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GREGORY I (DIALOGOS): Second Dialogue (Life of St. Benedict)
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THE DIALOGUES OF SAINT GREGORY, SURNAMED
DIALOGUS AND THE GREAT, POPE OF ROME AND THE FIRST OF THAT NAME.
Divided into Four Books, wherein he
entreateth of the Lives and Miracles of the Saints in Italy, and
of the Eternity of Men's Souls.
Translated into our English Tongue by "P.
W." and printed at Paris in 1608. Re-edited by Edmund G. Gardner
in 1911, and again by the Saint Pachomius Library in 1995.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE DIALOGUES,
containing the Life and Miracles of St. Benedict (Bennet) of
Nursia.
PROLOGUE (spoken by GREGORY):
There was a man of venerable life,
blessed by grace, and blessed in name, for he was called
"Benedictus" or Bennet: who, from his younger years, carried
always the mind of an old man; for his age was inferior to his
virtue: all vain pleasure he contemned, and though he were in
the world, and might freely have enjoyed such commodities as it
yieldeth, yet did he nothing esteem it, nor the vanities
thereof. He was born in the province of Nursia, of honourable
parentage, and brought up at Rome in the study of humanity. But
for as much as he saw many by reason of such learning to fall to
dissolute and lewd life, he drew back his foot, which he had as
it were now set forth into the world, lest, entering too far in
acquaintance therewith, he likewise might have fallen into that
dangerous and godless gulf: wherefore, giving over his book, and
forsaking his father's house and wealth, with a resolute mind
only to serve God, he sought for some place, where he might
attain to the desire of his holy purpose: and in this sort he
departed, instructed with learned ignorance, and furnished with
unlearned wisdom. All the notable things and acts of his life I
could not learn; but those few, which I mind now to report, I
had by the relation of four of his disciples: to wit, of
Constantinus, a most rare and reverent man, who was next Abbot
after him; of Valentinianus, who many years had the charge of
the Lateran Abbey; of Simplicius, who was the third General of
his order; and lastly of Honoratus, who is now Abbot of that
monastery in which he first began his holy life.
CHAPTER ONE: HOW HE MADE A BROKEN SIEVE
WHOLE AND SOUND
Bennet having now given over the school,
with a resolute mind to lead his life in the wilderness: his
nurse alone, which did tenderly love him, would not by any means
give him over. Coming, therefore, to a place called Enside and
remaining there in the church of St. Peter, in the company of
other virtuous men, which for charity lived in that place, it
fell so out that his nurse borrowed of the neighbours a sieve to
make clean wheat, which being left negligently upon the table,
by chance it was broken in two pieces: whereupon she fell
pitifully a-weeping, because she had borrowed it. The devout and
religious youth Bennet, seeing his nurse so lamenting, moved
with compassion, took away with him both the pieces of the
sieve, and with tears fell to his prayers; and after he had
done, rising up he found it so whole, that the place could not
be seen where before it was broken; and coming straight to his
nurse, and comforting her with good words, he delivered her the
sieve safe and sound: which miracle was known to all the
inhabitants thereabout, and so much admired, that the townsmen,
for a perpetual memory, did hang it up at the church door, to
the end that not only men then living, but also their posterity
might understand, how greatly God's grace did work with him upon
his first renouncing of the world. The sieve continued there
many years after, even to these very troubles of the Lombards,
where it did hang over the church door.
But Bennet, desiring rather the miseries
of the world than the praises of men: rather to be wearied with
labour for God's sake, than to be exalted with transitory
commendation: fled privily from his nurse, and went into a
desert place called Sublacum, distant almost forty miles from
Rome: in which there was a fountain springing forth cool and
clear water; the abundance whereof doth first in a broad place
make a lake, and afterward running forward, cometh to be a
river. As he was travelling to this place, a certain monk called
Romanus met him, and demanded whither he went, and understanding
his purpose, he both kept it close, furthered him what he might,
vested him with the habit of holy conversation, and as he could,
did minister and serve him.
The man of God, Bennet, coming to this
foresaid place, lived there in a strait cave, where he continued
three years unknown to all men, except to Romanus, who lived not
far off, under the rule of Abbot Theodacus, and very virtuously
did steal certain hours, and likewise sometime a loaf given for
his own provision, which he did carry to Bennet. And because
from Romanus' cell to that cave there was not any way, by reason
of an high rock which did hang over it, Romanus, from the top
thereof, upon a long rope, did let down the loaf, upon which
also with a band he tied a little bell, that by the ringing
thereof the man of God might know when he came with his bread,
and so be ready to take it. But the old enemy of mankind,
envying at the charity of the one and the refection of the
other, seeing a loaf upon a certain day let down, threw a stone
and brake the bell; but yet, for all that, Romanus gave not over
to serve him by all the possible means he could.
At length when almighty God was
determined to ease Romanus of his pains, and to have Bennet's
life for an example known to the world, that such a candle, set
upon a candlestick, might shine and give light to the Church of
God, our Lord vouchsafed to appear unto a certain Priest
dwelling a good way off, who had made ready his dinner for
Easter day, and spake thus unto him: "Thou hast provided good
cheer for thyself, and my servant in such a place is afflicted
with hunger": who, hearing this forthwith rose up, and upon
Easter day itself, with such meat as he had prepared, went to
the place, where he sought for the man of God amongst the steep
hills, the low valleys and hollow pits, and at length found him
in his cave: where, after they had prayed together, and sitting
down had given God thanks, and had much spiritual talk, then the
Priest said unto him: "Rise up, brother, and let us dine,
because today is the feast of Easter." To whom the man of God
answered, and said: "I know that it is Easter with me and a
great feast, having found so much favour at God's hands as this
day to enjoy your company" (for by reason of his long absence
from men, he knew not that it was the great solemnity of
Easter). But the reverent Priest again did assure him, saying:
"Verily, to-day is the feast of our Lord's Resurrection, and
therefore meet it is not that you should keep abstinence, and
besides I am sent to that end, that we might eat together of
such provision as God's goodness hath sent us." Whereupon they
said grace, and fell to their meat, and after they had dined,
and bestowed some time in talking, the Priest returned to his
church.
About the same time likewise, certain
shepherds found him in that same cave: and at the first, when
they espied him through the bushes, and saw his apparel made of
skins, they verily thought that it had been some beast: but
after they were acquainted with the servant of God, many of them
were by his means converted from their beastly life to grace,
piety, and devotion. And thus his name in the country there
about became famous, and many after this went to visit him, and
for corporal meat which they brought him, they carried away
spiritual food for their souls.
CHAPTER TWO: HOW HE OVERCAME A GREAT
TEMPTATION OF THE FLESH.
Upon a certain day being alone, the
tempter was at hand: for a little black bird, commonly called a
merle or an ousel, began to fly about his face, and that so near
as the holy man, if he would, might have taken it with his hand:
but after he had blessed himself with the sign of the cross, the
bird flew away: and forthwith the holy man was assaulted with
such a terrible temptation of the flesh, as he never felt the
like in all his life.
A certain woman there was which some time
he had seen, the memory of which the wicked spirit put into his
mind, and by the representation of her did so mightily inflame
with concupiscence the soul of God's servant, which did so
increase that, almost overcome with pleasure, he was of mind to
have forsaken the wilderness. But, suddenly assisted with God's
grace, he came to himself; and seeing many thick briers and
nettle bushes to grow hard by, off he cast his apparel, and
threw himself into the midst of them, and there wallowed so long
that, when he rose up, all his flesh was pitifully torn: and so
by the wounds of his body, he cured the wounds of his soul, in
that he turned pleasure into pain, and by the outward burning of
extreme smart, quenched that fire which, being nourished before
with the fuel of carnal cogitations, did inwardly burn in his
soul: and by this means he overcame the sin, because he made a
change of the fire.
From which time forward, as himself did
afterward report unto his disciples, he found all temptation of
pleasure so subdued, that he never felt any such thing. Many
after this began to abandon the world, and to become his
scholars. For being now freed from the vice of temptation,
worthily and with great reason is he made a master of virtue:
for which cause, in Exodus, commandment is given by Moses that
the Levites from five-and-twenty years and upward should serve,
but, after they came to fifty, that they should be ordained
keepers of the holy vessels. [Numbers 8:24-26]
PETER: Somewhat I understand of this
testimony alleged: but yet I beseech you to tell me the meaning
thereof more fully.
GREGORY: It is plain, Peter, that in
youth the temptation of the flesh is hot: but after fifty years
the heat of the body waxeth cold, and the souls of faithful
people become holy vessels. Wherefore necessary it is that God's
elect servants, whiles they are yet in the heat of temptation,
should live in obedience, serve, and be wearied with labour and
pains. But when, by reason of age, the heat of temptation is
past, they become keepers of holy vessels; because they then are
made the doctors of men's souls.
PETER: I cannot deny, but that your words
have given me full satisfaction: wherefore, seeing you have now
expounded the meaning of the former text alleged, prosecute, I
pray, as you have begun, the rest of the holy man's life.
CHAPTER THREE: HOW BENNET, BY THE SIGN OF
THE HOLY CROSS, BRAKE A DRINKING-GLASS IN PIECES.
GREGORY: When this great temptation was
thus overcome, the man of God, like unto a piece of ground well
tilled and weeded, of the seed of virtue brought forth plentiful
store of fruit: and by reason of the great report of his
wonderful holy life, his name became very famous. Not far from
the place where he remained there was a monastery, the Abbot
whereof was dead: whereupon the whole Convent came unto the
venerable man Bennet, entreating him very earnestly that he
would vouchsafe to take upon him the charge and government of
their Abbey: long time he denied them, saying that their manners
were divers from his, and therefore that they should never agree
together: yet at length, overcome with their entreaty, he gave
his consent.
Having now taken upon him the charge of
the Abbey, he took order that regular life should be observed,
so that none of them could, as before they used, through
unlawful acts decline from the path of holy conversation, either
on the one side or on the other: which the monks perceiving,
they fell into a great rage, accusing themselves that ever they
desired him to be their Abbot, seeing their crooked conditions
could not endure his virtuous kind of government: and therefore
when they saw that under him they could not live in unlawful
sort, and were loath to leave their former conversation, and
found it hard to be enforced with old minds to meditate and
think upon new things: and because the life of virtuous men is
always grievous to those that be of wicked conditions, some of
them began to devise, how they might rid him out of the way: and
therefore, taking counsel together, they agreed to poison his
wine: which being done, and the glass wherein that wine was,
according to the custom, offered to the Abbot to bless, he,
putting forth his hand, made the sign of the cross, and
straightway the glass, that was holden far off, brake in pieces,
as though the sign of the cross had been a stone thrown against
it: upon which accident the man of God by and by perceived that
the glass had in it the drink of death, which could not endure
the sign of life: and therefore rising up, with a mild
countenance and quiet mind, he called the monks together, and
spake thus unto them: "Almighty God have mercy upon you, and
forgive you: why have you used me in this manner? Did not I tell
you before hand, that our manner of living could never agree
together? Go your ways, and seek ye out some other father
suitable to your own conditions, for I intend not now to stay
any longer amongst you." When he had thus discharged himself, he
returned back to the wilderness which so much he loved, and
dwelt alone with himself, in the sight of his Creator, who
beholdeth the hearts of all men.
PETER: I understand not very well what
you mean, when you say that he dwelt with himself.
GREGORY: If the holy man had longer,
contrary to his own mind, continued his government over those
monks, who had all conspired against him, and were far unlike to
him in life and conversation: perhaps he should have diminished
his own devotion, and somewhat withdrawn the eyes of his soul
from the light of contemplation; and being wearied daily with
correcting of their faults, he should have had the less care of
himself, and so haply it might have fallen out, that he should
both have lost himself, and yet not found them: for so often as
by infectious motion we are carried too far from ourselves, we
remain the same men that we were before, and yet be not with
ourselves as we were before: because we are wandering about
other men's affairs, little considering and looking into the
state of our own soul.
For shall we say that he was with
himself, who went into a far country, and after he had, as we
read in the Gospel, prodigally spent that portion which he
received of his father, was glad to serve a citizen, to keep his
hogs, and would willingly have filled his hungry belly with the
husks which they did eat: who notwithstanding afterward, when he
thought with himself of those goods which he had lost, it is
written of him that, returning into himself, he said: How many
hired men in my father's house do abound with bread? [Luke 15]
If then, before he were with himself,
from whence did he return home unto himself? and therefore I
said that this venerable man did dwell with himself, because
carrying himself circumspectly and carefully in the sight of his
Creator, always considering his own actions, always examining
himself, never did he turn the eyes of his soul from himself, to
behold aught else whatsoever.
PETER: Why, then, is it written of the
Apostle, St. Peter, after he was by the Angel delivered out of
prison, that, returning to himself, he said: Now I know verily,
that our Lord hath sent his Angel, and hath delivered me from
the hand of Herod, and from all the expectation of the people of
the Jews. [Acts 12:11]
GREGORY: We are two manner of ways,
Peter, carried out of ourselves: for either we fall under
ourselves by sinful cogitation, or else we are, by the grace of
contemplation, lifted above ourselves: for he that kept hogs,
through wandering of his mind and unclean thoughts, fell under
himself: but he whom the Angel delivered out of prison, being
also rapt by the Angel into an ecstasy, was in truth out of
himself, but yet above himself. Both of them, therefore, did
return unto themselves; the one when he recollected himself, and
forsook his lewd kind of life; and the other from the top of
contemplation, to have that usual judgment and understanding,
which before he had: wherefore venerable Bennet in that solitary
wilderness dwelt with himself, because he kept himself, and
retired his cogitations within the closet of his own soul: for
when the greatness of contemplation rapt him up aloft, out of
all question he did then leave himself under himself.
PETER: Your discourse doth very well
content me: yet I beseech you to answer me this question,
whether he could in conscience give over those monks, whose
government he had now taken upon him?
GREGORY: In mine opinion, Peter, evil men
may with good conscience be tolerated in that community, where
there be some good that may be holpen, and reap commodity. But
where there be none good at all, that receive spiritual profit,
often times all labour is lost, that is bestowed in bringing of
such to good order, especially if other occasions be offered of
doing God presently better service elsewhere: for whose good,
then, should the holy man have expected, seeing them all to
persecute him with one consent? and (that which is not to be
passed over with silence) those that be perfect carry always
this mind, that when they perceive their labour to be fruitless
in one place, to remove straight to another, where more good may
be done.
And for this cause, that notable preacher
of the word, who was desirous to be dissolved, and to be with
Christ, unto whom to live is Christ, and to die is gain [Phil.
1:21]: and who not only desired himself to suffer persecution,
but did also animate and encourage others to suffer the same;
yet being himself in persecution at Damascus, got a rope and a
basket to pass over the wall, and was privily let down. [Acts
9:25] What then? shall we say that Paul was afraid of death,
when as himself said, that he desired it for Christ's sake? not
so: but when he perceived that in that place little good was to
be done by great labour, he reserved himself to further labour,
where more fruit and better success might be expected: and
therefore the valiant soldier of Christ would not be kept within
walls, but sought for a larger field where he might more freely
labour for his master. And so, in like manner, you shall quickly
perceive, if you mark well, that venerable Bennet forsook not so
many in one place, that were unwilling to be taught, as he did
in sundry other places raise up from the death of soul many
more, that were willing to be instructed.
PETER: It is so as you say, and plain
reason teacheth it, and the example of St. Paul alleged doth
confirm it. But I beseech you to return unto your former
purpose, and to prosecute the life of the holy man.
GREGORY: When as God's servant daily
increased in virtue, and became continually more famous for
miracles, many were by him in the same place drawn to the
service of almighty God, so that by Christ's assistance he built
there twelve Abbeys; over which he appointed governors, and in
each of them placed twelve monks, and a few he kept with
himself, namely, such as he thought would more profit, and be
better instructed by his own presence. At that time also many
noble and religious men of Rome came unto him, and committed
their children to be brought up under him, for the service of
God. Then also Evitius delivered him Maurus, and Tertullius the
Senator brought Placidus, being their sons of great hope and
towardness: of which two, Maurus, growing to great virtue, began
to be his master's coadjutor; but Placidus, as yet, was but a
boy of tender years.
....
CHAPTER EIGHT: HOW A LOAF WAS POISONED,
AND CARRIED FAR OFF BY A CROW.
GREGORY: When as the foresaid monasteries
were zealous in the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, and their
fame dispersed far and near, and many gave over the secular
life, and subdued the passions of their soul, under the light
yoke of our Saviour: then (as the manner of wicked people is, to
envy at that virtue which themselves desire not to follow) one
Florentius, Priest of a church hardby, and grandfather to
Florentius our sub-deacon, possessed with diabolical malice,
began to envy the holy man's virtues, to back-bite his manner of
living, and to withdraw as many as he could from going to visit
him : and when he saw that he could not hinder his virtuous
proceedings, but that, on the contrary, the fame of his holy
life increased, and many daily, upon the very report of his
sanctity, did betake themselves to a better state of life :
burning more and more with the coals of envy, he became far
worse; and though he desired not to imitate his commendable
life, yet fain he would have had the reputation of his virtuous
conversation.
In conclusion so much did malicious envy
blind him, and so far did he wade in that sin, that he poisoned
a loaf and sent it to the servant of almighty God, as it were
for an holy present. The man of God received it with great
thanks, yet not ignorant of that which was hidden within. At
dinner time, a crow daily used to come unto him from the next
wood, which took bread at his hands; coming that day after his
manner, the man of God threw him the loaf which the Priest had
sent him, giving him this charge: "In the name of Jesus Christ
our Lord, take up that loaf, and leave it in some such place
where no man may find it." Then the crow, opening his mouth, and
lifting up his wings, began to hop up and down about the loaf,
and after his manner to cry out, as though he would have said
that he was willing to obey, and yet could not do what he was
commanded. The man of God again and again bade him, saying:
"Take it up without fear, and throw it where no man may find
it." At length, with much ado, the crow took it up, and flew
away, and after three hours, having dispatched the loaf, he
returned back again, and received his usual allowance from the
man of God.
But the venerable father, perceiving the
Priest so wickedly bent against his life, was far more sorry for
him than grieved for himself. And Florentius, seeing that he
could not kill the body of the master, laboureth now what he
can, to destroy the souls of his disciples; and for that purpose
he sent into the yard of the Abbey before their eyes seven naked
young women, which did there take hands together, play and dance
a long time before them, to the end that, by this means, they
might inflame their minds to sinful lust: which damnable sight
the holy man beholding out of his cell, and fearing the danger
which thereby might ensue to his younger monks, and considering
that all this was done only for the persecuting of himself, he
gave place to envy; and therefore, after he had for those abbeys
and oratories which he had there built appointed governors, and
left some under their charge, himself, in the company of a few
monks, removed to another place.
And thus the man of God, upon humility,
gave place to the other's malice; but yet almighty God of
justice did severely punish [Florentius'] wickedness. For when
the foresaid Priest, being in his chamber, understood of the
departure of holy Bennet, and was very glad of that news, behold
(the whole house besides continuing safe and sound) that chamber
alone in which he was, fell down, and so killed him: which
strange accident the holy man's disciple Maurus understanding,
straightways sent him word, he being as yet scarce ten miles
off, desiring him to return again, because the Priest that did
persecute him was slain; which thing when Bennet heard, he was
passing sorrowful, and lamented much: both because his enemy
died in such sort, and also for that one of his monks rejoiced
thereat; and therefore he gave him penance, for that, sending
such news, he presumed to rejoice at his enemy's death.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: HOW VENERABLE BENNET
REVIVED A BOY, CRUSHED TO DEATH WITH THE RUIN OF A WALL.
Again, as the monks were making of a
certain wall somewhat higher, because that was requisite, the
man of God in the meantime was in his cell at his prayers. To
whom the old enemy appeared in an insulting manner, telling him,
that he was now going to his monks, that were a-working: whereof
the man of God, in all haste, gave them warning, wishing them to
look unto themselves, because the devil was at that time coming
amongst them. The message was scarce delivered, when as the
wicked spirit overthrew the new wall which they were a building,
and with the fall slew a little young child, a monk, who was the
son of a certain courtier. At which pitiful chance all were
passing sorry and exceedingly grieved, not so much for the loss
of the wall, as for the death of their brother: and in all haste
they sent this heavy news to the venerable man Bennet; who
commanded them to bring unto him the young boy, mangled and
maimed as he was, which they did, but yet they could not carry
him any otherwise than in a sack: for the stones of the wall had
not only broken his limbs, but also his very bones. Being in
that manner brought unto the man of God, he bad them to lay him
in his cell, and in that place upon which he used to pray; and
then, putting them all forth, he shut the door, and fell more
instantly to his prayers than he used at other times. And O
strange miracle! for the very same hour he made him sound, and
as lively as ever he was before; and sent him again to his
former work, that he also might help the monks to make an end of
that wall, of whose death the old serpent thought he should have
insulted over Bennet, and greatly triumphed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: HOW THE DISSIMULATION OF
KING TOTILAS WAS DISCOVERED AND FOUND OUT BY VENERABLE BENNET.
GREGORY: You must, good Peter, for a
little while be silent, that you may know matters yet far more
important. For in the time of the Goths, when Totilas, their
king, understood that the holy man had the spirit of prophecy,
as he was going towards his monastery, he remained in a place
somewhat far off, and beforehand sent the father word of his
coming: to whom answer was returned, that he might come at his
pleasure. The king, as he was a man wickedly disposed, thought
he would try whether the man of God were a prophet, as it was
reported, or no. A certain man of his guard he had, called
Riggo, upon whom he caused his own shoes to be put, and to be
apparelled with his other princely robes, commanding him to go
as it were himself to the man of God; and to give the better
colour to this device, he sent three to attend upon him, who
especially were always about the king: to wit, Vultericus,
Rudericus, and Blindinus; charging them that in the presence of
the servant of God, they should be next about him, and behave
themselves in such sort as though he had been king Totilas
indeed: and that diligently they should do unto him all other
services, to the end that both by such dutiful kind of
behaviour, as also by his purple robes, he might verily be taken
for the king himself. Riggo, furnished with that brave apparel,
and accompanied with many courtiers, came unto the Abbey: at
which time the man of God sat a little way off, and when Riggo
was come so near that he might well understand what the man of
God said, then, in the hearing of them all, he spake thus: "Put
off, my good son, put off that apparel, for that which thou hast
on, is none of thine." Riggo, hearing this, fell straightways
down to the ground, and was very much afraid, for presuming to
go about to mock so worthy a man, and all his attendants and
servitors fell down likewise to the earth, and after they were
up again, they durst not approach any nearer to his presence:
but returned back to their king, telling him with fear, how
quickly they were discovered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: HOW VENERABLE BENNET
PROPHESIED TO KING TOTILAS, AND ALSO TO THE BISHOP OF CAMISINA,
SUCH THINGS AS WERE AFTERWARD TO FALL OUT.
Then Totilas himself in person went unto
the man of God; and seeing him sitting afar off, he durst not
come near, but fell down to the ground: whom the holy man
(speaking to him twice or thrice) desired to rise up and at
length came unto him, and with his own hands lifted him up from
the earth, where he lay prostrate: and then, entering into talk,
he reprehended him for his wicked deeds, and in few words told
him all that which should befall him, saying: "Much wickedness
do you daily commit, and many great sins have you done: now at
length give over your sinful life. Into the city of Rome shall
you enter, and over the sea shall you pass: nine years shall you
reign, and in the tenth shall you leave this mortal life." The
king, hearing these things, was wonderfully afraid, and desiring
the holy man to commend him to God in his prayers, he departed:
and from that time forward he was nothing so cruel as before he
had been. Not long after he went to Rome, sailed over into
Sicily, and, in the tenth year of his reign, he lost his kingdom
together with his life.
The Bishop also of Camisina used to visit
the servant of God, whom the holy man dearly loved for his
virtuous life. The Bishop, therefore, talking with him of King
Totilas, of his taking of Rome, and the destruction of that
city, said: "This city will be so spoiled and ruined by him,
that it will never be more inhabited." To whom the man of God
answered: "Rome," quoth he, "shall not be utterly destroyed by
strangers: but shall be so shaken with tempests, lightnings,
whirlwinds, and earthquakes, that it will fall to decay of
itself." The mysteries of which prophecy we now behold as clear
as the day: for we see before our eyes in this very city, by a
strange whirlwind the world shaken, houses ruined, and churches
overthrown, and buildings rotten with old age we behold daily to
fall down. True it is that Honoratus, by whose relation I had
this, saith not that he received it from his own mouth, but that
he had it of other monks, which did hear it themselves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: OF CERTAIN NUNS
ABSOLVED AFTER THEIR DEATH.
GREGORY: His common talk, Peter, was
usually full of virtue: for his heart conversed to above in
heaven, that no words could in vain proceed from his mouth. And
if at any time he spake aught, yet not as one that determined
what was best to be done, but only in a threatening manner, his
speech in that case was so effectual and forcible, as though he
had not doubtfully or uncertainly, but assuredly pronounced and
given sentence.
For not far from his Abbey, there lived
two Nuns in a place by themselves, born of worshipful parentage:
whom a religious good man did serve for the dispatch of their
outward business. But as nobility of family doth in some breed
ignobility of mind, and maketh them in conversation to show less
humility, because they remember still what superiority they had
above others: even so was it with these Nuns: for they had not
yet learned to temper their tongues, and keep them under with
the bridle of their habit: for often did they by their
indiscreet speech provoke the foresaid religious man to anger;
who having borne with them a long time, at length he complained
to the man of God, and told him with what reproachful words they
entreated him: whereupon he sent them by and by this message,
saying: "Amend your tongues, otherwise I do excommunicate you";
which sentence of excommunication notwithstanding, he did not
then presently pronounce against them, but only threatened if
they amended not themselves.
But they, for all this, changed their
conditions nothing at all: both which not long after departed
this life, and were buried in the church: and when solemn mass
was celebrated in the same church, and the Deacon, according to
custom, said with loud voice: "If any there be that do not
communicate, let them depart": the nurse, which used to give
unto our Lord an offering for them, beheld them at that time to
rise out of their graves, and to depart the church. Having often
times, at those words of the Deacon, seen them leave the church,
and that they could not tarry within, she remembered what
message the man of God sent them whiles they were yet alive. For
he told them that he did deprive them of the communion, unless
they did amend their tongues and conditions. Then with great
sorrow, the whole matter was signified to the man of God, who
straightways with his own hands gave an oblation, saying: "Go
your ways, and cause this to be offered unto our Lord for them,
and they shall not remain any longer excommunicate": which
oblation being offered for them, and the Deacon, as he used,
crying out, that such as did not communicate should depart, they
were not seen any more to go out of the church: whereby it was
certain that, seeing they did not depart with them which did not
communicate, that they had received the communion of our Lord by
the hands of his servant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: HOW A MONK, FORSAKING
THE ABBEY, MET WITH A DRAGON IN THE WAY.
GREGORY: A certain monk there was so
inconstant and fickle of mind, that he would needs give over the
Abbey; for which fault of his, the man of God did daily rebuke
him, and often times gave him good admonitions: but yet, for all
this, by no means would he tarry amongst them, and therefore
continual suit he made that he might be discharged. The
venerable man upon a time, wearied with his importunity, in
anger bad him depart; who was no sooner out of the Abbey gate,
but he found a dragon in the way expecting him with open mouth,
which being about to devour him, he began in great fear and
trembling to cry out aloud, saying: "Help, help! for this dragon
will eat me up." At which noise the monks running out, dragon
they saw none, but finding him there shaking and trembling, they
brought him back again to the Abbey, who forthwith promised that
he would never more forsake the monastery, and so ever after he
continued in his profession: for by the prayers of the holy man,
he saw the dragon coming against him, whom before, when he saw
not, he did willingly follow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: OF A MIRACLE WROUGHT
BY HIS SISTER SCHOLASTICA.
GREGORY: What man is there, Peter, in
this world, that is in greater favour with God than St. Paul
was: who yet three times desired our Lord to be delivered from
the prick of the flesh, and obtained not his petition?
Concerning which point also I must needs tell you, how there was
one thing which the venerable father Bennet would have done, and
yet he could not.
For his sister called Scholastica,
dedicated from her infancy to our Lord, used once a year to come
and visit her brother. To whom the man of God went not far from
the gate, to a place that did belong to the Abbey, there to give
her entertainment. And she coming thither on a time according to
her custom, her venerable brother with his monks went to meet
her, where they spent the whole day in the praises of God and
spiritual talk: and when it was almost night they supped
together, and as they were yet sitting at the table, talking of
devout matters, and darkness came on, the holy Nun his sister
entreated him to stay there all night, that they might spend it
in discoursing of the joys of heaven. But by no persuasion would
he agree unto that, saying that he might not by any means tarry
all night out of his Abbey.
At that time, the sky was so clear that
no cloud was to be seen. The Nun, receiving this denial of her
brother, joining her hands together, laid them upon the table:
and so, bowing down her head upon them, she made her prayers to
almighty God: and lifting her head from the table, there fell
suddenly such a tempest of lightning and thundering, and such
abundance of rain, that neither venerable Bennet, nor his monks
that were with him, could put their head out of door: for the
holy Nun, resting her head upon her hands, poured forth such a
flood of tears upon the table, that she drew the clear air to a
watery sky, so that after the end of her devotions, that storm
of rain followed: and her prayer and the rain did so meet
together, that as she lifted up her head from the table, the
thunder began, so that in one and the very same instant, she
lifted up her head and brought down the rain. The man of God,
seeing that he could not by reason of such thunder and lightning
and great abundance of rain return back to his Abbey, began to
be heavy and to complain of his sister, saying: "God forgive
you, what have you done?" to whom she answered: "I desired you
to stay, and you would not hear me, I have desired our good
Lord, and he hath vouchsafed to grant my petition: wherefore if
you can now depart, in God's name return to your monastery, and
leave me here alone."
But the good father, being not able to go
forth, tarried there against his will, where willingly before he
would not stay. And so by that means they watched all night, and
with spiritual and heavenly talk did mutually comfort one
another: and therefore by this we see, as I said before, that he
would have had that thing, which yet he could not: for if we
respect the venerable man's mind, no question but he would have
had the same fair weather to have continued as it was, when he
set forth, but he found that a miracle did prevent his desire,
which, by the power of almighty God, a woman's prayers had
wrought. And it is not a thing to be marvelled at, that a woman
which of long time had not seen her brother, might do more at
that time than he could, seeing, according to the saying of St.
John, "God is charity" [1 John 4:8] and therefore of right she
did more which loved more.
PETER: I confess that I am wonderfully
pleased with that which you tell me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: HOW BENNET SAW THE
SOUL OF HIS SISTER ASCEND INTO HEAVEN.
GREGORY: The next day the venerable woman
returned to her Nunnery, and the man of God to his Abbey: who
three days after, standing in his cell, and lifting up his eyes
to heaven, beheld the soul of his sister (which was departed
from her body), in the likeness of a dove to ascend into heaven:
who rejoicing much to see her great glory, with hymns and lauds
gave thanks to almighty God, and did impart the news of this her
death to his monks, whom also he sent presently to bring her
corpse to his Abbey, to have it buried in that grave which he
had provided for himself: by means whereof it fell out that, as
their souls were always one in God whiles they lived, so their
bodies continued together after their death.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: HOW HE SAW THE WHOLE
WORLD REPRESENTED BEFORE HIS EYES; AND ALSO THE SOUL OF
GERMANUS, BISHOP OF CAPUA, ASCENDING TO HEAVEN.
At another time, Servandus, the Deacon,
and Abbot of that monastery, which in times past was founded by
the noble man Liberius in the country of Campania, used
ordinarily to come and visit the man of God: and the reason why
he came so often was, because himself also was a man full of
heavenly doctrine: and so they two had often together spiritual
conference, to the end that, albeit they could not perfectly
feed upon the celestial food of heaven, yet, by means of such
sweet discourses, they might at least, with longing and fervent
desire, taste of those joys and divine delights. When it was
time to go to rest, the venerable Father Bennet reposed himself
in the top of a tower, at the foot whereof Servandus the Deacon
was lodged, so that one pair of stairs went to them both: before
the tower there was a certain large room in which both their
disciples did lie.
The man of God, Bennet, being diligent in
watching, rose early up before the time of matins (his monks
being yet at rest) and came to the window of his chamber, where
he offered up his prayers to almighty God. Standing there, all
on a sudden in the dead of the night, as he looked forth, he saw
a light, which banished away the darkness of the night, and
glittered with such brightness, that the light which did shine
in the midst of darkness was far more clear than the light of
the day. Upon this sight a marvellous strange thing followed,
for, as himself did afterward report, the whole world, gathered
as it were together under one beam of the sun, was presented
before his eyes, and whiles the venerable father stood
attentively beholding the brightness of that glittering light,
he saw the soul of Germanus, Bishop of Capua, in a fiery globe
to be carried up by Angels into heaven.
Then, desirous to have some witness of
this so notable a miracle, he called with a very loud voice
Servandus the Deacon twice or thrice by his name, who, troubled
at such an unusual crying out of the man of God, went up in all
haste, and looking forth saw not anything else, but a little
remnant of the light, but wondering at so great a miracle, the
man of God told him all in order what he had seen, and sending
by and by to the town of Cassino, he commanded the religious man
Theoprobus to dispatch one that night to the city of Capua, to
learn what was become of Germanus their Bishop: which being
done, the messenger found that reverent Prelate departed this
life, and enquiring curiously the time, he understood that he
died at that very instant, in which the man of God beheld him
ascending up to heaven.
PETER: A strange thing and very much to
be admired. But whereas you say that the whole world, as it were
under one sunbeam, was presented before his eyes, as I must
needs confess that in myself I never had experience of any such
thing, so neither can I conceive by what means the whole world
can be seen of any one man.
GREGORY: Assure yourself, Peter, of that
which I speak: to wit, that all creatures be as it were nothing
to that soul which beholdeth the Creator: for though it see but
a glimpse of that light which is in the Creator, yet very small
do all things seem that be created: for by means of that
supernatural light, the capacity of the inward soul is enlarged,
and is in God so extended, that it is far above the world: yea
and the soul of him that seeth in this manner, is also above
itself; for being rapt up in the light of God, it is inwardly in
itself enlarged above itself, and when it is so exalted and
looketh downward, then doth it comprehend how little all that
is, which before in former baseness it could not comprehend. The
man of God, therefore, who saw the fiery globe, and the Angels
returning to heaven, out of all doubt could not see those things
but in the light of God: what marvel, then, is it, if he saw the
world gathered together before him, who, rapt up in the light of
his soul, was at that time out of the world? But albeit we say
that the world was gathered together before his eyes, yet were
not heaven and earth drawn into any lesser room than they be of
themselves, but the soul of the beholder was more enlarged,
which, rapt in God, might without difficulty see that which is
under God, and therefore in that light which appeared to his
outward eyes, the inward light which was in his soul ravished
the mind of the beholder to supernal things, and shewed him how
small all earthly things were.
PETER: I perceive now that it was to my
more profit that I understood you not before: seeing, by reason
of my slow capacity, you have delivered so notable an
exposition. But now, because you have made me thrughly to
understand these things, I beseech you to continue on your
former narration.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: HOW HOLY BENNET WROTE
A RULE FOR HIS MONKS.
GREGORY. Desirous I am, Peter, to tell
you many things of this venerable father, but some of purpose I
let pass, because I make haste to entreat also of the acts of
other holy men: yet I would not have you to be ignorant, but
that the man of God amongst so many miracles, for which he was
so famous in the world, was also sufficiently learned in
divinity: for he wrote a rule for his monks, both excellent for
discretion and also eloquent for the style. Of whose life and
conversation, if any be curious to know further, he may in the
institution of that rule understand all his manner of life and
discipline: for the holy man could not otherwise teach, than
himself lived.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: HOW VENERABLE BENNET
DID PROPHESY TO HIS MONKS THE TIME OF HIS OWN DEATH.
The same year in which he departed this
life, he told the day of his holy death to his monks, some of
which did live daily with him, and some dwelt far off, willing
those that were present to keep it secret, and telling them that
were absent by what token they should know that he was dead. Six
days before he left this world, he gave order to have his
sepulchre opened, and forthwith falling into an ague, he began
with burning heat to wax faint, and when as the sickness daily
increased, upon the sixth day he commanded his monks to carry
him into the oratory, where he did arm himself with receiving
the body and blood of our Saviour Christ; and having his weak
body holden up betwixt the hands of his disciples, he stood with
his own lifted up to heaven, and as he was in that manner
praying, he gave up the ghost. Upon which day two monks, one
being in his cell, and the other far distant, had concerning him
one and the self-same vision: for they saw all the way from the
holy man's cell, towards the east even up to heaven, hung and
adorned with tapestry, and shining with an infinite number of
lamps, at the top whereof a man, reverently attired, stood and
demanded if they knew who passed that way, to whom they answered
saying, that they knew not. Then he spake thus unto them: "This
is the way," quoth he, "by which the beloved servant of God,
Bennet, is ascended up to heaven." And by this means, as his
monks that were present knew of the death of the holy man, so
likewise they which were absent, by the token which he foretold
them, had intelligence of the same thing. Buried he was in the
oratory of St. John Baptist which himself built, when he
overthrew the altar of Apollo; who also in that cave in which he
first dwelled, even to this very time, worketh miracles, if the
faith of them that pray requireth the same.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: HOW A MAD WOMAN WAS
CURED IN HIS CAVE.
For the thing which I mean now to
rehearse fell out lately. A certain woman falling mad, lost the
use of reason so far, that she walked up and down, day and
night, in mountains and valleys, in woods and fields, and rested
only in that place where extreme weariness enforced her to stay.
Upon a day it so fell out, that albeit she wandered at random,
yet she missed not the right way: for she came to the cave of
the blessed man Bennet: and not knowing anything, in she went,
and reposed herself there that night, and rising up in the
morning, she departed as sound in sense and well in her wits, as
though she had never been distracted in her whole life, and so
continued always after, even to her dying day.
PETER: What is the reason that in the
patronage of martyrs we often times find, that they do not
afford so great benefit by their bodies, as they do by other of
their relics: and do there work greater miracles, where
themselves be not present?
GREGORY: Where the holy martyrs lie in
their bodies, there is no doubt, Peter, but that they are able
to work many miracles, yea and also do work infinite, to such as
seek them with a pure mind. But for as much as simple people
might have some doubt whether they be present, and do in those
places hear their prayers where their bodies be not, necessary
it is that they should in those places shew greater miracles,
where weak souls may most doubt of their presence.
But he whose mind is fixed in God, hath
so much the greater merit of his faith in that he both knoweth
that they rest not there in body, and yet be there present to
hear our prayers. And therefore our Saviour himself, to increase
the faith of his disciples, said: "If I do not depart, the
Comforter will not come unto you," [John 16:7]: for, seeing
certain it is that the comforting Spirit doth always proceed
from the Father and the Son, why doth the Son say that he will
depart that the Comforter may come, who never is absent from the
Son? But because the disciples, beholding our Lord in flesh, did
always desire to see him with their corporal eyes, very well did
he say unto them: "Unless I do go away, the Comforter will not
come:" as though he had plainly told them: If I do not withdraw
my body, I cannot let you understand what the love of the spirit
is: and except you give over [cease] to love my carnal presence,
never will you learn to affect me with true spiritual love.
PETER: That you say pleaseth me very
well.
GREGORY: Let us now for a while give over
our discourse, to the end that if we mean to prosecute the
miracles of other Saints, we may through silence be the more
able to perform it.
The end of the Second Book
The St. Pachomius Orthodox Library,
Have mercy, O Lord, on Thy servants the
translator P.W., the editor Edmund, and the scribes Boris,
Deborah, Demetrios, Edward, Gerald, Jeff, Larry, Mary, Matthew,
Paul, Robert, Steven, Susan, Timothy, and Walter.
THE END, AND TO GOD BE THE GLORY!
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Paul Halsall Mar 1996
halsall@murray.fordham.edu
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