ON BL. THEODORIC, FIRST ABBOT OF THAT NAME OF ANDAGE,
IN THE FOREST OF THE ARDENNES,
In the year 1087.
PRELIMINARY COMMENTARY.
Theodoric, first abbot of that name of Andage, in the forest of the Ardennes (Bl.)
BY G. C.
§ I. The situation of the monastery over which the Blessed presided, the ancient cult of this Abbot, and the contemporary writer of his Acts.
There flourishes to this day in Belgium a Benedictine monastery which is now commonly called by the name of St. Hubert, on account of the very famous relics of that holy Prelate translated thither some centuries ago, This Blessed one, in the monastery of St. Hubert to the veneration of which those especially flock who have been touched by the bite of mad dogs, and where for the most part they wonderfully recover their former health. The most learned Mabillon, among the Acts of the Saints of the Benedictine Order, century 4, part 1, page 293, in his preliminary observations on the History of the translation of St. Hubert, number 3, thus describes the situation and origin of this monastery: The monastery of Andage or Andaine, so called from the river flowing past it, afterward St. Hubert's, is situated in the forest of the Ardennes and in the diocese of Liège. The founder of the monastery and its first abbot was St. Beregisus, brought up in the monastery of St. Trond, who is reported to have ruled Canons in the place of Andage. This was done at the time when Pepin of Herstal governed the royal house. Then, things going from bad to worse, that college was reduced to a few Clerics, until Walcandus, bishop of Liège, restored the collapsing buildings, which he assigned to monks of our Order. Afterward, to increase the religion of the place, he ordered the body of St. Hubert to be translated thither; from which time monastic discipline has hitherto persevered there. The place was ruled in the eleventh century by St. Theodoric the abbot, of whom we must treat in his own place. It must now be discussed whether that abbot Theodoric deserves the title of saint which is here attributed to him.
[2] The aforesaid Mabillon in his own place, among the Acts of the Saints of the Benedictine Order, century 6, part 2, page 557 and following, treated of that Abbot of Andage, formerly had a public cult, as he had promised above; and there in his preliminary observations, number 3, he endeavors to prove his immemorial cult in these words: Theodoric is called abbot of happy memory by the anonymous author who wrote the miracles of St. Hubert, where he narrates certain miracles which occurred in the time of that same Abbot, in the years indeed in which he lived. For the rest, although the name of Theodoric has not yet been placed among the Heavenly ones by Pontifical authority, and he is honored with no public Office, nevertheless his memory has always been held in the highest veneration, especially among the monks of St. Hubert; nay, his sacred body also, raised from the earth and placed in the middle of the choir of the church, remained exposed to the veneration of the faithful until the age of our fathers… But that sacred body, which had so long been honorably preserved, the Calvinist heretics reduced to ashes, the monks lamenting the loss of so great a treasure, who to this day persevere in this sacred place under the Benedictine rule of the stricter observance.
[3] as is drawn from an old writer, Mabillon in the same place draws this elevation of the sacred body and its public exposition from the Deeds of the Abbots of Lobbes, among which the ancient continuator of Folcuin, in d'Achery's Spicilegium, volume 6, page 907, relates the following concerning our present Theodoric: In those days Theodoric, a man destined afterward to be of great authority, was elected abbot at the monastery of blessed Hubert from our monastery: of whom indeed the Brethren of that monastery testify today that none of his predecessors left such signs of usefulness in renewing or adorning and multiplying the monastic possessions; and — what belongs to a heap of greater praise — he is proved to have been of such sanctity while living in the flesh, that in great hope of his future glory the body of the deceased is held by his own in great veneration also, as the little book of his Life shows. So too to us, since he was solicitous to have a memorial of himself toward the mother church, he bestowed a pall, which today is held among the best ornaments of the church. These things at least in some manner indicate the ancient cult of Bl. Theodoric.
[4] and from the common consent of the more recent, Nay, Raissius in his Hierogazophylacium Belgicum testifies that some vestige of the former veneration still remains, when there at page 50, after other things which are preserved at Andage, he enumerates the body of blessed Theodoric, abbot of this monastery, who both living and dead shone with many signs and virtues; and to this elogium he subjoins the following: His body, raised from the ground, was by the savagery of the Huguenots (that is the Calvinists, whom in France they commonly call Huguenots) reduced to ashes and cinders, which nevertheless are piously and religiously kept upon the high altar. This very religious preservation of the ashes still affords some abiding token of the former veneration. Our Fisen also asserts that the pious memory of this venerable Abbot has not yet been extinguished by the impious fury or by the burning of the Calvinists, when in the Flowers of the Church of Liège, page 386, after abridging the Acts of Bl. Theodoric, he writes thus: Whom God had adorned while living with much dignity of virtue, he glorified when dead with innumerable prodigies. Yet within the memory of our fathers the impiety of the heretics bursting out of France dared to reduce to ashes and cinders his body, renowned for miracles. But the laurel of virtue shall never lose its greenness and its beauty by impious flames.
[5] Nay, this very rage of the Calvinists furnishes us with an argument by which to prove the immemorial cult of this blessed Abbot: for those sacrilegious saint-fighters burned his body and by the very fury of the Calvinists, because they knew that it was honored by Catholics as sacred relics, as Castellain affirms in his Universal Martyrology at this day. Hence also Molanus in the Natales of the Saints of Belgium on this day adorns the same Abbot with the title of blessed, and thus affirmatively pronounces concerning his lawful cult: Nor is it doubted that he has been added to the number of the Saints, although he has not been placed by the Church in their catalogue. His body, glorious with miracles, was raised from the ground and translated into the midst of the church; but by the savagery of the Huguenots it was reduced to ashes and cinders. How would the raging heretics have found the sacred body of Bl. Theodoric, unless it had previously been solemnly raised from the earth and exposed to the public veneration of the faithful?
[6] This ancient elevation of the sacred body and public veneration of the faithful receive greater certainty from the testimony of the Reverend Master Romuald Hancart, Prior of St. Hubert's, who burned his sacred relics; who, after other things supplied to our predecessors concerning this Blessed one, writes thus: These things concerning the life and deeds of blessed Theodoric, abbot of Andage, who not only while living in this life, but also after he passed to a happier one, testified by the flashing splendor of miracles the efficacy of his patronage with God for mortals; for by the truthful relation of certain Religious of this monastery advanced in age, some of whom are still surviving, we have learned that his sepulchre, erected in the nave of the basilica of the aforesaid monastery, was wont to be visited especially by those who, harassed by grievous toothache, implored a remedy easily obtained by the merits of blessed Theodoric. But in the year one thousand five hundred and sixty-eight there came forth from the borders of France (more truly from the caverns of the pit) phalanxes of Huguenots to the aid of the rebellious Belgians, who under the leadership of Janlius burned with fire the sepulchre of the aforesaid Saint together with the basilica itself — though the crime was not unavenged: for that fatal incendiary himself, Francis Hanguet, brother of Janlius, a few days afterward, being among the Swiss, when he had entered the stable of an inn to pacify the horses, which were driven into a rage and tearing one another with their teeth, was himself torn by their bites and kicks, and paid the penalties due to the Saints. The issue of this matter was related by one of the servants of the said Francis, who had been a spectator of the vengeance, when he came hither to be fortified with the sacred stole against the danger of madness; and he who at that time heard it from him, the keeper of that same miraculous stole, is still among the living. This the Reverend Master Romuald seems to have written to our Bolland in the year 1634, or afterward to have excerpted from a little book written on parchment, as is noted in the margin.
[7] Although all these things taken together seem sufficiently to prove the immemorial cult of Bl. Theodoric, and by two ancient Martyrologies, nevertheless we further confirm it from two Martyrologies which were written a hundred years before the famous decree of Pope Urban VIII. In the first place, our Usuardine auctaria from the Register of the Charterhouse of Utrecht celebrate on this day the memory of Theodoric the abbot, a man of wonderful sanctity. Now this Register seems to have been compiled in the fourteenth century, since its first writer makes mention of Bridget the nun, from whom take their origin the observers of that Order, he says, who in modern times have begun to arise in the diocese of Utrecht, as our Sollier observed in the Preface to his illustrated Usuard, page LXII. For the rest, from the last clause of that Martyrologist we conjecture that he wrote in the fourteenth century, in which the Order of Bridget began to arise; and therefore that that Utrecht Register is easily two hundred years older than the decree of Urban VIII.
[8] in which his name is announced. Our manuscript Florarium, which we have often cited elsewhere, on this XXIV day of August announces the same blessed Abbot in these words: On the border of Brabant and Lorraine, in the monastery of Lobbes (the Blessed one did not die in the monastery of Lobbes, but was translated from it to the abbatial dignity of St. Hubert's), the deposition of blessed Theodoric the abbot. He was of such abstinence that for fifty years he never took food except once a day. Finally he obtained on this account such grace from the Lord that he commanded even demons.
That Florarium was written in the year of Christ 1486, as our Papebroch demonstrates in the preliminary Tract to the third volume of May, page X. Hence it follows that our Abbot was given the title of blessed a hundred years and more before the very well-known decree of Urban VIII, which was published in the year of Christ 1625 and afterward more clearly explained in the year 1634. To these add the ancient writer of his Life, who professes to relate true things concerning a holy man, and whose age and credit we shall now endeavor to investigate.
[9] His Life was written by a contemporary author, First, it is established that the biographer was contemporary with Bl. Theodoric, since after narrating the miracle which the blessed Abbot had wrought at Reims, the author of the Life to be published below writes the following at number 52: This was done in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord 1076, and by common decree was committed to writing and to the Annals in the city of Reims, and it has as many witnesses as there survive men of those who were then in that city. From this phrase it is clear that several eyewitnesses of this miracle still survived at Reims when the biographer was writing this work of his. Moreover at number 64 he indicates that he stood by this blessed Man as he was dying; and, narrating distinctly the pious deeds of that already dying Abbot, he confirms the credit of his narration in these words: I call Christ to witness, and those who were present, that I feign no invention, but speak true things of the holy Man, which it befell me to see and hear in truth.
[10] concerning whose profession Although the aforesaid writer of the Life was then present in the monastery of Andage when Bl. Theodoric passed to the world above, yet it does not follow from this that he was a nursling or an inhabitant of that monastery. Nay, almost the contrary is drawn from the following words of the prologue, in which he thus addresses Lambert, a monk of Andage or of St. Hubert's: Following also and adoring from afar the footsteps of these, my Lambert, I have undertaken, at thy exhortation, to write the Life of the venerable old man Theodoric, YOUR abbot. Probably the biographer would have called this blessed Abbot ours if he had dwelt in his monastery. Nevertheless in the epilogue to the same Lambert the aforesaid writer of the Acts directs his speech thus: But I, my Lambert, have written thee this little book concerning YOUR father — nay, OUR father — Theodoric, in a more sparing style than I had purposed. Mabillon reasons thus from these words of the epilogue: He hints that he lived in some place over which Theodoric had presided; or certainly — which is more likely — that Theodoric came forth from that place where that author was living; which perhaps is to be understood of the monastery of Lobbes, where Theodoric made his monastic profession. Although this conjecture of Mabillon's is not improbable, yet a certain assertion of a Benedictine writer, which we shall now report, renders it uncertain and doubtful.
[11] Gabriel Bucelin, in his Germania topo-chrono-stemmato-graphica, which he caused to be printed at Ulm in the year 1662, part 2, page 194, treats of the monastery of St. James at Liège, and name we dare assert nothing certain, and after enumerating its abbots mentions its learned writers, among whom, to our purpose, one is reckoned at page 196 in these few words: Heribrand, afterward abbot of St. Laurence, wrote the Life of St. Theodoric, abbot of St. Hubert's. Would that Bucelin had indicated the ancient source of this new information! Whence Mabillon in his preliminary observations on that Life of Bl. Theodoric hesitates in doubt, and seems to abandon his former conjecture about a monk of Lobbes, discoursing thus in the same place: While we were writing this, there occurred to us, as we were turning over Bucelin's Germania Sacra, a catalogue of men famous for erudition who were illustrious in the monastery of St. James at Liège, in which among others is reckoned Heribrand, afterward abbot of St. Laurence at Liège, who wrote the Life of St. Theodoric, abbot of St. Hubert's.
[12] So Bucelin there, who in other places praises the same Heribrand, and whom therefore, with Mabillon and others, making no mention of this Life written by him. Nor does Fisen mention this Life in the Flowers of Liège, where he reckons Heribrand among the abbots of St. Laurence; nay, not even in the epitome of his life which he has at the VI day of June. Yet who would say that Bucelin invented these things gratuitously? For the rest, the author of that Life, whoever he may at last have been, was living not far from the monastery of St. Hubert not long after the death of blessed Theodoric; which things fit Heribrand excellently, who in the year 1082 presided over the monastery of St. Laurence at Liège. From these things the learned reader sees that we are placed at a doubtful fork of the road, and can determine nothing certain concerning the true writer of this Life. Wherefore, after Mabillon's example, we shall name the biographer of blessed Theodoric a contemporary anonymous writer, until someone shall confirm Bucelin's opinion by a testimony worthy of credit.
[13] Further, Mabillon in the same preliminary Observations asserts we shall call a contemporary anonymous writer. that he found the Life of Bl. Theodoric mutilated and imperfect in three codices, and that in his edition he supplied from the third what was wanting in either of the two others. But he does not there indicate from what monastery each of those codices came, or where they are preserved, which that most accurate man is elsewhere accustomed to note. We received it copied long ago from a manuscript codex of Aulne, which Cistercian monastery is one mile distant from Thuin, a town of the territory of Liège, and is near the Benedictine monastery of Lobbes. Besides, we have from Rouge-Cloître and from the monastery of Regular Canons of Louvain certain more recent compendia of the same Life, which cannot be of use to us, since they have merely been abridged from the older and longer Acts of Bl. Theodoric. Wherefore after this Commentary we shall submit to the press that Aulne copy, which we shall first collate with Mabillon's edition. Finally the Reverend Master Romuald Hancart, Prior of St. Hubert's, once kindly communicated to our predecessors an ancient monument, which is commonly called the Cantatorium, and which contains the deeds of Bl. Theodoric distinctly and minutely enough. From that old Cantatorium, which Edmond Martène lately published in volume IV of the Amplissima Collectio, from column 915, under the title of the History of Andage, we shall excerpt some things in the following paragraph, and shall indicate others in the Annotations on the Life, and from time to time shall correct Martène's faulty edition from the copy of the Reverend Master Romuald Hancart.
§ II. Some deeds of the Blessed one arranged chronologically, and from time to time supplied or more distinctly related from another old monument.
Another contemporary author abridges the deeds of this Blessed one, Our Blessed one beheld the first light in the year of Christ 1007, and, not yet ten years old, as the custom of that time bore, was offered to St. Peter in the monastery of Lobbes, as the Life to be published after this Commentary will testify. Then, after the solemn profession of the Benedictine rule and the illustrious mastership of letters which he exercised in various monasteries, he was in the year 1055 compelled to undertake the abbatial dignity in the monastery of St. Hubert. The anonymous and contemporary writer of the History of Andage, whom we mentioned above, in Edmond Martène's Amplissima Collectio of Ancient Monuments, volume IV, column 922, treating of the death of his predecessor Adelard, fixes this election of Bl. Theodoric in the year of Christ 1055, and on that occasion thus abridges the preceding deeds of this blessed Abbot: In the year of the Incarnate Word 1055, in the XXII of his ordination, when he had died (namely Adelard, of whom the author had treated above), there succeeded him, by God's authorship, the lord Theodoric, a monk of the monastery of Lobbes, brought up by abbot Richard, and afterward ordained priest by the venerable pontiff Gerard; excellently learned in letters, which he adorned also with honorable manners, so that both by the liveliness of his wit and by his moral uprightness he was held admirable and imitable both by young and old; and — what is most difficult — having obtained glory without envy, he was dear to all without distinction.
[15] which preceded his abbatial office, Whence, being famous in philosophy, and called out by a pious contention among the abbots of neighboring congregations to rule their schools, he instructed many, both in liberal studies and in upright manners, at Stavelot under abbot Poppo, then at Verdun under abbot Gualerannus, the successor of the lord Richard, and lastly at Mouzon under abbot Rodulf — whom afterward we saw as imitators and defenders of that master of theirs, men of most honorable uprightness. Who afterward, by the leave of his abbot Hugh of Lobbes, attempted to go to Jerusalem, but, being hindered from passing through Pannonia, turned aside to Rome, as though about to sail through the Adriatic sea; and there, beyond hope, he found Deodwin, bishop of Liège, with certain men familiarly known to him, in the church of blessed Peter; by whose suggestion — nay, by the friendly prohibition of the bishop — being restrained from going further, he sought his country with them; and on the way back, being observed for what knowledge, gravity, and perfection he had, he was honorably restored to his monastery by the aforesaid pontiff. Not long after, the emperor Henry enjoined upon bishop Deodwin that he should procure him some monk trained by abbot Richard, whom he might set as schoolmaster in the monastery of Fulda. The bishop called Theodoric, whom from Rome to Liège he had found fit for this, out of the monastery of Lobbes, and kept him with him as one to be sent to the emperor.
[16] Then in the same place it is set forth in this manner how unexpectedly Bl. Theodoric was elected abbot, and how piously, though unwilling, he undertook this office: which unwillingly and with great piety he undertook, Meanwhile, the abbots and archdeacons having been summoned by episcopal edict for the appointing of a Father for the bereaved church of blessed Hubert, he too was present with the rest, secure nevertheless as to the ordination to be performed upon himself. But when the bishop consulted who might be held fit to be set over the desolate church, a certain Godescalc, a person of honorable gravity, and likewise Anselm, dean of St. Lambert's, whose authority was very great in the disposing of such matters, answered, having first spoken in council, that such a provision well suited brother Theodoric. Others crying out that they had judged well in this, the bishop himself also willingly assented to the opinion; and, calling the lord Theodoric, he began earnestly to press him to become abbot. He on the contrary resisted with what strength he could, alleged his own incapacity and insufficiency, protested that he was unequal to so great a burden, and testified even with tears that his heart was not at variance with his lips. The bishop on the contrary urged the resisting man; the whole assembly pressed him, that he might not seem to withstand the divine calling and will. At last, overborne by the authority of so many and drawn by force by Gonzo, abbot of Florennes, and Stephen of St. Laurence's, he undertook the charge enjoined upon him, and was consecrated abbot on the Purification of holy Mary ever virgin; and so, accompanied by the aforesaid Stephen, abbot of St. Laurence's, he went to the church committed to him; whose roof when he had seen from afar, since it was then a most bitter winter, he fell to the ground in the midst of the snows, and with a groan called upon God to be his helper; and with head uncovered and feet bare he went forward as far as the monastery. This last affliction of the body, or pious undertaking of the abbatial office, is not read in the Acts to be printed below.
[17] After this the historian of Andage recounts in a long series and by name the monks whom Bl. Theodoric ruled in the monastery of St. Hubert, and with various virtues and to those names he thus subjoins the chief virtues of this Abbot: Over all these serving God under regular discipline the Abbot presided, as it were a leader of military skill. Being made all things to all these,
he conformed himself to each, until Christ should be formed in them; nor did he esteem anyone by fortune or condition, but by manners and religion. And although from his early years he had been religiously trained and had lived modestly and chastely, he then appointed for himself this manner of living, to be continued: that he should always take food but once a day, and that so sparingly that he was continually hungry, and this without eggs and cheese and without the seasoning of fat; but in the lawful observances of Advent and Lent he secretly wore himself down with fasts of two and three days. Besides the common alms of the monastery he daily fed twelve poor men, whose feet and hands he washed; and when sufficient refreshment had been given them, he prostrated himself humbly enough upon the ground before them as before Christ. He rested a little upon a very mean bed, with a hair shirt thrown over it; from which, secretly rising, he always anticipated the common vigils; and so with genuflections and prayers with tears he sacrificed himself to God…
[18] Besides the Canonical Hours, which as a due he diligently paid to God, he was illustrious, he sang separately the vigils and all the Hours of the day in veneration of the blessed Trinity and of the glorious ever Virgin Mary, and likewise of Peter the apostle and of all the Saints; and running through the whole Psalter also between night and day, he either chanted it himself or provided one who should chant it for him. But with what groanings and with what contrition of heart he stood, about to sacrifice to the Lord, at the daily solemnities of the Masses, is for him alone to approve whose it is to weigh the hearts of all men. Of what humility he was in habit, of what gravity in gait, of what evenness in countenance, of what honorableness in act, not only every ecclesiastical dignity marveled, but even that secular power which is haughty and irreverent toward others, which both laudably magnified his absence and humbly honored his presence.
[19] and in which he prevailed with great favor and authority By one or two examples which the biographer to be published after this preliminary Commentary omitted, we shall show the friendly familiarity of this blessed Abbot with certain prelates, from the aforesaid History of Andage, where the contemporary author, in the cited Edmond Martène, volume IV of the Amplissima Collectio, column 927 and the following, relates a twofold specimen of this matter in these words: Being often summoned by the religious Anno, pontiff of Cologne, he was received with friendly veneration; and being compelled to remain for some time most familiarly with so great a man, he was delighted by their mutual discourse of the divine Scriptures, as though upon Solomon's golden couch strewn in the midst with charity. To whom, when by chance in conversation he objected with familiar pleasantness why he did not by pontifical authority restrain certain barbarians of his diocese dwelling beyond the Rhine from eggs and milk and cheese in Lent, the pontiff answered that he indeed altogether approved and attested and praised ecclesiastical abstinence and religion; but that a difference of foods did not much hinder those firm in the faith, since the Lord in the desert fed Elias by a raven, not with fishes but with flesh; and that he had often forbidden it and had not prevailed; that he greatly rejoiced that they suffered themselves to be called Christians, lest, by frightening them with any violence, he should estrange those same barbarians from the Christian faith. And because the Abbot was the more pleasing to that pontiff, the more the place of honorable virtue with him was found ample, he never returned from him without being honored with gifts which altogether befitted both giver and receiver.
[20] with ecclesiastical princes Then, having narrated the miracle which Bl. Theodoric wrought on the journey to that same prelate, and which will be related below in the Acts, the aforesaid contemporary historian subjoins another specimen of friendship with the bishop of Metz in this manner: But if at any time he presented himself to the lord Adalbero, bishop of Metz, for the answers of the church, he himself afterward marveled in recalling to memory with what humility a man of such nobility and power bowed himself to him, with what kindness he placed him at table, having compelled him to dine with him. To whom, when by chance during dinner the first-fruits of pears were brought, the pontiff began to handle them with his hands, often to smell them and set them back upon the table, and, as though under the show of a certain delight, by touching and not tasting, to torment himself with them; from which, abstaining altogether, when he had divided them among the others, the Abbot carefully noted what he had seen the bishop do, and, sitting alone with him alone, humbly asked the reason of the deed. At this the bishop sighed and groaned, and, because he remembered that he had once in his youth sinned by taking too much delight in these, he answered that he had determined with himself that by the same things by which he had sinned he would also punish himself by abstaining. The Abbot, edified by the example of this abstinence, often rejoiced among his familiars that it had afterward much profited him; and lest he should transgress by unlawful things, he constantly abstained from these very lawful ones.
[21] But of how great authority this blessed Abbot was among secular princes and with secular ones. is plain even from one narration of the same historian, which he has in the same place at column 938 in this manner: Duke Godfrey, having fallen sick in Italy and thence been carried back to Bouillon, when he now despaired of his life, having sent legates to abbot Theodoric, humbly enough asked that he would visit him; for a going forth from the monastery was not easy, especially for the sake of any secular person. At length, having come in to him, when he saw a man formerly of such power so afflicted, lifting his eyes to God he said: "Thou hast humbled the proud one, as one that is wounded." The Duke, being pricked at the Abbot's word, said: "Dearest father, nothing is truer." And bursting into tears, scarcely able to speak for sobbing, he made a pure confession to God before the Abbot in expectation of death; and when it was made, he ordered his sword to be brought to him, which, with continued groaning of penitence, he presented to his son Godfrey standing by to be given back to the Abbot, and humbly enough — but rather sorrowfully — called upon him to be his witness in the judgment of God for his renunciation of secular warfare. What and how great possessions Bl. Theodoric acquired or recovered for the monastery of St. Hubert is there narrated at length, which we shall briefly indicate in the Annotations on the Life to be published below, from this History of Andage, if anyone should perchance be curious to know them.
[22] Meanwhile we shall investigate the more probable year of his death, The death of this blessed Abbot, which the often-mentioned historian of Andage expressed in the same place at column 965 in these words: In the year of the Lord 1086, and the XXXII of his ordination, Theodoric the abbot, worn out not only with old age but also with fastings, prayers, and vigils, and likewise with the labors and cares of the pastoral office committed to him, began about the month of July to fail even in that very slender strength of body. Whence, for the sake of resting a little, it pleased him to withdraw to Piros; where, when, his infirmity gradually increasing, he perceived himself pressed toward death, he charged Theodoric the provost, who was staying there with him, that his return to the monastery should be hastened. Then he subjoins the death of the blessed Man which shortly followed, which we shall hear much more distinctly from an eyewitness in the Acts to be given after this Commentary.
[23] Here it may be doubted whether that year of Christ 1086, in the marking of whose year the manuscript codices disagree, in which the death of Bl. Theodoric is above placed in this History, has been rightly expressed by the historian of Andage or by his copyists, seeing that in certain manuscript codices of the Acts the year 1087 or 1088 is assigned to that same death. Whence Mabillon in his preliminary observations on this Life, number 2, discusses thus concerning the year of Bl. Theodoric's death: The opinion of authors is not one concerning the year in which Theodoric departed this life. His death is referred to the year 1084 by John Molanus in the Natales of the Saints of Belgium, by Miræus in the Fasti Belgici, and by other more recent writers everywhere; by Bartholomew Fisen in the Flowers of the Church of Liège to the following year. In one of the manuscript codices of which we had copies it is read that Theodoric died in the year 1087; which is said in another codex to have happened in the following year. But although in so great a variety of opinions scarcely anything certain seems able to be established, yet the author of his Life noted the series of the blessed Abbot's years so diligently that, if we are willing to weigh his words a little more accurately, it will easily be found what was the last year of his life.
[24] Since in the Acts to be given below Bl. Theodoric is said to have been born in the year of Christ 1007, and to have died in the eightieth year of his age not fully completed, against others, in the year of Christ 1087 Mabillon argues thus from these two passages of the Life compared together: But all the codices constantly have that Theodoric died in the eightieth year of his age begun and not completed. Whence it must remain certain that the opinion of Molanus and others cannot be admitted, who referred Theodoric's death to the year 1084. By the same words is refuted what one of the manuscript codices praised above has, that Theodoric departed this life in the year 1088: for on that reckoning he would have died more than eighty years old by some months at least, which plainly contradicts the passage cited from all the codices. It remains therefore that we refer Theodoric's death to the year 1086 with some, or to the following year with one manuscript codex of St. Hubert's; and indeed, if Notger, bishop of Liège, died in the year 1007, as some hold, the first opinion is to be preferred to the other, since Notger departed this life in the month of March, but Theodoric in the month of August. For from March of the year 1007 to August of 1087 more than eighty years intervene. But since the opinion which assigns Notger's death to the year 1008 seems to be preferred to the other, and since Theodoric is said in another manuscript codex to have been born in the year preceding Notger's death, we judge that Theodoric was born at the end of the year 1007, and therefore that he departed this life in the month of August of the year 1087, being nearly eighty years old. All things being attentively weighed, we have followed this chronology of Mabillon's, and think that the other years noted in certain codices have been corrupted by the copyists.
[25] and the XXIV day of August In the same codices there occurs also some discrepancy concerning the day of his death: for in the Acts published by Mabillon the death of this blessed Abbot is assigned to the eighth Kalends of September, and in our Aulne copy and in the three other compendia of the Life, of which we made mention in the preceding paragraph, to the ninth Kalends of September. Wion in the Lignum Vitæ announces Bl. Theodoric on both these days, and Meyer defers his death to the XXVII day of August, when in the Annals of Flanders, book 5, or at the year of Christ 1150, he writes thus of him: But on the sixth Kalends of September died the divine Theodoric, born at Lerna, begotten of his father Gonso, abbot of the monastery of the divine Hubert. But in the first place Meyer in this passage wrongly took the day of burial for the day of death. Moreover he seems to have confounded this Bl. Theodoric with another abbot of the same name, and perhaps with Theodoric, the successor of our Blessed one, who in the year 1109 resigned the abbey of St. Hubert. For how else could he have prolonged the life of our Bl. Theodoric to the year of Christ 1150?
[26] we fix with Mabillon. Whatever be the case with this confusion of our Abbot with that or another Theodoric, at least Raissius incautiously followed Meyer, and to the other Theodoric
attributed what belongs to our Saint of today, when in the Gazophylacium Belgicum, page 50, after the elogium of Bl. Theodoric which we recited above at number 4, he immediately subjoins this: There died here also, on the sixth Kalends of September, another Theodoric of the same name, the successor of his predecessor, a man of eminent virtue and prudence, of the noble family of Lerne, born of his father Gonso, as Meyer will have it at his death, namely in the year 1150. Certainly this father Gonso and this family of Lerne belong to our elder Bl. Theodoric. But if Meyer meant to attribute these things to Theodoric the second or younger, he blundered shamefully and led Raissius into error; or else he placed the death of Bl. Theodoric the elder in the year of Christ 1150 by a gross anachronism. For the rest, with most Menologies and manuscript codices we set forth the Acts of that blessed Abbot on this XXIV day of August, and illustrate them with the usual notes.
LIFE
by a contemporary anonymous author,
From a manuscript codex of the monastery of Aulne, whose copy we have collated with Mabillon's edition, Benedictine century VI, part 2, page 559.
Theodoric, first abbot of that name of Andage, in the forest of the Ardennes (Bl.)
BHL Number: 8050
FROM THE MANUSCRIPT.
PROLOGUE.
The author sets forth the reasons They say that with certain ancient writers this was the highest kind of study profitably pursued: that of those men who excelled among them in industry of body and mind they should transmit in writing to the knowledge of posterity both the sayings and the deeds — those only, at least, which seemed worthy of relation — namely that clear minds might confer immortality upon the dead among those about to die; and that aged antiquity might not press down in silence those whom it deservedly admired, and by whose virtues a later age might be stirred to virtues. Imitating these, certain ecclesiastical men afterward, truthfully setting forth in clear style what the Son of God spoke or wondrously wrought in the flesh in time, illumined the hearts of the faithful with the splendor of the evangelical institution. Some, by writing down the Apostolic acts, added much of faith and strength and patience to the succeeding age. And many from the times of the Apostles almost to our own age have left us great monuments in their writings, whether concerning the peace or the warfare of the Church, in which the way to the heights of virtues is paved for the Christian man: there lie open also the winding paths that turn aside into the byways \* of vices. And some of them wrote the passions of those who purchased heaven with their blood; but most took care to report in their writings concerning the life and conversation of those who either presided over the churches of God and made them illustrious, whether by the illumination of heavenly doctrine, or by the attestation of works, or by the flashing of miracles; or of those who, fleeing the fellowship of worldly life not only in body but also with the whole mind, lived only in desert places, the companions of beasts and birds. And this they did, not that by careful composition of speech they might make more glorious those whom God had already glorified with glory and honor in the heavenly kingdom, and had made his consorts to dwell with him; but that they might train the younger to the emulation and example of them, and that the good, by reciting the works of the good, might become better; but that the wicked, by the example of those whom they read or heard of as first perverse and afterward converted, God changing them, might change their evil life and manners for the better.
[2] Following also and adoring from afar the footsteps of these, my Lambert a, I have undertaken, at thy exhortation, for which he wrote this Life. to write the life of the venerable old man Theodoric, your b abbot, and to set forth — from his birth, how he began, by what arts \ he ordered his life, with what effort he ascended to the heights of virtues, and what end of life he had — those things only which have become known to me by thy relation and that of other faithful men, in a rustic indeed and less polished speech, but as truthfully as I shall be able. Which burden, although I have presumed to take it up not out of confidence in my ability, but as much for the pious remembrance of the departed Old Man as for the greatness of your friendship, I am not ignorant how heavy and unbearable it is, where, both for the purity of history, one must strive after truth, and, because the life of a holy man is being written, one must beware of the crime of falsehood, lest toward him whom I loved with unmoved \ love I be condemned as rather doing him injury by lying than rendering him service c. To this is added also this, that while I utter very many things, or such as come into my mind unjudged, and words of a less fastidious taste, or sometimes certain things either less harsh or less light and almost vulgar, which history at times requires, I lie open to the judgment of the multitude, which with its various answers easily slips to one side or the other through love or hatred. Moreover, when I weigh the weakness of my ignorance, I fear lest I sink under the burden of the work laid upon me by thee, and lest the unskillfulness of him who fails be turned into the fault of him who exhorted. But when I both regard the pleasantness of thy friendship and am stirred by the remembrance of the departed, I judge it easy and ready to bear whatever is said of him with thee, for the love of both. For there is no danger in setting forth to a friend what thou thinkest, provided only that thou always have care of the truth and beware the fictions of falsehood. For truth walks more safely, though in rustic and simple words, than falsehood decked out with the splendor of words. And thus far of this. But now I turn to my narrative, invoking him whom that Theodoric of whom we treat devoutly and faithfully served, God, to be the fellow-worker of this work.
ANNOTATIONS.
\ Mabillon: &*. \ Mabillon: devexa*. \ Mabillon: actibus*. \ Mabillon: supremo*.
CHAPTER I.
The Blessed one's native place, his parents, his pious upbringing, and his study of letters in boyhood.
His mother obtains the explanation of a wondrous vision There was in the villa which is called Lerne, which is separated from the castle of Thuin a by three miles, and from the monastery of Lobbes by an interval of fifty stadia, a certain soldier born of an honorable family, Gonzo by name, having a religious wife who feared the Lord. She, when at some time she had given herself to sleep, saw in a dream that she was standing at the sacred altar in a certain church with certain men of reverend habit dutifully attending her, clothed in priestly vestments; and that, though she was wholly ignorant of letters, she diligently chanted the whole office of the Mass, and so celebrated that mystery without hesitation, just as if she had at all times been given to that work. And after those solemnities of the Masses, as it seemed to her, were completed, that as a priest she had blessed the people; then, those sacred garments being put off and laid up in the sacristy, that she had gone out, and, having bidden all farewell, had returned home, and after the sweetness of the dream had gently awakened. Hereupon, being terrified, she began to be anxious and troubled within herself over the vision, mindful of her sex and condition, fearing that what she had seen portended great calamity to herself and to her house, since she knew that that mystery had never been presumed by any woman. But moreover, as a wise woman, she considered within herself that if God wished to slay her, or to afflict her house with ruinous disasters, he could foreshow his miseries and deaths to her in some other way than by the mystery of human quickening. Yet she was certain that a vision of this sort was not phantastic, and that she had not been deceived by the nightly image of an empty dream, but rather that she was divining beforehand something great from heaven. Nor indeed, after the manner of women, did she wish to relate what she had seen to anyone, nor even to her own husband; but she set her face to the Lord, to ask and beseech in fastings and alms and prayer, that God, who reveals mysteries and knows the things set in darkness, would deign to reveal to her the mystery of the vision. And because she applied her heart to seeking, she deserved so to know what she sought, God showing it.
[4] There was at that time, living in a purpose of holy continence within that same region, a certain aged old woman, from a certain pious old woman, to whom, besides other gifts of virtues, God had granted, for the merit of her life, that she should sometimes foretell things to come to many. Brought by report of her to hope of the interpretation of her dream, that woman came to her; and having briefly commended herself to her \*, after mutual embraces and conversation she related to her with much fear and tears her vision: praying first that she would entreat God for her, lest the vision should portend anything prodigious to her; and then that she would declare to her its interpretation. And she, prayer being poured forth, and being breathed upon by the gift of prophetic grace, said: "Be confident, O woman, for the vision which thou hast seen was made to thee from heaven, which shall be fulfilled unto thy salvation and that of many in this manner: Behold, the son whom thou hast in thy womb (for she was with child) shall be born to thee, whom God has now sanctified and set apart for himself unto the work of the priestly ministry, through whom he has provided that the salvation of many shall be cared for." This she said, and sent the woman home certain of the promise. And when she returned to her husband, then at length she disclosed to him in secret the dream with the interpretation, as she had heard it from the prophetess. Which he, as a man wholly given in those times to warfare and the business of the world, despised and derided, and reckoned divine oracles to be womanish ravings and vainly composed.
[5] Meanwhile, the months of her motherhood being fulfilled, after the woman had conceived what had been divinely announced, and the son foretold to her on the very night of the festival of St. Martin b, while the people were coming together to the morning vigils, she bore a son in the year of the Lord's Incarnation one thousand and seven, Henry II c reigning among the Romans and the Germans, in the sixth year after he had succeeded the younger Otto, Notger presiding in the see of Liège, a man of great sanctity and wisdom, in the twenty-seventh year after he had been ordained bishop d \*. When morning came, his mother had him baptized, and caused him to be named Theodoric in baptism, which may be interpreted "beholder of God," or "one who gazes upon divine things" e. Which name, although it is common to many with him, yet he obtained by a certain presage of things to come. And not undeservedly. For from boyhood to the last term of his life, the grace of God ever growing with him, he applied himself to divine contemplation.
[6] she rears with great care, Therefore the little child, being weaned, was nursed with such care and diligence by his mother that, apart from his parents and his home, he knew nothing. And when he was nearly seven years old, without the knowledge of his father, who was arranging that he should become an earthly soldier, as he himself was, and the heir of his goods, his mother, not unmindful of her vision, gave him to be instructed in the first elements of letters, burning with all her prayers that her son might be drawn away from the vanity and tumults of this world and made a minister in the house of the Lord. But the enemy of all good things, seeing that there was already in the boy something of spiritual grace, sought arts by which he might harm him, and inflamed the father against the good purpose of his wife.
He, drawing his son away from letters, ordered him to be kept at home, threatening grievous things to his wife if hereafter she should presume to hand him over to these studies. But after some days, while one of his father's servants was carrying from the fire the boiling broth of cooked meats, he stumbled upon the little boy and fell, and scalded his left arm with that broth from the shoulder almost to the hand. Straightway the child, unable to bear the pain, fell down, and, half dead, rolled almost lifeless upon the ground. The whole household ran together in confusion; before all, the mother, moved by the grief of her offspring, casts her breast, colder than ice, upon her son, dead as she thought. But Almighty God preserved his young recruit amid the pressure of death, by whose providence he was already accustoming him with the rod of sons and drawing him to himself by his own strokes.
[7] and, against her husband's will, But when she returned to herself from her stupor of mind, so that at last her grief scarcely found a voice amid sobs and frequent sighs, now beating her breast with her fists, now disfiguring her face with her nails, now tearing her hair with her hands and filling the whole house with fierce complaints, crying out that she was unhappy, showing herself wretched, she repeats again and again with pitiable wailings that she was neglected by God's regard — she to whom a son had been given by God's promise, but who by her own sin and by her husband's detestable rage had been so suddenly snatched away by a death too bitter. Then, when, being rebuked by her husband and by those who were present, she scarcely lifted her sick limbs from the ground, she sees her son in the hands of the maidservants, now of composed countenance, now moderating his cries; but wherever that plague of the boiling broth had spread itself, it had stripped the whole flesh of the little boy of its skin. When the mother, herself also forbidding her tears, received her son, she cherishes and kisses him, as one come back from death; and shortly, God caring for him, being restored to health, again she secretly commends him, without his father's knowledge, to be instructed in letters. And when his father, having been absent some days, returned home and did not find his son, and asking where he was learned it, he went away offended, and, snatching him from the midst of the schoolboys where he was reading, brought him home. Whence indeed I judge that he is in this respect to be compared to blessed Martin. For as a heathen father hindered Martin, lest his son should serve Christ, so his father, though a Christian, opposed Theodoric, lest he should minister in the tabernacle of the Lord. But human prudence cannot break the counsel of divine ordinance. For although God then, against his will, preserved Martin already serving in the world, as he willed, and wonderfully recalled him to his own warfare, so for Theodoric he provided in this way, before he could be corrupted by age.
[8] When on that very day the little boy was climbing to the upper room of the house, who at length is forced to yield, he fell, and his left arm, which was still weak from the almost fresh scalding, was rent by the heavy collision and hung broken from the shoulder. Terrified by so bitter and unlooked-for a fall, the father ran up bloodless, and lifted him, almost lifeless, in his arms. And with his face bathed in many tears, he accuses himself unbidden; with mingled grief and wailing he cries out that he is a parricide, the slayer of his son, who had attempted to take away one dedicated to God when he was not yet born. But the mother, with womanly laments, uttering bitter reproaches, said: "Because, O sweetest son, thou art trained for earthly warfare by a loving father, come now, learn to bear arms, to drive and wheel a horse, so to strike, so to guard against the enemy. But if he was unwilling that thou shouldst serve in the camps of Christ, I hope in God's providence that thou shalt not be the successor of his goods and of his warfare." But he said: "Rage not, my wife, nor lead one already sad more than enough into inconsolable grief by harsher goadings. For although I am deservedly blamed, because I withdrew what had in whatever manner been vowed to God, yet thou art rather to be accused, who didst vow my son to God at thine own judgment, without my knowledge, as though he pertained nothing to me. Therefore, behold thy son; take him; and if it is the will of God that he live, let him become a monk, as thou hast vowed." He spoke, and gave the son back to his mother. And she with maternal solicitude had care of him, bound up the wound, and cherished it with frequent washing and medicine; and quickly, by God's help, she not only made whole again the fracture of the arm, but also restored to entire soundness whatever in his whole body had been injured by that fall. Then, not now in secret as before, but openly, she commended him in the monastery of Maubeuge f to the daughter of Ansoald g, that she might teach him the first elements of letters and the psalter. And since she has opportunely offered herself at the same time, it seems not unfitting to insert a few things concerning her virtues and her life, to the praise of the name of Christ. For whatever the Saints have worthy of imitation or of praise is wholly the gift of Christ.
[9] This maiden, then, being placed while yet very small by her parents in a monastery of the handmaids of God, in good morals showed in her girlhood years what she would be with the passing of time: for, as that age is wont to do, she never followed the wantonness or the carelessness of girls, never delighted in their trifles and games, but, compelling her mind to serve reading and meditation alone, when the others ran together to the public place, she went to the church; when the others were noisy, sang, and after the manner of girls exercised themselves in dances, she fell prostrate in prayer. But when a riper age came on, quickly surpassing the rest, she shone forth to some as a model of good living, and to others by the merit of her life she was a terror. For by daily afflictions of the body she punished lust; she overcame all passions of the soul by resisting them. For she watched sometimes whole nights; and sometimes indeed by praying she joined the day to the night. But when necessity commanded sleep, either she had the pavement for her bed, or, standing — but rarely sitting — she slumbered a little. Her food was for the most part bread with salt, her drink water; rarely did she admit pulse or apples or the roots of herbs. For wine, strong drink, flesh, eggs and fish, and richer foods she had utterly forbidden herself. Adorned with gentleness, patience, humility, clemency, and charity, she withdrew luxury from her virginal chastity. A guard of her mouth unto silence, she never knowingly or willingly spoke a falsehood. Ever cautious, diligent, and provident, she never, if she could help it, opened her mouth save with wise and chaste words. Though often provoked, she was never angry, was never seen to be moved even lightly, save for God's cause. Contentions and brawls and the quarrels of women she made altogether alien and foreign to herself. Baths and washings she despised, teaching that none can be defiled from without save him whom the delight of sin defiles from within. The noise of crowds and the concourse of those who came to her for her merit she always shunned: the tongues of detractors and the favors of those who praised her she held alike. Since with these and other virtues she abounded by God's grace, she stirred many in the monastery of Maubeuge to like virtue, recalled many after a fall to penance; and, with the consent of Gerard h, bishop of Cambrai, and of Rainer, count of Mons, she corrected in that same monastery the order of monastic religion, which had almost been annihilated, and restored it to a better state. But because the Lord chastens whom he loves and scourges whom he receives, seven years before her falling asleep, being smitten with the ulcer of a cancer, she neither lessened her purpose of good living, practiced by use and by the habit of virtues, nor ever murmured at the scourges; nay rather, because she was held worthy of God's visitation, she always gave thanks. At length by a happy departure the blessed woman passed rejoicing to the Lord in the beauty of virginal chastity, to receive the reward of her long labor.
[10] and takes care that he be instructed in letters. To her, when now a young girl, her brother Theodoric, still a boy, being commended, he gave, so far as one could prophesy from his boyish age, sure proofs of his genius and of his future life: for the lesson of the psalms, which was given him each day by his sister, he both easily grasped and quickly rendered by memory. Nor yet was he driven to learning, as small children usually are, by threats or blows, nor incited by coaxing persuasions. But of his own accord he anticipated the times set him for reading; he never was idle unless bidden; so that his sister and all who saw him were astonished, and marveled in him both at his diligence in reading and at the swiftness of his little wit. But if ever he was at leisure and was seen with his equals, he altogether shrank from going and playing with them; and it was a punishment to him when his sister refreshed him with rest; and burdensome to him was anyone who wished to draw him to the sights of games. But seeing in what order his sister led her life, considering how grave and mature in manners she was, how zealous in prayers, and understanding that she wore down her body by the harshness of her garments and by abstinence from food, he began, so far as his tender age allowed, to wish to imitate her. Kindled therefore by the same divine power as she, he went secretly indeed, but often, to the church, as he saw his sister do. Often he fell prostrate in prayer, beat his little breast with his fist, and, as he had learned from her, begged the Lord with devout prayers, sometimes mingled with tears, to give him wisdom to understand and to do right things and to beware of evil ones. Which when his sister perceived, being delighted, she began, both by words and by deeds, to form her brother to good action according to the capacity of a boyish understanding, saying: "This is rightly to be done, that must needs be avoided; God must be appeased by frequent supplication and tears, and known by constant reading and by the practice of good deeds." With these and such-like precepts the holy virgin daily instructed the boy while he read; and he, before his years, directed his mind to the way of the virtues.
ANNOTATIONS.
g. In
the latest editors of the Gallia Christiana, volume 3, column 147, it is doubted whether that Ansoald was abbess of Maubeuge, although she restored monastic discipline in that monastery — which perhaps she did rather by the example of her pious life than by authority.
\ elsewhere precata*. \ read thirtieth*.
CHAPTER II.
His monastic profession, his mastership in various monasteries, his priesthood, and the journey to Jerusalem undertaken in vain.
At that time a there flourished with a manifold flower and shoot of virtues, among the other parishes of Liège and Cambrai, In the monastery of Lobbes the church of Lobbes b, and it was strong in the holy converse of religious and illustrious monks. This abbot Richard c, who then presided over it, had ennobled by his institutions and holy admonitions and had exalted by his examples. To him the boy Theodoric was handed over by his pious mother to be reared under regular training in the monastery of Lobbes (for his father, being now taken from human affairs, had yielded to nature); and when he was nearly ten years old, he was offered to St. Peter. Whom the venerable abbot loved with a pious love, and caused to be reared with greater diligence than the rest of his coevals. For he had heard that he had been divinely foretold even before he was born, and that by the pious efforts of his mother, God wondrously bringing it about, he had been dedicated to God against his father's wish. Therefore, too, from his studies and the quality of his manners the pious father conjectured how great and of what sort that boy would be if he grew up. For all things which he considered in him were arguments of good hope. For he walked humbly with his head bowed to the ground, his shoulders lowered, his hands and feet and arms beautifully composed, his eyes lowered and looking humbly; laughter was rare on his mouth, and that slight and moderate; tears were rather often found on his cheeks. But elegance of manners and wisdom of mind grew in him together with his age. He was cautious in questioning, swift and provident in answering. He was so given to studies that no fitting hour passed him by in which he did not read, or write, or dictate, or discuss some question. In a short time, being made a philosopher as much by the adornment of his manners as by his learning in the seven arts which we call liberal, while still a very young man he was a great marvel to the most learned old men.
[12] having professed the rule of St. Benedict, Since therefore the venerable abbot saw him ascending by these steps of virtues to the citadel of true philosophic wisdom, when he was in the seventeenth year of his age he had him ordained subdeacon by that most holy man Gerard, bishop of Cambrai, by whom in his boyhood years he had already been ordained lector or acolyte. But when he was nineteen years old, having professed obedience and the discipline of the holy rule d, abbot Richard himself made him a monk, and in the course of time caused him to be promoted to the grade of the diaconate by the same bishop Gerard. And he sought the familiarity of those whom he saw to be the more religious of men, especially of abbots and monks, commending himself and his purpose to their prayers. And he was zealous for the virtues of all, framing his own life by the imitation of others. For he followed the humility of one, the obedience of another; by the simplicity of another he formed himself. One who prayed more often, another who read more diligently he imitated. With one he strove in charity, another he surpassed in patience. Ever ready to obey, he was admirable to all: to chastity indeed he subjected luxury, and the incitements of vices, and even those natural motions of the body which are not lacking in old men, he manfully restrained and bridled in the years of wanton youth by assiduity of readings, by instancy of vigils, and by frequency of prayers.
[13] for his good morals he is set over the school, Whatever he found blameworthy in himself he presently pursued with tears and punished; he wore down his body by abstinence from food and drink — not indeed as much as he wished, but so far as the abbot permitted. Moreover, he was so zealous for vigils that no one ever saw him rise from his little bed either with the rest or after the rest. Never did the nightly vigils find him sleeping or resting. And he was so given to silence that he hardly spoke except at fitting hours, and then only when questioned. And although he was strong in so many and so great virtues, yet — what is most difficult — he was dear to all; and to abbot Richard himself, the more he saw him surpass the rest by the grace of his merits, the more pleasing he was above the rest. And because he perceived that the young man was of keen wit, adorned not only with maturity of manners but also with learning in the seven arts which philosophers call liberal, he appointed him keeper and trainer of the boys, master of the scholastic discipline. And he most obediently obeyed, and had many disciples, whom he trained not only excellently in letters but also in good morals, and advanced as rivals of himself to the heights of virtues.
[14] At that time Reinard e, then bishop of the church of Liège, and, his abbot being deposed impelled by the frequent suggestion of the envious, persecuted and held hateful that same holy abbot Richard, whom he ought to have venerated. He, considering that it was grievous to resist superiors, and that by resisting he would make another's fault his own; and at the same time, after the Lord's example, choosing rather to endure calumny than (though he was blameless) to defend himself by reasoning, gave back the abbey of Lobbes to the bishop and withdrew to Verdun, where he also presided over the monks of St. Vanne f. Which Theodoric grievously lamenting, and burning with longing for his master, fled from the monastery, and, accompanied by one boy, came to Stavelot, where report had murmured to him that he had gone, to abbot Poppo: who himself also had been of the number of his master's disciples, and, being advanced by much obedience and by the summit of the other virtues, and set over that monastery and likewise over many others, walked in the discipline of his teacher by his works. By whom, being festally received, he enjoyed his dutiful charity for three days.
[15] Afterward, when, the horses being saddled, he wished to follow abbot Richard as far as Verdun, being forbidden to follow him, his horse, suddenly lame in one foot, hindered his setting out. Which abbot Poppo g prudently understood why it had happened, and rebuked the young man for the fault of his flight; and, gently consoling him as he did penance, presently sent him back to his own place, his horse no longer lame. And returning to the monastery he was received with the great favor of all; and he found now presiding in it Hugh h, of whom it is reported that, having been trained from boyhood in that same monastery, and being approved a monk by a manner of life pleasing to God and praiseworthy among men, he had been appointed provost of the brethren by that same venerable abbot Richard; and, when he was removed and departed, was substituted as abbot by the equal acclamation of all the brethren, by that same bishop Reinard. Who, knowing by what way Theodoric had striven from infancy, and how most ready he had been to obey his predecessor in all things, endeavored by many trials to discover whether he persevered in the intent of the good purpose which he had begun. But he obediently undertook all that was commanded him; and, the grace of God working with him, by doing them he showed easy the precepts of his abbot, although harsh and difficult of performance. Whence he was held by him in such a place of love that he used his services more gladly than those of the rest; and conversed with him more often with the affection of a special favor, and shared his secrets with him more familiarly.
[16] But when after this some years had rolled by, and he had by his progress in virtues become known to many, he is initiated into the priesthood, at the request of his abbot the aforesaid Gerard, bishop of Cambrai, ordained him priest, unwilling and protesting and with tearful voice declaring himself unworthy, on the sixteenth of the Kalends of July, in the thirtieth year after his birth, and that not yet complete. Then, counting all his past labors as nothing and considering with how heavy a burden he was now at last weighed down, he so changed the purpose and the habit of his former life as though then for the first time he were newly beginning to serve the Lord. Having therefore asked of his abbot a blessing for living more austerely, he first proposed to himself that he should eat once daily, and should never break his fast, either on Lord's days or on any solemnities, save through the trouble of the gravest sickness. Which from his thirtieth year to his eightieth, in which he died — for nearly fifty years — he kept inviolably, as we prove by the testimony of those with whom he lived.
[17] and leads a more austere life. And no infirmity could persuade him to lay aside the hair shirt for even a moment during those fifty years. And the cleanliness of baths he never used, not even as a remedy: for he taught that that flesh needed no washing which a little afterward must be rottenness and the food of worms. He wore himself down with heavier abstinence, and by daily exercise became greater and more robust. Frequent in vigils, assiduous in prayer, he was so zealous in the reading of the sacred letters and Scriptures that he both held them by memory and quickly solved questions upon them, however difficult and obscure. But why do I run through everything? For while the pious remembrance of Theodoric compels me to linger upon each point, I do not keep the rules of speaking.
[18] Teaching letters in the monastery of Stavelot, When therefore such report of Theodoric's virtues went through the neighboring monasteries, abbot Poppo, of whom I spoke a little above, obtained that he should be granted to him and made schoolmaster in the monastery of Stavelot. In which monastery he trained many young men to live by his own example, whom he instructed excellently in the knowledge both of divine and of scholastic letters; and by the training of regular discipline and the ordering of manners he stirred them to the study of true philosophy; and rendered the sandy and barren and thorny soil of their hearts fruitful by the constant tillage of doctrine. For he was apt to teach, and always ready to answer questions, and eloquent in setting forth what he saw. But he had the habit from youth, at all seasons of summer or of winter, to anticipate the morning vigils; and because he was employed all day in readings, he had assigned the nights to prayers.
[19] he puts to flight by the sign of the cross a demon Then too on a certain night he had risen as usual, and in the oratory of St. Nicholas, which is situated over against the cloister of that monastery, on the right as one enters, toward the south, he lay before the altar poured out in prayer. Meanwhile one of the monks, himself also having the purpose of anticipating the others, rose and was going to the church for the sake of prayer. And behold, when he came before the doors of the aforesaid oratory, a demon suddenly set himself in the midst between him and the door: dreadful in his vast bulk, terrible in his pitch-black form, threatening with burning eyes, intolerable with a sulfurous stench. And he, barring the monk from entering, said: "Whence thou also here, when placid rest cherishes the rest at these hours? Or whither goest thou, or what seekest thou? Dost thou too prepare to bar me hence with vigils and prayers, like him who by continual prayers has drawn Nicholas hither — that Theodoric who lies within? Whose presence, did I not fear it, I would now show thee what I could do, having beaten thee even to death" (and he seemed to shake a huge trident).
[20] that troubled a monk, At this the monk, unable to bear more,
by whose mere sight he might have terrified many, fell down; and with as loud a voice as he could he repeated again and again: "Help, lord Theodoric, help!" But Theodoric, roused by the brother's cry, rose from prayer, and, the door being opened and a light brought, saw this wretched monk lying there, and beyond him the black Ethiopian insulting him as one vanquished. But he, not terrified, raised the sign of the cross against the enemy, and with the sign chanted this verse: By the sign of the cross deliver us from our enemies, O our God. Then the demon, not enduring the weapon which had been aimed at him, vanished, driven off both by the power of the trophy and by the merits of Theodoric. Then he came to the monk, bent over him as he lay lifeless, poured forth prayer for him, gave him his hand and raised him up, and brought him with him into the oratory. When morning came, that brother, now safe and sound, came to the abbot and the brethren; and, still trembling and pale, related what he had seen, what he had heard, what had befallen him, and was the first true asserter and witness of the merits and virtues of Theodoric.
[21] At another time also, when that same venerable abbot Poppo was going to Liège, and on a certain journey he had in his company that same Theodoric. And when he had come to the river which they call the Amblève i, the abbot himself and the rest of his companions went by the straight road to the ford, and all indeed crossed unharmed, yet with much \* difficulty: for it had swollen with the winter rains and, foaming with a surging flood, was rolling stones and trees torn up by the roots, as it is wont. The vehement blast of the winds also drove thick showers hither and thither. But Theodoric, being by chance behind the others and intent upon the chanting of the psalms, with his head covered by his hood, followed far behind; and, misled by the winding of ways leading in different directions, while the others went on before, he alone turned aside to the left from the road, and, following the path upon which he had fallen, came to the water.
[22] There is a wooden bridge there, stretched from either bank of the river into the midst of the fields; he escapes a great peril of death. but in the middle it is raised high on account of the winter waters, yet so narrow that it can in no way be passable for horses or oxen or asses. Only foot travelers are wont to cross there. Coming to this, Theodoric, not foreseeing how narrow and impassable it was, mounted it sitting on his horse; and, as though he were going along a broad and spacious road, he passed over undaunted, nor did he look back until he was coming down from the bridge: his companions marveling and proclaiming the grace of divine power, he himself was amazed at his own deed. In which indeed it is clear for the rightly wise to consider that he led Theodoric over the narrow threshold of the bridge amid the rage of the winds, over the surging waves of the river roaring beneath, through the storms of the rain rushing down from above — he who spread the swelling whirlpools of the sea beneath the feet of Peter. But when he looked upon the greatness of the peril, as though set in the midst of the danger, he was greatly afraid. For holy men are wont to have this as their own, that when they shine with the works of miracles, lest they swell with pride, they acknowledge themselves to be men.
[23] Therefore Theodoric, both by the converse of his holy life and by the attestation of signs, was now held in great veneration by many; When he had taught three years at Verdun, and there was a pious contention among religious abbots, that one should snatch him from another. For Walleramnus k also, who from a Count had been converted into a monk, and presently after the death of abbot Richard of blessed memory was a worthy successor in the monastery of St. Vanne, which is in the territory of Verdun, carried him away from the monastery of Stavelot with the consent of his abbot Hugh; where, having remained three years or more, he had very many hearers, whom he illumined with the rays of his teaching and taught the fear of God, and formed in the service of God as much by deeds as by words. Being granted also to Rodulf, abbot of Mouzon l, being notable for the subtlety of his wisdom and for the observance of the cenobitic life, he made himself notable to many. Finally, being sent to very many places and having dwelt among many — and, to bind up all with a girdle \* for brevity's sake — wherever he went and among whomsoever he was, he always lived blamelessly.
[24] he is compelled to break off the journey to Jerusalem which he had begun But meanwhile, when he saw very many going eagerly to Jerusalem to the sepulchre, he too, burning with a like desire, began to wish to set out thither. The expenses necessary for so great a journey being therefore prepared, and leave to go being granted him by his abbot, he set out with others who were going. But when he came into Hungary, God, who had destined him for another \* labor, hindered his purpose. For, the commonwealth there being disturbed by an incursion of barbarians, both he and his companions were forbidden to pass through Pannonia m; and turning aside they came with much difficulty to the city of Rome, having the intention of going thence to Mount Gargano n through Apulia, and thence of being carried over the Adriatic sea to Constantinople and thence to Jerusalem. But after in the basilica of blessed Peter, glorious in body and in merits, before the holy Apostle himself he had poured out to God every desire of his soul with a most abundant shedding of tears and with much contrition of heart, going out after his prayer he came upon Theodwin o, prelate of the church of Liège, striving up the steps to the basilica upon his knees, and with him several of his friends, among whom was also Anselm [p], canon of St. Lambert's, most familiar to him in friendship from boyhood for his brightness of wit and nobility of manners; and, astonished at the unlooked-for novelty, he began to weep for joy, seeing again those known to him whom he did not think could be seen by him.
[25] and to stay in Italy, And entering, he went in with them into the church, blessing the Lord, who had brought them so unexpectedly, so happily, in such a place, together, though divided so far from one another. But while the bishop prolonged his prayer, when he inquired of some of his companions about the state of religion and of his own monastery, among other things it was told him that, abbot Hugh being dead, that same bishop Theodwin had already given the abbey of Lobbes to Adelard [q]. Astonished at such news, out of sweet affection and the pious remembrance of his dead father Hugh, he shed tears; and for the time commended his soul to God, and to the heavenly Key-bearer before whose most sacred tomb he stood. But when the bishop came down from the oratory \*, he fell at his feet before the altar of that holy Apostle, giving him thanks both for the relief of his own place, that is of the church of Lobbes, and for the promotion of his fellow disciple Adelard, whom above the rest of his brethren he had always singularly loved, to the dignity of the abbey. For Adelard was striving in the zeal of labors, nearest indeed to him above the other monks of Lobbes, but following at a long interval to the prize of virtues: prudent, sober, patient, humble, modest; and moreover adorned with the marks of other virtues.
[26] whence he returns to the monastery of Lobbes. But the pontiff kindly raised him up: he asked who he was, or whence, or whither he was going; and the man being known, and the difficulties of his pilgrimage being heard, he bids him come with him to his lodging. And at Anselm's suggestion, that he could scarcely or never accomplish the purpose of the pilgrimage he had begun, since the whole Adriatic, as report went, was overspread with pirates, ever ready for the plunder and the death of passers-by, he commanded him by his authority to return to his own country and to his monastery, and, if God should consent, to attempt this again at a more convenient time. And because it is not for man to strive against the providence of God, since he was ever ready to obey his superiors, he obeyed, and came as his companion from Rome to Liège. But on the way the bishop, considering the divine grace in him, his devotion in prayer, his abundance of tears, his power of fasting, his taciturnity of silence, the beauty of his speech, and marveling at the gravity of all his manners, honored him among his friends and very often enjoyed his familiar conversation; and coming home, he sent him back honorably to his monastery, and by his assertion and testimony made him more venerable.
ANNOTATIONS.
p. That Anselm is a famous writer, and a canon of the cathedral church of Liège, as Mabillon and the bibliographers everywhere note.
q. Concerning this Adelard or Alard see the latest editors of the Gallia Christiana, volume 3, column 85.
\ Mabillon: nulla*. \ perhaps singula*. \ read alii*. \ elsewhere stratorio*.
CHAPTER III.
The office of abbot imposed on him against his will, his fatherly care for the spiritual and temporal advancement of his monastery, and a second journey to Rome.
The abbot of St. Hubert's being dead, But a few days later the emperor Henry sent legates with letters to that same bishop, in which he commanded that one of the monks whom abbot Richard of blessed memory had trained should be sent him — a prudent, religious man learned in letters, whom he might appoint schoolmaster in the monastery of Fulda a. He, knowing Theodoric to be fit for this, as by his own witness he had learned from Rome to Liège, having entreated the abbot, recalled him from the monastery of Lobbes and commanded him to remain at Liège until he himself should prepare his journey to the emperor. But in those days, by divine disposition, at the monastery of Andage b, where St. Hubert c, prelate of Liège, rests translated, abbot Adelard d dies, a man illustrious enough in nobility of flesh, but less strenuous than he ought to have been in the care of religion (though for the rest he was capable). And when many with much zeal were canvassing to seek the abbey, but the bishop judged that none but a worthy man should be admitted to preside, and in the monastery of St. Hubert no fit man was found (for the monks, corrupted by the negligence of the dead abbot and by excessive license, were almost all loosed from the yoke of discipline), that same bishop, having summoned an assembly or gathering of religious abbots and faithful canons, complained of the fallen state \* of the church of St. Hubert, and of the irreverence and disorder of the monks; asking that each, according to the wisdom inspired in him by God, should declare how he might succor that place, or whom he might set over it.
[28] Then, while some debated divers things, and others extolled and praised now these and now those, Our Blessed one, unwitting and very many strove to persuade that clerics should be substituted for the monks in that monastery, and others counselled other things, but none said anything fitting, Anselm, of whom we made mention above, a man noble in race but nobler in manners and in ecclesiastical religion, the Spirit of God coming upon him, said: "Since we are gathered in the name of the Lord, it is not just that in the cause of God we should be led, as in the causes of men, by favor or partiality. And since we have here present brother Theodoric, trained from boyhood always in good morals, whom the merits of his life attest worthy even of a greater prelacy: if it seem good to my Lord the bishop and to you, why should that be sought elsewhere which we have here, opportunely directed to us from heaven?" For he too was present among the rest at this council, thinking nothing less than of that abbey. At this many with joyful and concordant shout take up the name of Theodoric; a few, to whom private advantage was preferable to the common good and honor, with whom to make honorable and dishonorable things venal was neither shame nor crime, said that this did not seem right to them; but rather, because he had been brought from his monastery for this, they judged that he ought to be sent for the establishing of religion in the monastery of Fulda, by the command and request of the emperor.
[29] But Stephen e, abbot of Mont-Saint-Michel, reverend in his hoary hairs, and resisting, angelic in his converse, silence being commanded, said that the monastery of St. Hubert, which is under the care and providence of the bishop of Liège, needs the religion of Theodoric for the restraint of the censure of regular discipline: "But what concerns us the church of Fulda? And of monks of this sort we have such scarcity that (be it said with the peace of others) in all our monasteries his equal in uprightness of life cannot yet be found. And therefore, since God has opportunely destined him hither for this, let my lord the bishop appoint him abbot, if it please God and himself, since he will thereby securely lighten himself of this burden on that side." He spoke; and, the bishop calling him and the zeal of all being turned that way, he raised him from the place where, hiding amid the noise of the crowd, he was already meditating flight; and, though he resisted and drew back, Gonzo f, abbot of Florennes, also pushing him on, he drew him forward and presented him to the bishop. Now these two old men were, as in age and hoary hairs, so also equal in holy religion, of the number of the disciples of that holy Richard; held indeed among the first while he lived, but after his death the greatest above the rest. For they were far unlike those rulers of churches whom we see bearing rule at this time: chaste, sober, grounded and rooted in humility, charity, and the other virtues; in bodily converse they strove to imitate the life of the incorporeal angels.
[30] is compelled to preside over this monastery, To bestow labor upon the praises of these the purpose of my proposed subject concerning Theodoric forbids. He, seeing that his strength was less than this business, and knowing that a most severe judgment awaits those who preside, with tears abundantly poured forth amid sobs and heavy sighs, cried out that he was unworthy; and, frequently casting himself at the bishop's feet, begged him with importunate prayers not to press him with so great a burden. He was therefore called and refused; he was urged by the shout and by the multitude, and shrank back; he was pressed to take up the rod of pastoral care, and declined. But there was no power of long resisting the divine ordinance: for after long struggling, being compelled, as much by episcopal authority as by the rebuke of the elders, to condemn his own judgment, at last he yielded, and took up the burden of ruling the brethren which was enjoined upon him. Then presently, after the solemnities of the procession (for that was the day of the Purification of holy Mary), being ordained and consecrated, with the seven abbots who were present and a great throng of clerics and people escorting him, he went forth named abbot.
[31] in which he found some rebellious monks, But coming to the monastery of St. Hubert over which he had been set, he found the place, as regards outward things, bare enough and desolate: which indeed seemed a tolerable and reparable loss; but the inward face of the place was foul and disordered, and almost a stranger to religion. For the monks, corrupted by the sloth of his predecessor, holding the will of their desires for law, proclaimed whatever they wished or desired to be holy and just; and what displeased them they thought unlawful: and being inexperienced in monastic religion, ignorant, rustic and uncultivated, they did not suffer their hearts to be tilled by the plowshare of the word of God. Which when the man full of God perceived, he was indeed troubled, but moderately, at the scarcity of outward things, since that seemed a tolerable and reparable evil. But his spirit was stirred beyond measure within him, seeing the souls of the brethren, wounded by the admission of diabolical prompting, tending toward death. He therefore watched continually over the keeping of the flock committed to him, was piously solicitous for all, fitly applying medicine to each wound. And some indeed he strove to form to virtues by his own example. Others he privately exhorted with gentle persuasions to do well; some he labored to make better by rebuking, and not a few to render more amended by striking them according to rule. But to all in common he offered the fomentations of exhortations, the medicines of the divine Scriptures, and lastly he added unceasingly the help of his prayers. But his labor was vain, for he profited nothing by his diligence. For they (since when a depraved habit grows up with age, it is either scarcely or never corrected) did not abandon their customs of evil living; to change the evil manners in which they had grown up was a torment to them. If he strove to convert them by the exhortations of holy preaching, they mocked; if he wished to use the censure of regular discipline, they fought back by resisting and gainsaying. And some of them were swollen with nobility of race, but ignoble in manners, contemptible in life, despicable in knowledge, and therefore despisers of the holy rule and of obedience, and weak and foolish for doing well, but strong and wise for doing ill.
[32] These had made head of their madness a certain Lambert, puffed up with pride, whose chief instigator disordered in life, dissipated with boasting, loose in wantonness, light in manners, arrogant in words, and detestable in his whole ordering. He, inflated with the arrogance of an empty nobility, drew all the rest after him; he alone defended them, in whatever crime or fault they were caught; and he in turn, by the conspiracy of all, though guilty of manifest wickedness, was safe. He publicly and privately brought many injuries upon the holy man, and by resisting too bitingly withstood all that he said. But he repelled the mad darts of his revilings with the shield of virtues, and by bearing too patiently the frenzy of the raging man increased it. Yet he labored, now by prayers, now by persuasions, and sometimes by promises of eternal joy, sometimes by exaggerated terrors of infernal pains, to correct the wretched man. He prayed also frequently that God would give him an understanding heart and turn his bestial mind to humanity. But he, being vain and slippery, whence, had he been wise, he ought to have been the more amended, ever became worse, and by the daily increase of his malice his depravity was the more burdensome.
[33] But in him too God showed both how much the constant prayer of a just man avails, by a wondrous vision and that one must presume upon the divine mercy and not despair of a sinner. For after many exasperations, after grievous insults of revilings which he had continually heaped upon the holy man for nearly two years, that same Lambert rose on a certain night to the nightly vigils, being about to read the lesson in his turn: and he had purposed in his heart, and had agreed with the companions and helpers of his malice, that, passing before the abbot, he would neither show him the accustomed reverence of veneration nor ask his blessing before reading. He went therefore with neck
erect, bearing his pride with eyes vomiting the fury of a mad mind. And the most certain expectation of his foolish companions was that he would undoubtedly do what he had boasted. But when he came before the abbot, and suddenly turned those haughty eyes upon him, he saw in his bosom a boy of snowy brightness and of starry countenance, gentle to him, terrible to himself; most sweetly soothing him, most heavily threatening himself. Presently, God rebuking him, he trembled; and at that same moment, the demon of pride which had long possessed the wretched captive fleeing away, being breathed upon by another spirit, he changed his bestial mind, bowed to the abbot with humble veneration, and went forward to read at the lectern \*, which had been set behind the abbot's back, the companions of his madness being astounded at so sudden a change in him. He humbly asked the blessing, and read trembling and anxious: while reading always looking sideways, lest perchance the boy whom he saw should leap down from the abbot's bosom, and, on account of the many iniquities for which his conscience as a witness harassed him, should make an onset upon him and kill him. Yet when at last he had scarcely finished reading, since there was no place of turning aside, returning almost half dead by the same way by which he had come, he made his obeisance more humbly. And when he returned to the place of his station, when he brought before the eyes of his mind how wickedly he had hitherto lived, he began to weep most bitterly. And when he began to reckon up his wickednesses, he was his own judge, that he was worthy of death and unworthy of God's mercy. His companions, marveling at his unlooked-for conversion, some who stood nearer asked what ailed him, why he trembled, why he wept; others strove by the usual signs to call him back from the choir. But he, fixed with gaze intent upon the boy whom he saw and feared in the abbot's bosom, and, in the reckoning of his offenses, burning with a flood of tears, neither answered his questioners at all, nor yielded to those who called him, but went out of the choir.
[34] is brought back to fruitfulness, And when the morning hymns were finished, as the rest went out, he remained in the church, came to the abbot, prostrated himself at his feet, and, humbly confessing his sins with much attestation of tears, asked pardon. Then, still trembling, he declared that he had that very night seen a boy in his bosom, and how, being suddenly rebuked from heaven, he had changed the madness of his proud mind. He asked leave to go from that monastery to another, saying that he, so great a sinner, who had so often polluted that holy place with so many uncleannesses, was unworthy of its sanctity. But the abbot was greatly astonished and gave thanks to God, as much for the power of the miracle which was wrought upon himself and which, while it was being done, he himself knew not, until he learned it from him who had seen it, as for the conversion of the brother, of whose damnation there could no longer be any doubt. And when he begged him with many prayers not to forsake him, but by remaining to give from himself to the brethren an example of conversion and penance, to whom he had before been an example of death, he could by no means obtain it: the other saying, and showing plainly enough with probability, that it was impossible, save by divine inspiration, that others should be converted so long as he was with them. But the abbot, judging that it was as he said, permitted him to depart secure with his blessing, and, following him with many tears as far as the doors of the church, prayed for him worthy fruits of penance.
[35] and of his own accord does severe penance. But he, the rest being dismayed and shaken with much fear, went away at the first beginning of day alone and unaccompanied, mourning and weeping, and showing himself by much contrition of soul a true penitent; and with most bitter weeping he punished the injuries he had brought upon the holy man. And when he came to the stronghold of Mouzon, he was stopped by Rodolf, abbot of that place, and forbidden to go further. Under whom, remaining for whatever time he lived thereafter, he wore away his legs with fetters and his arms with iron manacles, and bound with an iron girdle the effeminate softness of his loins, formerly such; all the wantonness of the flesh he crushed with a sackcloth of hair, with daily fastings, with constant weepings and vigils and prayers, until, being consummated with a blessed end, he rested in the Lord g. In which both the virtue of Theodoric and the bowels of God's mercy are deservedly proclaimed. For who that knew him would have believed that a monk so wicked, so proud, so perverse of heart could be saved? But by the grace of God preventing him and the prayer of Theodoric helping, he who before was a blasphemer and a persecutor of the holy man, having obtained mercy, became a proclaimer of the mercy shown him. After his departure many, led by penitence, submitted to regular discipline, obeying the precepts of their abbot, whom before they despised. But a few, driven by an evil mind, withdrew from the monastery as fugitives. So the church of St. Hubert, before pressed down and humbled, was little by little raised up; and, the wickedness of the evil ceasing, it gradually grew, as religious men flocked to it from every side and submitted themselves to the mastership of Theodoric. And in as great a degree as it had before been contemptible and ill-famed for the foulness of vices, so much the more afterward, by God's providence and by the labor and industry of abbot Theodoric, as the number of the faithful increased, it shone gloriously.
[36] But the enemy of the human race, seeing the place shining with the holy converse of religious monks, The blessed Abbot, having put a demon to flight, and himself driven from the dwelling which he had so long possessed, was tormented, and after his manner frequently contrived ambushes for the man of God. But he, always provident and circumspect, forestalled and easily overcame all the attempts of the plotter. But on a certain night, while according to custom, the morning \ vigils being anticipated, he was intent upon prayer in the oratory, behold, the devil, having taken the form of a huge hind, came before him, and by the stamping of her feet drove off from him the zeal of prayer. Which when the man of God saw, thinking anything rather than that what appeared was the devil, he believed it to be a hind, and driven thither from the wood by a nightly wandering; and supposing that by the cellarer's carelessness, when he had gone late to bed, he had left the cloister door open, he rose from prayer, wishing to forestall and shut in the beast before it should return to the door by which he thought it had entered. But she went before her follower, now with swift, now with slow step, and sometimes stood still as though waiting, until they both came together to that door by which they were coming; but it, being shut, forbade her exit. Then first, coming to himself, he understood that he had been misled by a phantastic delusion; and presently, fortifying himself with the saving sign of the cross, he cried out: Behold the cross of the Lord: flee, ye adverse powers.* But the seducer, not enduring the power of the cross, disappeared; and fled away with such a noise and roaring that the whole dormitory of the brethren seemed to have fallen as by a violent whirlwind; and it was plain enough that from that time the devil much infested that place, but prevailed less.
[37] We have learned that from that time, as religion increased with the number of the faithful, various possessions the revenue of the church increased abundantly, both in the increase of fields and estates and churches and in the multiplication of rents. For Arnulf, count of Warcq h, impelled by the fame of the man of God's virtues, came to him of his own accord; and although a man of much vanity and levity, who like a reed could easily be shaken to either side, he heard from him the preaching of salvation, willingly received the counsels of life given him by him, and for the redemption of his own life and of his family's gave to St. Hubert the church consecrated in honor of St. Sulpicius in the villa which is called Pyros, and whatever pertaining to it was of his right; and, many nobles and illustrious men being present, confirmed it perpetually by lawful conveyance, his sons and his wife being present. At whose request afterward the venerable abbot Theodoric placed monks from his own monastery in it, and they live there under regular order under the abbot of St. Hubert. Moreover Elinand i, bishop of the stronghold of Laon, a man fit enough for administering the affairs of the bishopric and the public interests, being impelled by the odor of St. Theodoric's virtues, by frequent invitations made him come to him; and, having conversed with him, held him the chief among his friends, and commended himself and all things committed to him to his prayers. Then, being bound by his entreaties, he handed over the church of St. Mary at Éverney-court to St. Hubert; and, monks from that same monastery of St. Hubert being appointed there, by his own authority and with the consent of many he freed it perpetually from the obligation of all episcopal service.
[38] Likewise Gervase, archbishop of Reims k, he acquires for his monastery, excellently learned in the discipline of the liberal arts, a man nobly born according to the dignity of the world, sagacious and strenuous in all things, worthy indeed of a bishopric, but by nature and manners more fierce than was fitting, had made him his friend on account of his praiseworthy converse; he honored him with much veneration when he came to him, and gave him the choice of asking, as much for his own church as for whomsoever he wished. He therefore laid aside much of his fierceness, being admonished by him, and often did many things at his request. And whereas to very many he was frequently harsh and truculent, to this one alone, for the glory and admiration of his virtues, he was always mild and gentle. Lastly he gave to St. Hubert the altar of that aforesaid church of St. Sulpicius, which was of his diocese; and likewise another altar of the church of St. Hilary, which is in the neighborhood of the church of Pyros; and by his own authority he made both altars thenceforth perpetually free from all episcopal service.
[39] and, having again set out for Rome, After this the Man dear to God, taking with him a few of the brethren, and the affairs of the monastery being set in order, resolved to go to Rome with bare and unshod feet, and so went as far as Verdun. Where, being received with much affection of charity by bishop Theodoric l and the chief men of the city, he consented to put on shoes and to go on horseback, the bishop asking this for charity's sake, and all the others, but especially Ermenfrid, a man of great renown and religion; concerning whose continence — how from youth, kindled with the fire of heavenly love, he grew old in the service of God; how he untiringly held the zeal of a good purpose until death compelled him to cease — I think it better to be silent than to say too little. But I return to my narrative. Therefore, when, obeying the command of the bishop and of such a man and the request of the others, he had gone shod a little way from the city, again taking off his shoes he went on to Rome. To whom, when his companions said that he did not act rightly, in that he was disobedient to the charity and command of such great men, he answered that he had indeed obeyed those who commanded him for charity's sake. But because no one had determined for him how long or how far, it was left to his own power and judgment when he should choose to walk shod or unshod.
[40] he returns to the monastery of St. Hubert. Neither, therefore, sharp and cutting stones, nor Alpine snows, nor Italy bound with icy cold, nor the rough ridges of the mountains, nor hailstorms, nor torrents rushing headlong with rainy waters — in short, no perils, no difficulties, and lastly no prayers and tears of his companions, could turn his purpose. And so at last with much difficulty and weariness he came to the tomb of the most blessed Peter. There, pouring out with much contrition and groaning whatever he had \* in his heart, and committing himself and the keeping of the Lord's fold entrusted to him to him to whom God first gave as a gift the right of binding and loosing in heaven and on earth;
thus too he went about all the oratories of the Saints at Rome as far as the Lateran basilica: where, being received with much affection by Alexander, then Roman Pope m, and enjoying often his private and familiar conversation, and at last being confirmed by him with the Apostolic blessing, by the command of his authority he returned home shod and on horseback. But when he had come near the Julian Alps n, all the nails of his feet, loosened by the cold he had before contracted, fell off. He himself also was so worn out with excessive weariness that, unless he were constantly helped with ointments and other fomentations, he could scarcely walk: yet he would remit nothing at all of his accustomed and purposed practice of psalms and fasting. Thus, returning again to the monastery, he began anew to apply himself more diligently to the keeping of those committed to him.
ANNOTATIONS.
\ elsewhere directione*. \* That is, a pulpit. \ Mabillon: nocturnalibus*. \ perhaps haberet*.
CHAPTER IV.
The blessed Abbot's pious buildings, certain miracles, and journeys.
He adorns his abbey After this, considering the rude and too uncultivated situation of the place — for the carelessness of his predecessors who had presided over the monastery before him had added no adornment to that place, but it was then just as it had been from the time of Walcandus a, bishop of Liège, who had translated St. Hubert thither and had built for him a fitting and hasty work and house — he began, being about to rebuild what was forsaken, to renew what was ruined and consumed by age, and to enlarge what was narrow. And, the provosts of his monastery working with him — especially Theodoric b, who deserved to be the heir of so great a father both in name and in the dignity of rule after him; and Lambert also, who was most familiar of all his friends and remained the inseparable companion of all his labors and perils — the old and very small cloister which was there being thrown down, he built a new and great one, such as is now seen. Moreover he built an oratory of the Lord's Sepulchre on the south side of the monastery.
[42] with new buildings, He added also two oratories on the north side: the one, which is lower, in honor of St. Andrew the apostle; but the other, which is above it, he made venerable by the memory and patronage of St. Nicholas. He also raised a crypt at the east of the basilica with most beautiful workmanship; which afterward Henry, bishop of the church of Liège, and Franco, bishop of Belgrade, at his request dedicated in honor of the name of the Lord Jesus and of holy Mary ever Virgin. And likewise he built from the foundation another cloister before the doors of the basilica to the west. And not far from the gate of the outer court, a spacious church being built, he wished it to be dedicated to St. Giles c. And when, out of a desire to ask relics of the Saint's body, he was going to Saint-Gilles d, he took his way through the city which is called Troyes e, and stayed there for the night for lodging's sake.
[43] and on a journey in France When morning came, while his companions were preparing for departure, he himself went to the church and after his custom celebrated the sacred solemnities of the Masses. Where a certain woman, whom a long burning of fevers was consuming, and who had been despaired of by the art of physicians, having heard the report of the man's virtues, and having faith that she could truly be healed by his merits, because she could not go by herself, had herself carried; and with what voice she could, with great groaning and tears, she began to cry out that he would have mercy on her, that he would pray the Lord for her. He, whose heart was never a stranger to pity, being moved by the grief of the wretched woman, made her be silent and wait. And when the Sacraments were completed, he washed his hands with water, and ordered that same water to be given to the fever-stricken woman to drink. A wondrous thing, and greatly to be marveled at in our times! When the woman drank, straightway all that malady departed from her, and she recovered so perfectly as if she had suffered no infirmity at all.
[44] he heals two sick women, Again on that same journey on which he was going to Saint-Gilles, in a certain house in which he had lodged, there lay a woman taken captive from the Saracens from the city of Saragossa f, but believing in Christ and baptized, weak in every part of her limbs; who, both because she had long been sick and because she had none of her kindred to take care of her, was neglected by the care and comfort of all. Whom by chance, as he sat at supper, the venerable man perceived to be grievously tormented by the great and frequent cries which her pain poured forth; and having learned by his host's account who or whence she was, being moved by the lot and loneliness of the captive woman, he wept a little, and, as place and time allowed, poured forth prayers for her to the Lord in silence; and, taking the remains of his own food, he sent them to her by his servant, and bade her eat in the name of the Lord. In a wondrous manner she who for the most part lay half dead, and looked for nothing but death as the remedy of her miseries, when she opened her long feeble mouth to eat the blessing received from the man of God's table, the long sickness which had tormented her left her. And as, her health being gradually recovered, she grew strong, she was a proclaimer of Theodoric's virtues among many g.
[45] But at a certain time, when he was going to Cologne, and at Jülich a third paralytic woman as much for the sake of prayer as for the advantage of his monastery, to speak with Anno h, archbishop of holy memory, he turned aside at the stronghold of Jülich i, which from the name of Julius its founder still keeps its ancient appellation, to sing Mass. There was there a woman held by a long disease of infirmity, and so destitute of the use of all her limbs that for nine months she could neither rise from her little bed, nor in any way ever turn herself from side to side save by the hands of others: who, because through so long a space of time she loathed all food and all drink also, except water, lay disdained even by her mother's care and that of all her kindred; and the refreshment of sleep had utterly fled from her; and — what was a wonder to all — she dragged out in spirit alone a life heavier than death. She on that very night is suddenly seized with sleep, and is admonished by a man of venerable form that in the morning she should have herself carried to the church, and should ask blessed bread from the hand of the abbot who would be celebrating Mass in that church; and that, when he prayed for her, she should most certainly believe that she would receive health. Awaking, with what voice she could she roused her mother and those who were in the house, related the vision, and began urgently to beg them to hasten what had been commanded. All marveled, because they knew of no abbot lodging there, and said that she was raving and had been deceived by phantasies with which the sick are for the most part wont to be mocked. But she protesting that what she had heard was not phantastic but certain, they sent to inquire in the neighborhood about that abbot; but those who had been sent reported that he was already at the church, already standing at the sacred altar.
[46] Forthwith they carried her in a litter, and presented her to the blessed Man he wonderfully restores to health. when he had already finished Mass, relating that vision, she herself attesting it, and tearfully begged him for her health. But he, long resisting and accusing the feebleness of his own weakness, protesting that this business was beyond his powers, at last overcome by the tears and prayers of those who asked, blessed five portions of the offerings and, prayer being poured forth over the sick woman, placed them in her mouth. By a miracle unusual in our memory, she who through the long suffering of her sickness had unlearned the use of eating, straightway ate, all being amazed; and, being carried home at the bidding of the Man of God, and receiving fishes sent by him, likewise ate them; and thereafter loathing neither food nor drink, she shortly recovered. To the Abbot himself, as he returned from Cologne, she who before had despaired of life came to meet him whole, gave thanks to God and to him for the health restored, offered him the service of herself and of her kindred, and strove to draw him to her own lodging. But he, having blessed the Lord in his works, attributed nothing to his own merits; and, shunning to be exalted by the praises of men, whom the report of the new miracle called to see him from every side, he passed swiftly on.
[47] But again, the things being prepared which would be needful on the journey, Having set out again for Rome setting out for Rome with Herman k, bishop of Metz, and having venerated the burial-places of the Apostles and martyrs, he came to Gregory l, now presiding over the Roman see after Alexander. By whom, because from his youth he held the greatest place of familiarity, he was affectionately received, and stayed some days. Who, at his own entreaties and those of the aforesaid bishop Herman, sent by him to the church of St. Hubert a little book of privilege, in which was contained, by the authority of God and of blessed Peter and of Gregory himself, a dreadful prohibition that no emperor, or king, or bishop, or duke, or count, or any other power should dare to take away anything from the possessions of the church of St. Hubert, whether anciently or newly acquired,
or to subject them to his own right or another's m. Which privilege he sent by the same Abbot, with apostolic letters, to the archbishop of Reims or of Trier and to the bishop of Laon, of whose jurisdiction that church was, beseeching that what he had usefully granted to the suppliant Abbot for the advantage of his church they would confirm by their assent and corroborate with their subscription.
[48] he takes care to fortify the monastery of St. Hubert The apostolic letters being received, the rest consented; only Theodwin, bishop of Liège, impelled by the counsels n of those with whom it was the custom to sell all things honorable and dishonorable, rejected the apostolic letters; and with troubled indignation ordered the Abbot, whom for the merit of his life he had before greatly loved, to go out of his sight. Then, using those same counsellors, he called an assembly of abbots and Clerics against him. And when he had been set in the midst, he is asked why he had gone to Rome; why he wished to subject to apostolic right the church of St. Hubert, which belonged to the bishop of Liège; why he wished to take it away from St. Mary and St. Lambert; and lastly, why, since he was himself his abbot, and had not performed his mission, he had presumed to bring letters from the Roman see contrary to himself.
[49] with an Apostolic privilege, But he, answering, said that it was for the sake of prayer: "It was by your leave, if it please you to remember, that I went to Rome; but I never had a mind either to take away the church of St. Hubert from St. Mary and St. Lambert, or to subject it to apostolic right. But the possessions which that church either had at first, or which God has added — namely those which have been granted to the service of God by duke Godfrey, or by the bishop of Reims or of Laon — I have caused to be confirmed by apostolic authority. If I have sinned in this, that I added to the church of St. Lambert what it had not, and provided that it should not further lose what I acquired from foreign bishops with much sweat and labor, let your prudence see and judge, and the abbots and wise Clerics who sit in your council. Nor, if there be need, do I shrink from using in this the judgment also of wise laymen: but the Apostolic one, when I told him that I was your abbot, sent by me, if it please you, the grace of the Apostolic blessing. And that the letters sent by him are not against you but for your glory and honor, behold" (and he holds them out) "may be judged by the wise." As he was preparing to say more, those same instigators of the bishop break in; they drive off the speaker's words with a clamorous rush of voices; they turn away the bishop, who was willingly and quietly lending his ears to the man's excuse. At their urging the bishop presently rose in anger; but the Abbot, judgment being adjourned \* to another time, returned to his monastery. But being again and again more often recalled, relying on truth and on the help of prayer, he always departed safe. At last, being recalled at the stronghold of Huy o, and again bidden to answer for his cause, God bringing it about, all being suddenly changed, he departed acquitted by the judgment of the bishop and of all who had before dealt malignantly against him.
[50] and in a great drought of the air Not long after, Theodwin being taken from human affairs in the year of the Lord's Incarnation one thousand and seventy-five, Henry [p] was set over the episcopal chair, illustrious in his ancestors, and trained from boyhood in good morals, and no feigned emulator of canonical discipline and religion. To him abbot Theodoric, dear enough before his episcopate, was afterward made dearer for the merit of his innocent life. Who, leave being given him by that same bishop, went to Rome now for the seventh time [q] and that the last; where, having devoutly after his manner venerated with reverence and humility the burial-places of the Apostles and of the other Saints, he was most dutifully received by Gregory [r], still Roman pontiff \*, and was kept through the whole week of the paschal festival, and, being dismissed with the Apostolic blessing, came to the city of Reims. Then, after that very long and very harsh winter in which the greatest rivers of the Gauls — the Rhône, the Loire, and the Rhine — and of Germany — the Elbe, the Vistula, and the Danube — and in Italy also the Tiber and the king of rivers, the Po, being frozen with ice and cold, impassable to hands, seemed like the earth passable for men, horses, asses, and wagons — so great a drought was there through the long fair weather that, pasture being denied to the cattle by the excessive dryness, the fields parching by the fault of the air, and the grass dying throughout all the country, the peoples of many regions trembled far and wide with one fear, fearing lest that grievous age should return when, Joseph having been sold as a slave by his brethren, and men coming into Egypt for want of food, Egypt itself sold itself to Pharaoh; or when, at Elias's bidding, the rains being restrained and the heavens shut, famine announced to the whole world the impiety of the most wicked Jezebel.
[51] And when the chief men of the city of Reims had heard that he had come thither, at Reims he prodigiously being certain of his sanctity, gathering together with a great part of the people, they come to him, asking that he would prostrate prayers to God for the imperiled world, and by praying would bring down rains from heaven upon the thirsting earth; and that he would give them counsel in what way they might satisfy the wrath of God. Which the holy Man long and much refused, until, God inspiring him, being overcome by the importunity of those who cried out, he appointed through the priests a fast of one day for the whole city, saying that if it were kept faithfully and devoutly this would be enough to mitigate the wrath of the divine anger. And on the next day, both sexes and all ages coming together in the church of blessed Mary ever virgin, during the celebration of the Masses he delivered a sermon suited to the quality of the time, admonishing that, after the example of the Ninevites, by true repentance and alms and the humility of tears God could quickly be appeased.
[52] And when, the sermon being ended by which he had moved them to groans and tears, obtains rain, the mysteries of human redemption being offered, he had penetrated heaven with mighty prayer, suddenly (and there was then great serenity of sky), the clouds clashing together, thunders began to bellow, lightnings to flash, and all things to be mingled; and by a miracle amazing in our times, in one and the same brief moment the holy Man both ended his prayer and God shook the heaven, stirred a whirlwind of winds, brought rains, and with a great inundation most abundantly satisfied the long-parched earth. And what, offended by the sins of men, he had withdrawn from the lands, being appeased by their repentance and bound by the merits of Theodoric, he gave back in mercy, and refreshed with the grace of greenness the fields squalid with long dryness. This was done in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord one thousand and seventy-six, and by common decree was committed to writing and to the annals in the city of Reims; and it has as many witnesses as there survive men of those who were then in that city.
[53] But at another time, staying for business' sake in the villa which is called Pyros, and with other miracles on a certain night, after the morning hymns were finished, a little before daybreak, going with his companions rather early to the church of blessed Hilary to sing Mass — but when, the doors being unbarred, he was about to enter the church, the lantern which one of his boys carried before him was, at the very entrance of the church, blown out by the wind. And when someone had gone to the nearest house to fetch fire, and, not quickly finding what he went for, made delays in returning, the Man of God, as though affected with weariness, stretching forth the sign of the cross with his right hand, entered the church; and behold — what it was given to all who were with him to see — a light being sent from heaven, the candle which the priest had extinguished, left in the evening upon the candlestick, was suddenly kindled, so that from this it might be clear with what light he shone within, before whose coming a heavenly light removed the darkness of the gloomy night.
[54] and with heavenly favors Not unlike this is that which, when long afterward in the monastery of St. Hubert, about the middle of the night, he had after his familiar custom anticipated the nightly vigils of the brethren and was applying himself to prayers, a flashing light suddenly shone forth from heaven, and the splendor of a new brightness illumined the whole breadth of the monastery. Moreover, together with that light a certain little bird, equal in size to a dove, marked with a varied beauty of color, pleasing with sweet voice, and itself also (as is believed) sent down from heaven, struck amazement and wonder into certain persons to whom it was granted to enjoy this vision: for now it flew from the eastern part of the house as far as the western; now it betook itself to the right, now to the left; now, as though importunate, it flew about with glad clapping of wings; and after it had traversed all the corners of the basilica, and even all the altars of the saints, it settled harmlessly upon the head of the venerable Man; nor did it depart thence until, matins being rung and the brethren now assembling, it disappeared with that light which was seen. Several of the brethren who were keeping watch in the guarding of the monastery saw this; but, anxious with fear and astonished at the light of a brightness never before seen, they dared neither to say anything nor even to rise from their beds. But in the morning they come to him as if congratulating him with wonder, and with a proclamation of praises relate what they had seen. But he in anger, as though with indignation, rebuked them, commanding besides that they should tell no one of that matter so long as he himself lived. For the servant of Christ feared the praises of men like the gliding of serpents, knowing that the appetite of vainglory has ever been a cause of ruin both to angels and to men.
[55] shining, Nor do I think that this should be kept silent among the virtues of the Man of God: that when at some time he had turned aside for the sake of prayer to a certain church in the villa which is called Lezines, and had found it shut and sealed with bolt and key, while the priest was awaited who should bring the key, he himself approached the door, and wished to fall down upon the pavement before it as though to pray. But by a wondrous miracle, and after Peter the apostle an amazing one, the door, which was in truth barred, suddenly stood open as though by a certain divine and invisible power. While the rest marveled and entered after him, the priest came; and, having carefully examined the bolt and the bar and the door, where he found all things unharmed, he too, astonished at the novelty of the miracle, began presently to proclaim the power of divine virtue so evidently declared in his church by the merits of Theodoric. But he, pretending not to know what had happened, his prayer being finished, quickly departed thence, fleeing namely, as ever, from being exalted by the empty praises of men, whom the report of the miracle heard was now drawing together from the whole village. And although, as we said before, he ever dwelt in mind among heavenly things by contemplating God, yet he was careful also to labor not a little outwardly for the advantage of the administration committed to him.
[56] It would be long, if I should wish to reckon up how many churches or houses, and in what places, he built from the foundation; he obtains various gifts for his monastery. it will be burdensome if I pursue what he repaired — some half-ruined, some threatening ruin from age or from the carelessness of his predecessors, or already almost fallen down. It will be judged superfluous if I show with what estates he enlarged the church of St. Hubert and made it abundant. It will bring little profit to readers if I write that he seemly adorned the monastery of St. Hubert with a wondrous crown of gold and silver, with golden crosses, with silver banners, with many palls, with tapestries, with very many vestments, and lastly with various furniture [s]. But as for the stronghold whose ancient name was Mirwolt, which, while it was a stronghold, to the monastery of St. Hubert and to all the neighboring parts
was exceedingly troublesome, after it began to be rebuilt again by Henry, bishop of Liège, at inestimable cost — with what vigils, with what tears, with what devout prayers he assailed it, that God might overthrow it before it should grow strong again into its ancient power and (as he was wont to lament) into a snare for holiness and into an evil devil in Israel; and with what labor also, God softening the bishop's heart, he obtained what he wished; and, that same stronghold with all its appurtenances being granted to the right of St. Hubert and to his own, how he cast it down utterly [t]; and at what cost, where the stronghold had been, he built a church in honor of St. Michael and placed monks in it; and how, by the help of that same bishop Henry, he procured from Baldwin, count of Mons, the domain of Cauvignac, ample enough and excellent — to recount these in order I refuse, lest I be charged with bringing weariness by a tearful \* prolixity of words; especially since from these and from other works of his deeds the eyes of those who see them give much more manifest credit to themselves than can be set forth by writing or by words. There remain also very many things which might be reckoned concerning the life of so great a Man and the virtue of the miracles which were wrought by him from heaven while he was still present in the body. But since we believe that these meanwhile suffice for the instruction of readers (if any, taken with love of him, shall deign to read these things), it seems fitting hereafter to set down in what order he departed this life.
ANNOTATIONS.
p. That Henry was the son of Frederick, Count of Toul, and ascended the see of Liège in the year 1076.
q. We do not know why the biographer here says that our blessed Abbot went for the seventh time, since he has before made mention only of three Roman pilgrimages of his. What if fourth should be read for seventh?
r. Since Gregory VII was raised to the chair of St. Peter in the year of Christ 1073, and Theodwin, bishop of Liège, died in the year 1075 after the blessed Abbot's return, as is said above, the third journey to Rome seems to be bound to the year 1074. But this was the fourth journey, which he undertook to Rome under Henry of Liège.
s. In the History of Andage it is everywhere more distinctly and fully narrated what and how great possessions Bl. Theodoric acquired for the monastery of St. Hubert.
t. The wonderful overthrow of this pernicious stronghold is set forth in the History of Andage, column 962 and following, with various memorable circumstances, which the curious reader may read there.
\ Mabillon: remisso*. \ Mabillon: episcopo*. \ Mabillon: tædiosa*.
CHAPTER V.
The Blessed one's last sickness, his pious death, and his honorable burial.
The Blessed one, falling sick abroad, About three months before he died, being smitten with the heavy troubles of sickness, he could neither be brought to lie in bed after the manner of the sick, nor to live more remissly. He went even, as he was wont, whither the necessity of the church called him, either that by change of places his pain might become lighter for him, or lest his church should suffer any loss through his fault. There arose therefore a cause for which at an appointed time he went to the villa of Pyros, glorious for the merits of St. Sulpicius the confessor. And when, having settled and ordered the matters for which he had gone, he had resolved to stay there for some days, many and great pains gradually flowing in upon him from every side, he was then for the first time compelled to lie in bed. But when day by day the sickness grew stronger, when, by the revelation of God whom he bore in mind, he felt that near death was coming upon him, he ordered himself to be carried back to the monastery of St. Hubert, which was distant from that place about thirty-six \* miles. But when, being placed upon a portable pallet, he was carried out of the house, all the common people of the whole district, and from the neighboring towns and castles — that is, from Warcq and Maceries a — many and powerful men began to rush together in crowds, ready of their own accord to go with him as companions as far as his monastery, and to render him this last office of their service. For his life was venerable together with his age, and the minds of many were given over to love of him. But he, unwilling to be a burden to those concerning whom he held it certain that they could, if it were necessary to suffer, die for him, had the bed on which he was carried set down in the midst of a field which lay before the villa; and, gathering all the spirit that remained to him, he sat up in the bed, and, bidding the whole multitude a last farewell, blessed them with right hand outstretched; and at last sent them all home, though unwilling and sorrowful.
[58] Then, being carried with much labor and grief by those who attended upon his service, he orders himself to be carried to the monastery of St. Hubert, while now and then, as his sickness grew heavier, the breath of life seemed almost to fail in him, he was brought not far from the monastery, within the possession of the church. But the report, the messenger of great sorrow, had gone before him, and had drawn thither a great crowd from the villages and fields and districts and from the villas lying about the church; which, rushing to meet him, joins its lamenting bands. And the greater part of it was of orphans, widows, and feeble poor — all of them, man by man, whom he had known and whose want he had been wont piously to relieve according to his power. These, poured round about the old man on every side, wept piously; and, recounting his merciful bounties and the sweet and gentle consolations which they had very often abundantly enjoyed, they laid their miseries and their calamities before God with querulous lamentations. For that man, among the other virtues of good arts by which the industry of his mind had exalted him, was greatly given to works of piety and mercy, and to all who asked of him, according to the quality of each, was lavish with excellent liberality.
[59] With great lamentation, therefore, of both sexes and with pitiable weeping, they come to the monastery, at the first beginning of night they come to the gate of the monastery. Where, by the command of the venerable Old Man — namely lest the noise of the people should disturb the brethren now resting in the dormitory — the rest being shut out, he was carried into the monastery by his own servants. And on that night, although his whole body was now weak and the slender breath was failing in him from moment to moment, with the eyes of his heart fixed upon him whom he had ever devoutly served, he compelled his dying limbs to serve God with psalms and divine praises, according to what it had been his perpetual custom to do in all his life. But also during all the time in which, pressed by that grievous sickness, he lay languishing, he never broke that abstinence of eating once a day which from his tender years he had appointed for himself; nor until that day did he omit his custom of prayers and psalms, save that a few days before, being overcome by the greatness of his infirmity, he ceased to celebrate the solemnities of the Masses.
[60] and, unwilling to lay aside his hair shirt, The hair shirt also, with which for so many years he had pressed down the softness of his flesh, he did not lay aside even for a moment. But when he was now in his last extremity, those who, either by the merit of their life or by their zeal of service, were more familiar with him, when they saw him now failing, tried to persuade him that he would suffer the hair shirt to be taken off him, saying that it was enough that he had thus far afflicted his flesh with that harshness. But he, indignant with the brethren, said: "Be not, brethren, unmercifully merciful: do not with a false pity delay Theodoric, who wishes to set out to Christ. For that you have hitherto truly loved me you will show in this, if you do not hinder my purpose, which I judge to have been good. And you know that it befits a servant of Christ to die only in sackcloth and ashes."
[61] in the presence of his Brethren, But at dawn the monks came together in great numbers, with much lamentation and with tears protesting both their own bereavement and the fall of the church of St. Hubert, and the modest severity and most gentle piety of their sweetest father. For with such severity did he ever pursue the faults of offenders that whatever vices he perceived to arise he never suffered first to rest or to be cherished before he had rooted them out with the hoe of charity. And this was his perpetual labor and untiring zeal, that the enemies of the Lord and of holy religion should become his enemies; and that they should not return into his favor before they had washed away their faults by worthy satisfaction and penance. For his own injuries, which either depraved monks or other men of perverse mind frequently brought upon him, he bore with such patience,
that he never avenged himself when he could, nor ever answered even lightly those who grievously reviled him. And he shone with such piety that, while he cherished all men — save only those whom their own perfidy condemned — he honored all the brethren committed to him with a father's reverence, and loved them as most dear sons, especially those whom uprightness of manners and obedience commended above the rest.
[62] and of his other friends All therefore being stricken with great grief, when he saw all weeping, he too being moved, testified with what effort he could to his own sorrow — which was not for his own dissolution, since to be dissolved and to be with Christ was to him desirable and most welcome, but for the desertion of the sons whom through the Gospel he had begotten to Christ — and ordered himself to be raised in his bed; and, clothed with the priestly stole and supported by the pastoral staff, by the power delivered to him he absolved all committed to him, both present and absent. He also pardoned all who had at any time offended against him in anything, whether by criminal speech or by deed or in any manner whatsoever. Then, having kissed them all, and at last given his blessing, he is laid back in his bed. Whatever afterward remained of the day, and the following night, he assigned to the praises of God and to divine contemplation. But on the next day, at the first dawn, there were present, with Berenger, abbot of St. Laurence's, Henry, bishop of Liège; and besides several other religious men, to render service to so great a funeral. These had come together from both sides out of duty; the bishop indeed because both before his episcopate and afterward in his episcopate, while he still lived, he loved the venerable Old Man with a certain private affection and held him in the chief place among his friends. And the abbot, who while still in the years of youth had been consecrated a monk from a cleric by him, and trained by the instruction of so great a master, was among those familiarly attached to him the dearest.
[63] The Old Man was not a little delighted by their coming; he piously prepares himself for death, "I shall even die joyful," he said, "because the Lord has sent to be present at my departure those by whose patronage I doubt not that I go secure." And turning to the bishop he said: "To God and to your providence and piety, lord father, I resign back the office of the stewardship committed to me; and the Lord's sheep, which, death pressing upon me, I can no longer rule myself, I commit to your fidelity. And because in this and in many other things, as a man often errs, I have erred and sinned, I acknowledge and confess my fault, I ask pardon, I beg indulgence, I seek remission from God and from your charity." But the bishop, dissolved in tears, the brethren of the monastery being admitted, first absolved him according to ecclesiastical custom, then anointed him with holy oil according to the Apostolic precept.
[64] Moreover, all the rest of that day that he survived, until night, and amid prayers he ceased not to exhort and admonish the brethren, admonishing them to persevere in that purpose of good work which they had begun. And he consoled those who mourned and were saddened at the laying down of his tabernacle, saying that if they loved him in truth they ought rather to rejoice, because he hoped to pass from labor to rest, and from corruption, by the grace of God's mercy, to incorruption. And that they ought not to be saddened at his separation, since he trusted that after no long interval he should again enjoy their perpetual communion. And that they need not be anxious about the fall of the church of St. Hubert, because the Lord would provide one who according to his ordinance could profitably preside over his flock. And the whole night, until the twilight of dawn, though with his tongue almost dead and falling at every word, he spent in divine praises. And when after a little the pontiff, entering, sat beside the sick man, he, piously turning his gaze upon him and stretching out his hands, said: "By the precept of the law, lord father, the tail of the victim also is commanded to be offered in sacrifice, by which is signified that the sacrifice of a good work must be carried through to the end of the due action." And when the bishop, turning, asked the others what they thought was meant by these words, he again said: "Because, O loving father, hitherto thou hast been Mary to me in anointing; I beseech thee (if it please thee) that henceforth in the office of my funeral thou wilt not think it a burden to become Martha." The bishop willingly assenting to this, he, as though with a security already presumed, turned upon his side, and, as one who thenceforth had nothing in common with earthly things, though with already dying lips faintly whispered the praises of the Lord. I call Christ to witness, and those who were present, that I feign no invention, but speak true things of the holy Man, which it befell me to see and hear in truth b.
[65] The other parts of his body being now cold, the slender breath still throbbed in his breast alone, and psalms, and more frequent sobs announced to us that death was now at hand. But he through the whole night, until the morning vigils, compelled his failing limbs even then to serve his departing soul. And because he had ever had the gnashings of eternal death before the eyes of his mind, that gnashing by which soul and body are divided he turned, as he died, into the praises of the Lord; and he more attentively repeated the whole psalm, He that dwelleth in the aid of the Most High, to the end; and likewise the praises of the three children. Moreover he frequently repeated many other things, as though desiring to be sated for the last time with these delights. But when the nightly hymns were ended, the lord bishop again came before his bed, and, his face bathed in many tears, asked whether he knew him. But he, turning his eyes piously upon him, said: "Behold a man, the Orient is his name, who came to enlighten those that sit in darkness." And before him, running over from memory the whole rule of the Catholic faith, as it is agreed to have been written by the holy fathers, and as he himself had drunk it in and held it from boyhood, he said: "These things in truth I believe and hold; this with my mouth I believe and with my heart, and with the whole intent of my mind I confess."
[66] he renders his soul to his Creator, Then again with what voice he could, he humbly and devoutly poured forth prayers before the bishop for the restoration of that church. But the bishop, the minds of all being stricken to pity, because his tears were bursting forth and he could not contain himself, having given his blessing, went out weeping most abundantly. But he himself ordered the sacraments of the saving Eucharist to be brought to him; and, being raised in his bed and commending himself to God, he received them with his accustomed humility and reverence; and, having blessed the brethren because of the nearness of his coming death, being now feeble in tongue and in his whole body, his spirit began thenceforth to be intent upon him to whom he was presently to go. And when, laid upon his bed, he lay set in the anguish of his struggle, and the assembly of the mourning brethren sat by the dying man, and commended his departure with psalms and prayers, and long delays were drawn out in his dissolution — counsel being taken, they offered in common the saving Host to God for his dissolution \. And when, that sacred mystery being now performed, the priest who had celebrated was offering the last prayers to God, in the eightieth year of his age not fully completed c, in the seventieth year after he had been professed a monk d, in the fiftieth after he was ordained priest, in the thirty-third from the time when he was consecrated abbot, in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord one thousand and eighty-eight \ e, on the ninth \* Kalends of September, about the third hour of the day, the bond of the flesh being loosed, his happy soul departed to him whom he had ever devoutly served.
[67] and with the great grief of all And there followed him as he departed the greatest sorrow of the piously mourning monks, mighty weeping, pitiable groaning. For some, falling in confusion upon the lifeless corpse, closely kissed the eyes, the mouth, the face, the hands, the feet of the dead man, or whatever else lay bare, and bedewed them with tears. Others, their arms stretched out for lamentation, beat their breasts with fists, or scattered their torn hair; part lay prostrate on the ground in impatience of grief; but all in common lamented and wept with tearful voices — little boys, youths, along with young men aged old men — all of whom he had reared in the monastery from tender age with a father's affection, or had received from the storm of the tossing world into the quiet harbor of the monastery; and with mingled weeping and wailing they lamented their loving father and good ruler and excellent teacher, and complained that together with the holy Old Man there had likewise perished, and had fled back with God, gravity, modesty, humility, patience, sobriety, and all the other institutions of holy virtues. But also a great multitude of both sexes and of every age, but especially the poor, of whom he had ever had care, being stricken with like affection, wailed pitiably; and with beaten hands and bruised breasts, with hair plucked and scattered here and there, one might see how they grieved and how great a father they understood themselves to have been bereaved of.
[68] And so the body of the blessed Man, being carried into the church, was kept for two days and as many nights by the pious zeal of the brethren, the supplications of psalms and vigils never failing. But on the third day, Mass being celebrated by the bishop, with a numerous people and illustrious and powerful men f following him with the greatest weeping, and likewise many clerics and priests, he was carried to the sepulchre, attended by a great company of monks; and in the crypt which, as was said above, he had newly built and caused to be dedicated, being anointed with balsam and other precious spices, he was buried by that same lord bishop Henry in a stone sarcophagus, with many tears and groaning and with the inestimable lamentation of all who had come together, before the altar of holy Mary ever Virgin, on the twenty-seventh [g] day of the month of August.
[69] In such order was Theodoric born, in such a course was he reared; whose brief elogium the biographer weaves. with these beginnings of virtues he ordered his life, thus he lived in middle age, and this happy end of life he had, an old man and full of days. Now, thanks be to God, he enjoys those good things to which he ever stretched himself with sighing. He crucified his flesh with the vices and concupiscences of this world; now he rejoices in the fellowship of him who was crucified for men; he wore down his body with fastings and afflictions; now he is filled with the delights of the glory of God. Saddened for a time, he rejoices eternally; he compensates the tears of a few days with perpetual exultation; the harshness of the hair shirt, which for a few years had pressed down the softness of his flesh, he mitigates with the sweetness of eternity. The blackness of the garment by which he was a spectacle to the world he has now changed for white raiment. And O happy and desirable exchange! He gave things that perish, and receives things eternal; he sold earthly things and has purchased heavenly. And O Theodoric, happy above the dregs of this wretched time, destined to have no equal after him! For — be it said with the peace of others — whosoever shall succeed him will ever be his rival and envier in this good h. But I, O my Lambert, have written thee this little book concerning your — nay rather our i — father Theodoric in a more sparing style than I had purposed, although there yet remain many things which, falsehood being banished, might have been narrated of him. But lest a prolix and unpolished discourse should cause weariness to readers, let whoever will not scorn to read observe that the holy man Theodoric, because he lived holily and justly, happily departed from this world; and because he strove lawfully, he was deservedly crowned with the crown of immortality
by our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth, God, throughout all ages of ages. Amen.
ANNOTATIONS.
\ Mabillon: quindecim*. \ Mabillon: depositione*. \* Mabillon: 1087. \ Mabillon: octavo* (eighth). \ elsewhere queruli*.