefe Col­ledge and Schoole of all good arts. Those things which hereafter I shall explane, euen to the blessed end of his life, I professe my selfe to haue bene a spectatour, for the most part of them all. For so much as at the very same time, I togeather with others who li­ued in the same Colledge, was familiarly ac­quainted with him, and euen from that time (as I related in my Proeme of this history) I began seriously to obserue him, to the in­tent, that I might commit the selfe-same things to writing.

Therfore proceeding at Rome in his for­mer studies of Philosophy, he discouered in a short time how excellently well learned he was both in Logicke & naturall Philosophy: & so great a proficient was he in that know­ledge of humane wisedome, that by the mu­tuall cōsent of his Moderatours, he was iud­ged most fit to dispute publikely according to the custome vpon his propounded Con­clusions. Therfore after he had set downe in print his opinion concerning all those poin­tes in Philosophy, which are wont to be deli­uered in schooles by the Maisters, about the sixt moneth after his entrance into the Ro­mane [Page 250] Colledge, he defended the same publi­kely against the arguments of all that with­stood him. But for so much as it pleased the most illustrious Gardinalls Roboreo of Monte­regale, and Gonzaga to be present, and heare him dispute, it was performed in the greatest schoole, and not in that of the Diuines, as for the most part it was wont to be by other men of the Society Applause was giuen him by all that were present; but chiefly it gaue great contentment to the Cardinalls, who did very much admire, that in so short a time being so infirme of health he had pro­fited so much in knowledge.

Now for so much as we haue made men­tion of this disputation, we may adioyne therunto two things. The one, that before he entred into it, he for some space debating with himselfe, whether to the intēt he might depresse himselfe, he should vpon set-pur­pose answere vnskilfully; when out of his owne opinion he durst not determine vpon either part, he asked counsell of F. Mutius de Angelis, who at that time professed Philoso­phy in that Colledge, a man excellent not only in learning, but also in vertue and the vse of celestiall matters, with whome he was wont to haue frequent discourse of Diuine things. And wheras be truly prudently dis­suaded him frō this thing, alleaging reasons therfore ; notwithstanding in the middest of his disputation Aloysius was assaulted with that desire of despising himselfe. He paused a [Page 251] litle being doubtfull in mind, til the reasons of the Father tooke place with him, and lay­ing downe that cogitation, he determined as learnedly as he could, to solue the argu­ments of those that opposed: neither did he performe otherwise, then he determined. The other was, that when as in regard of his loue to Humility, he could not endure to heare his owne prayses, notwithstanding there was truly, a Doctour of great note, who being about to oppose his conclusions, made I know not what Preamble, of his prayses, the kindred & progeny that he was descended from. He was so much abashed at this prayse, that as many as were present, be­ing not ignorant how much he abhorred from it, tooke commiseration vpon him, & before others the Cardinall of Monte-regale seemed much to be taken therwith, when he obserued his ingenuous bashfulnesse, and modest shamefastnesse. But he did alwayes after, so meet with those things, that this Doctour disputed of, that he seemed to be somewhat angry in mind.

Hauing finished his studies of Philosophy, he was next brought to Diuinity, in which he had many Maisters, both Italians and Spa­niards, men famous both for learning and wisedome, who had many yeares discharged that office. These did he exceedingly reue­rence and honour: of them he neuer spake otherwise then with great respect. He neuer dissented from them in opinion or iudg­ment. [Page 252] He neuer taxed them for their me­thod of teaching or dictating, neuer for their short or long discourse of questions, or any other thing of that kind; he neuer shewed any forward inclination towards new or v­nusuall opinions. He built only vpon the writings of S. Thomas of Aquine, whos [...] san­ctity of life he did not only with singular piety imitate, but also loued deerely his or­der of teaching, and perspicuity, and his do­ctrine exempted from all danger of errour.

Aloysius was of an excellent and penetra­ting wit, ioyned with a singular grauity of iudgment; the which both we perceaued, & his Maisters themselues cōmended, of which one of them doubted not to affirme, that he neuer was carefull to premeditate, what he should answere to them that asked, or dis­puted against him, when there occurred any intricate question, but only to Aloysius Gon­zaga. He accompanied this wit of his, with industrious study, as much as might be per­mitted him, either in respect of his health, the weakenesse of his forces, or the will of his Superiours. He neuer set to his study, be­fore vpon his knees he had made some ado­ration of Almighty God. He bestowed not his study, in turning ouer, and considering the bookes of diuers authours, nor in any one Commentary else, but those only that were his Maisters. If there came into his mind any reason contrary to that which was taught him, which of himselfe he was [Page 253] not able to refute, hauing noted the same, he did afterward at the breaking-vp of the schooles, when all others had propounded their questions, aske his Maisters opinion concerning his difficulties. But sometimes when he had gathered many thinges, which seemed to haue some doubt in them, he tooke some time which he hoped might be least troublesome to his Maisters, and went to their studies to require their answers. Whilst he asked their Counsell, he vsed no other language but Latin, neither would he stand otherwise then with his hat in his hand, till by commaund they made him put it on. So soone as his Maister had souled his doubts, straight-way he betooke him to his study in his chamber. He neuer medled with any booke but by the permission and persuasion of his Maisters. In which thing how much he stood vpon their word, you may euen perceaue by this that followeth. F. Augu­stine Iustinian his Maister, when he had ex­plicated vnto him in his study a certaine dif­ficulty about predestination which he asked him, hauing explaned vnto him the seauenth Tome of S. Augustine, and pointing-out with his finger, euen almost to the end of his booke De bono persenerantiae, he commaun­ded him to reade, what that holy man had written there of the same argument. He read-through all that page which was poin­ted out vnto him, neither would he so much as turne-ouer the leafe to read those ten o­ther [Page 254] lines which vpon the other side ended the booke; questionlesse, for so much as he was not cōmaunded to go any further. And yet those lines which were on the other side, Iustinianus himselfe had not obserued.

Both at home, and in the schoole, as often as by the Bedell he was warned to those kind of exercises, he either argued against, or answered others: and for the same, if any of the rest should be lesse accommodated, he professed, that to supply their place, he wold be at his disposall.

He disputed sharpely, but modestly: he would neuer in his speach exasperate any one, no [...] stomake them, nor raise any cla­mour, nor interrupt him that answered, but giue him space to declare what his mind, & opinion was. The doubt & obscurity of the questio being take away, he did ingenuously assent, and make an end of the controuersy.

Before the bell did ring to Schooles, & in like manner before he returned home a­gaine, both before and after noone, he daily frequented the sacred Church, to adore the most holy Eucharist. In his going and re­turning from the schooles, he was of so mo­dest and composed a behauiour, that he in­flamed with the loue of piety, euen strangers who being studious of learning, stood to be­hould him in the Court next to the schoo­les. And especially a certaine Abbot that was a stranger, hauing in that Academy per­formed his course of Diuinity, being allu­red [Page 255] with the loue of his Modesty, frequen­ted the schoole for no other cause then to behould him; neyther did he euer in the Schooles take his eyes of him. And this ought not much to be admired at: for the Prouinciall of the Society, which is a­mongst the Venetians, did affirme there, before the Tribunall of the Patriarch, that that saying seemed fitly to agree to B Aloy­sius, which S. Ambrose wrot vpon that place of the Psalme, Qui timent te, videbunt me, & laetabuntur: pretiosum est (inquit) videre virum iustum: pleris (que) enim iusti aspectus admonitio cor­rectionis est, perfectioribus verò letitia. They that feare thee, shall see me, and be comfor­ted. It is a pretious thing (sayth he) to see a iust man, for vnto most men, the beholding of a iust man is an admonitiō of correction, and to the more perfect it is a ioy. Doubt­lesse such like effects as these, did the aspect of this happy yoūg mā produce in the minds of his behoulders. Therfore to him also sor­ted those words that follow, Iusti sanat as­pectus, & ipsi oculorum radij virtutem quandam videntur infundere ijs: The aspect of a iust mā, healeth, and the very beames of his eyes do seeme to infuse a certayne vertue into them who faythfully desire to behould him. All which, this our Aloysius made good in his very coūtenance, & most decēt habit of bo­dy, being very apt to moue the minds of mē with a sense of piety & holsome griefe. Add herunto, that the only behoulding of him, [Page 256] did not only admonish strangers and Reli­gious young men his companions, but euen most graue priests of their duty. Therfore in his presence they seemed to take vnto them a certayne grauity. Neyther would they in his cōpany, rashly vtter any licencious word, or do any action tending to leuity. Whilst he went to the schoole, or from thence went home, whilst he remained there, or was pre­sent at disputations, he was neuer discoue­red to vtter so much as one word to any one, were he domesticall or stranger. So ob­seruant was he of the rule of silence.

When his Superiours saw him vexed with perpetuall sicknesse, and weakenesse of bo­dy, they forbad him to write his dictates in the schoole, but to that end to make vse of a Scribe. Neither truly could he, who as yet had attained no dexterity therin, keepe touch, with the swiftnesse of his wrighting to the voyce of the Maisters that dictated. He truly obayed, but supposing, that it wold be an vnseemely thing, that mony should be in the hands of them, that for infirmity sake should imploy another to write for them, or that they should vndergoe any care in pay­ing him his wages for his paines, for so much as he said there was dāger therin, that might expose him to violate the integrity of his pouerty, he auoyding that businesse, sent his writer to call for his hire of the Procura­tour of the Colledge, whose office it was to discharge such payments. His writings he [Page 257] willingly lent to any one that requested thē, and asked not for them againe, before they of their owne accord restored them.

There was a time when Fa. Gabriel Ʋasquez his Maister being scanted of time, was not able to finish in the whole reuolution of the yeare, his disputations of the Trinity. Ther­fore deliuering only those which seemed to be most necessary, he left the rest to be writ­ten out by his schollers. The Superiours cō ­maund Aloysius that he take order, that his Scribe performe that. He, when he had read ouer his Maisters Commentary, omitting those things which were more easy, com­maunded to be chosen out those, which were most hard and seemed to be most vsefull. Be­ing asked why he did so? he said: Qui a pauper sum, paupertatis studio id sacio: neque enim de­cet pauperem, nisi in res necessarias sumptum fa­cere. For so much as I am a poore man, out of my loue to pouerty I do it: for it befitteth not a poore man, to lay out any cost, but v­pon necessary things. Notwithstanding in the last yeare of his studies, fearing least any one should interprete this his continuance from writing his dictats in the Schooles, either to be out of some desire of vaine glo­ry, or superfluous relaxatiō, he dealeth with his Superiours, that by their good leaue he might write with his owne hand. Neither were reasons wanting, wherwith he easily persuased them to that which he required. But wheras he, could not equall with the, [Page 258] swifenesse of his hand, his Maisters tongue, he attended for a certaine space those thin­ges which were said, and afterward set them downe abridged. And after the schooles, rea­ding his Schoole-fellowes writings, from thence he added whatsoeuer necessary thing he had omitted. Which labor yielded much contentment vnto him, in regard of the loue which he had of informing others, & exci­ting them with his example. He would suffer no booke to remaine in his chāber, but what he had frequent vse of, saying; that it was not the part of a Religious man who pretended pouerty, to detaine any booke with him which he but seldome looked vpon, when truly with very little trouble to himselfe he might go to reap the same at the common li­brary. And at last he came to that, that besi­des the sacred Bible, & the Summe of S. Tho­mas he would keepe no other bookes with him. If he had need to looke in any place, [...]ither in the holy Fathers or any other wri­ter, he betooke him to the common library. He found afterward that one of his fellowes who had lately come to the Colledge wan­ted the Summe of S. Thomas. For wheras in that Colledge besides the Fathers and Mai­sters, there were more then forty in number, who studied Diuinity, there could neither in common so many bookes of S. Thomas be accommodated to them, neither is there leaue giuen for euery one to procure them, or keep them priuately for himselfe. Ther­fore [Page 259] Aloysius goeth vnto the Rectour: & ear­nestly intreateth him, that it would please him to giue him leaue, to lend to that his fellow the Summe which was giuen him to vse; for so much as he might make vse of another that a certaine chaberfellow of his had, he did lesse stand need of this. And his speach was so persuasiue to the Rectour that he yielded. This was a very ioyfull thing to him, either for that this charitable office to­ward his fellow was very pleasing vnto him, or for so much, as he now perceaued him­selfe to be become more needy, when he had none of his owne, and of common bookes only the vse of the Bible.

So much came into my mind to rehearse of the studies of B. Aloysius. Now there re­maineth vnto me to speake far more of his Christian vertues, with which at this time he florished. Which perfection of vertues truly, both that which was apparent & prompt in his conuersation, and also that which was se­cretly in his mind, he was so wholy possessed of, that more then 200. Religious men of vs who being of our Society, liued in the same Colledge with him, & were daily familiarly conuersant with him, are able to testify that he was an excellent, liuely, and breathing example of them to vs all.

CHAP. XV. He maketh his vowes of Religion. He recea­ueth the lesser Orders.

ALOYSIVS had now spent two whole yeares in the Society, so that both he tooke comfort in the Institute therof, & the vertues therin cōtained. Therfore bestowing some cetaine dayes in the sacred Exercises of piety, separated from the conuersation of his other fellowes, vpon the 25. of Nouem­ber the yeare 1587. which day is consecrated to S. Catherine the Virgin and Martyr, vpon which day likewise two yeares before this he had entred into the house of the Nouices, in the chappell which is on that side of the Colledge, which is towards the Schooles which are lately built, in the presence of ma­ny, F. Ʋincentius Bruno▪ who at that time was Rectour) saying Masse, he according to the custome vowed vnto God pouerty. Chasti­ty, and Obedience, which his vowes the same Father receaued, & in like m [...]nn [...]r commu­nicated him with the sa [...]r [...] Eucharist. In the accomplishing of these [...] much re­ioyced, when he [...] himselfe to be now truly a Religious man▪ and obliged vn­to God with more strait bonds.

The yeare 1588. the 25. day of February, in S. Iohn [...], Church, he was initiated with the first tonsure, togeather with diuers others of the Society; amongst whome was [Page 261] that B. F. Abraham Georgins a Maronïte, who afterward when he went out of India into A Ethiopia was slaine, suffering Martyrdome for the Christian fayth. The last of February he was in the same place, in the cōpany of the same companions, made Ostiarius. The 6. of March, he was made Lector. The 12. of the same moneth Exorcist: and the 29. of March he was made Acolytus. This was registred in the booke of the Roman Colledge in which such like thinges are wont to be set downe. He endeauoured afterward in the whole course of his life to abound in all those ver­tues, which might be required, and expected of a Religious Clergy-man, which vertues I purpose to relate in this place, since I am to speake of the Roman Colledge, where both he for the most part had a constāt residence, & his vertues most clearly displayed them­selues to the sight and admiration of men.

CHAP. XVI. Of his humility: and his exercises for the ob­tayning therof.

I WILL take my beginning from his Hu­mility, which is the foundation of all Re­ligious and perfect Sanctity, and the keeper of all Vertues. In which Aloysius did so far forth excell, that he preserued the same safe and sound, in the middest of so great abun­dance of celestiall graces and endowments: neither was he euer in respect of them puffed [Page 262] vp with pride. Nor truly to any other ver­tue more affected then that we found after his happy death, some of his manu-scriptes concerning matters appertaining vnto pie­ty, amongst which one was, which he pro­posed vnto himselfe, as a certaine rule of all his actions, in the end wherof he setteth downe certaine meanes how to obtaine Hu­mility. That writing for so much as it is but short, and cannot be otherwise then profita­ble vnto all, I will set it downe verbatim, as it was written by him. Thus it was.

Certaine meanes how to obtaine Humility.

[...] it for a principall ground, that it is thy duty, whome God hath created for himselfe a­lone, to bestow thy selfe freely vpon that Good God, for so much as he hath deserued no lesse at thy handes, for hauing created thee, redeemed thee & made thee a member of a Holy samily. Out of which thou must conclude, that thou oughtest not only to abstain, from euery hainons sinne, but euen from in afferent and vnprofitable things. Yea and more to the intent that thou mayest come the nea­ [...] always, vnto God, thou must with all indu­stry [...]our, that no sact or designe of thine, may take its origen otherwise then from vertue.

Furthermore, to the intent that then maiest trace aright way vnto God, make good obserua­tion of these three other principles.

Of [...] this be the first, that both all other of the Society of IFSVS, and thou as much as any, must of necessity follow the ensigne of Christ himselfe, and of all other Saints, who by his cal­ling, [Page 263] haue in times past serued vnder him. Wher­fore thou shalt so resolue with thy selfe, that looke how much euery function, office, or businesse of thine, may correspond vnto the example of Christ and his Saints, so much the more it should be ac­commodated to thy courses, and either imbraced or eschewed. For this respect truly, thou shalt at thy best leasure, often reuolue in thy mind diligently, the life and excellent actions of Christ, and with an attentiue mind read ouer, and often apply to thy information, those of the BB. Saints. So shalt thou become plentifully stored with examples of good life.

Let the second wherwith thou maiest direct thy affections be this. That thou shalt become so much the more Religious and pious, by how much the more diligently thou shalt gouerne thy life, accor­ding to eternall considerations, and by how much the lesse according vnto temporall; so that thou maiest loue nothing, desire nothing, take comfort in nothing, tast or distast nothing, but for piety sake; and that thou persuade thy selfe that this is the last end of a Religious and pious profession.

Let thy third principle be, that when the Diuell often setteth vpon thee with the suggestions of de­siring vaine glory, and a magnificent opinion of thy selfe, for so much as this part of thy mind re­maineth vnsortified, thou shalt therfore bestow more, or rather continuall industry therupon, that with the armes of Humility, and despising of thy selfe thou maiest combate there with all, not for fashion-sake only, but euen with intrinsecall vi­gour of mind. Therfore prescribe vnto thy selfe, [Page 264] certaine lawes, as it were priuately accommoda­teu to thy vocation, deliuered, and confirmed by the practice of Christ our Lord; by the obseruation wherof thou maist labour in the carefull prosecu­tion of this vertue.

Certaine profitable meanes, for the obtaining of Humility.

Let this he the first aduise, that we esteeme tru­ly this to be the must cōgruous vertue vnto men, in respect of their basenesse and vitenesse. And for so much as, non oritur in terra nostia (Iob. 28.) it is no hearbe growing in our garden, that it ought necessarily to be begged of him, a quo est omne datum optimum, & omne donum per­fectum (Iac. 1.) from whome is euery good gift; and euery perfect endowment. Wherfore albeit that thou art proud, yet labour notwithstanding with as much submission as thou maist, to implore that good and great God, through that infinite humility of Iesus Christ, who when he was in the forme of God, exinanited himselfe, taking vpon him the forme of a seruant, to the intent that he would not haue thee altogether destitute of that vertue.

The other aduise is, that thou fly for refuge to those Saints of the ourt of Heauen, who haue bene at any tyme remarkable for this vertue. For first of all thinke thu [...] with thy selfe: If when they were cōuersant here vpon earth, they were so much fauoured of God, that they attained to so high a degree in this vertue; now that they are much more gratious with him in heauen; that their prayers also shall be of more moment and dignity: [Page 265] & for so much as they themselues after they haue arriued to the highest pitch of felicity, haue no want truly of this vertue of submission, beseech them that they would obtaine for thee that benefit. Furthermore consider this with thy selfe: Euen as vpon earth all are naturally so disposed, that they most of all desire their preferment, who labour in the same art and vocation of life that they do: as for example sake, If whatsoeuer braue Leader in the warres be highty in fauour with any Prince, he principally endeauoureth to interest in his fa­uour, and adorne with military dignity, those who haue giuen themselues to warfare: A man famous in titles of learning, those who haue applied their mind to learning: An Architect, or Mathemati­cian, those who desire to excell others in Archite­cture, or the science of Mathematicall discipline. In such sort do the Cittizens of heauen, they who chiefly excelled in the glory of any particular ver­tue, desire earnestly to giue their helping hand for the obtaining of that vertue, to those that pretend most to the loue therof, and to assist them with their commendations. Be not slacke therfore, with great feruour to recommend thy selfe to the mediation of the most Blessed Ʋirgin-Mother of God, who was so much endowed with this vertue, as neuer any soule created (except the diuine soule of our Sauiour) was more. Next vnto her, amongst the Apostles thou shalt chuse vnto thy selfe S. Peter who said of himselfe: Exi à me Domine, quia homo peccator sum. (Luc. 6.) goe out from me O Lord, for that I am a sinfull man. Next S. Paul, who after that he had bene by God rapt into the [Page 266] third heauen, thought notwithstanding so me [...] ­ [...]ly of himselfe, that [...]e said: Venit IESVS sal­ [...]os facere p [...]catores, quorum ego primus sum (1. Tim. 1.) IESVS came [...]o s [...]u [...] sinners, of which I am the gr [...]. Of th [...]s [...] considerations one of them will giue th [...] to vnderstand, of how great cons [...] [...] their comm [...]n [...]tion [...] are with God for the obtaining of this vertue; the other, how prompt [...]ikewise, and r [...]a [...]y th [...]y are to the performance therof.

These are Aloysius his words in that wri­ting, by which it manifestly appear [...]th, with how good a will he imb [...]ac [...]d the loue of humility. In another sheet which likewise is written vnder his owne hand, and which he intituled Pious Aff [...]ctions, he hath these words.

Those desires which thou conceauest, thou ought [...]st not so to r [...]comm [...]n [...] v [...]to Almighty God, as [...] in thy brest, but as i [...] Christs. For seing that [...] good things must of necessity be first in IE­SVS, before they can be in thee, and are with far more prompt [...] propoun [...]ed vnto his eter­na [...]l Father by h [...]m, th [...] by th [...]: And hauing in­serted certaine other things, he sayth.

When thou fi [...]st in thy selfe an inclination to any v [...]rtue, thou ought [...]st to imp [...]o [...] the assistance of those Saints, who are much c [...]mmended for the same. As for example, for th [...] obt [...]yning of humili­ty, the and of S. Francis, S. Alexius, and others: for charity S. Peter, and Paul, in like manner S. Mary Magdalen & others. For as if one goeth about to obtaine any. military office of an earthly [Page 267] Prince, he shall sooner carry it, if he vse for his aduocates the Generall of his Army, and his Co­ronells, then if he haue recourse to the Lord Cham­berlaine, and other Gouernours of the house-hold: So when we expect at Gods hand Fortitude, let vs endeauour to be recommended to Martyrs; when we would haue Pennance, to Confessours; and so of a [...]l the other. Which words haue the same meaning, which the writing that we reci­ted before, had.

He had a very humble conceit of himselfe; and that, that was in the inward sense of his mind, he declared both in his words, and actions. He neuer at any time did, or said any thing which might much tend to his owne prayse. Yea rather with admirable si­lence concealed all that his secular splendor, kindred, family, titles of the Marquesate, & others of the same kind. In like manner those which were more peculiarly his, as strength of wit, accomplishment of know­ledge, and other things which might apper­taine vnto his prayse. Therfore euen at the very suspition of his owne prayse, he blushed like a tender Virgin: and whosoeuer had but a desire to see him blush, might by no mea­nes sooner put him to it, then by praysing him. Of this matter I will only alleage two examples, omitting many others. The one was, when as a certaine Phisitian, who came to visit a sicke man, began to celebrate his prayses, in respect of the Nobility of the bloud of the Gonzaga's, his neere alliance li­kewise [Page 268] to the Dukes of Mantua, & his kin­dred resulting from that Family he came of. For truly, wheras he desired to haue his fortune obscured from the sight of all, be­ing very much offended with this prayse, he gaue a remonstrance to the Phisitian, how much it trobled him. And for so much as he tooke many occasions to prayse him in that manner, he was very much out of conceit with the honour of his Ancestours: & when there was any one that did but rub-vp the memory of these things in his mind, or sce­med to make any account of him for any endowment either of Nature, or Fortune, that questionlesse did so exulcerate his mind, that nothing could do more. Therfore be­sides this one only griefe which he concea­ued, for prayse, or honour attributed vnto him for such like causes as these, he seemed to haue weeded out of his mind by the very root, all other affections.

At another time, when in the Refectory, he had spoken out of the pulpit, very pru­dently and fittly accommodated to piety, concerning the Purification of the B. Vir­gin, and deserued praise was giuen him by all his auditours; so soone as F. Hieronymus Pla­tus began to his face to commend that his speach, he was so much abashed, and seemed so much to be troubled with those prayses, & to eschew them as not belonging to him, (being so persuaded out of his singular mo­desty) that it gaue great contentment to all [Page 269] their minds. For by this his modest bashful­nesse, he became very gratefull and amiable vnto all.

At home and abroad he would giue place to all. If at any time he were sent forth with any of his fellowes who had the charge of domesticall matters (amongst whome some­times the Cooke of the Roman Colledge was one) he would offer place vnto them; if they denied it, he would alleage so many causes of this his request, that they, least they shold contristate his mind, could not but obey him. But for this respect truly, he was re­prehended by his Superiours, who forbad him to do it any more, if it were for no other reward, but euen for that, least he should seeme too little to reuerence the name of a Clergy-man, and the dignity of Tonsure, to which he should rather be obseruing then to too much d [...]iection of himselfe. At home he often laid his hands to the helping of dome­sticall businesses, put himselfe into the com­pany of other simple men, and this very wil­lingly. In like manner when the bellrung to meales, for the most part he sate him downe at some table, which in the outmost corner of the Refectory, was frequented by the Cookes, and other seruants, as being neare their offices. He had commaund from his Superiours, who perceaued him weake and afflicted in his health, that he should sit at their table who were but lately recouered out of sicknesse, that he should not rise from [Page 270] thence togeather with the rest, and that he should in like manner abstaine from some o­ther labours. He fearing least this might seeme to be attributed vnto him in regard of his family, often went to his Superiours, and producing good reasons gaue them to vnderstad, that there was no cause why they should account him as singular in any thing, and at last obtained that he might togeather with the rest, follow the common course of liuing. And some of his familiar friendes in­treating him, that he would obey this the will of his Superiours, for so much as other­wise it was to be feared, least he might fall into some disease he answered, that he being a Religious man, should endeauour all that he could, to insist in the same course of life, which others did that were ioyned with him in the same Religion; and whilst he did not go against his obedience, he stood in feare of no disease truly, that should be taken by vndergoing those thinges which are appro­priate to the institute of his Religion. There are resident for the most part in the Roman Colledge some 200. men, or rather more, so as it cannot be, that euery one of the Society that studieth there, should be sup­plied with a seuerall chamber. Wherfore the Superiours, affoarding only particuler lod­gings, to the Priestes, the Maisters of the Colledge, and some others, who are either somewhat infirme, or performe some pecu­liar office, the rest being distributed accor­ding [Page 271] to their pleasure, into seuerall compa­nies, they place in diuers chambers, which are furnished with many beds, and deskes to study at. Therfore, wheras they thought good that Aloysius, in regard that he was somewhat sickly, should lodge by himselfe sequestred from the rest, he goeth to the Re­ctour and persuadeth him, that it would be an example of better edification to others, if he might vse his chamber in common, with some chamber-fellowes. And for so much as he reputed it a kind of magnificence, to as­sociate any one that was a student in Diui­nity, insteed of them he suffered some man of a more inferiour ranke to be ranged with him. He had requested that there should be committed vnto him the Prefectship ouer some company in the Semīnary, for so much as besides the abiection which they willin­gly suffer for Gods loue, the Prefects are af­flicted therin with great incommodities, & subiect themselues to a grieuous, and in a manner a continuall seruitude. But for so much as his Superiours mistrusted, that his health would not be able to sustaine so great a burthē, they durst not then giue way to it.

He desired moreouer, that hauing ended his study of Diuinity, he might haue leaue to instruct the Grāmer-boyes of the lowest sorme, both for that he desired to open a way for himselfe to informe that their ten­der age with the preceps of vertue and Chri­stian piety, of which office of the Grammer-Maisters, [Page 272] he had a holy emulation, and spea­king familiarly vnto them, he was wont to call them Blessed: and also, for that he had great delight to descend to those thinges, wherby he might abase himselfe, & haue no prerogatiue before others. He often tooke vpon him this taske, and that he might dis­semble his requesting therof, for the loue of vertue and humility, he bore Father Re­ctour in hand, that he was ignorant in gra­mer, and not sufficiently polished in the Latin tongue: That he was altogether vna­ble (vnlesse he learned these things) to be ser­viceable to the designes of the Society.

With the same art he set vpon the Prefect of the inferiour schooles, to whome now & then he broght certaine litle exercises com­posed by him in Latin, according vnto the capacity of that cla [...]e. Questionlesse to the intent that he hauing a taste of his study & proficiency, might lend him his helping had to that, wherunto his mind was bent. Fa. Rectour to the intent that he might do a thing gratefull vnto him, and might withall make triall, whether he was (as he said) ig­norant of the Latin tongue, ioyned vnto him a chamberfellow, with whome he might conferre concerning the Latin, and it was discouered, that he had no small insight in the same. Notwithstanding he returned a­gaine vnto the Rectour, & assured him that he had only gotten it by vse, & that by this way truly in which he had hitherto insisted [Page 273] he should neuer come to be exactly skilfull in the Latin tongue and in Grammer: & that it now remained expedient for him to learne it by teaching others. Many times in some old cloake carying a basket, or a wallet, he would with great contentment beg for al­mes through the Citty: and at home there was no office so vile and abiect, which he was not more feruently in loue withall, then ambitious men are with honours or digni­ties. Euery munday and twesday it was his custome euery weeke to serue in the Kit­chin. And he made it his chiefest worke to wipe the dishes when they were brought from the table, and to gather the scraps of meat, to relieue the necessity of the poore. And when he might haue leaue (which he of­ten had, by importuning his Superiours to that end) he carried in a basket that selfe­same reliefe, out of pious charity appointed for the poore, to them wayting at the Col­ledge gate. Verily, he would euery day in like manner when he came from the schoo­les, do some other contemptible worke, as to sweepe his chamber, or other places that were appointed for him, to take away spi­ders-webs with a reed, or some longpole in the Halles, or commō parlors. Moreouer for many yeares it was his worke to cleanse the lamps in the galleries and publike schools of the Colledge, and to repaire them by po­wring in oyle and putting-in wickes when need required: which seruices did so much [Page 274] delight him, that when he openly discoue­red the ioy, which he was not able to con­ceale in his mind, they that saw him reple­nished there withall, congratulated this his triumphant, & soule-rauishing contentment; which ioy he did now professe to haue be­come as it were naturall vnto him, & that of it owne accord it did insinuate it selfe into him, constrayned by no industry or preme­ditation. Which thinges truly althogh they nothing moue the mindes of those men that are of the Society, who both themselues make frequēt vse of them, and see them day­ly frequented by their companions: Yet it is manifest, that both of themselues and in res­pect of the dignity of those men that imploy themselues in them, they are of great force to inflame the minds of men. To conclude this prayse may truly be giuen vnto him, that he was a serious contemner of himselfe, & that he omitted no occasion, wherby he might depresse himselfe.

CHAP. XVII. Of his Obedience, and obseruance of the Rules:

THERE was added to this his so great loue of submisse Humility, that like­ [...]ewise of perfect Obedience, of which that may be a sufficient testimony, that it was a thing manifest to Aloysius, that he was not only free from dissenting at any time from his Superious will, or from the least infrin­ging [Page 275] of their gouernement, but that he did not so much as leane therunto, in the least desire or inclination, no not in that which passeth in the very first motiōs of the mind; vnlesse perchance when by their cōmaunds he was withdrawne from his offices of piety. Although truly, not so much as then for the most part was he moued, vnlesse it was very seldome, & that motion that was, he did with incredible diligence, and celerity compose. So it came to passe that not only his will, but his mind also, and his iudgment, agreed with that of his Superiours. Neither did he euer aske, why this, or that was appointed, but knowing only that it so pleased his Supe­riours, he inquired of no other cause to ap­proue of the same.

This perfection of Obedience sprung frō that, that he certainely persuaded himselfe that euery Superiour, was no lesse then the vice-gerent of God. For said he, for so much as we must yield our obedience to God whome we see not, and that we cannot in his presence imediately receaue his cōmaunds, or aske his Coūsell, he giueth vs Superiours as substitutes in this his office, and interpre­ters of his will; by meanes of whome, he certifieth vs of all things that he would haue vs do, for to these messengers of his will, he commaundeth vs to be obedient. Bl. S. Paul was of this opinion when he wrote to the E­phesians in this manner: (Ephes. 6.) Obedite Dominis carnalibus, sicut Christo, & vt ser [...]i [Page 276] Christi, f [...]ient [...] vol [...]nt [...]t [...] Dei ex animo. Obey your Lords made of flesh and bloud, as you would do Christ, and as the seruants of Christ, doing the [...] of God with all their harts. And to the [...] vpon the same p [...]int of Obedience [...] [...]. Quodcunque fa­cit [...]s, ex amino [...] si [...]t Domino. & no [...] [...] us. Whatsoeuer you do, do it with all your hart as if you did it to our Lord, & not vnto m [...]n. [...] to be vnderstood that [...] vnto vs from God him­ [...] [...] as a messen­ [...]. [...] by my [...]igh-Cham­ber [...] supreme Court-officer, is by [...] to any of the [...]r [...] comma [...]n [...] of that [...] Prince, and so or lina­ [...] so also a Religious [...] of [...]s superiors [...] vnto him by [...] and re­ [...].

[...] rose that his obser­ [...] [...] [...]ich he car­ [...] [...] questionlesse [...] of God, and [...] [...]he [...]l [...]ce [...]f [...]e int [...]rpr [...]t [...]rs of his will. [...]herfore he [...] great content­ [...] in that which th [...] [...]. Neyther [...], and au­th [...]rity [...] h [...]ghest, the ig­ [...] [...] that were of [...], th [...]n those that were of eminent [Page 277] sanctity, and adorned with other artes wor­thy of that function: For in that they d [...]s­charged the office of God, supposing no dif­ference to be amongst them, he did with e­quall facility obey them all. Moreouer he was of this opinion, that he that did his en­deauour only to respect this one thing in his obediēce, did rea [...]e therby a double be­nefit. The one, for that whilst he was obe­dient, nothing happen [...]ed vnto him diffi­cult, or laborious, but all easy and very plea­sant, as who vnderstood that he obeyed the will of God, whome to serue, he esteemeth to be an inestimable honour & benefit. The other, that he accomplisheth the effect of true obedience, and consequently that he may with assured hope anticipate the re­wards promised in heauen to those that with all their harts are lawfully obedient. But whosoeuer obeyeth him that commaūdeth, for this respect only, either for that his com­maundes are plausible vnto him, or soothing to his humour, or for so much as he that im­poseth them, is a man of excellent vertue, & naturall endowment, or beareth particular good-wil towards him, he first of all seemeth not to haue merited, in the same māner that an obedient man ought, neither doth he ob­taine the direct forme and naturall marke of an obedient man, seing that he did not obserue in his Obedience that one thing which the vertue of Obedience doth only respect. Moreouer that such a one, so soone [Page 278] as he should change his Superiour for ano­ther that should be lesse furnished, either from nature or good artes, or lesse affected to him, and should receaue from him any commaund contrary to his humour, must of necessity be vehemently tormented and ex­pesed to many dangers. To subiect a mans selfe to another out of some humane, & not a celestiall respect, as we haue said before, he accounted to be the property of a base, and abiect mind.

He feared, least that certaine Superiours might very much hurt, those that they beare rule ouer, who to the intent that they may accommodate themselues to the infirmity and want of vertue or their subiectes, in their gouerning and commaunding, serue their turnes of causes, with which they exhort them to that which they intend, out of these mortall things only. Wherfore his desire was, that the Superiours of the Society, should confidently dispose of him & others; and that either in the changing of their offi­ces or lodgings, and in other matters which were to be determined by them, that they should not alleage any cause of their sub­iects will, but the honour of God, and the amplifying of his glory, and for that respect to ordaine all things. For example sake, let set them commaund in this manner: Visum est nobis ad obsequtum Dei pertinere, atque ex citur matori g [...]orta fore si in illum locum te confe­ [...], aut hoc ossictum susti [...]eas. Itaque vade, [Page 279] Deus id tibi fortunet. It seemeth vnto vs that it appertaineth to the due seruice of God, & that it shall be to his greater glory, if you betake your selfe to that place, or vndergo this office. Therfore goe, God speed you well. When they do this, said he, the Supe­riours giue a remonstrāce of their cōfidence, & excellent estimation, that they haue of the vertue and obedience of their subiect, that they accustome him to the imbracing of the proper renowne of Christian Obedience, & that they yield them an oportunity of ob­taining greater grace in the sight of God, by how much the fewer inducements they vse of humane reasons. But if these other argu­ments & pretextes be sought after, the sub­iects inure themselues with following an on­ly shadow of Obedience, not the solid and expresse image therof; they are depriued of those goods that we spake of; there is occa­sion sometimes giuen of vilefiyng their go­uernement, especially if there be any facility for them to vnderstand or suspect, that there is some other cause, why they are remoued out of their office or place, then that which either in word, or writing is pretended.

Moreouer, he was wont to affirme, that his office of Obedience was so much the more gratefull vnto him, for so much as he had found by experience, that by the iuris­diction of his Superiours, there was decla­red a certaine meruelous prouidēce of God ouer him. For oftētimes those thinges were [Page 280] freely granted & imposed by his Superiours before he asked, with the desire wherof he was formerly possessed, either out of his priuate piety, or by the instinct of God. So once it fellout, that whereas he had medi­tated, vpon those places vnto which Christ our Lord in his last punnishment was car­ried about, and therupon was surprised with a great desire, to goe that day to the seauen holy Churches to offer vp his humble pray­ers according to the custome, his Superiour contrary to his former vse, before he either asked or hoped for any such thing, sendes for him that very Loure, and commaundes him to goe visit the seauen holy Churches. That brought vnto him a double ioy, both for that the same thing was in it selfe expe­cted, and also for that he discouered, how great a case Almighty God tooke of him, euen in those small matters. I might rehearse very many of these like examples, but that it would be too long.

If being reprehended by him in whose power he was, he did so conforme his coun­tenance and habit, that with his head bare, with his eyes fastned demissely vpon the ground, making no excuse, or reply, he entertained humbly, and patiently what­soeuer he said. Being vpon a time reprehen­ded by his Superiour, for I know not what [...] of his, in a certaine matter into which he had often fallen, by reason that he [...]lwayes in a maner went with his mind alie­nated [Page 281] from his senses, he was ouercome with so much force of sorrow, that he sodenly fell downe in a sound: out of which so soone as he had recouered himselfe, he throweth himselfe at his feet with weeping teares, and with so much humility imploreth pardon for the fault that he was accused of, that he was not able to rayse him vp againe.

The next allied to this his vertue of Obe­dience, was that his obseruance of the Rules, vnto which by the discipline of Religion he was tyed: in the obseruing wherof Aloy­sius was so carefully-diligent, that he might seeme to goe beyond all others. For neither could he remember, that euer he had trans­gressed any one of those rules were it neuer so litle, though it were but euen in thought. And now so carefully and punctually did he obey them, as if by the neglect of them, he might be brought into some great danger, & suffer some grieuous derriment. In which thing he tooke so great liberty to himselfe, that he stood in feare of no person, Reli­gious or Secular.

He went on a tyme, as sent by the Re­ctour, to salute Cardinall Roboreo his kinsman, who desiring him to stay dinner with him, he said that he could not, for so much as it was against a certaine rule with which he was obliged. The Cardinall delighted with that answere, neuer after vrged or requested him in any thing, but he made this exce­ptiō, vnlesse peraduenture it be against your [Page 282] rules. The same Cardinall signified after­ward to Fa. Rectour of the Roman Col­ledge, that he vsed that caution, and that he adioyned that condition, least he might cō ­mit some offence against Aloysius his tender conscience, and that he might comply with that diuine spirit which informed his mind.

Being asked vpon a certaine time by his chamber fellow (who preparing to write let­ters wanted paper) that he would lend him a quarter of a sheet; fearing least he shold vio­la [...]e that rule which forbiddeth the to giue, or lend any thing without the Superiours commaund, he dissembling that he vnder­stood him, truly answered nothing, but straight-way going forth of the chamber, went to [...]a. Minister to aske leaue that he might giue to his companion of his paper, & a litle after returning, courteously calling v­pon his follow he said: Poposcisti, ni factor, nu­per a me ch [...]rt [...], cecam, simiti (que) eam impertit. You asked of me lately) vnlesse I be decea­ued) some paper, loe here, and with that he gaue him some.

To cōclude I know not how I may more plainely declare his carefull obseruance of the rules of Religion, then if I testify that he for the space of those yeares, wherin he applied himselfe to Religion, did neuer ne­glect that rule, which commaundeth silence in certaine times and places; nor that which forbiddeth in time of studies to speake o­therwise then in Latin. Yet in this kind to [Page 283] be taken tripping is a very easy matter.

CHAP. XVIII. Of his Pouerty, Chastity, Speach, and Conuersation.

NOw to Religious Pouerty he was in­credibly affected. In this he did more delight and solace himselfe, then wealthy men do in the aboundance of their riches. For if in the liberty of his former fortune he was so far in loue with it, that as we haue said before, euen then he pleased himselfe with homely attire; euery one may easily coniecture how he behaued himselfe in the Society, which he was accustomed to intitle the most proper house of pouerty. Therfore he alwayes abhorred that, wherby he might seeme to haue the least shaddow of a man, challenging priuately any thing, as it were proper to himselfe. He was neuer cloathed or apparelled with any thing but out of the common stocke: he neuer made vse of any booke, which he did thinke lawfull to car­ry with him, neither of watch, nor penknife, nor any other case of tooles. And of those things which belong to piety, he neyther kept any to bestow vpon others, neyther was he very much pleased when others be­stowed them vpon him. He neuer suffered to be in his possession any Reliquary, or payre of beades of any pretious, or curious mat­ter, nor so much as a priuate picture, or ta­blet. [Page 284] But verily some one of the common pictures, which he found in the chamber, he made vse of, or truly he had at the most but one priuate to himselfe of paper, which was of S. Catherine the Virgin and Martyr (to wit, vpon whose birth-day he en [...]ed into Religion) and another in like manner of pa­per that was of S. Thomas of Aquine, whose doctrine he did studiosly imitate. And these, vpon the approbation of his Superiours, ti­red out by others importunities, and as it were by compulsion, he accepted as gui [...]ts. What shall I say▪ for that not so much as in his Breuiary truly which in the Nouiship, nor in his little booke of the office of the B. Virgin Mother, which he made vse of in the Colledge, he neuer tolerated so much as a­ny little picture, for a note, (as many vse) to distinguish his prayers.

And for so much as there were not wan­ting some, who according to their good wil towards him, not only offered diuers guifts made for the honour of God, but euen of their owne accord hauing requested licence of his Superior that he might receaue them, did in a manner thrust them violently vpon him, if truly he might, he refused them: but if without displeasing of them he could do no other then admit them, he straight-way carryed them to his Superiour, or at least hauing gotten leaue from him, so soone as the next occasion might serue, he bestowed them vpon others. It was his chiefest ioy [Page 285] to possesse nothing of this world, to de­sire nothing, and to be sequestred from eue­ry mortall thing.

When in the beginning of Sommer or winter, there were giuen vnto them hats, & other garmentes, he neuer complayned of any thing for being too long, or too short, too big, or too little: but being asked by the tailour whether they were fit-inough for him, he said: Mihi quidem videtur: truly they seeme so vnto me. He was infinitely pleased with euery thing that was most poore, and in all thinges that fell vnto his choyse he cast his eye vpō the worst. And he was wōt to in­terpret in this māner that of our Rule, wher­by it is decreed and commaūded, that euery one (to the intent that he may the more o­uercome himselfe, and may learne the more to profit in vertue) should be persuaded, that of those things which are in the house, the worst shall alwayes be giuen vnto him. Euen as (sayth he) a beggar, who from doore to doore, beggeth almes from other men, knoweth very well, that not the best garments, which are in any mans house, but the most torne and ould; and in like manner of other thinges, that which is of the least valew, shall be giuen to him: according to the same example must we persuade our selues, that if we be truly in loue with pouerty, those thinges in our house which are most contemptible, ought to be giuen vnto vs. And he said that such was the ef­ficacy of this word (persuadeat) that the meaning therof was, that we should certainely set downe [Page 286] in our mindes that it should so come to passe, and that it was most expedient so to be.

Moreouer, he did often declare to the Father who was wont to take his confessiōs, that he esteemed is in the number of one of his beneficiall merits, that such often had bene the will of God, that in the partition of the things, which were giuen to euery one to vse, there happenned vnto him the worst of all others. This in respect of his fer­uēt loue to pouerty, he esteemed as a speciall fauour from Almighty God. For with such modest shame fastnesse did he behaue him­selfe in Religion, as though he did from his very hart thinke, that out of commisera­tion of the Superiours, he had bene taken vp into the house, as it were out of ragges & sordid beggary. Therfore whatsoeuer was bestowed vpon him, he iudged to proceed out of their singular charity.

At the table truly, he spared to eate of that meat which he thought would be hurt­full to his health; notwithstanding least that some better should be brought insteed of it (which he nothing desired) he indeauou­red vpon set purpose, to deceaue the serui­tours.

I need not rehearse any thing else of his chastity, but that he alwayes kept vnspotted that inestimable treasure of his Virginity, both of body and mind, in so excellent and singular a lustre, which I declared in the sixt chapter of my first booke.

[Page 287] In his speach and conuersation, no man was a greater louer of truth and sincerity, no man could euer possibly discouer more candour, or ingenuity. Therfore there were none who could make any the least doubt of that which he either affirmed, or denied. For he was far estranged from all deceitfull duplicity or dissimulation. He was wont al­so to affirme, that by trickes, deceites, dissi­mulations, fallacies, ambiguity either of words or deedes, the men giuen to the Fortune of this world, were bereaued of the mutuall society that ought to be amongst them; but that in Religion it was the ordi­nary poyson of Religious simplicity, the certaine plague of youth, with which scar­cely could euer agree the spirit, that a Reli­gious man ought to be endowed with.

CHAP. XIX. Of his Mortification, and the Afflictions of his body.

AS concerning that taming of his bo­dy, and bridling of his appetites which we call Mortification, he was so desirous of euill treating the same, and suffered him­selfe to be transported so much further with that desire, then his strength might com­port with all, that had not his Gouernours restrained him, he might seeme in short time to hazard the cutting-of some yeares from [Page 288] his life. Therfore vnto some that said they wondred that he made no conscience, of so often wearying his Superiours about this af­fliction of himselfe, he answered, that he, when vpon the one side he regarded the im­becility of his forces, and vpon the other side perceaued his mind to be excited to giue forth these examples of piety, thought it the best course that he could take, to re­ferre the whole matter to his Superiour, who was not a man partially interessed in either of those two considerations. And that so it would come to passe, that he only wold giue way to that which should be most plea­sing to God, and nothing else. He added that sometymes he intreated leaue to do those things, which he assuredly knew would not be graunted to him. For when he saw he might not apply himselfe vnto them, as he very much desired, to dedicate this his de­sire to God, and to manifest it to him that gouerned him as his Vicegerent, seemed for many respectes to be auayleable vnto him. Amongst which, that he numbred as one, that by the iudgement of others he learned to be lesse ouerweening of himselfe, for so much as reuoluing such things in his mynd he might seeme vnto them, in this respect truly, not sufficiently to know himselfe. And verily sometimes it pleased God, that beyond the opinion of all men, he obtayned leaue for certaine things.

A certaine man attempted very seriously [Page 289] to question with him, why, for so much at he was so prudent in other matters, he set so light by the counsell of Fathers of ap­proued piety and authority, who so often had exhorted him, that at last he should leaue of, that so great seuerity towards him­selfe, and earnestnesse of mind in meditating vpon diuine matters? Vnto whome Aloysius answered in a manner in these very wordes: I perceaue these counsells, which you speake of, to be giuen me by two sorts of men. Of which, one sort is of them, who lead their life in all accom­plishment of sanctity, so perfect, that nothing therin occurreth to my view, but it is both be auti­full and worthy to be imitated. And truly often­times I haue been minded to obey these mens ad­uises: but after I obserued, that what they adui­sed me, they themselues would not practise, I thought my self rather bound to follow their deeds then their counsells, which proceed only from their charity & indulgēce towards me. And some others there we who what they exhort me to, the same they make good in their owne courses as who are not much addicted to any practise of pennaut. But it seemeth better for me to liue according to the manners and example of those pinus ones, the then the precepts and counsels of these other that I last named.

Moreouer he yielded another reason heer­of. For he sayd, that he very much feared. least that if he shold intermit the vse of these afflictions, his nature could not long be cō ­tinued in the habit of vertue, but falling [Page 290] back to her former state, would sodēly lose that her practise of patience, obtayned by so many yeares labour.

This also was his saying, Esse s [...] fe [...]um in­curuum, at (que) ad Religionem venisse, vt volun­tarijs paenis at (que) supplicijs perinde ac m [...]leis cor­rigere tur. That he was a crooked peece of yron, and that he came into Religion, that he might be made strayght with voluntary paynes & punishments, as it were with ham­mers. But to them that sayd, that the perfe­ction of Sanctity consisted in the interiour vertue of the mind, and that he should rather vse violence to his will, then his body, he answered. Haec oportet facere, & illa non omit­ [...]ere. These you ought to doe, and not omit those. For that this was the custome of al­most all, whose sanctity became admirable to antiquity, and in particuler of the first Fathers of our Religion, and before all o­thers of our B. Father Ignatius. And that he truly, both himselfe, as we read in his life, spent much time in the offices of pennance, and corporall vexation; and that moreouer he left written in his Constitutions, that he set downe no methodicall course to the Pro­fessours, and others that were placed in any stable degree of the Society, either of Vi­gils, Fasts, Disciplinings, Prayers, and other punishments, for so much as he confidently presumed, that they had made so great pro­gresse in excellent sanctimony, & had so lōg with great comfort been inured with these [Page 291] holsome affections, whilst they well knew them not to be hurtfull to the pious fun­ctions of the mind, that they would rather stand in need of a bridle, then of a spur.

Moreouer Aloysius added, that the most fit time to exact these punishments of his body was, whilst he was a man of entire cor­porall vigour, and in the flourishing season of his youth. For in regard that his ould­age was likely to be infested with diseases, would afford lesse strength for the perfor­mance of those things. And that for that res­pect men of principall sanctity in their ex­treme and decrepit age, looke how much they had profited, in the pious imployments of their mind, so much for the most part they deducted from their corporall punish­ments: but that they neuer altogether left them of. If his Superiour for bad him any of his bodily chastisements, the losse that he sustained of that fruit, he recompensed with some other office of piety, as by reading a chapter out of the little booke of the imi­tation of Christ, by going to the Church to worship the Diuine Eucharist, or with some other such like. Whether he stood, or sare, or walked, he omitted no time wherin he might vexe his body with some molestation. And wheras his Superiours when they saw him somewhat debilitated, forebad him the vse of all haire-cloth, disciplines, and extraordi­nary fasting, he inuented some meanes to exercise himselfe, which might neyther be [Page 292] repugnant to the will of his Superiours, nor oppo [...]ite to his bodily health, and those he declared vnto them. Of which sort this was one, when for his accustomed exercise of speaking out of the pulpit, he requested that he might speake in Spanish, supposing doub­lesse that for that respect all would laugh at him And he obtained leaue to do it.

To conclude you may haue a sufficient scantling euen by this one thing, how much he thirsted after his owne vexation, for that wheras he had so often executed so many punnishmentes vpon himselfe, without ha­uing any respect to his health, very many de­nounced vnto him that they stood in great feare, least when he shold come to the houre of death, this s [...]ruple might vexe him, and that peraduenture he might pay in the pai­nes of purgatory, for this his so euill and vn­discreet intreating of his body. Vnto which doubt, in his last sicknesse, he gaue answere as after I will recount.

For the repressing of the perturbations of his mind, verily he needed no great dili­gence, as which he had long since so subie­cted to himselfe that he seemed altogeather to be destitute of them. He bestowed his greatest industry, in driuing away the mo­tions of his mind, and if he found himselfe any thing faulty in that kind, he did not with ouermuch deiection contristate his mind, but throwing himselfe at the feet of God, and determining to expiate himselfe [Page 293] by confession, he implored peace with him. Hauing done that, he rested with a secure mind. And this he had learned of that Mai­ster of the Nouices, whom we haue spoken of. For he was wont commonly to coun­sell all, that it was a fit remedy, against such sinnes which in our common course of life do steale vpon vs, and which was both acce­ptable to God, and a confusion to the Di­uell, to professe our basenesse before God, lifting vp for some little time our mind to­wards heauen, with these or such like words. En, mi Domine, quam fragilis sum, & miserabilis! quam procliuis adlapsum! Ignosce mi Domine, & gratiam concede, ne idem peccatū iterum peccem. See my Lord how fraile and miserable I am! how prone to fall! Pardon me my Lord, and vouchsafe me thy grace, that I fall not againe into this sinne! and after this to quiet our selues. This therefore did Aloysius obserue, & he said moreouer, that to be too much af­flicted for such like sinnes as these, was a signe, that a man had no true vnderstanding of himselfe. For he that knoweth himselfe, could not be ignorant, that his garden of it selfe was only apt to bring forth thornes and briars.

He imployed all his solicitude in sear­ching out the origene, and head of his de­sires and cogitations, till such time as he had discouered, whether he was guilty of any fault, or no, to the intent that he might dis­close it to the priest. But when he had once [Page 294] examined out the matter, he laid aside all care. In his confessions he was cleare, short, nothing anxious, and as F. Robert Bellarmine who was his Confessarius affirmed, by the as­sistance of that Diuine light that was infused into him, and the sharpenesse of his wit, he did so narrowly surucy euery secret corner of his mind, that he was euen as well able to expresse, how farre he proceeded, in euery cogitation, or desire, or action, so expresly, and distinctly, as if he had euen seene all things with his eyes. He loued very much to be publikely reprehended in the presence of his companions, and for that cause he of his owne accord vsed to notifie to his Superiors his faults in a peece of paper. But at the last, when insteed of rebuke he perceaued prayse to be attributed vnto him by them, who found no fault in those thinges which he condemned in himselfe, he put on a mind to desire those reprehensions no more, for that he said, that they were rather a losse then a gaine vnto him.

CHAP. XX. What he thought of the Spirituall Exercises of Bl. Fa. Ignatius: how he exercised himselfe in them.

THE spirituall Exercises of B. Fa. Ig­natius, he did not only much esteeme, for the respect that they yielded a most ef­fectuall meanes, to draw the mindes of men [Page 295] out of the filth of sinne, to the loue of an honest life; but for so much as they were most apt to reuiue those raked-vp fires of piety, and the spirit of God, in the minds of Religious men. Therfore euery yeare at what time, according to the custome, they might keep their longest vacations from the schooles, to the intent that he might apply himselfe to them, he intreated leaue for the space of some few dayes to be retired. And for so much as those Exercises are distribu­ted into foure weekes, he framed vnto him­selfe certaine sentences, and precepts in La­tin, agreeing with the arguments, which are treated of, in euery one of them, and the scope which is aymed at. But wheras all his notes, which truly belonged to piety, where presently taken away, so soone as he was dead, I could find none almost but these that belong to the first weeke.

For the Exercises of the first weeke.

Inscrutable are the iudgments of God: who knoweth whether he haue yet forgiuen me the of­fences that I committed in the world? The pillars of heauē haue fallen, & were broken: who will pro­mise me perseuerance? The whole world lieth bu­ried now in the depth of wickednesse: who shall ap­pease the anger of our omnipotent God? Most Re­ligious and Ecclesiasticall men forget their voca­tion: how shall God suffer any longer so great de­triment of his Kingdome? The faythfull with great repidity all the dayes of their life, as it were, steale Gods glory from him: and who shall restore it? Wee [Page 296] be to poore secular men, who deferre their pen­nance euen till the point of death: woe also to Reli­gious men who euentd that moment haue slept in their vocation! With these kind of excitements, wee must rouse our sluggishnesse, & renew our purpose of repentance, and seruing of God rightly, and immoueably.

True Pennance is conceaued with infinite griefe for the contempt & ignominy which I haue shewed toward God, who hath so much loued me.

The same, so much vrgeth vs to bewaile grie­uous sinnes, that euen for all our veniall sinnes it exciteth great compunction.

It arriueth so far, that not only it acknow­ledgeth the mercy of God remitting mans offences, and worshippeth him; but for the honour of the Diuine iustice, vehemently desireth to vndergoe iust punishmentes for all his sinnes.

Heere God finding men well disposed, infuseth the hatred of themselues, by which a purpose is stirred vp and confirmed, sharply to take reuenge of themselues, euen by externall actes of pennance, Laus Deo.

CHAP. XXI. His loue towards God, his zeale towards his neigh­bour, his desire of spiritall discourses.

HE burned with so great a loue of God, that all times, and in all places, so often as mention was made of him, he was so in­flamed, that there appeared certaine signes therof in his very countenance.

[Page 297] He excelled in singular charity towards others his neighbours. Moued therewithall he often craued leaue to goe to the Hospi­talls to serue the sicke persons. And when he came thither, he would make the fick-mens beds, help them with their meate, wash their feet, sweepe their floores, exhort ech of thē to patience, and sacred confession of their sinnes. And at home in the Colledge he dai­ly obtained leaue to goe visit the sicke in the Infirmary. Therfore in this office, with his daily diligence he exceeded all, without any partiality he wēt to all to cōfort thē & if at any time in regard of the paines of hit head, by his Superiours commaund he abstained from his study, he would busy himselfe in the Infirmary, he would clease their kniues and spoones, couer their tables, to conclude performe all other due seruices, either to the sicke, or to those who were recouering out of their sicknesse.

Neither truly, according to that zeale wherwith he was vehemently inflamed for all mens saluation, did he lesse readily vnder­take the care of their body, then of their soules. Therfore if licence might haue bene giuen him from his Superiour, conformable to that, which both in his freer course in the world, and also in Religion he had alwayes desired, he would haue sayled into the vt­most coasts of India, to gaine Ethnicks vnto Christ. Moreouer, he could not as yet truly be imployed; to labour for the saluation of [Page 298] forraine men. For so much as that is pecu­liar vnto them, who hauing ended the course of their studies, & being ordayned Priests, ordinarily are designed to the hearing of Cōfessions, to the making of Sermons and Ex­hortations, and other such like offices.

In the meane while he with great diligēce; and various art, out of that admirable pru­dence wherwith he was endowed from Al­mighty God, helped forward their pro­gresse in the study of a more holy life, who were cōioyned with him, in the course & so­ciety of a Religious life. For wheras in his life which was irreprehensible, there was set before them a most beautifull example, he moreouer asked the Rectour, whether he would be pleased to giue order, that at noone and night, those houres, which are al­lowed for their recreation, they might no more intertaine talke amongst their compa­nions of learning, and other indifferent mat­ters (for of vayne and vnprofitable it is ne­uer lawfull for thē) but of these only which were conducible to piety. There was perfect at that time ouer matters of Piety in the Colledge, F. Hyeronimus Ubaldinus, who after he had forsaken a certaine Ecclesiasticall office which he had discharged in the Citty, deuoted himselfe to the Society of IESVS, & spent therin all the rest of his life in notable sanctity. Vnto this mā also did Aloysius make knowne his desire, after it was already ap­proued by the Rector, & intreateth him that [Page 299] he would likewise add his labour to the per­fecting of this that was begun, & withall he offereth vp many prayers vnto Almighty God, that he would vouchsafe to blesse it with good successe. After this, hauing cho­sen out of all the Colledge some certaine young men, all singularly well addicted to celestiall matters, whome he thought to be the fittest to make of his Counsell, he cal­leth them togeather, and tould them that he did very much desire, to the intent that he might profit his owne mind, at such time as he had leaue to diuert his mind somewhat from more graue imploymentes, and to ap­ply himselfe to cōpany, that he might some­times haue conference with them of Diuine matters. Moreouer, he daily, least that he might sometimes want fit matter for dis­course, wold for the space of halfe an houre, read some little booke of the Precepts of piety, or some Saints Life. To conclude to­geather with these fellows he giueth a be­ginning to this matter. Therfore if he came into the company of those that were infe­riour to himselfe, he gaue the first onset to this holsome discourse, which the rest mer­uailously stirred vp with his speaches, did with great ioy second. Vnto the priestes and those that were Superiors vnto him, he pro­pounded some question, and with a desire better to informe himselfe, he asked their o­pinion. So did he begin these discourses of Diuine matters. Although truly, that was [Page 300] not needfull; for so much as they, when they saw him comming vnto thē, assuring them­selues that he was delighted with no other talke, all of them, euen the Superiours them­selues, that they might comply with him, breaking of all other discourse, if they had begunne it, turned to sacred matters. When he cōuersed amongst his equals, if truly they were of them, with whome he had of late set downe this manner of society, it was no trouble to discourse of holy matters: but if they were others, he doubted not of his owne accord, to begin to treat of some point of piety, in which they for so much as they were Religious men, seing that they desired to profit in that course, did willingly suffer themselues to be brought into the same.

When any one came new from the Noui­ship, or from any place else to follow his stu­dies, he either set vpon him himselfe, or sent vnto him some one, with whome he had pas­sed his Nouiship, or was neere allied to in fa­miliarity, and as far forth as he might, he en­deauoured to helpe him, to conserue that ardour of Religion which he had conceaued in his Nouiship. Therfore he had no sooner set foot in the Colledge, but of his owne ac­cord he would insinuate himselfe into his company, and denounce vnto him, that truly if he purposed to remaine constant, & pro­ceed forward in the pursuite of piety, that there should not be wanting vnto him good store of fellowes, who would assist him in [Page 301] this behalfe: in the meane while, wheras he was familiarly acquainted with them all, he named vnto him fiue or sixe of their names, who went beyond the rest in the study and vse of celestiall things. Moreouer, those h [...] admonished, that they shold associate them­selues with him, and it succeeded according to his desire.

Furthermore, if he vnderstood that any one of the Colledge was somewhat▪ defe­ctiue in discharging his duty according to the dignity of Religion, he endeauoured by all the meanes he could, to win vnto him­selfe his affection, and knowing then very well truly, what occasion of speach that would giue vnto others, he daily, not only for many dayes, but euen for many weekes togeather, conuersed with him at the noone and night meetings. So soone as he had now profited so much, in the study of perfect san­ctity, as he required, that he might not repēt himselfe of his payne's taken, then truly by little and little he dismissed that familiarity, for so much as he said, that he should be a more vpright example to all, if he conuersed promiscuously with all: afterward he exhor­ted him, that he should sort himselfe with those that were the best, & he rehearsed some of that quality vnto him, and also gaue or­der vnto them that they should keep com­pany with him: that he well assured himselfe that he was desirous to parti [...]te of [...]ood matters: to conclude, after that he had done [Page 302] with one, he betooke himselfe to another. By these so excellent endeauours, and paines taken, in a few weekes he was a help to ma­ny, and he inflamed the mindes of those to the loue of God who seemed to haue waxed the most cold. Therfore you might haue seene the whole Roman Colledge, so much enkindled with the burning zeale of a Di­uine spirit and piety, that there was not any one, but he would acknowledge a certaine singular will of God therin.

I do well remember that I haue oftē seene with these eyes of mine, when there were in that Colledge aboue 200. men, in the heat of the Sōmer dayes, at such time as they had [...]eaue to recreate their minds after their la­borious studies, in the garden, and walkes, some by couples, and some by three & foure in a company walking togeather, and for so much as I knew the mynds of them all, it is a thing that I am well assured of, that there was none of all those cōpanies, but they r cō ­ference was of God. You would say that they assembled not to recreate their mindes, but seriously to talke of diuine matters, wherby many confessed that they reaped no lesse, & some euen more fruite, then they did by their prayer it selfe. The which did chiefly fall out in that, for so much as euery one with incredible candour discouered those heauenly comforts which they had recaued in prayer, as if one from an others light had lighted his candle. And all these things were [Page 303] done with so willing and cheerfull minds of all sides, that there was no one of them, but he would haue beene sad, and contristated in returning to his studies, if at any time by thaunce it had fallen out, that in recreation time▪ he had done nothing which might haue bene auaileable to piety. These were, the conferences of those that went abroad to walke for their recreatiō, these were their playes and pastimes in the vineyard, such dayes as intermission was from the schoo­les, vnto which whilst they went diuersely dispersed by two, three, and foure in a com­pany talking of holsome diuine matters, it seemed that nothing could yield them more contentment.

But now in the dayes of the longer vaca­tions, which is September and October, the young men which in the Roman Colledge apply themselues to learning, are wōt, with­drawing themselues from the schooles, to be sent to Frescati, to the intent that there resting sometime from their serious studies they might confirme their decayed forces. Hither therfore, by the Superiours good leaue at that time did they bring, some that little booke of the imitation of Christ, some the life of S. Francis, some of S. Catherine of Siena, some that of the life of our B. Fa. Ignatius: some one would take with him those Annales of the Family of S. Dominicke, some other, those of S. Francis. There were some that tooke delight in the Confessions [Page 304] and Soliloquies of S. Augustine, and others in the Sermons of S. Bernard vpon the Can­ticles. There were some certaine men, as ha­uing made further progresse in the know­ledge of Diuine things, who with no small delight read ouer the acts of S. Catherine of Genua: there were some others, whose min­des more inclined to the despising of them­selues, were much conuersant in reading the famous actes of those Blessed men Iacobone, & Iohn Columbine. Hauing read these bookes, euery morning and euening by two or three in a company, they went forth to the neigh­bowring hils to exercise their bodies, and in the meane while they declared amongst thē ­selues, those thinges which they had read. Sometimes truly some ten, or a dozen of them ioyning togeather, sate them downe in the woods, and meaddows to discourse piously, & that so cheerfully, so feruerously & with such sense of piety, as they seemed euē to resemble the Celestiall Angels. Ther­fore this extraordinary retirement, was no [...]elfe holsome to their mindes then their bo­dies, & euery one was ech others mirrour to behold himselfe in, & a spur to excite him to the pursuite of Diuine matters.

Witnesses of these thinges were so many their associates, who for so much as they were both spectatours and sharers in them, they also tooke comfort in the fruite ther­of, and now, some in one Countrey, some in another labour in the tilling of our Lords [Page 305] vineyard. Who, wheras they attributed the beginning of them to Aloysius, as their prin­cipall authour, vpō him they cast their eyes, him they highly extolled, him they piously imbraced, to him did they apply themsel­ues, vpon his directions did they daily de­pend. Which if they might not do, they mourned, euen as much, as if their passage had bene intercepted from hauing recourse to some holy thing, and which was singular auaileable to their saluation and perfection of vertue. It helped forward very much to their generall loue towards him, that he was not alwayes so sharpe-set vpon rigorous courses, but as time, place and persons requi­red, he did with admirable suauity, prudent­ly and considerately, accommodate him­selfe.

Therfore though in action he was inten­sely serious, notwithstanding in common society, there appeared nothing harsh, or troble some in him, but meruelous courtesy, cheerfulnesse & affability towards all. Some­times he would cast forth some sharpe and witty flash: some other times he wold relate some pleasāt fable, or prety story for mirth­sake; but neuer would he depart from that modesty which becometh a Religious man. And this was the course and fruite of B. Aloy­sius his life, these two first yeares which he liued in the Roman Colledge.

CHAP. XXII. He is sent into his Countrey for the appeasing of certaine grieuous discords, which were be­tweene the Duke of Mantua, and the Marques his brother. How he behaued himselfe in this his iourney.

HORATIVS Gonzaga Lord of Sulphu­rino being dead at Mantua, that re­gion subiect to his dominion, which is in the protection of the Empire, was by right of inheritance to haue descended to Rodulph the the Marques his nephew, as lawfull succes­sour to the same, if the Duke of Mantua (whome he by his last will, and testament made his heire) had not first laid hould of the same. That businesse caused Martha, the mother of the Marques of Castilion, leauing the gouernement of Castilion to her sonne Rodulph with her three younger children, to goe to Prage. There, when Francis who at this day gouerneth, being the eldest of those three children which I spake of, being not past nine yeares of age, had in the presence of the Emperour pronounced a good long O­ration, he obtained so much grace in his sight, that by the consent of his mother, he retayned him amongst his pages of Honour. There was afterward sent as legate from the Emperour, one whome they call the Impe­riall Cōmissary, who for so long time might as his vicegerent gouerne the affaires of Sul­phurino, [Page 307] till hauing tried-out the matter he should adiudge it to the one, or other party. The cause being discussed, sentence is giuen vpon Marques Rodulphs side, as next allied in consanguinity to him that was deceased. Notwithstanding there wanted not certaine hellish instruments, who by false reports so much blowed the coles of this dissention betweene these princely cosens, that offēces and suspicions daily increasing, this triall about the right of Sulphurio, which hitherto had receaued only a ciuill debatement, was accounted but one of their lightest dissen­tions: & now so many were the accusations that were laid against Marques Rodulph, that some great massaker was feared. What shall I say? In so much, as both Archduke Ferdi­nand brother to Maximilian the Emperour, and also other illustrious men, had often at­tempted in vaine to make agreement be­tweene them.

These matters being brought to the vt­most danger, it came into the minds of Eleo­nora of Austria, and Martha, the one the mo­ther of Duke Vincentius, the other of Mar­quesse Rodulph, as being most desirous of peace, and willing to take away the subiect of this publike mischiefe, that there could not be foūd any more fit peace-maker then Aloysius, in these so doubtfull matters. As who was both alwayes deere to the Duke, & of great authority with the Marques, whome by the granting ouer of his Princi­pality, [Page 308] he had wholy obliged. Therefore without the knowledge of both their son­nes, by mutuall consent, they implore the ayde of Aloysius, who then remained at Rome. He to the intent, that he might sustaine no losse of that his tranquility of mind, or that he might not euen for so short a time be en­larged from his Religious discipline, at first did with great auersion of mind, with draw himselfe from interposing in those trouble­some contestations. But afterward hauing by his, and his friends [...]rayers seriously re­commended the whole matter vnto God, he asked counsell of F. Robert Bellarmine his Con­fessarius. He, when he had also humbly dealt with God what was best to be done in this case, made answere vnto him in these wor­des: Thou maist goe, Aloysius, I do veri­ly thinke thou shalt obey God heerein; me surely thou shalt. When he had receaued this voyce, as sent from [...]n oracle, he so equally disposed his mind, that he was willing [...]o be at the disposal [...] of F. Generall. In the meaue while Eleonora the Arch-Duches, presuppo­sing what excuse Aloysius would make at the first, for so much as she thought that next vnto God, that seemed the only meanes, to diuert those imminent discommodities, and with all that it was no way estranged from any Religious Institute, to reconcile men of that eminent place so neere of kin to him, (in that it is an office of Charity) she dealt with Aloysius his Superiours, that they should [Page 309] send him to Mantua. Therfore it was done as she requested: which in like manner we read in the life of that Noble Lady.

Aloysius had now spent two yeares in the study of Diuinity, and (for so much as it was their Autumne-Vacation) liued with many others in Frescati, when Fa. Robert Bellar­mine comming thither, bringeth a com­maund from Fa. Generall, that he should returne to Rome, and take his iourny with all speed for Mantua, and Castilion. He stay­ing no longer, then about the space of a quarter of an houre, & left all vs his compa­nions grieuously lamenting, for that we should so many moneths want his company, and the fruite of his holy example. We all followed him beyond a certaine vineyard, which belongeth to the Colledge.

In our returne Fa. Robert Bellarmine entring into commendation of this young mans ver­tues and sanctity, not without a singular re­monstrance of his great affection towards him, declared many things, which very much moued our mindes with piety. There in particuler he professed, that he thought, that the grace of God was confirmed vpon him. Morcouer he said, that he could not imagine what other course of life S. Thomas of Aquine being a [...]oung man could follow then that which Aloysius did: which words wheras they were spoken in the hearing of diuers men, and committed to memory, they were willing also to restifie them in the [Page 310] publike records. After he arriued at Rome, commaunded by Fa. Generall to betake him to his iourney, he first went to take his leaue of the Cardinalls his kinsmen. Here standing in the presence of Cardinall Roborco, and being ouercome with a suddaine fain­ting-fit out of the debility of his macerated body, he was laid downe vpon the Cardinals bed. He afterward reproued Aloysius for his too much asperity in extenuating & vexing his poore body, & exhorteth him that here­after he would take a more diligent care of his health. Vnto whome he replied, that he did as yet fall short of that, which his duty required.

There was giuē vnto him as a companion in his iourny, one of the lay-brothers, a dis­creet man, vnto whome was committed the care of Aloysius his health; and commaund was giuen to Aloysius himselfe, that in all thinges truly that belonged to his health, he should follow the precepts of this his com­panion. Father Lodouicus Corbonellus, a graue man and one that had deserued very well of the Romane Colledge, not ignorant with how grieuous head-aches Aloysius was ve­xed, persuaded him as earnestly as he cold, that to defend him from the sunne he would vpon the way carry an Ʋmbrella. But he cold not preuaile with him.

That day in the morning that he was to take horse, a paire of bootes was brought into his chamber, which a certaine man of [Page 311] great dignity had worne, and that, when he was going to get them on, was tould him by a certaine person. Aloysius hearing this, and fearing least they should be giuen him for that respect, gaue them to vnderstand that he was no white at all delighted in them. Therfore as he was drawing them on, he of­ten looked vpon them, as if he had ought for some occasion to except against them. This his companion perceauing: what fault is there, said he, in these bootes, do they not fit your leg? when he gaue him no answere: stay, said he, I will take these away frō you, and bring you another payre that will fit you better: therfore carrying them into the next chamber, wherin the riding furniture was kept, he changed them not, but brin­geth them backe, only wapped vp in another forme, & wisheth him to trie whether these perhaps may be fitter. Aloysius supposing that they had bene another paire, when he had put them on; verily, said he, these seeme to fit me very well. And afterward he made vse of them.

He went from Rome the 12. of September the yeare of our Lord 1589. togeather with Fa. Bernardinus Medices his very familiar friend, who was sent from his Superiours to Millan, to interprete the Scriptures publi­kely. In all that iourny he neuer omitted his custome of praying, examining his con­science, reciting the Litanies, and perfor­ming other offices of piety. He neuer, whe­ther [Page 312] it were in the Inne, or vpon his way maintained any other discourse, then of pie­ty and celestiall things. It is very strange how piously and reuerently those hackney-men that rid in his company, attended vnto his speach, laid themselues wholy open vnto him, neuer departed from his side, adored him like some celestiall mā. Which you shall rarely discouer in those kind of people.

He did in such sort refuse certaine super­fluous offices of courtesy of a certaine old man, which seemed vnto him to passe the vsuall bounds of Religion, and to be attri­buted to the condition of his quality or for­tune, or to proceed out of the immoderate loue of a certaine Father towards him; that neither by that Father, nor by any of the rest, would he suffer his feet to be washed, as the custome is to doe to men of the Socie­ty when they come as trauellers. Yea verily he affirmed to a certaine companion of his, that the priuate affection of that Father to­wards him, and his so much officious deli­cacy, did in no sort please him.

It was sweet vnto him to see a far off Flo­rence, the mother or his first piety and cele­stiall feruour. From thence, ieauing behind him Fa. Bernaraine Medices, whome his kins­men of the house of Medices, principall men of that Citty, for some certaine dayes kept with them, wet straight forward to Bolonia. So loone as he came thither, presently he is surrounded with a ring of Fathers of that [Page 313] Colledge, with whome was already celebra­ted the fame of his sanctity, & straight way he strikes into discourse with them of Di­uine matters. He stayed there one whole day, which day wheras by the Rectours cō ­maund, the Sacristane was to take him to view the Citty, at his going out of the house he requested him that he would lead him to no place, without it were to some Church, or to some house remarkable for Sanctity: For in other he tooke no delight. He doing according to his will, going to two or three houses, which were of most note in that kind, brought him back-againe home.

When he came to a certaine Inne, which is within the Dominion of Ferrara betweene Bolonia and Mantua, the Inne-keeper allot­ted to them both a chamber which had but one bed. Aloysius his companion admoni­sheth this man priuately, that it is the cu­stome of Religious men to lodge no more then one in a bed. That he should therfore fit them with another bed. He denied this to be in his power to doe, for that he reser­ued the rest of his beds, for gentlemen, if any pleased that night to lodge in his Inne. But then Aloysius wisheth his companion to rest quiet, who began to intreat more earnestly and to enter into passion. Vnto whome he replied: Verily, this Inne-houlder keé­pes his beddes for Gentlemen, as if we were but Clownes: And surely he ought to make some better account of you. But [Page 314] Aloysius with a meruelous peaceable mind, & with a pleasing countenance said in this mā ­ner: Be not angry my deere brother, for verily you have no iust cause, for so much as we professe po­uerty. If therefore he repute of vs according to our profession, there is no reason, why we should ex­cept against him. But, late that euening, when as no man else came thither, his fellow pre­ua [...]ed with the Host.

CHAP. XXIII. What he did at Mantua, What at Castilion, how dexterously he carried himselfe in the businesse, that he negotiated.

BEING arriued at Mantua, forth-with he went to salute Eleonora of Austria, a principall woman, graue of yeares, and fa­mous for innocency of life, who very much reioycing to see him once againe returned, entertaining him with great loue, passed sometime with him in familiar speach. From the selfe-same Mantua she certified his bro­ther Rodulph of his arriuall, and he immedia­tely sent such as should conuey him to Ca­stillion. Going thither he sent no messenger before him, but so soone as he came to Ca­stilion, meeting a man by chance he willeth him, to giue notice to the Marquesse that he was at hād. He diuulgeth this report throgh all the streets of the towne. Therfore an in­finite multitude of people, partly stood in [Page 315] the windowes, partly burst out of their hou­ses, and vpon euery side shewed arguments of vnwonted ioy and piety, in a solemne mā ­ner rūg their bels, thundred off their great ordenance: the citizens at his passage by, hū ­bly worshipped him vpon their very knees: so famous doubtlesse was the opinion of his sanctity. Of all which Honours it is an incredible thing to say, how much he was a­shamed. The Marquesse descended to the very foot of the Castle to receaue him. He had scarcely stepped out of his coach, but a certaine man of that Dominion, relying consi­dently vpon the presence of Aloysius, throw­ing himselfe prostrate at the feet of the Mar­quesse, beseecheth pardon of him for I know not what fault. The Marquesse requested Blessed Aloysius, to beare witnesse, that he did freely pardon, and remit him of all that punishment, which he had thought to haue taken on him. Being entred into the Castle with the Marquesse, very many Courtiers & others, after their accustomed manner stiled him Illustrissimo, and gaue him the terme of his Excellency, which appellations did both grieue, and shame him.

He found not his mother at Castilion, who was 12. miles from thence, in the towne cal­led S. Martins, but being certified of his cō ­ming by a messenger that was sent to her, the day after with her two children being very little ones, she returning to Castilion, to that pallace where she was wont to make [Page 316] her aboade, which was somewhat distant from that which was the Marquesses, she gi­ueth Aloysius to vnderstand of her ariuall. When he together with his companion was come vnto her, he was rather intertained as some sacred thing, then louingly as a Sonne. For wheras, both her Motherly affection might haue vrged her, and no one was pre­sent whome she needed to stand in feare of, notwithstanding she neither kissed, nor im­braced him, but preferring veneration be­fore her Motherly loue, bowing downe her head to the ground she saluteth him at his first comming. And no meruaile. For from his very childhood, she held him for a Saint, and called him her Angell. All that day he bestowed with his Mother, giuing order, that his companion should be partaker and witnesse of all those speaches which they v­sed concerning the mannaging of that cause. But so soone as he perceaued, that his pre­sence did somewhat abridge the mother from her confidēce in talking with her sōne, taking some occasion, he conueyeth him­selfe out of doores, and betaketh him to his beades. After a certaine time returning, he findeth them both close vpon their knees at prayer. In the euening all being departed to their chambers, Aloysius demaunded of his companiō, why he had parted from him vn­to whome he said, that it seemed vnto him a thing very vnciuill, that wheras his mother liuing in a place so far distant, had obtained [Page 317] leaue of Father Generall to affoard her the cōpany of her sonne, that when he was pre­sent she might not enioy him freely, & vtter her whole mind vnto him. That therfore he would willingly be present, as he commaun­ded him, when he spake with other Noble women, his mother only excepted. Neither did Aloysius reply any thing to that his ans­were.

He continued diuers dayes at Castilion, in which he was particulerly informed from the Marquesse and others, of the businesse and dissentions that were betweene him & the Duke of Mantus. In the meane time it is an incredible thing to declare, what excel­lent documentes of vertue he gaue still to them all, euery where vpon all oportunities: he would neuer goe through the towne but on soote, although it was alwayes the plea­sure, both of his mother and brother that he should be attended vpon with a coach, & so great was the concourse of them that came to salute him that he was forced alwayes to goe with his hat in his hand. He dealt pro­miscuously with euery one, with such humi­lity, mildnesse, and submission, as if he had bene an Vnderling to them all. He neuer suffered himselfe to be serued by any stran­ger. If he stood in need of any thing, he ra­ther requested his companions helpe. And from him truly he would admit no office, but that which was necessary, offered vpon the others owne accord, and in a manner a­gainst [Page 318] his will. For he was wont to serue his owne necessities, whilst others without any request of his, were moued euen from God to assist him. And had it not seemed good otherwise to the Superiours, that he asked counsell of, he would not haue lodged in his Mothers, or Brothers, but in the Arch-Priests house.

So long as he remained at Castilion, he vsed great continency in all things. Therfore he neuer asked any thing in his mothers house. What shall I say? when he was oppres­sed with winter, and very could blasts, and had need to haue chāged his garments, not­withstanding he could neuer be persuaded, that his friendes should prouide them for him, but after that he had giuen the Rector of Brescia to vnderstand of his, and his com­panions wants, he receaued gownes, and o­ther necessaries from him, which others had worne before, for new ones he would not. His Mother intreating him very earnestly that he would accept two Mantuan shirts, of which one she offered to himselfe, the other to his companion, he said, it was not in his power to accept any of those thinges, which with so free a mind he had renounced. Ne­uertheles she ceased not to deale with Aloy­sius his companion, that he wold intreat him to receaue them. He commeth to him in the morning, when he was vpon the point of ri­sing, and offereth him one of them, & when he refused it: your mother, sayth he, out of [Page 319] her loue towards God bestoweth this vpon you, in way of almes. Aloysius hearing the name of Almes, & constrained by the com­maund of his companion, made no further repugnance. In like manner his other lin­nens, which were giuen him in the Roman Colledge at his departure, being now almost worne out, his mother could not obtaine, his acceptance, of a small number of others, which according to her tender loue she had made for him, but he rather desired that his old ones should be mended. At last his com­panion, necessarily pressing him, rehearsing likewise the foresaid title of Almes, with much a doe, compelled him to take a very small part of them.

He neuer gaue any commaund, either to those of the house or strangers, and in that House he conuersed modestly and circum­s [...]ectly, like some Pilgrime or Beggar, who for Gods sake had bene receaued into some Hospitall. When for the dispatch of busi­nesse he desired to meet with the Marques, for so much as he would not interrupt him at that time, or be summoned at any o­ther time, he stayed for entrance in the out­ward chambers. At his table there was no reason, but that he might haue bene serued after the manner of other men. But in his mothers house, who desired nothing more then to be obseruing to her sonne, challen­ging vnto himselfe more liberty, he intrea­ted that his cup might not be serued him v­pon [Page 320] a plate after the manner of Princes, but that according to the vse of the Society, it might be set by him, vpon the table. Very sparing were both his meat, and his drinke according to his custome. Neither was he curious of what sort they were, questionlesse the daily practice of refrayning his appeti­te, seemed vtterly to haue taken away his tast. If his mo [...]her gaue him any thing that was good, or that she said to be better then other things, he returning her thankes, af­ter abstained from it. He was wont to say to his companion: Deus bone! quam bene nobis est domi nostrae? Mihi certè quilibet noster, quamuis tenuis victus, maioris, quam dapes omnes, quibus hae mensae onerantur, cibi esse videtur: Good God! how well accommodated are we at our house? verily me thinketh euery dish of ours, how slender soeuer, seemeth to be bet­ter mea [...]e, then all the dainties with the which these tables are loaded.

He would neuer suffer any ones help in putting on, or of his clothes; no, not so much as that of his companion. The Issue which had byn made in his left a [...]me, he dressed so carefully, without any ones helpe, that his companion comming in the meane time, and whilst he endeauoureth to teach him ano­ther way how to lap it, putting his finger a little towards him, he straight-way wished him not to touch him. Such was his mode­sty, and so carefull was he, not to commit to any other, that which he was able to per­forme [Page 321] himselfe. In his mothers, and if con­ueniently he might, in his brothers house, he made his owne bed: likewise he readily lent his helping hand to his Companion in the making of his. But the seruāts of the Court obseruing that, were very carefull to pre­uent him with their diligence. He did so vt­terly neglect all care of his health, that he neuer so much as tooke it into his conside­ration, but by the admonishment of his cō ­panion. He was very much delighted with solitude. But he had least auersion from the company of his mother, who both was a lo­uer of piety, and stood in some need of com­fort.

In the morning, after that he was risen out of his bed, he spent one whole houre in prayer; he was present at Masse, the greater Canonicall prayers he recited euery day; his beades likewise, and these sometimes with his companion, in such sort as that they ans­wered one another after the manner as they vse to sing. If in the day time he could get any spare leasure, he would say to his fellow, Fratereamus paulisper precatum. Brother let vs goe a little to prayer. Before he gaue him­selfe to rest, he said the Litanies, and exami­ned his conscience. He confessed his sinnes to the Archpriest, and euery Festiuall day he went into the chiefe Church, which is that of the Saints Nazarius and Celsus, to heare Masle, and receaue the most holy Eucharist. At which time an infinite number of people [Page 322] resorted, to behould him, not without signes of loue towards him, & griefe for the losse of so good a prince. That day which he first came thither, the Church was filled with so great a multitude of men, that came to see him, that he was minded to haue vsed some speach to them, and to exhort them all to feare God all the dayes of their life, and fre­quent the holy Sacraments. Notwithstan­ding he abstained, for so much as he thought to beginne first, from giuing examples of vertue, from the house he sprung off, com­posing first his brothers businesse.

He neuer gaue any the least sharpe word to his companion, he neuer shewd himselfe offended with any thing that he did, but he would rather giue place to his opinion, and with great mildnesse so order his mind, that it might agree alwayes with his iudgmēt: he would giue eare vnto him in all things, that belonged to his health: and his companion admired his sanctity, and was very much ta­ken with his candour and sincerity, which he discouered in all his actions; in like man­ner with that his excellency of mind, wher­by he made no account of mortall affaires, and humane considerations.

In that time they had made many iour­nies togeather, as to Brescia, Mantua, and o­ther places, whither the dispatch of their bu­sinesse called them. There sometimes vpon the way Aloysius transferred his mind from those thinges which he saw with his eyes, [Page 323] vnto God, and entred into good long spea­ches of Diuine matters, of which, euen when his fellow seemed to be wearied, or to cast in some by-speaches, he would make no end. This appeared once, when he was to goe to Castle-Godfrey, to deale with his vncle Al­phonsus, Lord of that place, whose inheri­tance he had succeded in, if he had not made choyce of Religion. At his departure the Marquesse commaunded certaine seruants to attend him, whome not presuming in his presence to refuse, so soone as he was gone out of Castilion, he sent them all from him, afterward it came to passe, through fault of the Coach-man who had lost his way, that they came to Castle-Godfrey two houres after sun-set, the gates being now shut. And for so much as it is a towne very well forti­fied, to which no entrance at that time of night was wōt to be allowed, the watchmen were particularly to be informed, who they were, and from whence they came, and they must stay so long til the Prince himselfe was certified of all. A long time after, behold the gates are set open, the bridge let-downe, there issueth forth a great number of Gent­lemen, pages to the Prince carrying torches. In the very entrance of the towne a great company of armed men standing vpon both sides of the streetes, guard him passing in the middest of them from the gate, to the Prin­ces pallace. The Prince himselfe going to meet him, receaued him with great ioy and [Page 324] honour. And accōpanying him to his cham­ber, which was all decked-vp in Royall man­ner, and furnished with magnificent beds, he gaue place to him for a time to refresh him­selfe. There Aloysius as being much estranged from these things, so soone as he saw him­selfe ouerloaden with so many honours, and brought into that lodging so richly furni­shed, turning to his fellow he said: Deus nobis hoc v [...]spere sit propit [...]s; & quo tandem ob pecca­ta nostra sumus delapsi▪ vi [...]n hac con [...]lauia, hos l [...]ct [...]s? [...] tandem nobis melius ess [...]t, procul ab his obsea [...]s & oportunitatibus, in cubiculis illis nostris [...]is, vilibus (que) l [...]ctis [...]acer [...]? God be mer­cifull vnto vs this night: and whither at last are we fallen sor our sinnes? do you see these chambers, these beds? how much better I pray you, were it for vs, to lodge far-off from these obseruances and dangerous oc­casions, in those naked chambers, and poore beds of ours? Therfore to one impatient of so many honours all things seemed tedious, til hauing dispatched his businesse he might depart.

Therfore the day after, he returned to Castilion, from whence hauing receaued suf­ficient instructions of all things, to the end that he might dispatch with the Duke, he passeth to Mantua. There for certaine wee­kes comming, and going he made his abode in the Colledge of the Society, yielding vn­to all so notable an instruction of sanctity, that the Fathers that then liued there, to this [Page 325] very day, do declare certaine admirable things of his modesty, humility, contempt of himselfe, obseruance and reuerence to­wards others, his incredible grauity of man­ners, which was ioyned with singular since­rity, and candour of mind in his conuersa­tion.

He had his mind alwayes alienated from these mortall things, and placed vpon God, as one straytly ioyned vnto him, in so much as he neither did, nor said any thing, but he seemed to haue regard to him, as a witnesse and spectatour. Therfore the Fathers beheld him as an excellent maister-peece of all ver­tue, and hauing beheld him were more and more inflamed with piety. For from his very countenance there shone so great a splen­dour of sanctity, that they affirmed they be­held therin the expresse image of B. Charles Borromaeus the Cardinall. There gouerned at that time the Colledge at Mantua F. Prosper Malauolta, in times past placed there by B. F. Ignatius the first founder and parent of our Society. He hauing made good triall of this young mans sanctimony and grauity, thought it not amisse for him to make a ser­mon to this Colledge of Fathers vpon a cer­taine friday; which office the custome is to impose only vpon Priestes, and those well stept into yeares and authority, but neuer to those that are voyd of priesthood. He being somewhat bashfull at first, notwithstanding obeyed him, and vpon those words of Christ [Page 326] our Lord: H [...]c est praeceptum m [...]um, vt diligatis inu [...]m, s [...] vos: This is my commaūd, that you loue another, as I haue loued you, with so great feruour of a Diuine Spirit and efficacy he exhorted them to charity amōgst themselues, that he ravisheth them all with merueilous contentment.

He begins afterwards to negotiate with the Duke the businesse that he came about, notwithstanding he did not first attempt it with mortall men, before he had commen­ded it to God, in whose hands are the harts of men, of whome he had allready besought that he would put a limit to those fearefull businesses: That, wheras it was manifest by publike testimonies vpon record, and by the very euent it selfe of the matter, verily at his first meeting with the Duke, in the space of an houre and a halfe, hauing composed al differences, & obtayned all thinges which he requested, he put an end to that his imploi­ment. And allthough the Duke had beene by sclaunderers much exasperated with in­dignation agaynst the Marquesse, & Aloysius who was neerer of kinne to the Marquesse thē to the Duke, might to one that shold af­ter a humane manner consider the matter, haue moued suspition of a mind too partial­ly inclined to one parte: Neyther truly were there wanting causes to the Duke, by pretence of which he might haue reiected Aloysius his intreatyes, as who neyther by Princes, nor Noblemen, who likewise had [Page 327] mediated as peace-makers, would neuer suf­fer himselfe to be swayed; notwithstanding after that he found in him so Saintlike a dis­position, and vpright iudgement of mynd, neuer so much as attempting any deniall, he yielded, and promised that he trusting in his goodnes and equity, would doe all things as it should please him to determine.

There were not wanting some who did their endeauou [...] to hinder, or at least deferre this pacification, that ended so much to the honour of God: and amongst other there was a man of graue authority, who persua­ded the Duke, that for so much as it was his pleasure to insist in this course, yet he should not condescend to that Aloysius his request alone, but deferre the matter so long, till he might haue the aduise of those Princes who had spoken in this before. To this man the Duke answered, that he was certaynely re­solued euen presently to dispatch the busi­nesse, & that he, what he did, would do on­ly for Aloysius his sake: for, out of any o­ther respect he would neuer haue done it. The which moued great admiration to all men.

Aloysius receaued of Tullius Petrozzarius (a Gentleman of good worth) all those articles which were obiected by way of accusation agaynst the Marques, & broght it so to passe that he purged himselfe of them all to the Duke; with which Apology, when Aloy­sius had brought it, he gaue ample satisfactiō [Page 328] to the Duke. Afterward Aloysius returning to Casti [...]on brought the Marquesse to the Duke of whome he was with great courtesy inter­tayned, and intreated that he would please to dine with him, and spend the rest of the day in sports and recreations. The Duke be­ing instant that Aloysius would likewise dine with him, he could not be persuaded there­unto, but returned to the Colledge of the Society. When he had sayd the same to the Marques, he replyed, that yet at the least he should be carefull after dinner to returne to see the comedy. Aloysius smiling, said that his companion would not be well pleased with that. At the same time the Duke restored Sulphurino, & all the coast subject to the do­minion therof, which hitherto the heyres & brothers of Aloysius do still to this very day possesse.

CHAP. XXIV. He persuadeth his brother the Marques, to dis­close his secret marriage, to the intent that he might auoyd euill example. At Castilion with a Sermon he exciteth the people to piety.

THE Duke and Marquesse being after this manner reconciled, to the great ioy and admiration of all, who held the bu­sines as desperate, he setteth hand to the ta­king away of another certaine thing of euill example which the Marques had giuē to the world. For being en [...]nared with the loue of a certaine young woman, borne truly of an [Page 329] honest family, and of parentage for their de­gree sufficiently rich, but far vnequall to his calling, he had commaunded this maid, who by chaunce was gone one day out of her Fa­thers house, to be brought away in a Coach secretly, and that very well guarded on eue­ry side, to a certaine Grange-house of his, which he vsed for his pleasure. Furthermore wheras blind and youthfull feruour ioyned with great power, had thrust him headlong into this disgracefull staine; notwithstan­ding so much preuailed in his mind the feare of God and good education, that he deter­mined not to enioy her sinfully, with Gods displeasure, but in lawfull wedlocke: and ra­ther staine his family with some little ble­mish, then plunged in mortall sinne, & con­tinually voyd of Gods grace, to make ship­pracke both of the maides soule, and fame. Therfore hauing obtained leaue from the Bishop, to take her secretly to wife the 25. of October the yeare 1588. before the Arch­priest and necessary witnesses, he was ioy­ned to her in marriage, and enioyed her all­wayes after in lawfull matrimony. Bu [...] for so much as he feared, least that by this alliance he might incense his other kindred, & chie­fly his vncle Alphonsus, vnto whome he was to succeed in the dominion of Castle-God­frey, he concealed it, not only from him, but from his mother also. She therfore as being ignorant of this marriage, intreateth Aloysius, that according to that authority [Page 330] which he had with the Marquesse, (as to whome he might ascribe, not only that his title of Marquesate, & all his riches, but euen this his amity with the Duke, and peaceable state of his affaires) he would endeauour to effect, that he should breake of fro the fami­liarity of this Gyrle. Aloysius truly perfor­med this taske very diligently. But the o­ther framing one excuse after another, en­deauoured to dispatch-away his brother, & protract time, but so notwithstanding, that he promised to be ruled by him. Aloysius cō ­sidering, that what in present he did not, in time to come he should haue no power to obtaine, put his brother in conclusion to promise him to follow his Counsell, & for so much as he was straight way to goe to Millan, that he would come thither, enter into consideration of this matter, and finally be ordered by him in all.

Aloysius hauing receaued this promise the 25. of Nouember the yeare 1589. tooke his way to Millan, and there falleth to his accu­stomed studies, and functions of piety. A­bout Ianuary Rodulph the Marques, to per­forme his promise, him selfe likewise tooke his iourney to Millan and timely in the mor­ning vpon a festiuall day, when Aloysius, ha­uing receaued the B. Eucharist, was in the Quire seriously giuing thankes to God, he commeth to the Colledge: the porter com­meth to him in hast, and telleth him in his care, that his brother the Marquesse was [Page 331] present, with a great attendance, and could not long stay. Aloysius giuing backe no an­swere, continueth two whole houres vpon his knees immoueable, and then at last goeth to the Marquesse. He discloseth vnto him from the very beginning the whole course of that which had passed, and that he was lawfully married to that young woman. It much comforted Aloysius to vnderstand that he was free from that sinne, that had bene imputed to him, and from that suspition of his liuing out of the grace of God. In the meane while he said, that he wold aske Coū ­sell of graue and learned Fathers, what in that case was requisite for him to doe. The Marques consenting therunto, he both write to Rome, and propounded it at Millan to be decided. Many were of opinion that the Marques, to the intent that he might take a­way the infamy [...] of fornication, with which to the publike scandall he was charged, and quit himselfe of that foule example, he must of necessity make open profession of his ma­riage. This opinion of the learned he did with so effectuall speach declare to his bro­ther, that he induced him to what he would, and he vndertooke the charge of pacifiing his kindred. When they had determined this, Aloysius persuadeth the Marques, to purge himselfe of all the sinnes of his life past, and to receaue the diuine Eucharist.

So soone as the Marques was returned to Castilion, Aloysius also with his sayd compa­nion [Page 332] commeth thither. When he arriued there the 20. of Aprill, he said that he had in­tended thither two iournies, the first for the world, and this for God and his Church, meaning this busines concerning the mar­riage. He procured that the Marques should openly declare to his mother, and other whome it concerned, the whole matter, how he had behaud himselfe in it. And Aloysius himselfe, to the intent that he might take away all occasiō of euill example that might arise herby, promulgated the same to the people. In like manner he exhorted his bro­ther that he should vse that his wife, well & Christian-like. Moreouer by his letters he gaue vnderstanding to the Duke of Mantua, to both the Card Gonzaga's, who were then liuing and other Princes of his kindred, and besought them, that what the Marques had done, for the defence of his soule from the danger of a grieuous sinne, & preseruing the honour of that young woman, might not by any of them be taken in euill part. From all these he receaued answere according to his desire. But chiefly he did his undeauour, that he might approue, and commend this fact to Alphonsus his Vncle. Wherfore after his death that dominion fell by inheritāce to Rodulph, which after Marques Francis, who gouerneth there at this day, exchanged with the Duke of Mantua, for that of Millan. Therfore he doth now by good right, and great power gouerne at Millan, and that mo­reouer [Page 333] is by the Emperour annexed to the dominion of the Marques of Castilion.

This mariage being published, Aloysius tooke occasion to labour, that many who kept concubines, tooke them in mariage, & in like sort that many great discords were appeased. Being intreated by his Mother, that he would make a Sermon in the Great Church, he asked therupon the counsell of his companion. But then he made it vpon a certaine Saturday, in a Church of the Soda­lity neere to the Church of S. Nazarius: and although he endeauoured to preach with as much secrecy as might be, & therfore fore­bad any warning to be giuen by the Ser­mon-bell, notwithstanding he found the Church filled with people. He spake elegātly and piously, and exhorted them all, that the next day after, which was Quinquagesima­sunday, the last of their Caruenall, they wold come to receaue the holy Eucharist. And with such ardour did they obey this his in­uitement, that the Priestes and Monkes were vpon necessity detained all that night in the hearing of Confessions. The next day in the morning there receaued the Eucharist Aloy­sius his mother, his brother the Marques, his wife, and other people to the number of 700. Aloysius much to his comfort, and to the singular example of all, serued the priest at Masse, and those that communicated with wine. From dinner they all returned thither to the explication of the Christian doctrine.

[Page 334] The affaires of his family & brother be­ing in this manner composed, he intendeth his iourny towards Mi [...]n the 22. of March the yeare 1590. When the same yeare vpon the [...]. Day of March he was of the age of 21. yeares. And for so much as in the sharpe winters co [...]d of [...], his hands began to [...]well and breake▪ that you might euen see them rūning with bloud, many taking com­passion on him, desired him to w [...]are gloues, or some warme muff [...] ouer them. But all in­flamed with [...] of suff [...]ring hardnes, & cō ­tempt o [...] himselfe, he could neuer be persua­ded to [...] himselfe with any of these kind of [...] [...]nces.

[...] to M [...]llan, he turneth out of his [...] [...]o [...], where so soone as he arri­ [...] the Colledg, one of the Fathers goeth [...]ly to his chamber to salute him, & ac­cording, as it is the custome of the Society towards those that either go to, or come from trauaile, to imbrace him. When he found him there with an old clout wiping his shooes, that spectacle did vehemently set on fire the mind of this man to piety & hol­some gri [...]: for both in his aspect there [...]- [...]orth a certaine sanctity, and he saw [...] [...]arn [...]stly busied in this vile p [...]ce of ser­ [...] [...]om he remembred that he had seene [...] past [...] Parma, florishing with riches and [...]oned with a great r [...]tinue of ser­uants. To conclude after he entred the Col­ledge of the Society at Millan, he said: E [...] [Page 335] quantum mihi solatium praebet, quod me vide a [...] pedem denuo domi nostrae fixisse; in quali nimirum ess [...]t, qui brum [...] tempore, [...] medio gelu, quo prope diriguisset, in mollem calentem (que) lectum transfer­retur. Etenim tale frigus à domicilijs nostris dis­iunctus sentire videbar: tali nunc ijsdem redditus, sua [...]tate fruor. Behold how much comfort it giueth me, to see my selfe once againe to haue set-foot in our house; doubtlesse no lesse then if a man in winter time, should out of frost wherwith he was almost frozen, be conueyed into a soft and warme bed. Verily such cold in my absence from our houses did I seeme to feele: such sweetnesse do I now enioy, being retourned vnto them.

CHAP. XXV. Of the excellēt exāples of vertue which he shewed forth of himselfe that short time which he liued at Millan.

AS the fire neuer ceaseth burning, nor the light to illuminate, nor a pretious oyntment to giue forth fragrant odour▪ so B. Aloysius neuer making any end, with ar­dent prayer to inkindle the mindes of o­thers, nor to shew forth the light of excel­lent examples, nor to diffuse the sweet odour of vertues, which were enshrined in his brest, in euery place was alwayes constant to him­selfe. And as waters, whose naturall course hath long bene intercepted, do afterward breake forth with greater force and vio­lence; [Page 336] in like sort Aloysius being for some certaine moneths, whilst he negotiateth his affaires at Castilion, detained from his accu­stomed chastisements & exercises, so soone as he had once betaken himselfe to the Col­ledge of Millan, he seemed in desiring, and vnder going them to be in [...]atiable. Therfore before he was yet scarcely refreshed after his iourny, he commeth into the R [...]f [...]ctory in a thrid-bare cloake, he accuseth himselfe be­fore his fellows of negligence of himselfe, & to the great edification of them all he requi­reth pennance. And as it very much deligh­ted him to see this Colledge excellently flo­rishing with re [...]igious Discip [...]ine, and the young m [...] no lesse labouring with inflamed minds in the perfection of piety & religion, then in the knowledge and learning of good artes: so in like manner, as many, as liued in this Colledge, after that this liuely ab­stract of all absolute Vertue began to con­uerse amongst them, conceiued excessiue ioy and comfort.

I must in this Chapter of necessity passe ouer in silence, many very commendable things performed by him at Millan. For first, death hath depriued me of the benefit of many men, who had bynable particular­ly to haue informed me of the same. A­mongst which one was F. Bartholomeus R [...]cal­catus, who wheras he was inwardly acquain­ted with Aloysius, and gouerned the Col­ledge at Millan with singular prayse of san­ctity, [Page 337] departed out of this life. Moreouer for so much as Fr [...]dericus Borome [...]s, that most il­lustrious Cardinall and Archbishop of this citty, hath not as yet, as he promised he would, commaunded a certaine instrument of his g [...]stes to be made. Therfore I will on­ly declare a few things, which partly by those who at that time liued at Millan, were afterward registred in the publike Records, partely from the Rectour of that Colledge, gathered truly with great diligence at my request.

Therfore B. Aloysius whilst he liued at Millan, following the studies of Diuinity, both in the forenoone & afternoone schoo­les, was so conuersant at other exercises of learning, that he would seeme in nothing exempted or singular. And he vsed euen as the rest to haue a chamber-fellow, who al­wayes looking attentiuely into his conuer­sation, reaped much fruite of mind therby. There was giuen to him to vse, the Sūme of S. Thomas neatly bound vp with the couer & leaues guilded, which when he by no meanes could be persuaded to haue in his custody, with teares he besought his Superiour that he might change with him for an [...]ld one. Which will of his he declared with so ear­nest an ardour of mind, that for the mittiga­ting of his griefe he must of necessity be cō ­descended vnto. And this he did, out of his desire of hauing nothing differing from that of poore people. Whatsoeuer leasure at any [Page 338] time he could get from his studies, all that by the Superiors good leaue would he bestow, in the seruices of the Kitchin or Refectory. He would draw water for the Cooke, often wash the platters, po [...]s and other vtensiles, when he couered the tables in the Refecto­ry, to the intent that he might haue his mind [...]edfastly set vpon God, and might merit more grace, he would impose vpon euery table a surname. That whe [...]at the Rectour [...]a [...]e, he would call the table of Christ our Lord. The next vnto it, of our Blessed Lady, th [...] other that were next, the tables of the Apostles, Martyrs Confessours and Virgins. Therfore as often as wi [...]h the prefect he co­u [...]ed the table in the Refectory he said. Ex­ [...]us [...] Saluat [...]is, aut Dominae no­str [...] ▪ Let vs spread the cloth of our Sauiour o [...] o [...] our Lady, & after the same sort would he call the others. In which office he conuer­sed with as inflamed an affection & forward­nesse of mind, as if in very deed Christ our Lord, Our Blessed Lady the Virgin, & other Saints whom he imagined himselfe to serue, had bene to haue site [...] at those tables.

It was very pleasing vnto him in recrea­tion time to keepe cōpany with the Tempo­rall Coadiutors, or go [...] abroad with them, both because he loued that kind of humili­ty, & because he thoght that then he might more freely discourse of Diuine matters, & he reioyeed to be a forwarder of all to ce­lestiall life. In the cōpany of others, if so be [Page 339] they sate, he would thrust himselfe into the lowest & most incommodious place, where he could not so much as once leane: if they stood in a ring, he attended to the talke be­hind othermens shoulders. Which surely it was manifest he did not doe, out of any court-custome or for delicacy sake, nor out of any vayne affectation.

There came thither vnto him a cer­taine man, who had bene vnder his domi­nion, to request I know not what, which be­longed to his dignity of Marques. Vnto whome he denied that he had euer any thing more to doe with this world, or that he had authority ouer any thing, which answere truly he gaue with so much candour and si­gnificatiō of an humble mind, as the mā de­parted, not only informed with an excellent example, but euen astonished. There was ob­serued in him an excessiue propensity to a greatefull mind, and that notwithstanding syncere and nothing affected, out of which againe and againe, in a manner without end he gaue thankes for the least good office that was done him.

Being asked by one of the Society, whe­ther it were a hard thing for a man that was delicate, and magnific [...]nt to forsake these thinges that were subiect to Fortune he an­swered, ne fieri quidem posse, nisi Christus Domi­nus huic tali, vt quondam illi, qui caecus erat na­tus, luto oculos imbueret, hoc est harum rerum vi­litatem, que long [...] maior sit quam luti, ab oculos [Page 340] po [...]ret. That surely it could not be done, [...] Christ our Lord shold vnto such a one, as [...]n times past he did vnto him, who was [...] from his nat [...], [...] his eyes [...] with [...], tha [...] is to say, [...] before his the [...] of th [...]se thinges, which is far more then that of m [...]d. Ther [...] [...]led for re­ [...] vnto him a certaine man [...] the Col­ [...] [...] so much [...] his mind [...] com­ [...] [...] of the P [...]alme: [...] & in libro [...] Thy eyes haue s [...]ene my [...] shall be [...] said al­though in s [...]ing how [...] w [...] are [...]rom per­ [...] [...] some cause of [...] we must [...], when [...] vnper­ [...] [...] written in the [...] who seeth that imperfection that is i [...], not to the [...] that he may [...] v [...], [...] vnder our spirits, and to the end that he may draw the greater good out of our de [...]es. By the pious ex­ [...]ion of these words, (to giue you a tast of [...] c [...]lestiall spirit. [...] meruelously eased his griefe and encouraged his mind. In like manner he often did th [...]se things both at home and abroad, by which he seemed little [...] his honour for Gods cause. In the [Page 341] dayes of [...]rouetyde some of his fellow-stu­dents in learning, went into the market­places and streets of Millan, and preached to the people that they found about them. He obtained by suite from the Father rectour that he might be associated to one of these his companions. Then did he goe about the streetes, gather togeather a multitude, and intreat those wandring persons that he met, that they would heare his fellows sermon, and so singular was his humility, charity, and modesty in requesting them, that very willingly they followed him. Vpō sun-dayes and festiuall dayes, he freely and willingly expounded the pointes of Chri­stian Religion in publike, & easily brooked the cold which at that time truly was very sharpe at Millan.

Once he knew ouernight that a certaine companion of his, who after the custome of Religion was to make his vowes should goe the next day after to beg through the citty. For this at that time was wont to be done by those of the Society to the intent that they might humiliate and proue themsel­ues. When therfore A [...]ysius had effected, that leaue was giuen to accompany him, through greatnesse of ioy he was not able to containe himselfe, but the very same day, when, as the custome was, all had made the examination of their consciences, he went to the bed-side of that his fellow, as it were to euāgelize vnto him this good newes. [Page 342] The next-day after whilst he begges from street, to street, he was surprised with much more celestiall ioy. Therfore often did he as it were triumphing vtter these words as he went through the streets: Etiam Dominus No­ster I [...]sus Christus a [...] hunc modum stipem con­quisiuit. Euen after this same manner did our Blessed Lord IESVS-Christ craue almes.

In like manner at another time going forth in a torne garment to beg, being asked by a certine Gentlewoman, (who carried the shew of a very light one) whether he were one of those Fathers which resided at the Brerane Colledge of S. Maries (in Millan) for there she said that she knew a certaine Father. After Aloysius said that he had his abode there: Alas [...] said shee, that miserable Father, behold whether he hath betaken himselfe for his distruction? out of which words of hers taking oportunity, to bestow vpon her the light of better doctrine, and to take away her errour, he began with great efficacy of a Diuine spirit to discourse, that that Father was not miserable, as she suppo­sed, but happy, and that, he had not arriued to distruction, but to a perfect life. Nay ra­ther that she, that wasted her life, amongst the riches, and truly as it seemed, in the ma­nifould delicacies of this world, was in a mi­serable and vnhappy state of life, and in ma­nifest dāger, of euerlasting distruction. With which speaces she being moued, was indeed presently very much touched with remorse [Page 343] for her folly, and afterward without delay reformed her manners.

It was his ordinary office to sweepe downe cobwebs about the Colledge, which truly he performed very diligently. Moreouer he would obserue whether he saw any Senator, or man of account walking in the cloyster & if he did, then he would come forth sud­dainly with a long pole and a beesome tied at the end therof, to the intent that he might be esteemed by them, a man abiect, & of small reckoning, he would before their faces fall to sweepe away cobwebs. Which was so vsuall a custome with him, that as of­ten as the Fathers saw Aloysius going forth with his pole, it was vnto them an argument, that some stranger of authority, was come into the Colledge.

Certaine Bishops and other Prelates had determined to dine at the Colledge. The Rectour to giue them occasion to take some knowledge of Aloysius, commaunded him to make a sermō at the table in the Refectory. To auoyde this taske, for so much as it see­med to carry the shew of honour, and de­sirous to conceale himselfe, he wished to be spared from it, but daring not to withstand the commaund of his Superiour, verily he made a graue and learned sermon of the of­fice of Bishops. Afterward one congratula­ting for the happy successe of his sermon: he said that nothing gaue him more content­ment that day, then that he was publikely [Page 344] noted for a lisper. For he could not very readily pronounce the letter R. He often desired leaue to haue his faul [...]es published to his face in the Re [...]ectory. Which truly in the Roman Col [...]edge, he had for a time inter­mitted, not tollerating to be prays [...]d, when he desired to be reprooued. But for so much as his mind being alwayes vpon God, he ne­uer perceaued himselfe to be sa [...]uted of those that met him, being openly admo [...] ­shed therof, he condemned himselfe of pride vnto many, and afterward he was most dili­gent in this kind, and so endeuoured to ioyne his mind vnto God, that neuerthelesse he might not be wanting to this his office of courtesy.

He was vnto all the Colledge a singular example of submission modesty, obedience, study, and Religious discipline. And for so much as he was had in that esteeme of them all, there was no man but was willing to in [...]i­nuate himselfe into his familiarity out of the confidence that they had of his vertue, and the fe [...]ling of his piety, although he himselfe most willingly applied himselfe vnto euery one as he found him most feruent in the ser­uice of God. Qu [...]stionlesse to the intent that conferring with them concerning the offices of piety, he might in [...]erchangeably be par­taker of that celestiall co [...]fo [...]t.

CHAP. XXVI. The letters of F. Bernardinus Medices of the vertues of Aloysius obserued at Millan. Also▪ Fa. A [...]illes Galiardy his testimony of his manner of praying without distraction of mind.

HE being departed out of this life, Ber­nardinus Medices, a man no lesse fa­mous for the vertues worthy of a Religious man, then for honourable parentage, and a very familiar friend to Aloysius, writ in this manner to me from Millan: Aloysius, our very good brother, confirmed vnto me, that constancy and pers [...]u [...]rance though but in small matters, was a thinge with him much esteemed, and that this to him that desired to profit was a vertue very n [...]c [...]ss [...]ry. Therfore i [...] all his actions, and in his daily course, he carried himselfe alwayes after one manner. He said that it was a thing full of danger to follow a mans owne affection as his guide. That the safest way was that which the light of know­ledge and reason shewed. Wherfore he laboured with his mind, that he might in his actions come e­quall with the light of his mind. Notwithstanding▪ he said that he was neuer able to proceed so far as that shewed him. For how much the more he en­deanoured in actiō, so much the more did his light▪ increase. He desired most ardently to suffer aduer­sity, and he said once vnto me, that he could neuer find any more cleare testimony of any ones sancti­ty, then to see him be of a good conscience in the middest of aduersity, that is if to one that is inno­cent [Page 346] God obiected great matter of sufferance. He thought well of all from his very hart, notwithstā ­ding he did in no sort approue, of sinnes, the wic­kednesse of which was manifest; but as far-forth as was lawfull, he made the best interpretation of them. He did with singular respect and prudence admonish others of their errours, and in like man­ner intreated to be admonished of his. In all his actions he declared, piety, charity, and prudence. I neuer obserue [...] in him any leuity all the time that I was acquainted with him, no not so much as the very first motion of any perturbation. No­thing in his manners that might be subiect to cen­sure. I neuer saw him wittingly slip so much as in the least matter, neuer to neglect any law of Reli­gion. Surely he was in euery kind of vertue singu­lar, but in that especially, that in so great accom­plishment of vertue, he seemed to be singular in nothing, which vertue truly, I iudge to be of all the most eminent. And these thinges came to my mind of him at this time.

At the same time there was a speach bru­ted through the Colledge, that Aloysius ex­celled in an admirable ability of prayer, and that whilst he prayed he was neuer distra­cted from God: Therfore Achilles Galiardus, a man of singular learning, and authority, often entring into discourse with him of ce­lestiall matters, at last also he fell vpon that course of ioyning the mind vnto God with perfect charity, which commonly they call viam vnitiuam, the vnitiue way: and the Di­uines Theologicam mysticam, mysticall Theo­logy. [Page 347] There he did clearly vnderstand, that beside other guiftes which were very singu­lar, with which his mind was stoared from Almighty God, he was also after a certaine incredible māner close ioyned to God, that he did daily reape the fruite of Mysticall Theology, that he was conuersant about those Diuinae Tenebrae of which the Great Dionysius Areopagita speaketh, that he imbra­ced it, inioyed it, and proceeded very far in the same. Therfore finding that so great vertues, and those of so high a pitch, that scarcely mortall condition is capable of, had taken so deepe rootes in a young mās mind, who had hardly passed foure yeares in Reli­gion, and that he did euen now truly pos­sesse that degree, which very rare men, and those of perfect and mature religion were wont to attaine to, no otherwise then by a certaine vnusuall assistance of God; he tooke therin both infinite admiration and ioy.

And for so much as, they that are so great proficients in this course of ioyning themselues to God, do not without offering of some violence vnto themselues, descend to the procuring of other mens saluation, & for the most parte are conuersant with God, deepe fixed vpon the contemplation of him and estranged from the noyse of men: he to the intent that he might make some triall of him, said, that he did somewhat merueile that this his habit of mind, was not some­what [Page 348] suspected of him, as disagreeing with the institute of the Society. For so much as the vocation therof is by promiscuous dea­ling and conuersation with all sorts of men, to endeauour the saluatiō of soules. But this mysticall familiarity with God, by no pretext of good to others can be brought to take charge of soules, but leauing the care of action vnto other men, chooseth to it selfe the better part which resteth in contempla­tion. To this Aloysius answered, that he truly if he perceaued such thinges to be effected in his mind which he spake of, he would es­chew the following of them as differing from his vocation Which answere did euen much more astonish him. For he vnderstood that through an admirable benefit of God, he had ioyned both courses the one with the other, so that neither that which consi­steth in the enioying of God, did hinder the desire of action, nor this restraine the other of contemplation: and that consequently he was placed in the highest state of con­uersation with God, which is performed by loue, and the perpetuall conformation of our mind to his will. To wit, the mind by force of loue being lifted vp vnto God, knowing with what zeale God burneth for the saluation of soules, being brought downe from that height, in which through blessed retirement it feedes vpon the cogita­tion of God, is vrged forward with the spur [...] of affection, to vndertake the businesse and [Page 349] care of helping mens soules. Therfore from that very time Achilles neuer ceased, to pu­blish this so notable a guift bestowed by God vpon Aloysius, and that he confirmed thrice by writing, and by oath.

CHAP. XXVII. Aloysius is foretould of his death by God. He is re­ca [...]ed by Fa. Generall from Millan to Rome. In his iourney at Siena he maketh a sermon to them of the Sodality of the Blessed Ʋirgin.

THIS Blessed young man was now al­ready, in respect of his so many vertues, ripe for eternall glory; for so much as that Angelicall life which he had alwayes lead v­pon earth amongst mortall men, made him worthy of that heauenly mansion, and the society of Angels. Wherfore Almighty God declared that it was his pleasure to send for him to enioy the rewards which in so short a space as that which he liued, he had with so much study and labour deserued. For when as he liued yet at Millan, a litle aboue a yeare before he departed out of this life, in the time of his morning prayer when he bent the whole force of his mind vpon God, he inwardly infused into him a certaine light, by vertue of which he manifestly vnder­stood, that there remained but few dayes▪ more for him to liue; and moreouer he re­ceaued a commaund, that this present yeare [Page 350] he should endeauour to liue as perfectly as he could, abstracting his mind from the loue of all mortall things, that he should serue God, and with greater care then euer heretofore adorne himselfe both with in­ward and outward vertues. His mind be­ing illustrated after this manner, he found in himselfe a merueylous change, & that his affection was much further then at any time before, withdrawne from these transitory thinges. This reuelation from God, he con­cealed from all, except Fa. Ʋincentius Bruno, & a few others to whome he made it known at his retourne to Rome. In the meane time, euen as he was wont to doe, he imployed himselfe in the studies of Diuinity. Although in respect that he perceaued certaine inward incitements to be put into him, that moued him to set his whole hart vpon God, he was lesse able now to apply his mind & to take delight in those things.

There ceased vpon him a desire to re­turne to Rome, where he had tasted the first fruites of a Religious spirit, & that he might againe visit so many of his acquaintance, & associate in celestiall matters. But for so much as he determined to beware, least he shold with his mind incline any more to one part then another, & desired that the whole matter might be referred to the will of his Superiours, he also kept secret this his de­sire. Notwithstanding it was the pleasure of God that for the comfort, of so many yoūg [Page 351] men, with whome in the Roman Colledge he had knit a sacred league of friendship; he should goe thither. Therfore Father Ge­nerall. so soone as he perceaued, that all those businesses, for the dispatch of which, he was sent into Lumbardy, were effected, & that winter being ouerpassed, there was a fit time offered, for making his iourny, espe­cially for that the Rectour of the Roman Colledge, out of his desire of the spirituall commodity of so many young men, who were likely to profit much by his presence and familiarity, did instantly importune it; he at last determined to recall him, and or­der is giuen vnto me, that I should first cer­tify him by letter of this decree. Vpon the receipt of which message he conceaued so much ioy in his mind, that fearing least he should exceed the bounds of moderation, he requested of Fa. Bernardine Medices, that he would say masse for him, & that he shold humbly beseech almighty God, that if it might not stand with his greater glory he might be frustrated of this his desire. Re­ceauing not long after a commaund from Fa. Generall himself, that he should returne, he sent letters vnto diuerse full of certaine singular remonstrances of affection, wherin he alleaged the causes, wherfore he so much desired to liue at Rome. In those which he sent to me, he sayth in this manner. I belieue truly it is no hard thing to persuade you, h [...] much pleasure it is to me, that I am designed for [Page 352] the Roman Colledge, and that I may once again [...] see there my spiritua [...] father and brothers. In thē meane tim [...] it shall be my hope to en [...]oy that fami­liarity, which I am confident (by Gods helpe) shall be renew [...] betweene m [...], you and other our fami­liar fri [...]n [...]es, [...]n with more fruite then euer heretofore. I pray y [...] commend me particu [...]arly to them all. For vnto the whole Rom [...] Co [...]eage in general I [...]o [...] with my whole hart, soule, & mind, and with a [...]l my aff [...]tion commend my selfe. He adeaged another cau [...]e, to a certaine Father who was once his fellow No [...], with whome discour­sing of that first message which he receaued of the d [...]t [...]rmination of his comming to Rome, he spea­keth thus. Which with so much the more willing min [...] I will obey so soone as I sh [...] be recalled, for, if we may call any Country ours h [...]r [...]upon [...]arth, surely no other would I acknowledge but Rome, wh [...]r [...] I was begotten to IESVS-Christ.

The commaund being brought vnto him in the beginning of the moneth of May the the yeare 1590. he beginneth his iourny, and therin he followed the same course of life which he did in his other. He caused to his companion celestiall ioy, and went before them in his example. They, when they per­ceaued, that as far forth as he might, he desired to be silent for the most part and that he had his mind as it were abstracted from his senses, they did their endeauour to recall him out that continuall medita­tion.

A grieuous dearth of victuals at that time [Page 353] infected Italy, therfore both in other places in the way, and especially vpon the Apenni­ne, which at this day deuideth Tuscany from Lombardy, they found euery where poore men famished with hunger. At the sight of these a certaine Father said vnto Aloysius: verily God hath bestowed a great benefit v­pon vs, that it was not his pleasure we should be borne in so great want as these poore men. Vnto whome he presently answered; Maius verò est, quod in Turcarum ditione nati non sumus. But greater it is, that we were not borne amongst the Turkes. Aloysius thought himselfe too much obserued by these Fa­thers, and according to their charity to­wards him to be vsed with too much curio­sity. Therfore he met a certaine other Fa­ther, and declared vnto him that he could be contented to make his iourny with other companions, that would make no account of him.

Being come to Siena, he desired to receaue the Eucharist in the Chappell of S. Catherine of Siena; which he had the fauour to doe, with great sensible ioy at the Masse which a certaine priest of the Society celebrated. Be­ing requested in the Colledge at Siena, that he would preach to the young men that are in the Sodality of the Blessed Virgin-Mo­ther, after he had promised to performe it, he betaketh himselfe into the Quire. There before the Blessed Sacramēt, meditating for a little time, without euer looking into any [Page 354] booke, and afterward going backe into his chamber, he compendiously setteth downe those thinges which he had conceaued in his mind. He made a sermon so proper and effe­ctuall for matter of piety, that he put into diuers of those youths (who were not igno­rant of his place and quality) a desire to con­temne their fortunes, and imbrace Religion. Many afterward earnestly intreated him to giue them copies of that sermon. And a cer­taine preacher of the Society keepeth to this day, the very originall Copy of this Bles­sed young mans owne hand writing, as a per­petuall monument of his loue towards him.

After that he came at last to Rome, he was receaued ioy fully, and cheerfully of all his companions of the Roman Colledge in ge­nerall, who seemed neuer to be satiated with seeing him, talking with him, and enioying his holy company.

CHAP. XXVIII. Of the accomplished sanctity of B. Aloysius.

IT is a sentence of the Wiseman in the booke of Prouerbes, (Pro. 4.) That the life of Iust me, which he calleth a path, is like that res­plendant light, which springing from the duskish light of the dawning, and white-shimering mor­ning, doth still increase with one degree of clear­nesse after another, til at last it display a perfect glorious day, effected by the Sunnes arriuall to the highest point of heauen at noone-tide. Such was [Page 355] the holy life of B. Aloysiut. There streamed forth of it euen from the very seauenth yeare of his age a certaine whitenesse of innocen­cy; neither did he euer after cease to acquire more and more light, as proceeding forward from one vertue to another, daily still grow­ing clearer and clearer by new merits & new light frō God; till that he shined forth, with so great grace & splend our, that he was not only growne to a perfect day, but euen as the Apostle said of the Philippians (Phil. 2.) see­med himselfe to be become a resplendant light in the world. But if truly he shewed himselfe such in any time of his life heerto­fore, certainely in this last yeare of his life, he gaue a conspicuous testimony of these things, to them that liued familiarly with him. For there shined in him so perfect ver­tues; and seated with his whole mind rather in heauen, then vpon earth, he liued as it were an extaticall life, and abhorring from the sense of all things that were subiect to Fortune.

So soone as he came to Rome, he said vnto me, it is now a good time since I buried my friendes, there is no reason why I shold take any further care of them. It is high time now to thinke of another life. Not long after his comming, he bringeth to Fa. Rectour all his writings both of Diuinity and Contem­plation, and amongst them certaine other Commentaries which out of his owne indu­stry he had made very learnedly vpon S. Tho­mas. [Page 356] The Rectour asking why he so depri­ued himselfe of all his writings and especial­ly of those which perhaps he should haue present vse for? he said, he did it for this cause, for so much as he perceaued himselfe to be carried away with some particular af­fection towards those things, as the ofspring of his owne wit: and for that he stood not affected to any other mortall thing, he wold also depriue himselfe of those things, that from hence forward he might haue his mind sequestred from all.

Further more he had attained vnto a cer­trine exact subtility in trying out the offi­ces of a perfect life, which were requisite to be not only committed to memory, by all Religious people, but also put in execution. For there stealeth vpon all men for the most part a certaine naturall sweetnesse, of a re­ioycing and selfe-cherishing mind, as often as they perceaue themselues to be especially graced, and beloued of excellent men, and chiefly of them in whose power they are, for that they by this euident testimony & signe declare that they are well pleased with their demeanour: therfore oftentimes, some do not only reioyce therin themselues, but al­so make mention therof in the company of their familiar friendes. Aloysius was far of an­other mind. For so far forth had he extin­guished all loue of himselfe, and was so far from desiring that any mans mind should particularly adhere to him, that he would [Page 357] not endure himselfe so much as with any pe­culiar loue, or obseruance to be affected by the Superiours themselues. If any one made a shew to loue h [...] more then any of the rest, he would be so far from answering them with loue, that he conceaued griefe for the same. Therfore those that gouerned him, to the intent that they might doe a thing acce­ptable to him, they seemed no more to esteeme of him, then of any other.

Wheras in all companies he was wont to be very affable, likewise at this time no man was more courteous, no man could possibly be of a more sweet condition, with so im­mense and common a kind of charity did he imbrace all. Therfore very earnestly they had recourse to him in recreation time, to heare him discourse of God, of celestiall feli­city, and of the perfection of vertue. Verily my selfe, speake both by experience, and haue bene tould by others, that many depar­ted from his company more inflamed then from their prayers. If he could get any one vnto whome he knew that he might confi­dently inlarge his mind in priuate, he decla­red vnto them such diuine affections of his hart, that as men stroken with admiration, he caused them both to sigh, and conceaue a veneration of so vnusuall a coniunction with God.

Whithersoeuer he went, he neuer laid a­side the presence of God contemplating all his actions. He was so inflamed with he [Page 358] loue of God, that when either there was mention made of him, by the Reader at the table, or by any other discourse, straight­way his mind flowed with celestiall ioy, and he would giue an open signe therof, by the inflammation of his countenance, & the in­terruption of his speach. This fell out both at other times, and also once at the table, when he hearing certaine things read of Di­uine loue, on the suddaine he sensibly per­ceaued, from his inward brest as it were, a flame to burst forth, by the violence wherof he was constrained to forbeare eating. V­pon this occasion we that sate round about him at the table tooke notice of it. And for so much as we were ignorant of the cause, & feared least he was grieuously sicke, we fixed our eyes attentiuely vpon him, & asked him whether he were well or no. He who at that time truly was not able to vtter so much as one word, and found himselfe to be taken with the manner, being so much the more out of countenance, cast downe his eyes, burst forth into teares, blushed, & swelled so in the brest, that we feared least some of his veines might haue broken, & were all mo­ued with commiseration of him. At last in the later ending of dinner by little and little he recouered himselfe againe. There were some who when they knew these thinges, to the intent that they might see him blush, v­pon set purpose, would in the company of their companions introduce speaches of the [Page 359] charity of God towards mankind. Others contrariwise, least he should incurre some hurt, or troble in his body, endeauoured to breake of these kinds of discourses.

Walking in the schooles and cloisters, he had his mind so far abstracted from his sen­ses, that vpon set purpose oftentimes passing by him to salute him, I haue take occasion to bring him to himselfe. There he said his beades to the Blessed Virgin-Mother, he fre­quently vsed interchāgable offices of piety, one while kneeling, another while standing vpright: and yet neuerthelesse he auoyded that note of affectation in all his doings, which others, often doing these thinges, would easily haue incurred.

This yeare he designed vnto himselfe one houre euery day, for the reading of sacred thinges. He seemed much to be delighted in reading the Soliloquies of S. Augustine, the life of S. Catherine of Gen [...]a, the sermons of S. Bernard vpon the Canticles, and especially that his Epistle intituled Ad fratres de mon­te Dei, which are found among the workes of S. Bernard. He had so often read that ouer, that he seemed almost to haue learned it without booke. In his reading, he selected, and noted certaine hidden sentences of pie­ty, which after his death we found written in his owne hand.

In the moneth of Nouember, the yeare 1590. hauing begun his fourth yeare in the studie of Diuinity, the Rectour compelled [Page 360] him to haue his chamber a part from the rest of his companions. Then he brought to passe that he might lodge in a certaine small corner of the house, that was old, darke, low, narrow, with one window only through the roofe therof, which being iust ouer the stayres, was able to contayne no more then a poore bed, a wooden chayre, a foote stole which did s [...]rue him to leane on both at his prayers & study; & therfore for so much as it was rather like a strict prison thē a chā ­ber, it was neuer wōt to be allotted vnto any student. When F. Rectour sometimes visited him in that place, he found him triumphing and re [...]oycing in that little cottage, as if it had bene in some ample Pallace. And we were wont to say vnto him in iest, that as S. Alexius was willing to lodge vnder a pay [...]e slayres, so he also like a poore man, aboue.

To conclude, so complete was he in all the parts of Sanctity, that many both his Superiours, chamberfellows, and fellow stu­dents affirmed vpon oath, that by no one of them was he euer found so much as culpable of one veniall sinne. He that heard his con­fessions, said that he neuer dismissed him, but he conceaued some new light by hearing his confession. Another Fa. in like manner being sworne, affirmed, that he, who had layne two yeares more or lesse, in the same chamber with Aloysius, wheras both of them were commaunded by the Rectour of the Roman Colledge, that one should admonish [Page 361] the other, for Charity sake, of their faultes if he obserued any, notwithstanding in that whole space of two yeares, wherin he con­tinually kept an eye ouer Aloysius, and was como [...]ned vnto him in all familiarity and friedship, he neuer obserued any thing com­mitted by him, in which there might be per­ceaued so much as a shaddow of any sinne.

The affections of this holy young man were very exactly composed: great vigilan­cy in comprehending his senses within his o [...]ne iurisdiction: very inward society with Almighty God: A most ardent de­sire of bringing other men to immortall saluation, and to aduance his owne com­panions to the supreme height of all san­ctimony. Finally, that I may declare in short, he was an example of absolute in­nocency, and both at home and abroad so accounted. A certaine priest, that was a prea­cher, did so much reuerence this his so ex­quisite Sanctity, & stood in a manner in such awe therof, that wheras he neither wanted oportunity, no [...] will, notwithstanding being hindred by a certaine kind of veneration, he alwayes abstained from ioyning himselfe vnto him, and from particular application of himselfe to his company.

A few moneths before he fell into his last sicknesse, he found himselfe to be raui­shed with an infinite desire of celestiall bea­titude: at which time he talked often & very willingly of death. He was wont to say a­mongst [Page 362] other things, that how much the lō ­ger his life was prolonged, so much the more feare was he in, of his saluation. Therefore if there should happen vnto him a long life, and by the increase of yeares he should be likewise intangled with greater businesses, & that he should be initiated in priesthood, he should be euen much more vncertaine of it. The reason he gaue was this: for that Al­mighty God requireth an exact account of priestes, whose office is to say determinate prayers, and celebrate masses; and that they who take care of other mens soules, ought much more by pennance, to cleanse their owne; that they make holy Sermons, that they minister the sacraments, and that they gouerne others: but that now in the state in which he then was, when as he was not yet preferred to any sacred orders, nor sustai­ned any important businesses, and therfore was yet freed from the occasions of diuers sinnes, he had a better hope of making a good end; that therefore being of those yoūg yeares he did nothing at all feare death if it might so stand with Gods pleasure. Of this his desire Almighty God made him par­taker, as I shall declare heereafter in due tyme.

CHAP. XXIX. With great Charity he serueth the sick in the Hospi­tall. Thereby he is infected with a deadly disease.

THE yeare 1591. was very contagious through a cruell plague, which famine spread throgh all Italy, insuing euery where after that generall dearth of corne. Heerof at Rome dyed an infinite number of men, who out of hope of reliefe had flocked thi­ther from all bordering Countries. This common calamity the Fathers of the So­ciety of IESVS, did with all help and cha­rity, partly out of their owne stock, part­ly gathered from other mens liberalityes, labour to relieue. Therefore they did not only industriously apply themselues to the Hospitalls of that Citty, but moreouer, things being driuen to extreme necessity, by Fa. Claudius Aquauiua the Generall his or­der, they in tyme opened away vnto a new one. And Father Generall himselfe, euen subiected his owne seruice to those that were infected with the Leprosy.

At which tyme B. Aloysius by begging victualls through the Citty very cheerfully for those that were sicke and needy, by his singular charity caused great admiration to all that beheld him. But then especially, when (vnderstanding that a certayne ve­ry noble Prince, who from his Childhood [Page 364] had beene friendly and familiar vnto him, & whome he had perceaued to harbour some sparkes of piety, came to Rome to negotiate some businesse with Gregory that 14. then Pope) he desired leaue of Fa. Generall to salute him in a patched coate, with a wal­let vpon his shoulders. For first he sayd that his hope was he would be bountifull to the poore people that lay in the Hospitalls; and further for that he had alwayes found him a great well wisher of his, it was requisite, that with some pious office he shold requite him. Moreouer that he thought it would not be amisse for the informing of his mind with a holsome contempt of all mortall thinges, to goe to visit him in that poore habit. Hauing intreated leaue, he obtayned both, as the Princes mayster of his houshould tould me afterward. For he brought away no small summe of money in almes for the poore, & the Prince himselfe at the behoulding of him being moued with a laudable griefe, and stirred vp with good thoughts, prosecuted this his humiliation with speaches full of piety.

Moreouer wheras he had earnestly insi­sted in this course of going to the Hospitalls and seruing the sicke persons, he neuer re­sted from a certaine holy emulation, and al­leadging the examples of his fellows, vnto whome the same was graunted, before he had obtained leaue of his Superiours, who were very hard to be intreated therunto. He [Page 365] went therfore, and that very often togeather with his fellows, among whome was one Ti­berius Bondius. When some one admonished this man, that he should take heed least he tooke some infection, he answered, that he, who had before his eyes so bright an exam­ple as Aloysius, neither would, nor could be terrified from that labour by any danger of death that could be obiected. This Bon­dius about that time, perceaued a certaine vnusuall feruour of a diuine spirit to be sug­gested vnto him: they who knew him be­fore, both merueiling, and congratulating this his alacrity, and new feruour of mind. And he himselfe first tooke his death by this disease, as we will straightway recount.

Those that went to the sicke persons were alwayes accompanied with a Priest, who might heare their confessions. And chiefly Fa. Nicolas Fabrinus a Florentine, being at that time the Minister of the Roman Col­ledge, a man of great iudgment and aboun­ding in charity and other Religious vertues. He, wheras he was inwardly acquainted with Aloysius, afterward when he gouerned the Florentine Colledge, committed to writing those thinges which happenned to Aloysius both in the Hospitals, & in his last sicknesse. Verily it was a horrible thing to see the dy­ing men creeping to the Hospitals, stinking and loathsome, and sometimes to behould them giuing vp their last breath in corners, or fallen downe dead at the foote of some [Page 366] payre of staires. But truly in B. Aloysius, and his companions, there shined forth a cer­taine abstract of that loue; wher with the in­habitants of heauen are ioyned amongst themselues. For they would vncloth & shift the sicke persons, wash their feete, make their beds, lay them downe in them, giue them meate, instruct them in the sacred matter of pennance, and exhort them to suffer their paines patiently. And the Father, whome a little before I commended, obserued, that Aloysius was alwayes wont to be most about them, that were of the most loathsome, in such sort, that he seemed very hardly to be drawne from them. Whilst they are thus bu­sily imployed, in the seruice of these mise­rable distressed people, according to their Christian Charity towards them, the plague, for so much as it was very contagious, sey­zeth vpon some of Aloysius his companions: of which first, as I rehearsed before, Tiberius Bondius, being piously enured by Aloysius, sodainely departed. When he saw him now lying at the point of death, he said to a cer­taine priest that was his fellow student. Qua [...] lib [...]nt [...]r me am cum Tiberij conditiont commuta­rem, &, si Deoplaceretid mihi gratiae facere, pro co mor [...]r [...]r. I would very willingly change my condition with Tiberius, and dye for him, if it would please God to do me that fauour. He said to a certaine Father that contradi­cted him, that he spake it for this respect, for that he had now some probable reason [Page 367] to confide that he was in Gods grace; what herafter he should be, he knew not. And therfore that he was willing now to vnder­goe death.

Neither was it long but that God heard his prayer. For when his Superiours had for­bidden him to returne againe to that Hos­pitall, in which they now saw many infe­cted with grieuous sicknesse, and he out of his loue to sanctity made no suite for leaue to goe thither againe; there was liberty graunted vnto him, that he might goe to the Hospitall of Consolatiō, in which for the most part, there were none whose diseases were infectious. Neuerthelesse he presently fell into the same disease, and betooke himselfe to his bed the third of March, the yeare 1591. With which disease so soone as he per­ceaued himselfe to be oppressed, supposing according to that knowledge that he had from God at Millan, that it should be his last, he abounded with incredible ioy, and shewed the same both in his countenance, & in all his behauiour. And they vnto whome he imparted this reuelation which he had at Millan, did by this his great ioy, imagine that he would shortly end his life. Neither were they deceiued herin. When he found him­selfe inflamed with so great a desire to dye, he began some what to feare, least the same might be too immoderate. Therefore to the intent that he might he resolued herin, he asked counsell of Fa. Bellarmine who had the [Page 368] charge of his conscience. But after he was giuen to vnderstand by him, that the loue of death proceeding out of a desire to be ioy­ned with God, so that we would be willing to rest in the power of God, was nothing hurtfull; and that it was a vsuall thing with many that flourished in sanctity, both in our memory, and in times past; then truly he dedicated himselfe with his whole mind to thinke of an eternall life. Such was the violence of his disease, which was thought to be a pestilent feuer, that with in the space of seauen dayes, it brought him to the vt­most point of death. Therefore when he had carefully and piously, as possibly he could, cleansed his soule by confession, he was by Fa. Rectour fortified with his sacred Via­ticum, and Extreme-vnction, he reciting with very great sense of piety his accusto­med prayers, and they that were present all weeping for the losse of so deere, and holy a brother.

But for so much as whilst he was yet in perfect health, many of his familiar friendes, out of their loue towards him, did often re­proue him, for so much as he seemed with ouer much austerity both of body and mind to hasten his death, & presaged that of him, which we read to haue happened to S. Ber­nard, that euen at the very end of his life he would repent himselfe, of this immoderate ardour. That he might exempt them all from this feare, hauing now receaued that cele­stiall [Page 369] Ʋiaticum, his chamber being full of his companions, he requesteth Fa. Rectour, that he wold positiuely affirme in his behalfe to them all, that in this respect truly he was not touched with any the least scruple; but that he was rather sorv that he had omitted many punishmentes, for which he might ea­sily haue obtained leaue of his Superiours. That if he had bene obedient to their wills, his conscience should rest free from all an­guish. That moreouer, he had neuer done any thing according to his owne will, but all things by their permission. He added like­wise this, that he was not troubled in con­science for hauing at any time violated any one rule of his Religious course. Which was therefore said by him, least he should leaue in any ones mind, any offence or occasion to take any euill example, who had seene him doe any thing more, or besides the custome of others. All which things very much mo­ued their mindes.

Father Prouinciall entring into him, he intreated him, to giue him leaue to make a discipline: who saying, for so much as he was so weake, he could not haue strength to whip himselfe; yet at least, said he, p [...]r [...]i [...], that some ot [...]r do scourge me frō the very head to the foote. The P. answered that nei­ther that was lawfull, for so much as he that should whip him, would incurre the danger of drawing vpon himselfe the censure of the Church which we call Irregularity [...] when he [Page 370] faw himselfe frustrated of this likewise, a­gaine he very instantly intreated this one thing, that he might haue leaue to dye not in bed, but layed on the ground. So great a loue had he of torment, pennance, and affli­ction euen when he drew his last breath. It was now in a manner likely that he would that day, which was the seauenth of his sick­nesse, haue ended his life, vpon which very day he was iust 23. yeares of age. But it plea­sed God, that breaking and mittigating the violence therof, he would prolong his sick­nesse. Doubtlesse, to the intēt that we might be informed with many examples of vertue, wherwith he shined vnto vs, during the time that he kept his bed.

In the meane while it was diuulged euen to Castilion that Aloysius was dead, therfore his mother, and brother had performed his obsequies, when a message was brought, that he yet liued. The Marquesse Rodulph his brother exulting with ioy, pulling in peeces a chaine of gould which by chance he had about his neck, gaue it peece by peece to the standers by, when he receaued this message.

CHAP. XXX. A loysius his sicknesse groweth vnto a Feuer He­ctick, by which he consumeth by degrees. His ex­cellent sayings, and doings at that time.

AFTER that first vehemency of Aloy­sius his disease had decreased, there co­tinued [Page 371] with him still, a kind of remisse Fe­ner which they call a Hecticke, which in the space of three moneths by little and little wasted him. At which time many things of singular example were done, & said by him, but for so much as it could not be that from so great and various a multitude of men; as resorted to see him, all things should be ga­thered, I will place here those thinges which I could come to the vnderstanding of.

When he first fell into his sicknesse, he was palced in a bed, the couerlet wherof was somewhat thicke, togeather with a mat vn­der him, which had bene ordayned for a cer­taine old man; Aloysius requested of his Su­periour, that, taking away this couerlet, he might lye after the manner of others. But when answere was made him, that it was not placed there for any respect to him, & that it was rude, and fit for a poore man, wherby there was no danger that he should infri [...]ge his Religious pouerty, he was presently well satisfied.

In the beginning of his sicknesse the Phi­sitian had commaunded, that he, and likewise another who was sicke of the like disease, should drinke a very bitter potion: the o­ther did his endeauour, to the intent that he might auoyd the noy somenesse of his po­tion, to sup it off suddainly, vsing also other accustomed helpes; but Aloysius to the intent that he might make vnto himselfe a hol­some trouble, dranke it vp all, by degrees, as [Page 372] if it had bene some very sweet liquour, and gaue no signe of euer perceauing any bitter­nesse. The Infirmarian in his chamber vpon the table had placed, a little Sugar-candy, and iuyce of liquorish to helpe him some­times against the distillation of his rheume. Requesting a little of that iuyce of liquorish, his fellow asked him, why he did not rather desire some of the Sugar-candy? he answe­red, Quia alterum pauperem magis decet. Be­cause, the other is fitter for a poore man.

When it was giuen him to vnderstād, that there was great danger of a plague to ensue that yeare, he did not only manifest to his Superiour, that, if he recouered his health, he would be willing to serue them that were infected with the same, but also requested leaue of Fa. Generall (who came to visit him) that he might make a vow to God to per­forme the same. Which hauing obtained, with great contentment of mind, and with great edification to them that were priuy to that matter, and witnesses of that singular charity he shewed by that fact, he made the said vow.

Roboreus, and Gonzaga Cardinals, did of­ten visit him whilst he was sicke, whome he intertained with fruitfull speaches of the doctrine of piety, and of a happy life. F. Re­ctour signifiing vnto them that there was no reason that they should come so often, & so incommodiously to themselues; that he would vndertake to certify them, how the [Page 373] state stood with Aloysius: they said, that they could not be satisfied, vnlesse they came themselues, for so much as they reaped ther­by very plentifull fruite to their owne sou­les. Cardinall Gonzaga being sick of the gout, commaunded himselfe to be carried vnto him, and seemed not willing to be separated from his bed. Aloysius once entred into dis­course with him, cocerning the approaching of his death, and of the benefit of Almighty God towards him, who tooke him to him­selfe in that flowre of his age. Moreouer he affirmed to the same Cardinall, (who accor­ding to his great loue towards him, was at­tent with great sense of affection) that he thought it was part of his duty, to hold him as his Father, seeing he, aboue all that liued vpon the earth, had deserued the best of him, in regard that by his meanes it was ef­fected, that after so many conflictes and im­pediments, he came at last to Religion. By those words the good Cardinal being moued to teares, answered, that truly rather him­selfe ought, notwithstanding the difference of their ages, acknowledge him the parent and maister of his piety. After this he declared vnto him, how great profit & clestiall com­fort his words and examples had alwayes gi­uen to his mind. At his departure professing to his followers, that the losse of that young man would be an infinite griefe vnto him, he said, that he neuer departed from discour­sing with him, but with his mind disposed to [Page 374] an vnusuall kind of tranquillity, and that he did verily thinke that there was neuer any of his family of the Gonzaga's that had bene more fortunate. At the same time there lay sicke F. Ludouicus Corbinellus a Florentine, a man of great descent, betweene whome and Blessed Aloysius there had bene mutuall loue, and in their sicknesse they often sent saluta­tions one to the other. That Father his sic­knesse being now increased vpon him, some eight dayes before his death, besought the Infirmarian that he would bring to him in­to his chamber, Aloysius, who now through want of strength was not able to stand vpon his legges. And this he did, for that he now held Aloysius for a Saint. The infirmarian se­ing this thing so acceptable to the mā, he put on Aloysius his cloathes and carried him into the Fathers chamber. It is incredible how much this his comming to visit him, did recreat the good old man, and what sincere contentment, and motions of piety he con­ceaued by behoulding him; After they had talked togeather, they exhorted each o­ther to beare patiently this their aduersity, and to obey the will of God. The old man said: farewell, my deere brother Aloysius, it is now but a short ty me, that I haue to liue, neyther shall we see one another agayne. There is one suite that I haue to you, I pray you deny me not. Part not from hence I be­seech you, before you haue giuen me your benediction. Aloysius being partly astonished [Page 375] and partly abashed at this his petition, sayd that that was not fit for him to doe, for to blesse was the office of a Superiour, and that he was aged, himselfe young he a Priest, & himselfe not so. But this old man, such was his pious affection towards this holy young man, persisted agayne to vrg [...] him by in­treaty, and to beseech him, that being now at the last cast of his life, he would not de­ny him this comfort. He likewise intreated the Infirmarian that he would not take him away, before he had condescended to his re­quest. Notwithstanding this discreet young man withstood it, and would not be persua­ded, till he was compelled by the Infirma­rian. And then he found a way, by which he might both mitigate the griefe of the ould man, and preserue his owne humility. For taking vp his hand, and signing himselfe in forme of a crosse; he sayd, Deus D. N. nobis ambobus benedicat: our Lord God blesse vs both. Afterward he sprinkled him with holy water, in the meane while saying. Deus D. N. te mi Reuerēde Pater, sua sāct a gratia accumulet, vota (que) omnia tua ad sui nominis gloria [...] fortunet. Eum tu vicissim pro me precare. My Reuerend Fa. Our Lord replenish you with his grace & prosper, to the glory of his name, all your desires. Pray likewise I beseech you for me the same prayer. So he wisheth himselfe to be brought to his owne bed, leauing him merueilously cheerfull, & well satisfyed▪ [...] was also a great token of that same Fathe▪ [Page 376] pious affection towards Aloysius. For all­though the Priests were wont to be allotted another place of buriall differing from other men, notwithstanding before his departure out of this life, he made knowne to the In­firmarian, that his will was to be buried, in the same place which should be assigned to this Blessed young mā after his death. Ther­fore by commaundment from the Superiors it was afterwards done as he desired.

There are some who recount, that Aloysius prophesied, that this Father should depart out of this life before him. The which came to passe accordingly. For he dyed vpon the first day of Iune, being Whitsunday-Eue, at twelue of the clocke in the night, twen ty dayes before Aloysius made his happy end. Aloysius his chamber was so farre from the chamber of this Father, that he was the length of a whole gallery distant from him, and so consequently could by no ordi­nary meanes haue vnderstāding of his being in danger of death, and yet he imagined that thrice that night he saw him. The which he related the next morning to the Infirmarian almost in this manner. The window being o­pen, and he coming according to his custome to see him, and asking how he had passed the former night? Truly but ill, sayd he, for after an vnusuall manner, I haue bene trou­bled with dreames, or rather visions. For three tymes did I seemer to see the good Fa­ther Corbinellus, perplexed with vehement [Page 377] paine, and first I heard him speake vnto me in this sort: It is now high ty me my deer [...] brother to commend me earnestly to God, & to beseech him that I may with a patient and couragious mynd endure the bitternesse of this grieuous, & dangerous torment, where­with I am vexed, for so much as vnlesse I be he strengthned with his speciall assistance, I am diffident, how I should behaue my selfe therin. Being awaked and supposing it to be a dreame: It were better (sayd I to my selfe by way of reprehenson) for thee to sleepe: wherfore driue away these fancies. A little after being but newly fallen a sleepe, he ap­peareth agayne vnto me, importuning more vehemently then before, that I would assist him with my prayers in that his so great ex­tremity, which seemed to him allmost intol­lerable. Againe I am roused out of my sleepe, agayne I blame my owne restlesse disposi­tion, and determine with my selfe to aske leaue the next day to expiate with some pen­nance this my negligence in fulfilling the cō ­maunds of the Phisitian and my Superiours, who charged me to endeauour to take my rest. But behold after that the third ty me I had entred into a sleepe, the same vision ap­peared vnto me, and calleth vpon me in this manner. Now, now, my deere brother, I am allmost arriued at the period of this my mi­serable life. Offer vp your prayers to God, that he would vouchsafe a happy successe to this my last passage, and our of his infinite [Page 378] mercy to blesse me with the immortall glo­ry of the other life. There I will not faile to pray in like manner for you. That thing did so absolutely be [...]eaue me of all sleepe, that being stroken with the terrours of these re­presentations, whilst I often beat vpon them with my cogitation, the other parte of the night, I was not able to take any manner of rest at all. The Infirmarian hearing these dis­courses, dissembled the whole matter, she­wed no signe of admiratiō, called them drea­mes, and fancies of the mind, affirmed that Fa. Corbinellus was well, concealed his death. exhorted him to lay aside all care, and dis­pose himselfe to rest. He then replied not so much as one word more vnto him. But at another time vpon some occasion giuen, he gaue them to vnderstand, that he was cer­tainely assured, that he was not only dead, but that he was euen entred into heauen. Wherupon Fa. Pobert Bellarmine asking him, what he thought of his soule, whether it were detained yet in the fire of purgatory or no? Verily, he answered confidently, that without any delay it passed frō Purgatory. By which answere he coniectured, that he had it reuealed vnto him from God. For wheras he was of his owne nature infinitely considerate in all his speaches, and sparing in the affirmation of doubtfull things, he wold neuer, vnlesse he had bene certified from God, haue so clearly assured his Ghostly-Father, that he had now passed Purgatory.

[Page] All this time we all besought him, with as exquisite reasons as we could, that he would pray to almighty God that his life might be enlarged, for by that meanes he might come at last to heauen full-fraught with infinite accesse of merits, and that he might render more profit to men, and principally to the Society. But he to them all gaue this one only answere, Melius est dissolui, better it is to dye. Which he said with so great sensible af­fection of mind, and with so great serenity of countenance, that it was a sufficient testi­mony, with what affection he desired to be presently transferred to enioy an indissolu­ble coniunction with God.

CHAP. XXXI. He sendeth vnto his mother two letters in the time of his sicknesse, by the which he comforteth her, and int [...]cateth her prayers.

HE sent in all this time of his sicknesse two letters to his mother. In the be­ginning of the first, after that he had passed those first stormes with which she thought that he might haue bene oppressed, with the relation where of comforting her at the first & exhorting her to the patient enduring of aduersity, he addeth this which followeth.

It is now a moneth, since I was in that state, that I receaued from God that benefit of his by far, the greatest of all other, namely, that in his grace (as confidently I persuaded my selfe) I should haue [Page 380] departed this life. And I was then fortified with the sacred Viaticum & Extreme­vnction. When it was the pleasure of God to prolong my time, & in the meane time leauing me in a remisse feuer, to prepare me to death. The Phisitians being igno­rant what the euent of the matter will be, en­deauour to procure the health of my body with ex­quisite remedies. But it is my greatest comfort, for that I am persuaded, that Almighty God doth prepare, to giue me far more entire health, then the Phisitians are able to giue. Therfore in the mean [...] time, that hope maketh me ioyfull, that within few moneths it will come to passe, that Almighty God will bring me, from the land of mortall men, to that of the liuing; from the society of men liuing vpon the earth, to that of the Angels & citizens of hea­uen; finally from the behoulding of things terrent and fraile, to the sight and contemplation of that good and great God, in whome all good is contai­ned. The same cogitatiō may be vnto you (most il­lustrious Lady in respect of that great loue which you beare to me, and for so much as you desire that which may tend to my felicity, an infinite comfort. I beseech you to make me partaker of all your pray­ers, and to giue order that the same may be done by the Sodality of Christian Doctrine, that this short time in which I must yet wrastle with the tempe­stuous sea of this world, God by the mediation of his only begotten sonnes merits, in like manner by the prayers of his most holy mother, and the Blessed Saints Nazarius and Celsus, would vouchsafe to drowne all my sinnes in his most sacred bloud, which with bitter torment he shed for our sakes, as [Page 381] it were in the red sea; so that being freed from the feare of all my enemies, I may passe into that land promised by God, to soe and enioy him euerlastin­gly. The selfe same God comfort you (Most ho­nourable Lady.) Amen.

He wrote another letter somewhat longer a little before his death, when he had now (as I shall after declare) knowledge from God, of the day vpon which he should dye, and passe to heauen. These are his wordes bid­ding farewell to his Mother.

Most illustrious Lady, and my most ho­noured mother in Christ. The peace of Christ by with you.

My prayer is (Most Honourable Lady) that you may be alwayes partaker of the grace & consolation of the Holy Ghost. I remained yet in this region of mortality, when your letters were de­liuered to me. But now this is to giue you to vnder­stand, that I must at last aspire to heauen, where I may for euer prayse God in the land of the li [...]ing. which iourney, I did of late hope to haue per­formed before this time: but my feu [...]r truly, as I wrote vnto you in my other letter, when it seemed most to burne and rage, being vpon the suddai [...] mittigated, it brought me by little and little ouer vnto that Holy day of Christs Ascension into hea­uen. From that time my brest being oppresed with great violence of distillation, my feuer was so re­newed, that I do now by degrees approach, [...] to those sweet and deere imbracements of my [...] ­lestiall Father, in whose lap I hope to [...] and euerlasting rest. And so the [...] [Page 382] that were brought thither of me, as I also wrote to the Marques, do certainely agree. But if it be the part of Charity, as S. Paul sayth, flere cum flen­tibus, gaudere cum gaudentibus (Rom. 1 [...].) to weepe with them that weepe, and reioyce with them that reioyce, you must of necessity (my most Honourable Mother) conceaue most infinite ioy for this, that God out of his bounty & fauour towards you, doth designe me true ioy, and securi­ty from the least feare of euer loosing the same. Ʋe­rily (for I will freely confesse vnto you Most illustrious Lady) when I ingulfe my mind in the consideration of that Diuine bounty, which is like an immense sea, without either shore or bottom, it being as it were rauished, with the greatnesse therof, seemeth vnto me to erre, and misinforme me. For so much as he, in reward, of so short and small labour, sendeth for me vnto eternall rest, as who from his heauenly throne, calleth me to that high felicity, which I so negligently haue sought, & promiseth me the fruite of my teares which I so sparingly haue shed. Take heed (my most Noble Lady) and be very carefull, that you offer not the least violence to this infinite benignity of God: which verily you should do, if you should be waile him as dead who liueth in the sight of God, and is far more auaileable in recommending your affai­res, then in this life he was. This shallbe no long separation. We shall meet againe in Heauen, & be vnited to our sweet Redeemer, with all the powers of our soule, praysing him, & for euer singing forth his eternall mercies, shall enioy immort all com­forts. Neither truly do I doubt, but that if exclu­ding [Page 383] those respectes which consanguinity sugge­steth to our mind, we would giue place to fayth, and that pure and simple obedience which we owe to God, we should freely & with an open hād offer that vnto him which is his ow [...] And that so much the more willingly, by how [...]ch that which is taken from vs is more deare. For so we shall gi [...] [...]testimony, that we esteeme that nothing is done by God, but with great wisedome, and for our com­modity. He taketh from vs, but that which he had bent vs before, with no other purpose, but to con­serne it in a place more safe, and of more immuni­ty, that he may adorne it with those good thinges, which euen we would wish vnto our selues. I haue said all this for no other end then to comply with that desire of mine which I haue, that you (most Honourable Lady) and all the rest of my family, account this my departure as a most acceptable be­nefit, and vouchsafe, I beseech you, to accompany me with your blessing, whilst [...]ferry ouer this litle riuer, til I touch at that shore, where harboureth all my hope. Which so much the more willingly I do, for so much as there remaineth nothing vnto me, wherby I might more e [...]idently signify the lo [...] and reuerence which as a sonne, I owe vnto you my mother. Finally thus I conclude, begging againe most humbly your blessing.

C [...]AP. XXXII. Of the preparation which Blessed Aloysius made for his death; in a rapt he partaketh celestiall ioyes, and foretelleth the day of his death.

IT is now time to declare, in how Chri­stian-like, and holy a manner B. Aloysius prepared himselfe, for that his last passage from earth to Heauen. Whilst he continued in this disease, which verily was long, and as such are wont to be, infested with difficult and grieuous dangers, he neuer at any time gaue the least signe of a deiected mind either in word or gesture. He neuer seemed to take disgust either in the obseruance of the Infir­marian, or in any thing else that he vnder­tooke to doe about him. And although in sicknesse a man is more apt to discouer his hidden imperfectiōs then at any other time, notwithstanding he alwayes made good his former patience. He was euer exactly obe­dient to his Superiours, Phisitians, and In­firmarians, and how a Religious man should behaue himselfe in sicknesse, although that be very troublesome, he gaue a very mani­fest example.

After he had betaken himselfe to his bed, he gaue eare to no other discourses at any tyme, but of diuine matters, and of a blessed life. Therfore neuer any one visited him, but, to comply with him, setting a syde all other discourse, hespake of piety. And if any [Page 385] forgetting this order, interlaced any other speach, Aloysius recollecting his mynd, would thinke with himselfe of some other matters, till such tyme as they fell vpon sacred things agayne. For then changing himselfe, and re­turning to discours, he made shew not only to be recreated, but euē exhilarated. Of this his custome, this reason he gaue, was, that allthough he nothing doubted, but that it was no way differing, from the course of a Religious man, to speake in conuersation, prudently of indifferent matters for piety sake, notwithstanding at that time remaining in that state, it was requisite, and he iud­ged that God did expect it at his hands, as his peculiar right, that of all his discourses, not only the forme (for so he tearmed it) to wit the intention of his mind, still regar­ding (as alwaies it ought) the honor of God, but euen the matter it selfe of them should be sacred. And euery little moment of time, which Almighty God did vouchsafe him, in that latter ending of his life, he did valew a [...] so high a prise, that he would not willingly, bestow it otherwise, then in the discoursing of pretious thinges.

He somtimes would request them to helpe him on with his cloathes, & going out of his bed, would creepe after his feeble manner to the table, vpon which there stood the image of Christ crucified, which he imbracing would kisse In like manner he did to the picture of S. Catherine of Siena, and other [Page 386] Saints wherwith his chamber was hanged. And for so much as one of the Infirmiers said, that he needed not to rise out of his bed, for that he would bring the crucifix & other pictures to his bed-side. Aloysius ans­wered, these are my stations. Therfore he held on that custome so long as he was able to get out of his bed, moreouer, in the day time when the doore of his chamber being shut he was priuate, without the helpe of any one, he did steale out of his bed, & betweene that & the wall cast himselfe vpon his knees, and so long applied himselfe to his prayers til he heard some noyse at the doore. For then he rose vp, as if he would returne to his bed. The Infirmier for a certaine time sup­posing, that he had risen to performe the needs of nature, at last when he found him often gone out of his bed, suspecting that which was the truth after that he had once stolne vpon him, and found him vpon his knees, he forbade him to attempt it any more. He, when he saw himselfe taken with the manner, verily blushed, and after that, abstained from that which was forbidden him.

He often at this time asked Counsell of F. Robert Bellarmine concerning his soule mat­ters, who was his Ghostly Father. And one euening he asked him whether he thought that any one did euer goe to heauen vntou­ched with the fire of Purgatory? he answered, that verily he thought there did, being not [Page 387] ignorant how much he might promise him­selfe of Aloysius his vertue: And more then that, I do confidently persuade my selfe, said he, that you shall be one of those who free from Purgatory goe straight to heauen. For wheras God in token of his goodnesse to­wards you, hath adorned your mind, with so many giftes and endowments, as you haue pleased to acquaint me withall, of which that is not to be thought the meanest that it was his pleasure you should be alwaies free from mortall sinne, verily I do assuredly hope, that he will add this, for the accomplishment of all, that without all delay you shall speed to heauen. At this same answere he was so much ouerioyed, that his mind being ab­stracted from his senses, he was transported, to behould the blisse of that celestiall cirty, being discouered vnto him by God. In which exces [...]e of mind, when he had almost spent the whole night, in certaine delights & solaces, which far exceed the capacity of mortall men, he afterward assured the same F. that he accounted the same, euen scarcely like one moment. Likewise when he was in that exstacy, he is thought to haue had inte­ligence of the day designed for his death. For he clearly discouered vnto many afterward, that the eighth day from the Sacred feast of Corpus Christi, he should depart out of this life. And that fell out accordingly. But to a certaine man, who with singular respect did frequently visit him, he denoūced the same, [Page 388] some few dayes before that feast. In the meane time his disease began so far forth to increase, that F. Ʋincentius Brunus, who was prefect of the sicke, a man skilfull in Phi­sicke, said that Aloysius could not liue til that day. Vnderstading, therof calling vpon one of his c [...]panions, Aloysius said: Nes [...]is [...]e, quam f [...]lix [...]tius venerit, intra oct [...]um diem mihi mor [...]esse? Amab [...] t [...], mecum vna, pro tam ex: miain me beneficentia hymno Te Deum laudamus rec [...]tando, Deo gratias age. Know you not what happy tydings are brought, I must dye with in these eight dayes? Let me intreat you, to giue thankes vnto God to­geather with me, for so singular a benefit vouchsafed vnto me, reciting the Hymne, Te Deū laudamus. That same Hymne being very piously said by them both, not long after, he said to another fellow-student of his, that entred into his chamber, euen with his hart leaping for ioy: Pater mi, laetantes imus, laetan­tesimus. My Father we goe reioycing, we goe reioycing. Which wordes being pronoun­ced with such free cheerfulnesse, forced groanes and teares from them that heard them.

After this he thought good by his letters, to bid farwell to three [...]athers who were of principal [...] account with him. Those were Fa­ther Ioannes Baptista Piscator, the Maister in times past of his Nouiship; and then Rectour at Naples: Fa. Mutius de Angelis, being then in the same place professour of Diuinity; and [Page 389] Fa. Bartholomeus Recalcatus, Rector at Millan. By these letters, written vnder another mans hand he declared vnto them, that he (as he verily hoped) was vpon his way to heauen; that he did very hartily salute them, and in­treat that they would commend him vnto God. But wheras in respect of his weake­nes he was not able to subscribe, he willed them to guide his hand, and instead of his name he drew a crosse with his pen.

It was his care, to spend the eight last dayes of his life, in certaine singular offices of piety and Religion. And at the first when he had declared to that priest his familiar friend, that he had certaine vnderstanding of the day of his death, he intreated him, that he would daily come vnto him, at the third houre before sunne set, to recite the seauen penitentiall Psalmes. Therfore at that time, all other company being remoued from thence, the image of Christ crucified being at his request placed vpon his bed, the priest likewise kneeling vpon his knees, pronoun­ced those Psalmes which I spake of. Some­tymes when he came to some notable place, he would make a pause, and in the meane while, the Blessed young man, with his eyes fixed vpon the image of Christ, would re­uolue deeply in his mind those things which were read, with euident signes, of a mind in­flamed towards God, and with heauenly im­pulsions, that drew from that Father ex­cessiue shoures of teares, which likewise [Page 390] brake forth from him, but with a mild and gentle streame. The other houres, of the day he requested to be read vnto him some chap­ter out of the holy Scripture, or the Solilo­quies of S. Augustine; or the Sermon of S. Ber­n [...]r [...] vpon th [...] Canticies, or that Hymne, Ad perennis vit [...] [...]; or some one Psalme that he made choyce of, as, Latatus sum in his quae dict a sunt mihi, in [...]omum Domini [...]imus. (Psal. 121. Quema [...]mo [...]um aesi [...]rat ceruus ad fontes aquarum, it a [...]s [...]rat anima mea at te Deus; (Psal. 41. or some other of that kind.

So soone as that rumour was giuen out, that he had affirmed that within eight dayes he shou [...]d depart this life all began earnestly to lay hould vpon some occasion, to haue some free speach with him in priuate, and to make suite for his recommendation. But he with admirable promptitude of mind acce­pted all their petitions to preferre in heauē, with sincere charity and a secure mind, pro­mised to negotiate with God in the behalfe of them all, that you might verily suppose, that he was assured short [...]y to arriue there. He discoursed as familiarly of his death, as he was wont to doe of his going out of one chamber into another. Many Fathers came often to visit him, and likewise to do him seruice. Amongst those who were most fre­quent with him, were, Fa. Marius Fucciolus the Procurator Generall, and F. Hieronymus Pla­tus, who himselfe dyed, the next moneth af­ter his departure. He once at his going out, [Page] of his chamber turning to his companion said: Sanctus, mihi cr [...]de, Sanctus est Aloysius, vs (que) eo, vt viuens etiam in Diuorum numero collo­cari possit. A Saint (belieue me) a Saint, is A­loysius, so far forth, that euen whilst he is li­uing, he may be placed in the number of the Saintes. He alluded questionles to that say­ing of Pope Nicolas the V. who when he was to canonize S. Bernardinus of Siena, said of S. Antoninus Archbishop of Florence, then li­uing, and there present, that he did verily thinke that Antoninus liuing, did deserue those honoures no lesse, then Bernardinus dead.

The last of those eight dayes, he did for the most part apply his whole mind to the contemplation of Diuine matters, vnles perhaps somtimes, he spake interchangeably some words of sacred thinges, or betweene, vttered some short prayers. For the space of the three last dayes, euen to his very last breath, he perpetually held close pressed to his brest, a certaine brasen crucifix, hallowed with the Popes Indulgence, intituled the Philippine, which he had giuen him by a cer­taine Father. Often did he professe his fayth, after that manner, which is prescribed in the Rituals, signifiing in the meane while, a vehe­ment desire of being consociated with God. Therfore he did often iterate that saying: Cupio dissolni & essecum Christo. I desire to be dissolued, and to be with Christ. (Phil. 1.) V­pon the Octaue-day of Corpus Christi in the [Page 392] morning, the Infirmier entring into his chā ­ber, and finding him no worse then he was wont to be: said, but Aloysius, you are a liue and not dead, as surely by your owne sen­tence you did foretell. When he persisted to affirme, that he should dye that day, the In­firmarian going out of the chamber, repor­teth that Aloysius, who seemed to be better then he was wont other dayes, was constant in his opinion, that that day should be the last of his life. Likewise to a priest that visi­ted him and said that now the eight day was past, vpon which he had giuen out that he should dye, and that now he might be raysed vp to a hope of lōger life, he answered, Non­dum hodiernus dies totus prateriit: this whole day is not yet past. He did also more plain­ly affirme the same to another, who com­ming to Aloysius, and finding him grieuou­sly a [...]flicted with a certayne gauled place which he had gotten in his right hippe, both by reason of his extreme leanesse, and for that he now for a long time had layne con­tinually vpon that side, moued with con­miseration, sayd, that verily it was a thing that did much trouble him, that they should be depriued of him; neuerthelesse, that he did wish, that it wold please God now at last, to deliuer him out of those paines: to whom Aloysius replyed very seriously in this sort: Hac nocte moriar, This night I shall dye. The other, adding that he did not seeme to be in that state, that he shold be so neare his death, [Page 393] Aloysius twise repeated the same words: Hac nocte moriar: Hac nocte moriar: This night I shall dye.

CHAP. XXXIII. Being fortified with his sacred Viaricum, and in like manner with a plenary Indulgence from the Pope, he resteth quietly in our Lord.

THE whole fore-noone he passed with many times professing his fayth, with prayer, and with pious offices of adoration towards God. About noone he did earnestly beg to haue his sacred Viaticum, which he had requested euen from the very breake of day that morning. Yet the Infirmarians no­thing suspecting his death, gaue no eare vnto him. But when as he made no end of solici­ting and intreating, they alleaged, that for so much as he had once before in this sicknes receaued the same, that it seemed not meet for him to request it againe. Then Aloysius answered, that indeed of anoyling that was so as they said, but not in like manner of the Viaticum. Notwithstanding, the Infirmarians for all that, were negligent of the matter. Whilst he continued in this state, Pope Gre­gory the 14. being as I suppose certified of his longe disease by the Cardinals his kinsmen, asking how he did, it being giuen him to vnderstand, that euen at that present he was bound for Heauen, of his owne accord sent vnto him his benediction, togeather [Page 394] with a plenary Indulgence.

This when the F. Minister of the Colledge declared vnto him, as being a great louer of humility, he was no lesse sensible of ioy for those sacred tokens, then he was of modest bashfullnes, for that he vnderstood that his Holines was so mindfull of him, and con­tinually he couered his face with his hands. The F. Minister, to the intent that he might free him from this bashfullnes, tould him, that this needed not seeme strange vnto him, for so much as the Pope by accident, had heard some what of his afflicted state of health.

Two houres before sunne-set, he intrea­reth that priest, who in times past had bene his fellow Nouice, (who to visit him had come from the house at S. Andrews) that he would moue Fa. Rectour to giue him his sa­cred Ʋiaticum. He promised him that he would; and they said togeather the Littany of the most holy Eucharist, Aloysius answe­ring the priest with a cleare voyce; vnto whome at the last, with an extraordinary cheerfull and smiling countenance he gaue thankes. Afterward F. Rectour came, brin­ging the sacred Ʋiaticum: at which he mer­ueilously reioyced, & in the receauing ther­of, gaue singular testimonies, of a mind infla­med with piety, and the loue of God, and raised vp with strong hope, to enioy face to face, him, whome now vnder those veiles he receaued. Whē they who were present in the [Page] chamber saw him behaue himselfe in this manner and heard those words, Accipe frater Ʋiaticum, and those which follow, they all burst forth into abundant teares.

Hauing receaued his Ʋiaticum, the Blessed young man was pleased (according to the custome of the Society, when they take their iournies into far countries) to embrace all that were present, with singular loue & ala­crity. There when euery one tooke of him their last far-well, there were none of them that could refraine from teares, none that could be withdrawne from his embrace­ments all, enamoured of him often cast their eyes vpon him, with vnspeakable loue and griefe, and make suite for his prayers. A­mongst these there was one, who with mu­tuall offices of loue & charity, had plighted a greate league of friendship alwayes with Aloysius. He comming priuately vnto him: said, that he did confidently belieue, that he should shortly enioy his cōpany, in the bles­sed presece of God. Moreouer, that he did be­seech him, that wheras he had well experien­ced that he had alwayes in his life time, bene carefull of his saluation, so that he would not in heauen be vnmindfull of him. In like man­ner, that he wold forgiue him, if at any time, he had bene negligent of his due respect to­wards him. Aloysius truly made answere vn­to him, with a feruent affection, that he con­fiding in the infinite bounty and clemency of God, in the most pretious blood of Iesus-Christ, [Page 396] and the recommendation of his Bles­sed Virgin Mother, did verily hope that it would shortly so come to passe. That he did faythfully promise, and wish't him to make no question, but that his firme purpose was to negotiate for him. For if vpon earth he did loue him, he would loue him euen much more vehemently in heauen, where charity is at her full. And all these thinges did▪ he say, with his senses, so entire, with his speach, so direct and sutable to the matter, that no man could imagine, that he should so shortly passe out of this life.

At that same time, Fa. Prouinciall entring his chamber, spake vnto him, vnto whom he answered: Father, we are now going. And whither sayth the Father. To Heauen an­swereth he: then the Fa. replied; what euen so, to Heauen? Yea verily, vnlesse my sinnes hinder me, said Aloysius, the bounty of God putteth me in hope to arriue there. Fa. Pro­uinciall turning to some that stood by, said with a low voyce: Heare, I beseech you, he speaketh of his going to Heauen: but we haue, designed him for Fres [...]ati. After­ward he asking, whether they thought good to dispose of his body to the ordinary place of buriall, answere was made him, that his sanctity seemed to require, that some parti­cular honour should be done him therin.

About some houre before sun-set, I was attending vpon him, and putting my hand vnder his head, lifted it vp, whilst he serious­ly [Page] fastned his eyes vpon a little Crucifix, wherto a plenary Indulgence was graunted, to any that should pray before the same at the point of death, when he lifting vp his hand tooke of his linnen night-cap. I suppo­sing that to be but some action of a dying man, said nothing, but put it on againe, when a litle after he had pulled it off, and I seeking to helpe him on with it againe said, be con­tented brother Aloysius, least this euening ayre hurt your head. Then he by a certaine cast of his eye giuing me notice of the pre­sence of Christ crucified: said, Christ [...]s mo­riens capite operto non fuit: Christ, dying had not his head couered. With which wordes he transfixed my hart with a pious and hol­some griefe.

In the euening at that time which the A [...]e Mary-bell is rung, when in his presence speach was had, who should watch with him that night, although he had his mind busied in contemplation, he did notwithstanding intreat a certaine Father, who was neare vn­to him, that he would once againe affoard him his company. In like manner to ano­ther, vnto whome desiring to see his last passage, he had promised to giue warning in due time, as it were by way of keeping his promise, he said, see you stay. The first houre of the night his chamber being full of com­pany, the Rectour, seing him nothing at all to faulter in his speach, although he himselfe had foretould that he shold dye that night [Page 398] gaue no credit therunto, but supposing (as it is wont to happen to those that are sicke of a feuer) that he would continue some few dayes, gaue order, that after he was gone, all should depart and betake themfelues to rest, neither would he suffer himselfe to be per­suaded by any one, to giue them leaue to stay there, for so much as he was of an opi­nion that he would not dye▪ otherwise, that he himselfe would not goe from him. Ther­fore charge only was giuen to Father Mini­ster, togeather with another companion in like manner a Priest, to be carefully assisting about him. There is no man but may well imagine, with what sense of loue and griefe we were separated, from a cōpanion so deere vnto vs all, whome we were certainely assu­red we should neuer more see liuing. But he, who was nothing ignorant of our griefe, to the intent that he might comfort vs, promi­sed that he would be mindfull of vs in Hea­uen: intreated that in this his last cōflict, we would assist him with our prayers: and in­ioyned diuers of them that which he would haue them do for him after his death. So commaunded by the authority of F. Re­ctour, we all one after another departed from him weeping.

After he was left alone with those two Fathers; with his mind alwayes raised to­wards God, he did sometimes cast forth cer­taine sentences of holy Scripture, as that, In manus tuas Domine commenao spiritum meum. [Page 399] (Psal. 30.) Into thy handes (o Lord) I com­mend my spirit, and such like. There conti­nued for some space the same colour in his cheekes, at which time, they who were pre­sent, sometimes offered vp their prayers for his recouery, sometimes sprinkeled him with holy water, sometimes gaue vnto him the Crucifix to kisse, not without some be­fitting admonitions to piety.

When he came to his last cōflict of death, they discouered by the pale wannesse of his face, and by his sweat breaking out, drop by drop, that he was in a great agony. But he with halfe dead speaches intreated them that they would place him otherwise in his bed, for he had now 3. whole dayes layne in the same posture with his body. But they fea­ring least they might hasten his death, and with all supposing that this request of his might rather come from some naturall mo­tion, then aduisedly from himselfe, for so much as they resolued not to meddle with him, they exhorted him to call to mind, that hard and narrow bed, vpon which in the middest of so many anguishes and torments. Christ our Lord offered vp his life, With which aduertisement being admonished, ca­sting his eyes vpon the Crucifix, when with words he could not, with gesture signified, that he was euen ready to suffer more for the loue of God, & seemed to ouerule him­selfe in the quiet enduring of that paine: nei­ther did he euer after so much as once stir.

[Page 400] These Fathers, when they saw him nei­ther able to speake nor moue, they deliuer into his hand (hauing first giuen him their blessing) the hallowed candle; which he in testimony of perseuering still in the practise of his holy fayth, laid fast hould of, and with that in his hand, seemed to vtter the most holy Name of IESVS, and at the last some­what mouing his lips, betweene the second and third houre of the night, with admira­ble tranquility rendred his blessed soule to his creatour. Wherein he obtained that fa­uour, which he so much had desired, that he might dye within the octaue of the most ho­ly Eucharist, to the honour of which he was allwayes extraordinarily deuout, or vpon Friday, in token of his pious mind towards Christs passion. Therfore when the eighth day, after the feast of the sacred Eucharist was ended, and the Friday morning now be­gun, that very night, which is interposed bet­weene the 20. and 21. of Iune, when he had li­ued 23. yeares, 3. moneths, and eleauen dayes, he changed this mortall, for that euerlasting happy life. And iust so many yeares and moneths old, was S. Lewis, the sonne of Char­les the 2. the French King, of the order of S. Francis, and afterward Bishop of Tolosa, whome this our Blessed Aloysius resembled in very many vertues.

CHAP. XXXIV. Of the obsequies, buriall, and those things which happened to the body of B. Aloysius.

VERILY those same two priestes seeme to haue receaued a great benefit from Almighty God, who were present at his death, that out of so great a number which with so ardent desires made sute for that fa­uour, they should especially be chosen, to see a young man of so great sanctity, happily passing towards heauen, which was to them so much the more comfortable, for that be­fore his departure, he had promised to com­mend them whilst they were liuing, vnto Almighty God. Fa. Minister was posses­sed with a certaine quiet rest, and celestiall sweetnesse: his companion was surprised with a certaine vnusuall ardour & holsome griefe, and with a desire of honouring God according to the instructions of B. Aloysius. Which mind of his abounding with many teares, he retained, not only many moneths, but euē many yeares, if not so vehement as when his griefe was fresh and greene, yet still more or lesse, according as occasion requi­red. But for so much as his piety incited him to teare away, for himselfe, some of this Blessed yoūgmans reliques, reuerence with­held him, that he wold not lay violent hold of any thing that belonged to his body, but made sure for the latchets of his shoos, the [Page 402] pennes wherwith he was wont to write, and other things of the like kind, and preserueth them euen at this very time that I write this.

The Infirmarians when they came to wash and take charge of his body, lifting vp be­fore the same priestes the sheetes of his bed, found that brasen Crucifix, which, as we haue said before, he had continually held close to his brest for three dayes togeather. When they stripped his body naked, they found a very thick hardned skinne vpon his knees, which his perpetuall custome of knee­ling vpon his bare knees from his childhood had settled vpon them, of which, some cutting of some little peeces, keepe to this day as a pious monument. One of the Infir­marians, by the instigation of some that had him in great honour, attempting to cut some little peece of his flesh, straight repenting himselfe of his enterprise, tooke only away some little part of his skinne, with which he recounteth that a sicke person being by his aduise touched, was restored to his health.

When he had but euen newly giuen vp his last breath, one of those Fathers, which were present, certified some of those who whilst he liued were his most intimate friendes, that this our Angell was soared vp to Heauen. Who being inkindled with feruorous piety, threw themselues out of their beds, & partly (for that they thought him already enter­tained in those happy dwellings of the Hea­uenly citizens) they began to inuocate him, [Page] partly they offered vp their prayers for him, which in the Name of friendship he had re­quested of them before his death. The next morning being the 21. of Iune, so soone as euer the rising-bell was but scaicely rung, the chamber where that sacred body was placed, was full of company, and all falling vpon their knees, either inuocated God for his soule, or (which was the far greater part of them) made intercession to him for their owne. Moreouer, happy were they that cold but first lay hold of, with a pious affection, his shoos, his shirt, his shooties, and other his garments. His nailes, his haire, & some parts of his flesh were cut of. From thence, his bo­dy was brought into the publike chappell of the Colledge, all the houres before noone it was frequented by very many, especially of those young men of his acquaintance, who before were not only afrayd to touch, but euen to be hould a dead body, went to the beare, & redoubling this word Sanctus San­ctus, stroue to imbrace, and kisse those sa­cred reliques. That very morning, all the Masses both in the Colledge, and in other houses of the Society in that Citty were said for his soule, although it was done by most, more to continue that custome of the Society, then for that they thought he had any need of them.

It is hard for them that were not eye-wit­nesses of this thing, to cōceaue in their min­des, how much his departure moued the [Page 404] minds of all those that liued in that Col­ledge. For no one was willing to speake of any thing but his vertue and sanctity, whilst ech one declared seuerally, what soeuer sin­gular example they had obserued in him. But far more frequent was he in their harts then in their mouthes, euery one reuoluing in his mind, of how inestimable a iewell they were depriued, what a losse that day they had sustained of his holy society.

About an houre before sun set, when the Dirige & funerall praiers were to be said, the sacred body was brought out of the chap­pell into the great [...]all, where the Fathers & all the other fellows were assembled. There euery one of them, euen the priests themsel­ues by turnes, before it was carried forth, kissed his hād. Which kind of veneratiō be­ing wont to be exhibited only vnto priestes, was attributed to the sanctimony of this young man, who was initiated only in the Ordines minores.

This office being performed, his funerall went forward with a long traine to the sa­cred Church of the Colledge, called that of the Annunciata, & there the funerall prayers were celebrated according to the custome. After which there was so great a concourse, of young men who were Students there, and of other people who encompassed the hearse, to worship & take vnto themselues of those holy reliques, that the Fathers being not now able to withstand them, were [Page 405] constrained to shut the Church-doores a­gainst them. In the meane time; his hayre, his nayles, his inward and outward garmēts, were cut; his fingers ends, and two iointes of the little finger of his right hand were cut of. There were present also certaine Illu­strious men, as Franciscus Dietrichstine, who at this day is Cardinall of the holy Roman Church Benedictus & Philip Caietan, Iuli [...] Ʋr­sinus, Maximilianus Pernestainius, a Bohemian Lord, who afterward dyed one of the Priui­chamberlaines of Pope Clement the VIII.

When he was there ready to be buried, it seemed good both to other Fathers of great authority, and chiefly to F. Robert Bellarmine, that he should not be buried after the ordi­nary, but coffined vp after some peculiar manner. For so much as hauing passed his life in so singular sanctity, they nothing doubted, but how much the more careful he had been in his life time to obscure himselfe from the knowledge of men, so much the more cleare in time to come, would God make his glory to shine throughout the whole world. But wheras in that place it is the custome not to include mens bodies of the Society in coffins, but bury thē in some graue without any curiosity, the Rectour sent Father Minister to the house of the Professed, to the intent that he might aske counsell of Fa. Laurentius Magius, who that time was Assistent to Father Generall in the procuratourship of Italy. He debating the [Page 406] matter with Fa. Generall, himselfe commaun­ded that it should be inclosed in a coffin: For so much as Fa. Generall did for that cause, willingly dispense with this young man in that custome since there was no one vnto whome his sanctity was not very well knowne; that it may euen hereby appeare, that he who like one of the inhabitants of Heaue was honoured w [...]th an vnusuall kind of buriall, did euen then flourish with a certaine singular prayse of celestiall vertue. Therefore being put into a coffin that was prepared for him, in the Chappell that taketh the Name of Christ-Crucified, which at the entrance of the great doore is vpon the left hand, it was put into ano­ther vault, which is next to the publike streete, at that side, at which the Gospell is wont to be read. For many dayes after at all common assemblies, there was no other discourse, then of the vertue of this holy young man. And they that liued in that Col­ledge being now depriued of him liuing, be­gan to worship him dead. Therfore no day passed, but some one or other went to his monument, and saluted him with long pray­ers. In which custome very many perseuered many moneths, and euen many yeares, whilst they spent their time at Rome. Amongst these was Fa. loannes Antonius Ʋaltrinus, who though he had neuer bene acquainted with him liuing, when a little after his death com­ming out of Siçily, he had read those things [Page 407] which I had written of his life, he burned with so much affection towards him, that he did not only daily visit his tombe, but al­so strow it with flowers of diuers kinds, which he gathered out of the garden, say­ing, that the very flowers did mourne for this Blessed mā, who had flourished with the endowment of so many exquisite vertues.

The body of B. Aloysius remained in that Coffin seauen whole yeares, namely til the yeare of our Lord 1598. when, least in pro­cesse of time it might be mingled with other bodies, by order giuen from. Clandius Aqua­ [...]iua the Generall, his bones vpon the 22. day of Iune the yeare 1598. were translated, from the old Coffin into another lesser one, and in the wall of the same vault which is next to the street, placed somewhat on high. There by permission of Father Prouinciall, who himself was preset at the performing of this worke, certaine partes of his reliques being taken out, were dispersed into many citties of Italy, and carried into Polonia, and India. Moreouer Fa. Prouinciall tooke some of them to himselfe, and gaue other some to o­thers. Neither will I heere let passe that the same Prouinciall did affirme, that his bones were found ioyned togeather, in that mo­dest fashion, with his head submissiuely bowing, in the which for the most part he accustomed to be whilst he liued; which thing made a notable impression of piety in them that beheld it.

[Page 408] But some yeares after, when God by the mediation of his prayers, began by the she­wing of Miracles, to discouer his sanctity vnto men, the same Fa. Generall ordained, that his holy bones taken out of that place of buriall, should be placed in another more decent apart from others. Therfore the 8. of Iune 1602. it was brought priuately into the Vestiary, and after agayne vpon the first day of Iuly next insuing, it was placed in a leaden Coffin, which was put within the o­ther wooden one, vnder the step of S. Seba­stians Altar, which is in the same Church. And although care was taken, that these things excepting those that laboured in the worke it selfe, should be carried very closely from all others; notwithstanding such was the pious diligence of the people in sear­ching, that they found, where that sacred treasure was of late bestowed. At last the fame of his sanctity increasing throughout the whole world, and by his intercession vn­to God many miracles being wrought, at the request of Francis Gonzaga the Marques of Castilion, the Emperours Embassadour, a most excellent Prince, who thought that place too meane for him, Father Generall commaunded againe that the Coffin should be taken vp, and it being by order from the Superiours opened, the Marques made choyce of some of the Reliques for himselfe and the Duke of Mantua. His head by com­maund from Fa. Generall, was carried in­to [Page 409] the Church of the name of IESVS, the rest of his body, was the 13. of May the yeare 1605. with many torches, curious musicke attending vpon it, brought by the hands of the priestes, to the chappell of our Lady of the same Church wherin before it lay, and placed there in the wall vpon the Gospell side somewhat neere to the Altar. They la­boured indeed to transport it very secretly; but the Embasladour, togeather with his wife had no sooner entred the Church; as in like manner the Duke of Poli, and other chiefe mē, but that there flocked in so great a multitude, that it began presently to be fil­led. And a long businesse it was to diuers Fa­thers, to yield those sacred reliques to them that importunately begged to kisse them, to honour them, and to touch them with their beades, before they were buried in the place appointed. There to this very day do those holy bones rest, and are adorned, with the picture of the Blessed young man set ouer them, hung about with many Votiue Ta­blets, with a lampe continually burning, & frequently honoured by the people.

In the meane while we humbly beseech his happy soule, to obtaine for vs the mercy of God in heauen, who here vpon earth pro­secute with honour the sacred shroud of his body: and that he would vouchsafe to pro­cure for vs his grace, that in time to come we may be so enriched with merits, that in respect of them we may be worthy of those [Page 410] wards, proposed by Gods sonne after he had taken vpon him humane nature: vnto whom togeather with the Father, and the Holy Ghost be giuen all honour and glory world without end.

CHAP. I. Of the Letters written by diuers after his death.

AFTER B. Aloysius had pas­sed to a better life, many Letters were sent to his mother, that most Ho­nourable Lady, which de­clared how great an opi­nion of Sanctity he left in the minds of men after his death. Before others Fa. Claudius Aquauina the Generall, did assure her that from hence-forward, she might haue recourse to him as to a deere & faythfull patron in heauen, for so much as it was confidently thought, that that happy, & [Page 412] diuinely fortunate soule, did euen then en­ioy eternall felicity; neither would he euer cease to help and comfort him, togeather with the rest of his companions in Reli­gion.

Father Rectour of the Roman Colledge certified her, that Aloysius was passed to a more blessed life, not only in his soule, but euen in his countenance, and whole body so quiet and composed, that he had excited a desire in all to imitate his death, which was correspondent to his life, most holily lead, and endowed with all kind of vertues. And that therfore she and the rest of the same fa­mily shold not so much grieue for his losse, as reioyce that one of their kindred was transferred to the number of the Saints.

The selfe same testimony haue many most Illustrious men giuen by their letters. And especially Hieronymus Roboreus that most Il­lustrious Cardinall wrote to the same No­ble Lady in this manner. The last thursday in the night was our good Father Aloysius trans­ported to a more happy life; and such a harty affe­ction of him, and opinion of his egregious sancti­mony hath he left vnto others, that those Fathers his companions being confident, that he shineth gloriously in heauen, haue attended his death with no lesse admiration then teares. This verily ought to be a great comfort vnto you, and hope, that he will negotiate with Almighty God for the concord and wellfare of his brothers, and the pros­pero [...]s fortune of all those of his family. Againe I [Page 413] beseech you leaue off to grieue, for so much as your sonne resideth now in the Court of Heauen, who as I hope will assist vs with his recommendation.

To the same effect were the letters of Cardinall Scipio Gonzaga, which he sent to the Bishop of Mantua his brother, and to Aloysius his mother. In these he declareth that Aloysius had now entred into a more blessed life, and that his end was of so hol­some example, that he is rather to be honou­red with ioyes, then bewailed with teares.

Moreouer, how great the opinion of this same Cardinall was of the sanctity of Aloy­sius, Pope Clement the 8. gaue a most remar­kable testimony. For he vpon the 5. of Au­gust, the yeare 1604. of his owne accord en­tring into discourse with the Marques of Ca­stition the Emperours Embassadour of his prayses, testified that Scipio Gonzaga had of­ten had speach with him of the singular san­ctity of this young man, and that withall he had confessed, that with euen looking vpon him only, his mind had bene transfixed with a holsome griefe, and that in respect of a cer­taine celestiall innocency that he beheld in him, he was so much stirred vp vnto piety, that he was not able to with-hould himselfe from teares, Furthermore his Holinesse whē he recounted these things, and heard other likewise of his sanctity of life, and miracles, euen as it were weeping, spake with a sensi­ble vehemency these words: Blessed is he whom I now verily belieue to enioy immortall glory with [Page 414] God. Often haue I wondred, when it came into my mind, how possibly you could escape so great dan­gers as you haue done; but surely this is he that hath preserued you, and brought peace to his▪ fa­mily. You haue a friend in Heauē in whose fayth­full tuition you may confide, and who will defend you from all harme.

And conformable to this likewise, was the iudgment, of that most renowned and most holy Lady El [...]onora Arch-duchesse of Austria, and Duchesse of Mantua, as it ap­peareth by her letter which at that time she sent to Aloysius his mother, which after this manner we read in the printed book of her life. Whē I cōsider with my selfe (most Illustrious Lady) how bitter griefe you must of necessity con­ceaue, for the l [...]ss [...] of your sonne, and when I mea­sure it by my owne, who although I was not his mother, neuerthelesse loued him alwayes with a motherly affection, I cannot but take compassion of you. And verity not of you only, but in like man­ner of our whole family, the groanes of which, speaking morally, by any force of ours, without di­uine helpe, we cannot appease. But if with more sound iudgment wee consider, that this most hap­py soule, hauing rent her way through the blind veyle of her body, is soared vp to eternall splen­dour, to that fui [...] period of glory, vnto which, whilst she liued in this wretched vale of miseries, she did with so full course hasten, where being more neer­ly accommodated, she may with easier accesse, re­commend our prayers to our benigne Lord, veri­ly let vs render prayses and thanks vnto our good [Page 415] God, that hauing deliuered him out of this rerre­striall m [...]d, he hath bestowed him in that his glo­rious Citty of Hierusalem: and reflecting vpon our owne commodity let vs mitigate our griefe, for so much as of a mortall, we see him become a heauen­ly man. &c. To this her letter the Author of her life adeth these words which follow. The aboue named Aloysius Gonzaga, was the eldest sonne of Ferdinand, Marques of Castilion, who from his very cradle liued an Angelicall life heer on earth. Rendring vp his title and dominion of Marques to his younger brother, and betaking himselfe to the Society of IESVS, ended his life, about the 24. yeare of his age. Well may that be ve­rified in him which the wise man wrote, Consum­matus in breui, explenit tempora multa, placita enim erat Deo anima illius, propter hoc proper a­ [...]it illum educere de medio iniquitatum. (Sap. 4.) Being soone ripe, he was equiualent to those that are affoarded a lōger time, for his soule was acceptable vnto God. For this respect did he hasten to deliuer him from the mid­dest of iniquity: Eleonor a hauing had notice gi­uen her of this young mans death, both spake ma­ny things tending to his prayse, and often had this speach in her mouth: A Saint-like young man he liued, and like a Saint he dyed. There are also those that recount that she moreouer added this, that this man should be the first who of the family of the Gonzaga's should be cano­nized for a Saint.

Let vs end this chapter with the let­ters of Thomas Mancinus a Noble gentleman [Page 416] who for so much as he was present, when Aloysius his funerall Rites were perfor­med, he giueth particular testimony of some thinges that happened therin. For he sayth in this manner.

Most Illustrious and Excellent Lady. At this very instant do I rest doubtfull, whether I should cōpassionate your griefe, or congratulate Aloysius that Blessed Fathers happy departure to a far bet­ter kind of life. For I cannot sufficiently discerne, whether should make a greater impression in a mothers mind, this your particuler losse of him, or that his inestimable and most plentifull gaine. Ve­lily I grieue that we are bereft of the aspect of so eminent a man, and that you must be liable to a griefe, then which I make a question whether any can be greater, for that in this his last sicknesse you had no oportunity to see him, no not so much as once in the last closing vp of his life. But him surely I congratulate, as hauing with his excellent offi­ces of sanctity whilst he liued, merited heauen, whither, by the constant opinion of all he did ra­ther fly then goe, so remarkable a feeling of his ac­complished vertue, did he leaue behind him both to Rome, and the whole world besides. Therfore being a young man, not passing 23. yeares of age, he arriued to that degree of perfection, that if he had liued til Nöe his age, he could not haue hoped for a higher.

Vpon Thursday in the euening about the se­cond houre of the night he rendred vp his soule to God, and yesterday in the afternoone in the Col­ledge Church of the Society of IESVS, which is [Page] called that of the Annunciata, his funerall was solemnized, at the performance wherof I was pre­sent. Neither will I spare to relate this, that there was not only great honour exhibited to his reli­ques by the Fathers of the Society themselues, but euen the people who were present, for veneration sake cut his garments: neither ought I to be ac­counted vaine, if I should add more also, wherof I hope you shall be certified, and perhaps euen by the Fathers themselues, who better know the mat­ter. There is truly as yet no miracle of his publi­shed, either for that there is none, or for that, if there be, it is hitherto concealed; but neuerthelesse his veneration is celebrated publikely, as if it were of some holy man that had shined with miracles. And this day, which is Saturday, about 3. hours before sun-set I am tould, that very many Illu­strious men, request some one thing, or other of his which he made vse of in his life time. These meri­ly are the causes, which make me doubtfull, whe­ther or no we ought to grieue for his end.

There is some one who hath begun to set dow [...] his life in writing, and so soone as it is finished, is to giue a coppy therof to a certaine Cardinall. He, as at the news of his death he was very much stro­ken with griefe: so was the same very much [...]ti­gated vpon the hearing of this his so great honour. Wherfore the same Cardinall for both respectes very earnestly desireth some one thing or other [...]f this most happy Father.

This also I thinke good to certify you of, what Aloysius the very next weeke before this, when we visited him, did with great ioy foretell his owne [Page 418] death, and gaue vnto me two letters, which eight dayes since J directed vnto you, he intreating me that I would do my best endeauour, that they might certainely be deliuered; for so much as these would be the last that he should write to you (Most Exc. Lady) and to his brother the Mar­ques.

To conclude, this did I resolue how soeuer to im­part vnto you by my letters, to the intent that by this meanes J might both speake vnto you, and comfort you; with which solace maintaine your selfe so long, till, as I desire some other may write vnto you more at large of [...] thinges. In the meane white set a limit, I pray you, to your griefe, & re­commend vnto this blessed Father (no one of whose prayers can be in vaine) the peace and quiet of your most Excellent family. From Rome this 22. of June the yeare 1591.

And by these letters which hitherto we haue alleadged, we may easily coniecture, with how great a Name of sanctity he flou­rished at that time when he departed out of this life.

CHAP. II. The notable testimony which Robert Bellar­mine, that most renowned Cardinall, gaue of B. Aloysius.

VNTO the letters of these graue men, which confirme the diuulged fame of his most excellent vertue, I will now annexe the testimony of Robert Bellarmine, that most Illustrious Cardinall, so often commended [Page] in this my history, of his interiour vertues. For he who had long time in the Roman Colledge, gouerned this B. young mans cō ­science, and had well experienced with how great endowments his mind was enriched by God, at my request, vnder his owne hand, hath set down in writing, whatsoeuer things he could call to mind of him, and sent it vn­to me to the Colledge of the Professed at Rome, from his house that he had in the pal­lace of the Ʋatican. And although euen the single testimony of any one Cardinall (such is the high estimation of that dignity) be of it selfe in the Roman Court of Iudicature of sufficient authority and credit, as Panormi­ [...]anus, and other learned in the law haue con­firmed; and verily for my owne satisfaction, I would neuer require any more, then the hand-writing of such a man, remarkable all the world ouer for excellency of learning & integrity of life: notwithstanding to the in­tent that I might confirme this truth, and cleare ech one from any the least scruple he­rin, I haue preuailed so far with this most Il­lustrious Cardinall, that he himselfe made o­pen profession therof before the Notary of the Apostolicall chamber, and by oath con­firmed the same. And it was in this manner verbatim.

Right Reuerend Fa. I will truly very willingly conde seen [...] to you in all that which you require at my hands, supposing that it is to the glory of God, that those his giftes which he bestoweth vpon his [Page 420] seruants, should not be concealed from the know­ledge of men. I haue often taken the particular confessions of our most sweet, and holy brother A­loysius Gonzaga, and one generall one in like manner. which contained the particulars of his whole life, and he tooke great contentment, to sorue me at Masse, to conuerse with me, and discourse of Diuine matters. Out of those his confessions, and that his conuersation, I do verily persuade my selfe, that I may very truly affirme these thinges which follow.

First, that he did neuer admitte any mortall▪ sinne, which truly for the whole course of his life from the very first seauenth yeare of his age I am certainely assured of: of those first seauen yeares (wherin he had neither that knowledge of God which afterward he had, nor consequently could not follow it in his life) I only go [...] by probable con­iecture. For neither is it likely that a child either of so tender age, or designed for so great purity, did euer spot himselfe with any mortall sinne.

Secondly that he from the first seauenth yeare of his age (at which time, as he related vnto me he bad conuerte himselfe from the world vnto God) he lead a perfect life.

Thirdly that he neuer at any time found any prouocation to lust.

Fourthly, that he neuer for the most parte, in his prayers and contemplation (vnto which he ap­plied him s [...]fe most commonly vpō his knees nouer leaning vpon any thing) found any distraction.

Fifthly, that he was for obe [...]ience, humility, mortification, abstinence, prudence, piety, and pu­rity, euen a mirrour.

[Page 421] In the last dayes of his life, by seeing a cer­taine representation of the eternall glory of the Blessed, he was replenished with so excessi [...]e de­light, that wheras he had beene vouchsafed the same for the space of a whole night, he had not thought that it had amounted to the space of a quarter of an houre.

At the same time, Fa. Ludouicus Corbi­nellus being newly dead, when J asked him what he thought of his soule, verily he answered me ve­ry confidently in these words: He had passed Pur­gatory without making any stay there. I who very well knew his disposition to be very considerate in speaking, and affirming doubtfull matters, assu­redly persuaded my selfe that he had vnderstan­ding therof from God. Neuerthelesse I abstained to presse him any farther, least J might minister vnto him some occasion of vaine-glory. Many other thinges which I could speake of, I omit, for that I am some what diffident of remembring the direct particulars of them.

To conclude, J am verily of an opinion, that he went directly to participate inglory with the Bles­sed, and I had alwayes a scruple to pray for his soule, fearing least I might offer iniury to that grace of God which J knew to be in him. But con­trariwise I made no conscience of recommending my selfe vnto his prayers, in which J repose much confidence. Pray for me most R. F.

CHAP. III. Many miracles of B. Aloysius. He recouereth his mother from the point of death. He procureth a happy deliuery to a noble woman much indan­gered in child-birth. He deliuereth a certaine man from danger of loosing his sight.

IT was not truly my intention, when first I applied my mind to the writing of this history, to make any collection of the mi­racles and benefits wrought by God in di­uers places, through the merits and recom­mendation of B. Aloysius after his death, but only to relate his singular actes of piety and vertue, which with Gods assistance, there is no one but may very well imitate. For verily out of the commendation of his miracles, there will result no great increase to the o­pinion of his sactity, especially in the minds of them, who had any commerce or familia­ty with him in his life time. For in the esti­mation of intelligent and learned men, those celestiall guiftes wherwith liuing he was a­dorned, were of more account, then the power of working miracles. According vn­to which a certaine priest of notable wise­dome, who hauing read the actes and mo­numents of his sanctity, was intreated by the Superiours, that he would set downe his opinion of them, wrote expresly in these words. My iudgment is, that this your compa­nion was a very holy man, and very worthy to be [Page] reduced into the number of the Saints. For those giftes giuen him from God, seeme to me of more moment, then if he had raised the dead to life.

But to the intent that this ornament also may not seeme wanting vnto him, I will here prosecute in some few chapters, those bene­fits of God, and miracles, which after his death by publike authority, I found regi­stred in tables, and confirmed by the oathes of sufficient witnesses. For those thinges which are said to haue bene done whilst he liued, I will of set-purpose conceale.

The yeare 1593. when Marques Rodulph (vnto whome B. Aloysius had yielded vp his dominion) being dead at Castle-Godfrey, the which a little before was by inheritance de­uolued to his dominion, the townesmen had entred into armes; the mother of the Mar­ques himselfe & of B. Aloysius, a most choyce woman, apprehended so sharpe a griefe, by troble of mind which she conceaued therby, that she fell into into a very grieuous sick­nesse. Which within a few dayes brought her into the vtmost danger of her life. Ther­fore hauing receaued the heauenly Viaticum, and Extreme-vnction, it was verily thought that she would shortly giue-vp her last breath, when behold being perfectly awake she seeth her Blessed sonne Aloysius, standing before her bed in a certaine immortall ha­bit, and illuminated with much light, with w [...]ose presence and aspect she was so much recreated, that wheras before being oppres­sed [Page 424] and vtterly dishartned, she could not so much as sheed one teare; behoulding now her delicious darling, she was so far forth moued, that she wept sweetly, and enter­tained a hope, not only to recouer her health, but also to see againe the flourishing state of her children. After he was vanished out of her sight, beyond the opinion of all men she recouered her health, and dayly af­terward became a happy spectatour, of the successefull increase of Marques Francis his fortune, who at this day gouerneth the Mar­quesate. Therfore the first miracle done by this Blessed man after his death, was the ten­der of this pious office to his mother. This admirable vision, both the Marques him­selfe related vnto me at Castilion, and the Countesse Laura Gonzaga Martinenga at Bres­cia, and also it was afterward ratified by au­thenticall writings.

A certaine Noble Lady, very remarkable for piety, being in Child-birth, oppressed with very sharpe panges, and hauing after­ward wrastled with many bitter and mortall throbbes, when at last she had voyded forth a great quantity of bloud, all her naturall vi­gour and strength being exhausted, was no way able by any help of Phisitians to yield birth to the child that now remained dead in her wombe, therfore she betooke her­selfe rather to prouide for the health of her soule then her body; when a certaine gyrle in the house, much giuen to piety, being not [Page 425] ignorant how much power B. Aloysius had with Almighty God, imploreth his helpe, & voweth that if that Noble Woman, might escape that imminent danger of death, she would come, and present a votiue Tablet at his sepulcher. This vow being made, the Noble Lady lying in her bed, without any detriment to herselfe, is deliuered of the dead child, and at this very instant whilst I write this, liueth in perfect health. In testi­mony of this matter the gyrle which I spake of, brought a painted Tablet to this Blessed mans sepulcher, which first of all others was hung vp there. All these particulars did I vnderstand frō the gyrle herself, wherof mē ­tiō is made in the acts of Piacenza, & others.

Anthony Urban of Siena, a youth of six­teene yeares of age, by trade a Tailour, being distempered in his head, by the con­tinuall distillation of sharp and malignant humours, was swelled in the face, and in his eyes so weakned, that he could nei­ther endure the aire nor the light: moreouer this young man afflicted with a feuer, kept his bed, where when for the space of a mo­neth he had continually layne, there grew in his left eye a white weft or scumme, or a lit­tle knob not vnlike a pearle; which for so much as it began in the sight of his eye, dis­persing by degrees round about the same, did so couer it, that taking away his whole sight, it made the young man starke blind of that eye; and for that much to his griefe that [Page 426] acrimonious humour beginning to diffuse it selfe, he was constrained daily to groane & lament, it was much feared least he might loose the vse of the other eye like wise. The Phisitians attempted diuers times to apply seuerall medicines. But in respect either of the violence of the malady, or for that they were ouer late ministred to the young man, as being neglected in regard of his pouerty, insteed of ease, they added to his affliction. That being discouered, the Phisitian, when he had prescribed certaine other remedies, which he found tooke no effect, gaue ouer the man as vncurable. Therfore this poore sicke mā being destitute of all humane help and assistance, lay languishing in his bed, with that hard knob fastned immouable vpon the sight of his eye; the inflammation & payne of both his eyes, did daily increase, the sharpe humour did so much abound, that from both his eyes it continually ran vpon the bolster, and in the night that clammy and viscouse matter, did so gum-vp his eyes, that it was very hard in the morning to get open either of them. Neither did any crisis, or pur­gatiō, or euacuation, or naturall sweat, yield him any ease. And verily, hauing laid a side all hope of recouery, he was euery day worfe handled then other. By chance it fell out that an vncle of his, being by his trade a pot­ter, when as he saw in the hands of a certaine boy, the liuely picture; of B. Aloysius in pa­per, and asked of one that was in his compa­ny, [Page 427] whether he knew this Blessed man; was giuen by this meanes to vnderstand of di­uers of his miracles, and importuned to ad­uise his sicke Nephew to make some vow vnto B. Aloysius. When he had condescen­ded therunto, he giueth order to a sister of his to borrow the picture of that boy, carry it to the sicke person, and persuade him to make that vow. There this woman found herselfe immediately inflamed with piety toward this Blessed man, and conceaued a certaine hope, that through his merits, he should be cured, and that she seemed to haue a fore-knowledge, that it should be effected that very night. Hauing gotten the picture, setting aside all delay, late in the euening she bringeth it to the sicke young man, & re­counting what miracles he had wrought, exhorting him to make a vow to him, she departeth. When Anthony had with a pious mind receaued the picture, full of vehement zeale toward this Blessed man, and hope of recouering his former health, he raiseth him­selfe vpon his knees in his bed, and houlding the picture in his hands he voweth, that if by his recommendation he might receaue his sight, he would daily in honour of him, re­cite fiue Pator Nosters, and so many Aue-Maries: and reposing great trust in that fa­uour which he had with God, three times he signeth his blind eye there withall in the forme of a crosse, and setteth the same after­ward behind his head. When he had slept [Page 428] for the space of fiue houres in the night, he thought in his sleepe, that he was restored to his former health, and euen returned to his shop. Wakening about the ninth houre, when he found his eyes voyd of their accu­stomed paine, throughly cleansed, and his eye-lyds opened, he began to imagine that he was perfectly recouered. But so suddai­nely, was he able to make no certaine triall, by reason that he was in darkenesse. Ther­fore calling vpon his Vncle, he proclaymed that he did verily thinke he was deliuered out of his disease, for so much as neither his eyes did grieue him any more, and that his eye-lyds were opened, without any trou­ble. So soone as it was faire day Anthony when as he beheld the light, speaking to his Aunt, who by chance came vnto him: I see (my good aunt) I see, said he, I am sound & whole. By this voyce she togeather with her brother being called to his bed side, find Anthonies eyes cleare, and freed from their accustomed humours and inflammation; & in like manner the hard knobbe which be­fore did couer the sight of his eye, was remo­ued to the left corner of the same, now exte­nuated and vanishing (and afterward wore a way absolutely) leauing no impediment in his sight. For this so manifest a fauour she­wed vnto them, with all the serious industry that they might they presently render than­kes to God and B. Aloysius. The young man himselfe, who before could by no meanes [Page] brooke neither the ayre, nor light, leapeth out of his bed safe and sound, goeth forth abroad, presenteth himselfe at Masse to giue thankes vnto God, and finally betaketh himselfe not long after to his taylours trade. This miracle, after that, according to the custome, audience had bene giuen vnto wit­nesses by the authority of the Archbishop of Siena, was registred, and many Phisitians did testify vpon their oathes, that he could not be cured, but by diuine and supernatu­rall force.

CHAP. IV. A Gentleman of Rome, hauing made a vow to B. Aloysius, is cured of the stone. Jn like man­ner a Gentleman of Luca is deliuered from a malignant fener, by hanging his reliques at his necke.

A GENTLEMAN of Rome, being one both pious and learned, as often as [...]he kneeled vpon his knees, was vexed with an incredible payne of the stone; neither could he find any remedy therfore, albeit he soght it with great diligēce. When he had cōtinued sotime in that infirmity, & one day applying himselfe vpon his knees, to the [...]o [...]emnity in S. Marcell [...]s his Oratory, which is vsually celebrated for the space of 40. houres, he felt that torment very sharpely, & he found by inward suggestion to his mind, that he should for remedy therof haue recourse to B. Aloysius. Therfore earnestly petitioning [Page 430] him, that he would please to make interces­sion for him vnto Almighty God, he vo­ueth, that if he be freed from these griefes, he would hang at the sepulcher of this Bles­sed man, some monument of the miracle. The vow being made, immediatly, much to his comfort, all his paine and troble passeth away. But for so much as for the space of some moneths he deferred the execution of his vow, being surprised with the same ma­lady, and fearing least he might be thus pun­nished for neglecting the same, getting a cō ­uenient time, when the festiuall day was ce­lebrated in Rome in honour of him, he pla­ced the miracle at his sepulcher, and was againe speedily deliuered of his paine. Nei­ther was he euer after, (as he himselfe affir­med vnto me and others, for the adding to the glory of this Beatus) vexed with those kind of torments.

Laelius Guidi [...]ionus a gentleman of Luca fell into a malignant feuer at Rome; the same was accompanied with a very sharpe paine in his head, and perpetuall want of sleep, dis­quiet, languishing of his pulse, imbecillity of his strength, mournefull sighs, and those fetched from the very botome of his hart, which he thought he felt pricked with a thousand needles; with the small pox also, which when they had but scarcely broken forth, seemed to threaten the striking in a­gaine, his hearing some what impayred, his [...]oyce low & faint, & great difficulty of brea­thing: [Page] All which wheras neither inward nor outward remedies did mitigate, being held for desperate of the Phisitians, making his confession and receauing the Eucharist, he prepareth himselfe for death. In the meane while he is visited by some of the Fathers of the Society of IESVS, who declaring the sanctity of B. Aloysius, & the benefits and ad­mirable thinges which by his mediation Al­mighty God had performed, promised that they would bring vnto him some part of his reliques. He being excited with zeale towards him, and expectation of his reliques, began to be as confidently persuaded of his owne recouery, as if he had already receaued some pledge therof frō Almighty God, supposing that the reliques being but once hung at his [...]eek he should be cured presently. The next morning he of his owne accord requested to haue them. The same day they being brought he did with feruent deuotion receaue them, & when he had with them made vpon him­selfe the signe of the crosse imploring with all the affection that he might the patronage of that Beatus, he hangeth them about his necke. Immediatly his malady is appeased. The Phisitians in the euening found the man well eased. The cruell fitte, which they thought would haue depriued him of his life, did afterward wholy forsake him, his torments ceased, his rest returned, in the night he slept soundly, after he waked, he found himselfe free, and light-some. The [Page 432] Phisitians the next morning returning vnto him, found not in him so much as the least footstep of the feuer, &, which caused them more to wonder, there remained euen no dregs of so difficult a disease in him. The whole matter was by authority of the Magi­strates registred, and placed in a painted ta­blet at the sepulcher of B. Aloysius.

CHAP. V. A Religions Virgin at Florence, by the Reliques of B. Aloysius, is cured of a very trouble some Canker.

THE yeare 1599. when certaine Reli­gious women who liue in Florence at S. Mary de Ang [...]lis, had read the life of Blessed Aloysius, as it was at first set downe by me, they obtained some little peece of his bones, which to this houre they keepe with singu­lar piety and honour. There was in that Mo­nastery amongst the younger Virgins, which being newly consecrated vnto God, are held in more strict discipline then the rest, one who was called Angela Catharina Carlinia, who for foure whole yeares, was tormented with a great griefe ouer all her left side from the crowne of her head, to the very sole of her foote, but especially her shoulders and armes were vexed with that payne. Doubt­lesse that humour, or distillation oppressed her, from which she feared some great mis­chiefe might grow vnto her, as afterward it [Page 433] came to passe. For in the yeare 1600. in the moneth of Ianuary, by night being waked out of her sleepe with a vehement distilla­tion and cough, vnder her left pap, she found as it were a certaine heauy burden to lye v­pon her, with a sharpe paine, and the part af­fected, after a certaine sort gnawne: when she felt it with her hād, she found a thing as hard as marble, of the bignesse of an egge, which afterward was discouered to be a Canker. Hardly, and with great griefe did she moue any part of her body, she went bowing her head, but nothing was more bitterly pain­full vnto her then to lift vp her armes. In the night she could by no meanes lye on that side, and if by chaunce she turned herselfe v­pon it in her sleepe, transfixed with paine, she presently awaked. Oftetimes she was able to take no sleepe, and whilst she was eating so great was her trouble, that scarcely durst she take that which sufficed nature. Neuer­thelesse partly out of modest bashfullnesse, partely out of a desire to suffer some aduersi­ty for Gods sake, ten whole weekes she in­tertained this new torment in secresy. But when she began to take the spirituall Exer­cises of S. Ignatius, which the holy Virgins of that Monastery are accustomed euery yeare to doe; wheras in the middest of them her disease increased, she was moued in con­science to conceale it no longer. Therfore she discloseth to Maria Pacifica Tonalia, the gouernesse of her, and the rest of the young [Page 434] Virgins there, the whole matter, who com­municating the same with Euangelista lu­cundia, and with Maria Magdalena de Pazzi Mistresse of the Nouices, they pre­sently visit the sicke womans griefe, and by their handling therof, discouer that it was a Canker, which in like manner not very long before had occasioned the death of a certaine other Virgin of the same Mo­nastery. Her mistresse reposing no confidence in naturall remedies, betaketh herselfe to implore the helpe of God, and finding in her prayers a certaine instinct, that by way of fauour she should request of B. A­loysius to recommend this matter vnto God, she exhorteth likewise the Virgin to do the same. Moreouer so soone as she vnder­stood how much was attributed to the san­ctity of B. Aloysius, for three dayes one after another, she with those Reliques which I spake of before, signed her with the signe of the crosse. And the first time, all the paine went away, wherewith her flesh was out­wardly tormented, the other incommodi­ties of her disease remayning. Therfore they determine to commit the same to the charge of the Phisitians, and to cure that by other remedies. Now they had certainely resolued the very next morning, to set in hand with the medicinall cure therof, when this Virgin enflamed with a desire to see the glory of IE­SVS-Christ amplified with the honour of B. Aloysius, applieth herselfe with great ar­dour [Page 435] of mind to beseech him that he would not suffer that day to passe (which was the 8. of Aprill, being Saturday in Albis, as they call it) without vouchsasing her this fauour: that is to say; that she might be made partaker of her health, not through humane helpes, but by his recommendation. And af­ter that all the whole day, in her sacred me­ditations, she had implored that benefit, at last towards the euening respecting only the honour of God and his holy seruant, she re­tireth herselfe secretly into her closet to her prayers. There whilst she reiterateth that her sute, & remaineth constanly fixed ther­in she sensibly perceaued her mind to be re­plenished with confidence and certaine hope to obtaine that which she desired. and with all she found B. Aloysius inwardly speaking vnto her mind these words: Prosiducia, quae tibi mei, patrocinij (que) mei fuit, pro (que) ardenti deside­rio [...]uo flagras vt hominibus Deus gloriam quam mihi contulit patefaciat, visum estei tui te voti compotem sacere. In regard of that confidence which thou hast had in me and my patrona­ge, and in respect of that ardent desire wher­with thou art inflamed, that God would vouchsafe to manifest vnto men the glory which he hath bestowed vpon me, it hath pleased him to make thee partaker of thy desire. These words being said, a very great paine ceaseth vpon that parte of her body that was disaffected, which very cruelly tor­mēted her. For it seemed vnto her that euen [Page 436] by strong hand the Canker & all her other indisposition, was violently torne from her naked brest. Hauing passed this sharpe pāge, all the trouble of her disease, and not only the Canker, but euen the whole infirmity of her side, which had now held her for foure yea­res did so clearly forsake her, that she was al­together whole and in perfect health. But in receauing that her health, so violent was her paine, that she was found by the rest of the Virgins, fallen into a sound, & to their see­ming, dead. Therfore she was of necessity to be laid in her bed. In the meane while with a low voyce according as she was able, she cal­led vpon her gouernesse often, and declared, that she was now wholy cured. Not long af­ter being strengthened, she manifesteth the miracle, and the whole matter as it passed. The other Virgins whe they saw her wholy cured, doubtlesse being very glad, render thankes vnto God and B. Aloysius, who had made intercession for her. To the intent that they may retaine the memory of so great a benefit, the holy Virgins of this Monastery, do keep fast the eue of that day euery yeare which is consecrated vnto him, and they ce­lebrate his festiuall day by erecting an altar, & carrying about with pompe of those his humble suppliants, his picture and reliques. The same of this so great a Miracle filled all Italy and the Duke of Mantua being certi­fied therof, reioyced with extraordinary cheerfulnesse. But Marques Francis, who at [Page 437] this day sustayneth that Dignity, gaue vnto a certaine man of his Dominion, who first brought this newes, a very handsome house at Castilion.

Of all these things a publicke instrument was framed, those sacred Virgins of whome I spake, being by the authority of the Arch­bishop of Florence sworne, & the testimo­ny of two Phisitians also interposed. The one of them was Hierome Mercurialis, that renowned Phisitian to the great Duke of Tuscany, a professour with great applause in all the principall Academies of Italy, as ha­uing published most famous monuments of his wit. The other, one Andrew Torsius, a Phi­sitian of great Name at Florence. They write in this manner.

J Hiero me Mercuriall, when I tooke into my consideration the disease of this holy Ʋirgin, was induced to be of an opinion, that it seemed to be a Canker, which by Hipocrates in his 38. Aphorisme, is said to be hidden, and a disease impossible to be driuen away with any the most effectuall reme­dies. In testimony of these thinges shaue written this vnder my owne hand.

J Andrew Torsius confirme whatsoeuer is be­fore said, and that by naturall operation, that sa­cred Ʋirgin could not so suddainly be reduced to her health. For maladies of this kind (if truly euer they may be ouercome) are not vanquished, without long time, and very effectuall remedies. In testimony wherof I haue written these lines with my owne hand. This third of October 1600.

CHAP. VI. He deliuereth two of the Society, one of them from a malignant feuer, the other from the Stone. The later benefit happened also to one of Tu­rino.

MArcus Gustonius a Gentlemā of Venice. being at Padua admitted of the Socie­ty, when the yeare before he had passed his Nouiship, in the end of the yeare 1603. fal­ling into a malignant feuer, accompanyed with certayne breakings forth, he was with­in few dayes so grieuously handled, that his tongue being swel [...]ed, his mouth filled with putrified and thick matter, his teeth loose in his head, he could scarce eyther open his mouth o [...] speake: moreouer his senses often failed him. His disease daily increasing, the Phisitians began to despaire of his health, & one euening, he was forwarned that the next morning he should receaue his sacred Ʋiati­cum. It came into the mynd of many Fathers that were then present and some absent, that it would not be amisse to aduise him, to make some vow in honour of B. Aloysius. And one of them who liued elsewhere, by letters admonished the Rectour of the Colledge of Padua of this matter. And another who re­sided in that same place, when about fiue of the clock at night, he had humbly offered vp his prayers before certayne reliques of B. Aloysius, had a strong impulsion from All­mighty God, to aduertise the Rectour of [Page 439] the selfe same course, beingen kindled with a hope, that the sicke person by Gods help through the merits of this holy young man, should recouer his health. Immediatly brea­king off his prayer for that tyme, he went to the Rectour, and declared vnto him what was suggested to his mynd. The Rectour gaue his approbation, and withall com­maunded Fa. Minister, that the next day early in the morning he should bring to him that was sicke, those reliques were that in that Fathers custody, and moreouer adui­sed that he should make some vow that might tend to his honour: but for so much as at that tyme the sepulcher of Aloysius was not as yet frequented, nor any accustomed pilgrimage made therunto, he should giue him leaue, to goe as an humble suppliant, either to our Ladies house of Loreto, or whi­ther else he most cōmodiously might. The Minister not staying till the next day, pre­sently went to the sicke mans chamber with the reliques, and according to the Rectours pleasure, aduised him to make some vow. The sicke man receauing the reliques with singular sense of piety, and with feruent af­fection kissing them, being confident, that this should become the only remedy of his sicknesse, did with flagrant prayers inuocate B. Aloysius, and made a vow according as he was counselled. And without any delay, he findeth himselfe eased, and so much better was he that night, that the next day after [Page 440] being by the iudgment of the Phisitians free from all danger, he stood in no need of his Ʋiaticum, but for piety sake only, he was made partaker of the Eucharist. All these thinges were registred before the Bishop of Padua, and a votiue tablet in testimony of the benefit, sent to Rome, to the Sepulcher of B. Aloysius.

Iohn Justinian, a Gentleman of Genua, of the Society of IESVS, when he liued in the Roman Colledge, was the third of Iune the yeare 1 [...]05. oppressed with cruell torments of the stone, in the right side of the reynes of his backe, and not long after the whole passage of his vrine being stopped, he asked Counsell of the whole Colledg of Phisitians. They prescribed him many remedies, mede­cines of diuers kindes to be taken by way of potiō, fomentatiōs, vnguents, warme bathes composed with oyles, morning and euening to ride in coach, and other thinges both purgatiue, and lenitiue. All which things when as they nothing auailed him, and that now for ten whole dayes he had made no vrine, his life began to be in danger, and the Phisitians aduise was that he should haue mi­nistred vnto him the holy Ʋiaticum. The tenth day of his sicknesse, in the euening, he putteth on a resolution to procure for him­selfe the help of B. Aloysius. But for so much as he was not able to stand vpon his feet, he requested that he might be carried betweene he hands of two men into the holy Church [Page 441] to the tombe of the Beatus. There kneeling vpon his knees, often kissing the ground, re­citing some prayers, most earnestly besee­ching him, that he would obtaine for him health at God hands, finally voweth, that if he be made partaker therof, he would for one whole yeare, euery day, in honour of his memory, say fiue Pater Nosters, and fiue A [...] Maries: moreouer that he would euery day whilst he liued at Rome, visit his tombe, and hang there also a siluer tablet. Being brought backe into his chamber, he passed that night in very great distresse, for so much as he now perceaued his body wonderfully oppressed with the retention of his vrine. The eleaueth day in the morning, he swelled in his feet, & likewise in all his body, his pulse discouered no motion, & his wind failed him. The Phi­sitian when he saw him, despayred of him. He was warned by the Infirmarian to prepare himselfe to receaue the celestiall Ʋiaticum. Hauing this denounced vnto him, the next night he reiterateth his vow, and taking into his hand certaine reliques of Aloysius, which he had receaued of the Rectour of the Col­ledge, he kisseth them with reuerence, & ap­plieth them to the places where his payne was, vpon his naked body, making vpon them the signe of the crosse. Immediately af­ter, the stone parting from his side slippeth into his bladder, and afterward togeather with all that aboundance of water, which he had now held for the space of eleauen dayes, [Page 442] issueth out, and that vehement payne was mitigated, excepting that part only from which the stone was separated, which du­ring the time of 3. dayes, somewhat grieued him, but mildly and scarce sensible. That ve­ry day beginning to performe his vow, the next morning he went to honour the Sepul­cher of Aloysius, and to render thankes, be­ing sound and in perfect health: and the 22. of Iune, which is celebrated as the glorious day of his entrance into heauen, he fastned at his Sepulcher a siluer tablet, in memory of that health, which by God, and his good helpe he had recouered, and finally vnder his oath he caused all these things to be lawful­ly registred.

The greatnesse of this miracle was increa­sed, by that which happenned to a certaine man of Turino, Philibertus Baro, a very No­ble Gentleman, who being one night ve­xed with bitter paines of the stone, as being one of singular piety, betooke himselfe to diuine help, and for obtaining of the same, addressed his prayers both to other Saints & especially to those Blessed men of the Socie­ty of IESVS S. Jgnatius, and S. Xane­rius, and in like manner procured their pi­ctures. But when as his paine from foure houres after sun-set, for the space of some nine houres, was so far from remitting that it euen increased, it came into his mind, that he had heard, about a moneth before that time, that a certaine young man at Rome was [Page] by the prayers of B. Aloysius admirably re­couered from the like disease. Therfore put­ting on a hope, that he would likewise assist him, wheras he had none of his pictures, he commaunded that certaine letters written by the hand of the Beatus himselfe, which were of late giuen him by a certaine Father, should be brought, to that intent, that he might ap­ply them to himselfe for the mittigating of the griefe of the stone. But when after much search they could not be found, lifting vp his mind to Heauen, with as much feruour as he might, he inuocateth Blessed Aloysius. After this, a light sleepe stealeth vpon him, wherin there seemed to appeare vnto him the shape of a young man of our Society, rather of a tall, then low stature, his face slender and leane, his nose aquiline, and somewhat long, who approaching neare to his bed, gir­ded his reines, and his whole body round a­bout with a girdle. He who had neuer known Aloysius by his face, not withstanding suspe­cting that it was he, awaketh. But wheras he vanished out of his sight, whilst he raised vp himselfe, and endeauoured with veneration to imbrace him in his armes, he left a cer­taine force and effect of his presence. For at the very same instant he sensibly perceaued the stone falling from his reines into his bla­der, for which immediatly he gaue thankes to God and B. Aloysius. And some ten houres before sun-set, he voyded a sharpe bloudy stone, of the bignesse of a beane, and after­ward, [Page 444] all his griefe and disease wholy for­sooke him. Whereupon he chose B. Aloysius to himselfe and his whole family as a proper pa­tron, and intercessour vnto God, and is very confident, that in all fortunes he is vnto him a help and sollace. And to the intent that he might giue an open remonstrance, that he as­cribeth this receipt of his health to the ex­traordinary power of God, he sent as a guise to the Sepulcher of Aloysius a siluer tablet, and vpon his oath declared all these thinges before the Archbishop of Turino.

CHAP. VII. Vpon an Child, twice forsaken of the Phisi­tians, twice he bestoweth health. He bringeth backe to his senses a man raging-mad in a malignant feuer.

THERE was one Iohannes Baptista Phi­lipinus a Roman, who had a sonne a ve­ry young child, whose name was Iohannes Franciscus. He being both miserably consu­med, and afflicted with a feuer Hecticke, of which he had bene sicke for the space of one whole yeare, and in like manner with a cer­taine disease like to a leprosy, which seizing v­pon his skin, and dispersing throughout his whole body, night and day disquieting him, brought him to the vtmost hazard of his life. He tooke no other sustenace but milke, neither did any medicine of so many which Phisitiās had ministred vnto him, euer succeed [Page] with him. There was added vnto these thin­ges, so dangerous a fluxe, that the Phisitian casting of all hope of euer repairing that do­mage which his patiēt receaued by the same, supposing his death to be vnauoydable, for­bare to come any more vnto him. The Fa­ther of this child being destitute of all Natu­rall helpes, flyeth for refuge to Diuine. Ther­fore hauing ready at hand a certaine tooth of B. Aloysius, he hāged it about the childs neck, who the selfe same day began to eat a little meate, his disease to remit, & the swelling of his brest to fall, and finally his feuer, and all his other infirmity being driuen away, to the Phisitians admiration, health succeeded.

Moreouer, to the intent that this might be so much the more remarkable, it was the pleasure of God that another miracle should happen to the same child. For some two mo­neths after this, he fell againe into a malig­nant feuer, his neck swelled, his throte was stopped with the small-pox, in his legs there grow two carbuncles, so pestilent ones, in so much that the Phisitian viewing them, pre­sently gaue ouer the Child as desperate, and counselled his mother, to separate him from her as far as well she might, for so much as in them was contained such vehement conta­gion, that they might depriue of life, within in the space of 24. houres, whatsoeuer the most healthfull mā liuing. The Father of the child betaking himselfe to the propitious as­sistance wherunto hertofore he had recourse [Page 446] and making togeather with his wife, a vow for the health of their child, made vse againe of those sacred religues. The next day in the morning the Phisitian returned, enquired whether he were yet liuing: the parents smi­ted, he visited the boy, found that his feuer had altogeather left him, and that the malice of his other disease was dissipated. Being astonished with the strangenesse of the mat­ter, hauing signed himselfe with the signe of the crosse, departed, being of this opinion, that there was now no more any cause to re­turne againe to this cure. In like manner an expert Apothecary who the day before togea­ther with this Phisitian had beheld the sicke child, striken with admiration, when he had lifted his hand to his forehead, put it euen as low as the very ground, to wit, (as he said) that by the proportion of that crosse, he might designe the greatnesse of the miracle. But after vnderstanding being had of the vow that was made, no one doubted but the glo­ry of so great a matter was to be attributed to B. Aloysius. The child being brought to his combe, the rablet according to their vow was placed there. Of which things an instru­mentall register was made, vnto which two Phisitians, and that Apothecary gaue their te­stimony.

Franciseus Crottus a Gentleman of Brescia, being grieuously assaulted with a sharpe fe­uer, within few dayes in a vehement fit, be­gan to be distracted & outragious; now the [Page 447] Curate was speedily sent for, that he might annoyle him as a man whose state was lamen­ted of all, and if truly he returned to his sen­ses, he might purge him with the sacrament of pennance. When the Curate came with all expedition bringing the sacred oyle, he foūd him not only besides his senses, and speaking all thinges extrauagantly, but also by the violence of the disease, agitated with such furious exorbitancies, that it was scarce pos­sible to keepe him in his bed. Now his sonne persuaded his mother, that in the behalfe of his Father, she would be pleased to make a vow to B. Aloysius. She falling downe vpon her knees vowed that if her husband might obtaine his perfect health, she would procure that Masse should be said in honor of the said Beatus. She had scarcely pronounced all the words of her vow, but his frenzy remitted. the sicke person returned into his senses, with integrity of mind confessed his sinnes, and so much afterward was his feuer mitigated, that the next day, he was found by the Phisitians in good health neither did he euer after fall into any relapse of the same. This vow being performed, there were in like man­ner made therof authenticall writings, at Brescia.

CHAP. VIII. A woman of Brescia is deliuered from a feuer, & from a bloudy fluxe: another in like man­ner, from a feuer, & a great laxe. A certaine man is preserued in failing from a great preci­pice.

IVlia Marinia of Brescia, an ould woman of 75. yeares of age, after three yeares of a menstruous bloudy flux from her wombe, being vtterly exhausted, was also set vpon with death-threatning fits of a scorching fe­uer. Two Phisitians of principall account in that citty namely Bettera, and Grillus, being informed of her disease, first by heare say, after they themselues being ther of ey-witnesses, concluded her malady, both of it owne na­ture, and also in respect of the womans great yeares, to be incurable: for so much as her flux of bloud bursting forth with paine, was a certaine signe of some vlcer lying secretly in her wombe, and that no remedy could preuent, but that a very trouble some droply (wherof she already gaue very manifest si­gnes) would at last, with swelling her seet & legs, be her end. But she by the aduise of her Sonne, that was Mansionary of the chiefe Church of Brescia, vpon that day which was solemnized as festiuall at Brescia, in the ho­nour of B. Aloysius, making a vow, imploreth his help, & within the space of three dayes, was deliuered of her feuer, flux of bloud, and [Page 449] all her griefes [...] her feet in like manner & her thighs in a few daies their is swelling being as­suaged, recouer their former strength. This thing, being testified at Breseia was registred, and her vow performed.

A poore man at Rome was surprised with a feuer, and the tenth day after, with so vio­lent a fit, together with so great a loose­nesse and scouring, that he did verily thinke his life was at an end. And for so much as he had nothing, either to sustaine his life, [...] ­couer his health, hauing in vaine peritioned two Hospitals to receaue him into them for Christs loue, he tooke his iourny to that In­sirmary, which is in Mont Celio not for from the Church of S. John Lateran. In his iour [...]y he turned out of the way to the Church of the Annuntiata, where the body of B. Aloysius lyeth, and casting himselfe prostrate before his tombe, with a most seruent mind: Be­hold me, B. Aloysius (said he) if thou [...]ilt vouchsafe me the fauour that this my feuer and flux may be appeased, although I am but a beggon hither do I vaw to bring the guift of one Crowne. Hauing gone out of the Church, whilst he houldeth on his way, a lit­tle after he perceaued that both his feuer & his la [...]e had for soken him, and all his other hodily informities besides; neither did any of these euer returne againe. Therefore after that by begging he had gathered togeather the summe of a Crowne, he performed his vow.

[Page 450] Franciscus Fabrinus, a Citizen of Rome, w [...] vpon S. Matthews Eue he heard a certaine [...]oyse in the night that was made vpon the roofe of his house, to discouer what the matter was, he mounted vp vpon a certaine wall two perches & a half high from whence he might take a view of the same. Where he found his feet violently carried from vnder him, as it were by some one that endeauou­red to strike at him, and his foot-hold fai­ling him, he fell head long with his head downward into the gutter of his house: And if he had fallen directly downeward, he must of necessity haue stroken his head, vpon a great and broad stone, which lay before a certaine gate, for vpon that his hat, that was vpon his head, fell. But wheras in his fall he called vpon B. Aloysius to helpe him, being sustained with a certaine force, euen as [...]f some one had put his shoulder vnder him, he was carried some certaine paces frō thenc [...], into a large earthen vessell, in such sort, that his head falling into the mouth, without euer striking himselfe vpon the brim therof, the rest of his body hung in the ayre. And so great was the head long force of his dow­nefall, that being violently pitched into the vessell, he was not able, to wring himselfe forth, nor so much as stir therin: neither cold any one heare him when he called for help. Being enuironed with that distresse, againe he inuocateth B. Aloysius, and vpon the sud­daine it is wonderfull strange, with how lit­tle [Page 451] [...]oble, withou [...] any wo [...]d without swel­ling, without any payne at all▪ he crept out from thence. Therfore ascribing his preser­uation, next vnder God, to B. Aloysius, im­mediately throwing himselfe prostrate vpon the ground, he honoured, and thanked him, and afterward as a monument of his grate­full mind, and that benefit receaued, he car­ried to his sepulcher a Picture representing how the thing passed.

CHAP. IX The very touching of his reliques driueth away from the Earle of Montemeline a feuer: and from the Duke of Mantua anoth [...]r grieuous di­sease. The like fauour was done to the Marsh­all of Polonia, praying before his picture.

ADRIAN the Earle of Montemeline, be­ing sicke at Perugia of a long and diffi­cult feuer, could find no ease neither by the da [...]ly diligence of Phisitians, nor by any re­medy whatsoeuer, though he tooke many & those very excellent ones. After that he had bene very sicke for the space of fifty dayes, one of the Colledge of the Society, which is at Perugia, gaue vnto the Rectour of that Colledge, to carry to the Earie a little peece of skinne, which he had cut off from the bo­dy of B. Aloysius that night which he depar­ted. Being brought, it was hanged about his neck. And straight way his feuer ceased, and neuer after returned. This was registred in diuers Records.

[Page 452] When Vincent the Duke of Mantua came to Rome, according to the custome of his an­cestours, to kisse the Popes feet, he came likewise himselfe with great reuerence to the sepulcher of B. Aloysius his cosen, and ac­cepted as a guift from the Marques of Casti­lion (then the Emperours Embassadour) a great peece of his reliques. And in his returne towards his owne dominion, he was first, de­tained at Florence, and after at Mantua with a certaine sicknesse, which he was wont often to be trobled withall, lying whole weekes and moneths, continually in his bed, vexed with most bitter torment. In his deline­ry from that, how much fauour he found from B. Aloysius, may well be vnderstood by those letters which within a few dayes after he returned home, he sent to the same Marques. And they were after this so [...]t as followeth.

Sigi [...]m [...]nd of Miseow [...]ki Gonzaga, Marque [...] of Mir [...], Great Marshall of the Kingdome [Page 454] of [...]o [...]onia, Captaine &c. [...]most Illustrious man, some yeares since addotted by the Duke of Mantua into the house of the [...]on­zaga's, was sent by the King of Polan [...] into Hungary, that from thence he might b [...]ing his new Spouse the Queene of Polonia. He; when he came to the Emperour at Prage, re­ceaued from Guilie [...]mus San-clementius, Em­bastadour to him from the Catho [...]ike King (being a very Excellent mā) a short discourse written of the vertues, sanctimony, and mi­racles of B. Aloysius Gonzaga, and likewise his printed picture in blacke and white. When he continuing his iourney through Bo [...]emia was present by breake of day at Masse in a rowne called Budroas, was oppres [...]ed with so sharpe and suddaine a paine, and so grieuous a disease, that he was compelled to betake himselfe to his bed, and this was so much the more doubtfull, for that the force and na­ture therof was vnknowne to the Phisitians. This same extremity of paine cōtinued with him all that day euen til the middest of the night. And then seeing himselfe not able to take any sleepe or rest, there came into his mind that writing, which I made mention of; and somewhat recollecting his mind, he began to peruse it, and now and then casting his eyes vpon B. Aloysius his picture, to im­plore his aide, with a seruent and forward mind. Scarcely had he finished his prayers, but there ceased vpon him a sound sleepe, which lasted til the next day was far spent [Page] Being awaked, he found his health wholy restored vnto him. Giuing thankes to God and B. Aloysius, determining to send a guift to his sepulcher at Rome, he houldeth on his iourney prosperously. All this that Noble Gentleman himselfe did testify vpon his oath at Crocouia, before the Bishop of that Diocesse, and there the history of the thing, as it passed, was published in print, togeather with an oration which was made at Lubliu [...] in the prayse of B. Aloysius.

CHAP. X. Baccius a Doctour of Rome is recouered of diuers diseases.

FLAMINIVS Baccius a Doctour of Rome, and Companion to the Maister of Cerimonies, had fallen into a double quo­tidian feuer; and withall a grieuous disquiet, and ringing in his ears, depriuing him of all sleepe, very much molested him. When by no helpe of Phisitians he any thing at all mē ­ded in his health, and that in his 21. fit, he began to be infested with such torment that made him incapable of any rest; after that the Phisitians had prescribed many medici­nes in vayne, about the fourth houre of that night wherein he had the 24. fit of his feuer, all his seruants being dismissed out of his chamber, his bloudy-flux increasing with new violence, he often, and that in great quā ­tity, purged from his belly a bloudy [...] [Page 456] stance. Vpon this occasion being very much terrified, despay ring of any help by naturall meanes, and fearing least that night would be the last of his life, he began carefully to consider with himselfe of many cures both of his body and soule: the seauenth houre of that same night, he remembred himselfe of B. Aloysius, whose life and miracles briefly set downe, Joannes Paulus M [...]tius a very Noble Gentleman (chiefe Secretary to the Po [...]e, one of the Councell of the sacred [...]i­tes and Ceremonies, vnto whome his Holi­nesse bad giuen order to consult about his canonization) had read vnto him some three dayes before. Him doth he earnestly inuo­cate, that he would vouchsafe in his behalfe to appease Almighty God, and for so much as the paine of his head, and weakenesse of his whole body, compelled him to lye vpon his backe, spreading both his hands before his face, and couering the same, with as loud a voyce and as much remonstrance of piety as he could bewailing his owne estate, he in­uocateth him in these words: O Bl. Aloysius Gonzaga, whom God hath aduanced to so great glory, vouchsafe to put thy handes vpon me, for from thence do I assuredly expect health! O most happy young man, that art so great a fauorite with God, I most humbly beseech thee, in respect of that fa­uour, to graunt this my petitiō, that serious­ly I may performe vnto thee those diuine honours, which so feruently I haue wi [...] [Page] to do. Scarcely had he vttered these words, [...]ut that he felt his face pressed downe (as it were with the hands of Aloysius) and in such sort crushed, that euen his nose bended to his face. In the meane while endeauouring to draw in his breath, he smelt a certaine sub­tile odour very gratefull & sweet vnto him, with which he was so much recreated, that presently he slept, and waked not til the next day at twelue of the clocke, when he was called by a certaine may'd of his. And then he found himselfe pleasured from God with that benefit which he desired. He had slept fiue whole houres, he felt no head ach he was vexed with no tormets, the humours that were congested were dispersed and dis­solued, his belly being now bound gaue him case, his feuer was gone, finally there was no­thing in him disaffected but was confirmed. Therfore it was his pleasure, that it should be diuulged to his whole house-hould, that by Gods helpe he was recouered, he called for his cloaths, and left his bed. In the mean [...] time the Phisitian came, & found him clea­red from his feuer, and his disease remoued, & taking knowledge of that which had hap­pened that night, verily he was astonished; and more certainely to discouer the matter, he porused his water, wherin he said, that there was no signe of his fore passed m [...]y to be discerned, wherfore together with the rest he rendred thankes vnto God. The p [...] ­tient himselfe truly was willing to go [...] [Page 458] mediately to honour that famous body▪ of B. Aloysius, but the Phisitian, that he might make triall whether his feuer would return, willed him to stay two daies at home, which being passed, he gaue way to his piety: and all these thinges being confirmed by his te­stimony, were registred.

CHAP. XI. A Gentleman of Florence is, deliuered from an euill spirit by the only touching of his reliques. A certaine yong woman praying before the pi­cture of B. Aloysius, is recouered of lamenesse.

BENEDICT Rodulph a Gentleman of Florence, when for the space of seauen­teene moneths, he had bene bewitched, was by all probability thought to be obsessed, by a wicked spirit, and supposed to be in the power of the same, euen til the eleauenth yeare of his age. Therfore wheras before he was of a good babit of body, fresh & beauti­full, afterward he was pale, leane, maimed, crook-backed, low, and moreouer froward; and subiect to anger beyond all measure. As often as his mother gaue him corection, his eyes would glow in a horrible manner: he would often beat himselfe: knock his owne head against the wall: wallow vpō the earth [...] importune his mother ro kill him: throw himselfe headlong into the water, and goe about by the other meanes to take away his owne life: although he was of a wit docible [Page] inough, y [...] very hardly would he learne the pointes of Christian doctrine: whilst they passed by in solemne procession carrying, the Reliques of Saints, he could not be con­tained in the windows, he was trobled, and when he grew somewhat bigger he would withdraw himselfe. Often he would vtter speaches aboue the capacity of his age: Sometimes likewise, being but a little boy, he was thrust forward to obscene speaches and gestures. At the first, knowing not the nature of his malady, he was put into the hands of Phisitians to be cured; but all this nothing auailed him. After it was discoue­red that he was agitated with the furies of the Diuell, sacred prayers for his disposses­sing were often vsed, and he was brought to the Church of the Bl. Virgin Mother, which is of great fame at Sumano, not far from Pi­storio, by the concourse of many Communi­cants: but both these courses were in vaine.

The yeare 1605▪ in the moneth of De­cember, when he was vexed extraordinarily with that wicked spirit, he recounted vnto, his mother, that there manifestly appeared vnto him a representation of Christ cruci­fied, two priestes standing vpon both sides therof, which wished him to be of good chee [...]e for that shortly he should be deliue­red. His mother interpreting that those two priestes were those BB. men of the Society of IESV [...] [...]na [...]ius & Xa [...]erius, sought the [...] reliques, and could not find them. But so [Page 460] soone as she vnderstood that a noble Womā of great esteeme, called Ʋiolanti of the house of Medices, had some litle part of the reliques of B. Aloysius, she borrowed them, and hung them about the neck of the child. Scarcely did they come neare him, but he foūd him­selfe tormented with great violence, & with a loud voyce cried out to haue them taken away, for that he said he found himselfe, all about burned with touching them. But they that were present, held him by force, till a certaine priest, that was skilfull in matters of exorcisme was sent for: whome they intrea­ted amongst his exorcismes to make vse of those reliques; by which meanes he was dis­possessed. For when the Priest amongst the ceremonies of exorcisme, had with the reli­ques of B. Aloysius at seuerall times touched diuers partes of the boy, and found no signe of the Diuels being present in any of them, he imagined that he had bene cast forth; at last when he found him lying secretly in his left arme neare to his hand, laying the reli­ques vpon it, he compelled him to depart, leauing the child as it were halfe-dead. Not­withstanding he rested in great quiet and tranquility, which in like manner he alwayes after continued, and doth to this very day, whilst I write this. The child remained mer­uelous deuout to B. Aloysius, and besought his mother that he might betake himselfe to his study, therfore she bringeth him vp, that herafter being adioyned to the Society; he [Page 461] may become as an adopted sonne of B. A­loysius. Of all these thinges, writinges were made, and signed by the authority of the Archbishop of Florence.

Angel [...] Bo [...]ho [...]a a young maid of Bresci [...] of the age of 21. yeares, was lame of bot [...] her thighs, in such sort, that her right thig [...] had seauen soares in it, her left was di [...]inabled with a grosse swelling euen to her very foot. Therfore she could not mooue herselfe, or goe without two woodden crutches, set vn­der both her arme-pits. And euen then very hardly, for so much as she was not able to se [...] her right foot vpon the ground, and her shoulders with continuall vse of them were strained in their ioyntes. She had now hal­ted in this manner some two yeares and a halfe, when vpon the Anniuersary day of B. Aloysius, by the aduise of a certaine pious Gentlewoman, she betooke herselfe to the Church of S. Antony, in which the Fathers of the Society haue a house of Residence, in which was set vp the picture of Aloysius, & scarcely was she come to the entrance of the Church, when being not able for wearinesse to goe any further, she fell to the groūd vpō her knees, and turning towards the picture of the Beatus, saying fiue Pater Nosters, & fiue Aues, she desired of him to be recouered of her lamenesse. Moreouer she made a vow that if she might be recouered of her health▪ seing that in respect of her pouerty she had nothing else but her crutches, she would in [Page 462] testimony of her health, by his mediation, receaued from Almighty God, hang vp the same at his picture. She went home agayne▪ that very night those issues of her rig [...]t thigh began to fill vp, and the swelling to as­suage: Therefore the next morning, finding herselfe somewhat recouered, she went with one crutch only, the third and fourth day [...]he stood in need of neither. And not long after [...]e was so wholy recouered, that her right thigh, which was before shrunke with the violence of her disease, extended to its iust length: wherfore she was of necessity to leaue of her shoo which she wore some three fingers thicker then the other. To perpetuate the memory of this benefit bestowed vpon her by God, she hung vp her crutches in that Church, neare to the Picture of B. Aloysius.

CHAP. XII. Many miracles wrought in the Marquesate of Castilion by the merits of B. Aloysius: when­vpon many votiue Tabiets were hung at his Picture.

NEITHER was B Aloysius lesse co [...]iou [...] in powring our his bounty vpon the inhabitants of Castilion, that were once the subiects of his dominion, which is apparent by that publike instrument, that very lately was made there, wherin those benefits & mi­racles are expressed at large, which was abrid­ged by the Bishop of Castilion in these words

[Page 463] 1. Celsus [...]o [...]urrus, a man infirme, who was not able to goe otherwise then vpon a crutch, and that with great difficulty, that day which euery yeare is celebrated for the happy departure of B. Aloysius out of this world, tooke a iourney of three miles, vpon horsebacke, to that holy Church, where his picture is openly to be seene, There when he had vowed to offer vp vpon a certaine day, a burning lampe, therupon he cast away his crutch, and departed as a man sound about his businesse, & in short time was absolutly confirmed, which he, not without very good cause did willingly attribute to the praiers of B. Aloysius.

2. Antonia wife to Joannes Baptist a Mar­mentinus a Notary, who was imployed i [...] drawing the instruments of the life of B. A­loysius, being one night oppressed with sud­daine and very grieuous paines of one of her legs, vowed that night, that she would offer vp a waxe taper, and the forme of a leg to the Beatus. Presently she fell a sleep, and after­ward waking was freed from all griefe. And made no doubt, but by the mediation of the merits of B. Aloysius it departed.

3. Margarite the wife of Alexander Melino, a very honest man, fell into a very great swelling both of her hip and thigh, & was daily vexed with an intollerable paine. And there appeared some arguments of brea­king into an issue, so that it seemed altoge­ther to stand in need of launcing. She vow [...]d [Page 464] to carry vnto Aloysius the forme of a sil [...]er thigh: immediately her payne by Gods help went away, and her swelling by little & little dispersing, without any part being ei­ther broken or launced, she was absolutely cured. Which she attributed to the merits of B. Aloysius.

4. Camilla, the wife of Jacobus Ferrarius who had brought vp B. Aloysius, when as she had bene held eight whole yeares with a He­cticke feuer, visiting his picture, she vowed to offer vnto him his portraiture in siluer, & without delay, found herselfe recouered; her feuer slaked, she became very well, and so acknowledgeth herselfe bound to B. Aloysius.

5. The sonne of Joannes Jacobus Ferra­rius was tormented with a very scorching feuer. He vowed therupon a Statua to B. Aloysius, & presently he was wholy recoue­red, & extolled the benignity of the Beatus.

6. Magdalen the wife of Anthony G [...] ­latins, being tormented with a payne a­bout his hart, was very neare her death. She made a vow to the Beatus, and straight way as it were with a certaine hand, she perceaued all payne to be taken from her hart, neither was she euer after sensible of that griefe. She rendred thankes to God, & B. Aloysius, whose patronage he had vsed.

7. Thaddens Sigurtadus, a Notary, wher­ [...] being surprised with an intollerable griefe in his right thigh, he was not able to moue himselfe: in the night he vowed vnto. B. [Page 465] Aloysius the semblance of a thigh of siluer. The next morning he rose out of his bed in a manner freed of all his payne, and with­in two dayes after wholy recouered.

8. One Andrew Stol [...]n, was become deafe. About some eight dayes after, when he had obliged himselfe by vow vnto B. Aloy­sius, in the morning he found himselfe hea­led, through his merits.

9. The same man when as being woun­ded in his brest with many blowes of stones, he vomited bloud, made a vow to B. Aloy­sius, immediately the bloud stanched, & with­in two dayes he was confirmed, & professed himselfe to be behoulding to the Beatus.

10. Bartholomeus Melliarinus had in the night a certaine suddaine swelling of the big­nesse of a mans fist that grew vnder his eare, which hindred him from swallowing any thing, & almost from drawing his breath. He made a vow to B. Aloysius, and at the very same moment his payne intermitted, his swelling assuaged, by breake of day he came to me without any signe of disease, and ren­dred thankes to the Beatus.

11. Franciscus Smarallius hauing a troble­some paine in his knee, was grieuously tor­mented, and in respect of the feeblenesse of his sinnewes not able to moue himselfe out of his bed, he obliged himselfe by vow vnto B. Aloysius. Forth with his knee breaking, he leaped out of his bed; and the day after be­ing altogether recouered, made a iourney of [Page 466] 7. miles to Desenzano.

12. A little sonne of one Petrus Pilou [...] being an infant of no more then 30. moneths old, was towly deformed by the shrincking of his sinnews in the one side of his body, & being troubled with a frothy foame in his mouth, was giuen ouer by the Phisitian. His Father made a vow B. Aloysius, & straightway it manifestly appeared that he was much bet­ter, and shortly recouered.

13. The daughter of one Dominicus Fer­rarius, by reason of a swelling that was in her throat, was able to take no sustenance. When afterward her Father had in the night made a vow in her behalfe to B. Alnysius, his daugh­ter before day rose out of her bed, & tooke meat without any sensible difficulty.

14. Lelia the wife of Franciseus Ghird­dus, was so grieuously handled, that hauing no ability to take meat, she was in euident danger of death. But she, about seauen of the clocke in the night, making a vow to B. Aloy­sius, found herselfe about the tenth houre, wholy restored to her health.

15. Stephen Benedict a Doctour, being Oppressed with a troublesome distillation, which no humane medicine was able to re­medy, promising by vow an offering of sil­uer, by the recommendation of B. Aloysius obtained help, and good health.

16. Hortensius Bonus seized with a re­dious disease, moreouer being seized vpon with a bloudy flux, was by the Phisitian de­plored. [Page 467] He vowed vnto B. Alaysius a silu [...] statua, and presently was wonderfully eased: His disease ceased, his flux diminished, he came forward very much in his health, and in a short time wholy recouered it.

17. Gothardus Alexandrinus, hauing bene trobled 3. moneths with a Tertian ague. that very day which ic was to come, made a vow to B. Aloysius. And he afterward neuer hauing any more fits therof, was well.

18. Angelus the wife of Franeiscus Ceradel­lo, being continually for 22. whole dayes to­geather, tormented with intollerable griefe [...] about her hart, was in feare of her life. Scar­cely had she made a vow to B. Aloysius, but that her paine remitted, and vanished.

19. A child of one Peter Bosius being of the age of 3. yeares, surprised with sicklesse lay at the very point of death. His Father obliged him by vow vnto B. Aloysius, the next morning he tooke his meate, no other­wise then if he had bene in perfect health.

20. A child of one Bartholome [...] [...] being but one yeare old, falling out of his bed, was reputed little lesle then dead. His Father deuoutly inuocated B. Aloysius: In a moment the infant was well, laughed, and made meanes for the pap.

21. Antony Ferronius had bruised his back and stomake with a grieuous burthen, neither was he capable of any rest at all. He went to the holy Church, and making a vow to B. Aloysius, contrary to all expeotation [Page 468] departed from thence perfectly recouered.

22. Joannes Lacobus Giroldus, being affli­cted with a long and tedious feuer, so soone as he found the same increased, made a vow to B. Aloysius, and without all delay it de­parted, and neuer after returned.

23. Joannes Antonius Morattus. hauing vsualiy beene tormented with a paine and swelling in his right tigh, knee, and foot, after he perceaued the same paine once or twice to be renewed, he offered vp his praiers to B. Aloysius for his fauour, and presently found ease.

24. The wife of Julius Fainus, being not able to be deliuered of her child, was supposed by the midwife to be at the point of death. Hauing made a vow to B. Aloysius, she was presently deliuered both of the child and from all danger.

25. The wife of one Valerius Factorius, being sick of a difficult disease in her throat, was recouered thereof the very day that she with her prayers inuocated B. Aloysius.

26. Catharine the wife of one Ambrosius Notarius, was very much tormented with a Sciatica, and had attempted all humane helps in vaine. She made a vow to B. Aloysius, and began to mend: she performed her vow, and yet notwithstanding was not absolutely cu­red. To conclude, the fourth day the obtai­ned a perfect recouery.

27. Christopher Saxius was continually for the space of a whole yeare sicke of a fe­uer. [Page 469] His mother one day made a vow for him to B. Aloysius: & the next night following he was freed.

28. Baptista Fezzardus hauing his hand and arme disioynted and swelled, was like­wise in a feuer, not without payne and dan­ger of cōuulsion of his sinews. Hauing made a vow to B. Aloysius, his paine was mittiga­ted, his infirmity wore away, and shortly he was recouered.

29. Martha the wife of Paulus Bettius, being in difficult labour of Child-birth in­uocated B. Aloysius, presently she was deli­uered, and obtained her safety.

30. A child also of three yeares old of this Paulus Bettius, had bene sicke a whole moneth, his neck being sore and swolne like a wenne; his Father making a vow to B. A­loysius, he was made soūd within two dayes.

31. Anthonius Serlius had bene more then 3. yeares troblesomely afflicted in his thighs; making a vow to B. Aloysius he found case, and not long after was perfectly sound.

32. The wife of one Andreas Pedercinus was not able to bring forth the child that she went with: she made a vow to B. Aloy­sius, and presently was deliuered.

33. Petrus Cattaneus a very reuerend man, and Priest of a certaine parish-Church, was incredibly tormented with a malignant fo­uer, an inflamed phrensy, and a swelling paine and rednesse of his head, so that it seemed to be scorched round about, and was now quite [Page 470] distracted of his senses. But so soone as hi [...] mother had made a vow for him to B. Aloy­sius, he returned to himselfe, and enioyed af­terward good health.

34. Martha the wife of Ioannes Iacobu [...] Fezzardus hauing bene vexed for the space of foure whole moneths, with paine and very sharpe aches in her feet, had no sooner by vow rendred B. Aloysius propitious vnto her, but that she began to amend, and perfe­ctly to recouer her samenesse.

35. Martha the wife of one Ioseph Balari­nus, had both her owne, and her childs life (which she was not ab [...]e to be deliuered of) very doubtfull. But hauing besought the as­sistance of B. Aloysius, immediately she was brought to bed of her child, and that truly aliue. Which was ascribed to the fauour of the Beatus.

36. Joannes Maria Bertasius, being now for foure dayes so tormented with an exceeding great paine of his thigh, hip, and leg that he could scarcely goe, at last as well as he might he went to the sacred Church, he vowed that he would supply the oyle in the lampes, which burne before the picture of B. Aloy­sius; immediatly he departed away sound, & altogether freed, and acknowledged the me­rits of the Beatus.

37. A sicknesse of the continuance of some seauen dayes had brought a certayne young sonne of one Bartholomeus Castellinus so low, that it had left him no otherwise then [Page 471] a breathing an [...]tomy. His Father vowed to erect a statua to B. Aloysius, and straight-way his sonne (which hither to he had not bene able to doe) began to stand vpon his feet, & walke of himselfe without help, and within eight or ten dayes his flesh being repaired, he became healthfull and sound, and his Fa­ther performed his vow to Blessed Aloy­sius.

38. Francisca the wife, of one Joannes Maria Past [...]r, being astonished with a cer­taine feare, for the space of foure whole daies continued trembling and crying out, see­ming also to heare continually a comber­some multitude following her. She caused herselfe to be brought into the holy Church to the picture of B. Aloysius, and from then [...] she departed free from all those troubles.

39. A certaine infant of 13. moneths old, being the sonne of Bernardinus Bosius, was seene by his mother falling with his face downeward into the fire: she vowed vnto B. Aloysius a waxen image of the infant, and tooke vp her Child without any hurt of the fire, and this did she ascribe to the merits of B. Aloysius.

40. The sonne of one Franciscus The odol­dus, being a child of 4. yeares old, grieuous­ly wounded by a fall, and lying continually for the space of two whole dayes without any figue of life, in the night a vow was made for him vnto B. Aloysius, and by breake of day in the morning he was found perfectly [Page 472] recouered. Which his Father most willingly attributed to B. Aloysius.

41. Ioannes Paulus Segala, lay for the space of 17. dayes so tormented with a payne in his backe, that he was not able to moue euen the least part of his body, nor to drinke otherwise then through a pipe. This man when he had vowed oyle to the lamps of B. Aloysius, within 3. houres turned himselfe, his sinnews were enabled, by breake of day, he arose absolutly cured: not without very good cause he testifieth the same to haue beene bestowed vpon him by the merits of B. Aloysius.

42. Caecilia the wife of one Baptista Zeli­nus, had bene for 6. moneths trobled with a paine in her thigh, which being swelled & broken, her foot was in like manner altoge­ther weakened; wherfore she was not able to make so much as foure steps forward. She vowed a thigh of waxe vnto B. Aloysius, and being within the space of foure dayes reco­uered, she rendred thanks vnto him.

43. Dominica the wife of Antonius De­senzanus, was afflicted with the gout, which beginning from the very nailes of her toes, by degrees creeping vpward seized vpon her throat. She hauing made a vow to B. Aloy­sius, was within the space of one houre, alto­gether deliuered from that disease.

44. Rigo Regazzolus, hauing receaued certaine wounds both in his left arme, and vnder it vpon the same side, had no disposal [Page 473] neyther of his tongue, nor senses, & did spit bloud. A vow was made in his behalfe to B. Aloysius; immediately both his speach and senses returned, and waxing healthfull by de­grees, in a short time recouered a confirmed state of body.

Infinite other benefits of diuers kinds, are receaued of many who come to offer vp their humble prayers before the picture of B. Aloysius. Before the same, twelue lampes, maintained by the liberality of those peo­ple that resort thither, besides a great num­ber of wax tapers and torches, which conti­nually are brought, perpetually remayne lighted. And at this houre there hang about the same no lesse then 40. Votiue Offerings.

CHAP. XIII. Diuers other fauours, and graces conferred by B. Aloysius his intercession vpon persons in sundry places.

ANOVICE of the Society of IESVS at Cracouia, hauing bene now 8. dayes held with a certaine disease, at the persuasion of a companion of his, determined to implore the helpe of B. Aloysius in his sicknesse. Therfore in the euening he vowed, that he in the honour of him would be present at ten Masses, and would recite as many payre of beads. The next day in the morning, much to his owne admiration, and of all those who liued in the same house with him, being wholy recouered of his health, he arose out [Page 474] of his bed. This did Fa. Prouinciall of Polo­nia solemnely confirme with his testimony, who was present when this matter happe­ned. Of another miracle wrought in Lombar­dy: In like manner of many, who in the re­gions of his dominion found fauour by his picture, the instruments extant at Padua suf­ficiently record.

Of certaine possessed persons, whome his reliques helped, and how he appeared to a certaine secular man at Rome, and did him a rare fauour in a certaine matter, we may read in the records of Venice.

Of a certaine girle that was afflicted with a soare breast, which was the next day to haue bene cut-of by the Surgeons, how by the assistance of B. Aloysius, vnto whom she had made [...] vow, she was found safe and sound by them that came to cut it of: Mo­reouer of a man, that was deliuered from a desperate feuer by the only touching of his picture: In like manner of a Hectike feuer which was cured in another girle who was exhorted to goe thither for deuotion, the records of Tiuoli giue testimony.

It was diuulged euen vnto Jtaly that he ap­peared in Polonia accompanied with B. Jgua­ [...]ius and Stanislaus, to F. Stanislaus Oborschius at his death, with whom he had bene con­uersant in his Nouiship.

Many others do recount his fauours ex­tended towards them, beyond all mortall power: all which it would be too long to recount in this place.

CHAP. XIV. Certaine fauours of B. Aloysius done for the good of soules, by driuing away Tentations.

NEITHER truly is the nūber of them lesse, who by his mediation, and pro­curing of God to be propitious vnto them, do professe themselues to haue obtained ve­ry many helpes of the interiour and celestiall safety of their minds. This may very well be vnderstood by those things which it hath pleased Almighty God to Vouchsafe in this kind.

A young man of Polonia, being euen from his first childhood very much giuen to con­tinuall prayer, fasts, disciplinings, and other afflictions of himselfe, hauing lead a pious & intiere life in the midst of secular liberty, had at C [...]aconia entred into the Nouiship of the Society of IESVS. He in his very first entrance into a more holy life, began most grieuously to be solicited to admit wicked cogitations against God, the Bl. Virgin, and other Saints, which truly, when he was most intent to the meditation of sacred things, & his prayers, and whilest he enioyed cele­stiall comforts, would arise, and disturbe his mind with great conflicts, putting him sud­dainly out of all sense of piety. Often did he beseech Almighty God to help him; often did he implore the aide of the Virgin Mo­ther, often the assistance of other Saints. But [Page 476] (for so much as perhaps they had rather haue this benefit ascribed to B. Aloysius his inter­cession, whome with so deuout a mind he had alwaies serued) his prayers deserued not to be heard. Being now for the space of two moneths infested with these troublesome suggestions of the Diuell, when once by breake of day he was according to his cu­stome tempted with the same in his prayers, it came into his mind, to beseech Almighty God to help him, by the mediation of B. Aloysius Gonzaga, whom he had read in his life to haue assisted others in the like danger. He offered vp vnto him his prayers, and be­sought him earnestly, that he would free him from this trouble. And without delay, he sensibly found his brest filled not only with hope, but euen confidence, togeather with a certaine cheerfulnesse, so far forth as if all that his deiection of mind had bene ta­ken away. Neither was he deceaued in his o­pinion, for from thence forward he was al­wayes free from the same. This thing he himselfe (to the intent that he might propa­gate the glory of B. Aloysius) did of his owne accord relate vnto others, and vnder his oath publickly professed.

A certaine pious man dwelling in the Countrey beyond the Alpes, had passed ve­ry many yeares in Religion, & seruice of God, secured from all lust-full tentations, when by Gods permission, with so great vio­lence he began to be infested by an imp [...]re [Page 477] spirit, that he was compelled all the whole yeare to maintaine battaile, and combat with dishonest thoughts and imaginations, with vnchast incitements and sensuall pro­uocations; neither in the meane while had he any comfort or rest. He treated his poore body with hunger, stripes, haire­cloth, and other asperities both of diet and clothing. It auailed him nothing: oftē would he withdraw himselfe from the table, often from the company of men, being constray­ned to be wayle and bemoane his owne infe­licity. There throwing himselfe prostrate in the very dust, he perseuered with humble prayers daily to petition Almighty God for mercy; finally finding no remedy whereby truly he could hope for any comfort, and perceauing his lustfull desires to be nothing les [...]e inkindled, he was assaulted likewise violently with that execrable opinion of i­magining, that neither God, nor any of his Saints tooke regard of our affaires, who be­ing daily wearied with his importunate prayers, yielded notwithstanding no com­fort or reliefe to his vnfortunate state.

In conclusion when he had so lingred out the whole yeare in this difficult conflict, that he found no succour at all, he remembred himselfe of the holy and innocent life of B. Aloysius Gonzaga, of which amongst other thinges he had heard this especially, that through a singular benefit of God, he had his body free from all vnchast motions, and [Page 478] his mind from all, euen the least shaddow, of sinne. Therfore he determined to haue re­course vnto him as his last refuge, him he be­sought as earnestly as he might; finally he hung about his neck his reliques which by chance he had in his custody: scarcely had they touched him, when vpon the suddaine, he was exempted from the fury of all those cogitations, and there was rendred vnto him a very pleasing and quiet state of mind: and two yeares are now past, since that (being freed from all those manner of tentations) he ascribeth this so great a benefit to B. Aloy­sius, and by his assistance continueth it. Of all these thinges by publike authority a Wri­ting was made, & a Donary-offering of sil­uer was sent to his tombe at Rome.

I could rehearse others of like kind, which I haue vnderstood from very credible testi­monies, who do constantly affirme, that wheras formerly they had bene plunged ha­bitually in a vice much opposite to chastity, after they began to make sute for Gods help by the mediation of this his seruant, either by honouring his sepulcher, or carrying a­bout them his reliques or picture, or deter­mining to do some pious thing in honour of him, or choosing him for their aduocate and patron, those vncleane ardours being as it were extinguished, they neuer after pollu­ted their integrity with any such like ble­mish. But for so much as it is my purpose, to prosecute in this booke those things only, [Page] which I found recommended to publike monuments, and that I cannot declare these things, without drawing some note vpon them vnto whome they happened, I do willingly omit them.

This only will I add, that if that saying of B. Aloysius be true, as very true it is, which in his life time he maintayned, that the Saints of heauē do chiefly professe their helpe and assistance to vs mortall men in ac­quiring those vertues, with which they in their life time were adorned: seing that he did with so vnusuall a prayse flourish, not only in purity and chastity, but euen in very many other vertues, as heertofore we haue declared; without all doubt, being now re­ceaued into heauen, he will most willingly be exceeding propitious vnto them, who haue recourse vnto him, with a desire to ob­taine or preserue those vertues.

And by these that haue bene related in this chapter we may easily coniecture, that almighty God, who euē now before his acts are as yet published, hath (by his prayers, [...] to the intent that he may set forth the ho­nour of his name) done so many admirable matters, and vouchsafed so many fauours; will for his sake performe euen many more, both in number, and in dignity more re­markable, after that his life shall be put in print, and that his fame and veneration shall more increase with the people, as [...]therto we see it doth.