ON THE HOLY MONKS BASILIUS AND PROCOPIUS DECAPOLITA, CONFESSORS, AT CONSTANTINOPLE,
AROUND THE YEAR 750.
HISTORICAL COMMENTARY.
Basilius, Confessor at Constantinople (St.) Procopius Decapolita, Confessor at Constantinople (St.)
Author G. H.
[1] Leo the Isaurian, the irreligious Emperor, in the ninth year of his reign, the year of Christ 725, first began to hold deliberation on proscribing and deposing the holy and venerable images, as Theophanes writes, who continues the following to the next year: From that time, he says, he imprudently undertook hostilities with the blessed Patriarch of Constantinople, Germanus, condemning all his predecessor Emperors, Bishops, and Christian peoples as idolaters on account of the adoration of holy and venerable images; when he, out of excessive unbelief and boorishness, was wholly unable to grasp the reasoning and discourse concerning their relative worship. Persisting, however, in his obstinate mind, in the 13th year of his reign, the year of Christ 730, Indiction 13, on the 7th of January, he held a council of silence against the holy and venerable images in the tribunal of the 19 Accubitores; and in place of St. Germanus the Patriarch, who in no way yielded to the abominable counsel of Leo, Anastasius was substituted. The Roman Pontiff Gregory rejected him, reproved Leo as irreligious through letters, and incited Rome together with all Italy to defection from his Empire. So far that passage. This is St. Gregory II, in whose Life on the 13th of February these things were said at greater length in section 7, page 699 and following. St. Germanus is venerated on the 12th of March.
[2] But the tyrant, stirred to greater fury day by day on account of that action of St. Gregory, launched a persecution against the holy images: to such a degree that many clerics, monks, and devout laypeople, imperiled for the right decrees of the faith, were crowned with the crown of martyrdom -- as Theophanes asserts in the same place. Among these monks, the holy Confessors Basilius and Procopius were preeminent, whose sacred memory is celebrated on the 27th of February, either of both Martyrs together, or of St. Procopius only, with the solemnity of St. Basilius being transferred to the following day. And first, both are commemorated on the 27th of February in the Menologium of the Greeks published by Canisius in these words: Of our Holy Father and Confessor Basilius, and of Procopius Decapolita: who, in the time of Leo surnamed the Iconoclast, having suffered various tortures for the veneration of the holy images, were rescued from prison upon the death of the tyrant and fell asleep in peace. Likewise in the Menologium of the Emperor Basil as cited by Baronius at the year 735, number 2, the following is found: These lived under the Empire of Leo the Isaurian Iconoclast; leaving the world and the things that are in the world, they became monks, and having first been well trained, when the heresy against the holy images was afterward stirred up, they zealously resisted the iconoclasts. Whence, having been seized and having suffered many torments, they did not yield, but preached the truth even unto death: for which reason they were savagely lacerated and thrust into prison, where they remained until the Emperor's death, and being freed, rested in a holy end. They are inscribed on the same day in the Roman Martyrology in these words: At Constantinople, of the holy Confessors Basilius and Procopius, who in the time of the Emperor Leo strenuously fought for the veneration of the holy images. Leo died in the year 741.
[3] The solemn veneration of Procopius alone on the 27th of February is indicated in the Horologium of the Greeks, in the Menologia of Maximus Cytheraeus and of Christopher of Mitylene, and in the Calendar published in Latin by Genebrardus, in which by the carelessness of the printer was printed "Urgeopius, Confessor, Decapolita" -- who, however, in the same Calendar on the following day is called Procopius, which must also be restored here. But the great Greek Menaea, and the New Anthologium published by the authority of Clement VIII, and Maximus Cytheraeus in his Lives of Saints, celebrate him with this encomium: In this same month of February, on the 27th day, the memory of our Holy Father and Confessor Procopius Decapolita. He, having first taken up the monastic life, exercised himself in every kind of religious virtue, and adorned his soul with the utmost purity. Those who impiously denied the Incarnation of the Word he refuted and hissed down with manly constancy. Finally, the last contest having been accomplished through scourging, he showed himself a great Confessor, and, illustrious in the power of miracles, he departed to Christ. That these last words are to be understood of the persecution launched by Leo the Isaurian on account of the veneration of images will be established below. In the Menaea various odes, hymns, and verses are added. Decapolis is a region of ten cities, as the Greek word indicates, situated beside the Sea of Galilee and on both banks of the lesser Jordan, of which mention is made in the Gospel: Matthew 4, Mark 5 and 7. Consult the Onomasticon of Bonfrerius on the cities and places of Sacred Scripture.
[4] The solemnity of Basilius alone, transferred to the 28th of February, is found in the same Menologia of Cytheraeus and Mitylene, the Greek Horologium, and the Calendar published by Genebrardus, in which the following is read: Basilius, Confessor, companion of St. Procopius the monk. He is celebrated with an even fuller encomium in the Menaea, the Anthologium, and in Cytheraeus's Lives of Saints in this manner: In the same month of February, on the 28th day, the memory of our Holy Father and Confessor Basilius, who was a companion of St. Procopius in his contest. He lived under the Empire of Leo the Iconoclast, and leaving the world and all things that are in the world, he became a monk and cultivated religious discipline as was fitting. Then, when the veneration of the holy images was being rejected, he resisted the iconoclasts with great zeal. Whence, being seized and having suffered many torments, he did not surrender, but preached the truth even unto death, having obtained St. Procopius as his companion in the contest. Wherefore his entire body was lacerated down to the neck, and he was consigned to prison. But when the tyrant was extinguished, he was released from his bonds, left prison, and resumed his former manner of life, and instructed many on various occasions in virtue and the orthodox faith. At last, amid prayers and thanksgivings, he joyfully departed to God, whom he had desired from his infancy. So far that passage.
In the Menaea, among other odes and hymns, the following verses are added:
"Let Basilius be celebrated in hymns together with Procopius, As being Confessors of the truth."
Molanus, following the Greeks, says: On the twenty-seventh day, of our Holy Father Procopius Decapolita, Confessor. And: On the twenty-eighth day, of our Holy Father and Confessor Basilius, fellow-ascetic of St. Procopius.
ON BLESSED JOHN, ABBOT OF GORZE, IN THE TERRITORY OF METZ,
YEAR 962.
Preliminary Commentary.
John, Abbot of Gorze, in the territory of Metz (Bl.)
BHL Number: 3618
Author I. B.
Section I. The Monastery of Gorze founded by St. Chrodegang.
[1] There is a certain tract of land in the region of the Mediomatrici, formerly the district of Scarponensis, or Scarponense, or called Scarponna, on this side of the river Moselle, tending toward the west, and in the first division of the kingdom of Lothar among his uncles, assigned to Charles the Bald, King of Western France: which our Christopher Brower incorrectly places in Hesbaye, the district of the lower Meuse, in the inner margin of his Annals of Trier, book 7, page 411. In this district of Scarponna, some leagues from the city of Metz itself, St. Chrodegang, or Grodegang, Bishop of Metz, founded the distinguished monastery of Gorze, named after the stream beside which it sits -- of whom we shall treat more fully on the 6th of March.
[2] Concerning him, Paul Warnefried writes in his book On the Bishops of Metz: Then for this position was chosen that distinguished man, to be extolled with all praises, Chrodegang the Bishop, a native of the district of Hesbaye, born of a father Sigramnus and a mother Landrada, sprung from the Frankish race of the highest nobility. He was nourished in the palace of Charles the Elder and was his Referendarius, and at length in the times of King Pippin he earned the distinction of the pontificate. He was, moreover, most illustrious in every way, shining with every kind of nobility, handsome in appearance, most eloquent in speech, steeped in both the native and also the Latin language: a nurturer of the servants of God, not only a sustainer of orphans and widows but also their most merciful guardian. And after several interposed remarks on the same subject, he continues: He also built another monastery, which is called Gorze, where in like manner he gathered together a not inconsiderable multitude of monks. And shortly after: He died on the day before the Nones of March in the days of King Pippin. He rests in the monastery of Gorze, which he himself constructed from the foundations. The Fulda Annals speak more briefly of the same, at the year 765 of Christ: Hruodgang, Bishop of the city of Metz, requested from Paul, the Apostolic of the Roman See, the bodies of the holy Martyrs Gorgonius, Nabor, and Nazarius: and having obtained them, he brought them with honor from the city of Rome and translated them to France. And at the following year: He deposited the body of St. Gorgonius in his monastery, which he himself had newly built, whose name is Gorze, etc. Concerning St. Gorgonius, we shall speak again below and on the 9th of September, on which he is venerated.
[3] The location of Gorze and the time of its foundation are declared by the holy Bishop Chrodegang himself in the public records drawn up concerning this matter, which I read some years ago at Brussels, at the home of the noble and most distinguished man Jean-Jacques Chifflet, physician to our Catholic King, in the Cartulary of Gorze. I select a few items from those bearing on this subject. The first reads thus: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. I, Chrodegang, though unworthy, if not in deed then in name, Bishop by the grace of God, together with the leave and will of the illustrious man Pippin, Mayor of the Palace, our lord... Therefore we grant from the properties of St. Stephen to that basilica of St. Peter and St. Stephen, and of the other Saints, which we have newly built at the boundary of Haldiniaca, in the district of Scarponna, where the Gorze stream rises, and to that cell which we have built there... Done at Andernach, in the public palace, in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord 745, Indiction 13, Epact 14, Concurrent 4, in the 6th year of King Childeric, on the 20th day of the month of May. The seal of the illustrious man Pippin, Mayor of the Palace. An error has perhaps crept into the year of King Childeric, although not everyone assigns the same beginning to his reign. His predecessor Theoderic is said to have died in the year 737, in the 17th year of his reign, from whose death this was the eighth year. Bucherius in the Chronology of the Bishops of Liege places the death of Theoderic and the beginning of Childeric in the year 741. Others finally, while they acknowledge that Theoderic died in the year 737, prove that Childeric was adorned with the royal title only in the year 743, from the Council of Soissons, which is said to have been held in the second year of Childeric III, the year of Christ 744. According to that reckoning, it was the third year of Childeric when those deeds of Chrodegang were drawn up: and indeed a III could easily have become VI, if the two lower strokes were joined to form a V.
[4] A second document of Chrodegang reads thus: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. Chrodegang, though unworthy, if not in deed then in name, Bishop by the grace of God, together with the leave and will of the most illustrious man Pippin, the renowned King, our lord... Therefore we grant from the properties of St. Stephen to that basilica of St. Peter and St. Stephen and St. Paul, and of the other Saints, which we, with God's help, have newly built at the boundary of Haldiniaca in the district of Scarponna, where the little river Gorze rises... Done publicly at Metz, in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord 754, Indiction 7, Epact 23, Concurrent 1, in the 4th year of the reign of the most glorious King Pippin, on the 25th day of May. All the chronological markers here are solid.
[5] Another document, given two years later, reports the following: In the name of God, Chrodegang, though a sinner, Bishop of the city of Metz... Then, by the help of God, together with the leave and will of our most pious and most glorious Lord, Pippin, King of the Franks, and with the consent of our spiritual Brothers and of the God-fearing lay faithful of St. Stephen, I have built a monastery in the place called Gorze, in the district of Scarponna, in honor of the most blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and also of St. Stephen and the other Saints; and I have founded and endowed the same monastery with properties and lands which have come to me by law through sales and exchanges; on this condition, namely, that in that monastery monks shall live henceforth and always in perpetuity according to the order and rule of our Holy Father Benedict the Abbot... And let that monastery be subject under the protection and defense of the Church of St. Stephen of Metz... Done publicly at the palace of Compiegne in a synod convened, in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord 756, Indiction 9, Epact 15, Concurrent 4, in the 6th year of the reign of the glorious King Pippin, on the 15th day before the Kalends of June.
[6] In a fifth document the following is found: I grant to the monastery which is called Gorze, which I have newly built in the name of the Lord in honor of the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and St. Stephen in the district of Scarponna... Mount Viron in the district of Scarponna... Done publicly at the villa of Arcomago, in the year from the Incarnation of the Lord 757, Indiction 10, Epact 26, Concurrent 5, in the 7th year of the reign of King Pippin.
[7] David Blondel, in his fuller assertion of the Frankish Genealogy, while refuting the Vindications of Spain by Jean-Jacques Chifflet -- with little courtesy indeed -- says that the donations of Chrodegang which we have cited were fabricated, and plainly supposititious or interpolated. Why so? Because they contain years expressed from the birth of Christ. He claims that no Frankish documents, throughout the entire age of Pippin, Charlemagne, Louis the Pious, and their sons, are found marked with the years of Christ (which was later established as a custom). Do you assert this so universally? "If perhaps," he says, "you except the synodal ones." He therefore admits what no one can deny: that at that time the notation of the years of Christ was customarily appended in synods. Who did this? Bishops, I suppose, and their notaries, the scribes of ecclesiastical acts. Was it forbidden for them, if they were drawing up any other non-synodal acts, to use that notation? I do not deny that many royal diplomas lack it, because the royal scribes either did not wish or were not able to easily change the ancient custom: but I deny that Bishops were constrained by that custom; I deny that other men of rank, especially when they were establishing something for the benefit of monasteries or churches, did not from time to time add that notation to their acts, even in the age of those Kings. The Roman Pontiffs themselves hardly inscribed the years of Christ in their letters before the year 1100 of the common era; does it follow from this that all ecclesiastical or monastic acts marked with this notation are supposititious? Yet Bishops and other sacred men seem much more obliged to conform to the custom of the Roman Church than French Bishops or Abbots to that of their own Kings.
[8] For as to Blondel's denial in the same place that Chrodegang was distinguished with the Archiepiscopal pallium, this is refuted in the second volume of Andre Chesne's Collection of Frankish Writers, page 213, where the following is cited from the Life of Stephen III: And while he was situated in France, he bestowed the pallium on Rodiganus, a most holy man and Bishop (this is Chrodegang, as is clear from the entire context of the narrative) and ordained him Archbishop. Blondel protests that Chifflet proves this from Anastasius in the Life of Stephen III, Albericus, and other Gorzian charters of the same sort. These are certainly not writers whose authority is equal to that by which Blondel usually proves his own points. However, by making the Gorzian Charters equal to Anastasius, he unwittingly confirms them, since even some heretical associates of Blondel acknowledge that Anastasius is a very weighty writer, not only all Catholics. Let therefore the Charters we have cited be of the same quality as Anastasius -- not chaff, but the most approved grain -- and what we have reported will be all the more credible.
[9] I would not, however, wish to defend all the charters that exist anywhere under the name of Chrodegang concerning the foundation of Gorze. Meurissius recites one in his history of the Bishops of Metz, page 168, which is said to have been given in the year 765, Indiction 3, in the 4th year of the reign of Pippin the Elder -- these do not agree with one another. For according to our calculation it was the 15th or 16th year of Pippin, according to others at least the 14th. Then, compared to whom is Pippin, still living, called "the Elder"? In the previously cited Charters, he is called "our lord," or "our master," not simply "the Elder." In the preceding charter in the same Meurissius, the chronological markers that are added are plainly inconsistent: The year from the Incarnation of the Lord 763, Indiction 7, Epact 23, the 4th year of Pippin. What, moreover, of the endowment on page 164, by which King Pippin endowed the Church of Gorze? At the end it has: All these things were done in the sight of the most glorious King Pippin II, on the 17th before the Kalends of July, a Sunday, also in the year 761 from the Incarnation of the Lord, Indiction 14. What does "King Pippin II" mean? The second? Who then was King Pippin the first? Or does it mean "in the second year"? But it was the 12th. Moreover, in that year 761, Indiction 14, the Dominical letter was D. Therefore the 17th before the Kalends of July, that is the 15th of June, was not a Sunday but a Monday. Even more absurdly, on page 166, another diploma of the same Pippin is dated in these words: Done in the year as above, 752 from the Incarnation of the Lord. And yet he says he is granting certain properties to the place of Saints Peter and Paul, and of St. Gorgonius the distinguished Martyr, where the little river Gorze rises. In the year 752, or even 761 (as Meurissius notes in the margin that he read elsewhere), who could have thought of St. Gorgonius, whose body was not deposited at Gorze until the year 766, as the Fulda Annals record? But enough about these matters. The original foundation of Gorze and its founder are established.
Section II. Monastic discipline at Gorze having collapsed, it was restored by Bishop Adalberon and Abbot Einold. Holy and noble men who were monks there. Catalogue of Abbots.
[10] What was the subsequent fortune of this most noble monastery, and by what means its resources were recovered and -- most importantly -- its discipline restored, is set forth by Sigebert of Gembloux in the Life of St. Guibert, or Wibert, which is found in Surius on the 22nd of May: That monastery, he says, was once built by a man of great renown, Chrodegang, Bishop of Metz, nephew of King Pippin on his sister's side, and he enriched it with resources as an eternal monument to his holiness, and -- what is more -- adorned it with the grace of religious life. But in the course of time, as the evil of wars increased, and through these the misery of the wicked grew more severe, and because laws are silent amid arms, and thus injustice prevailed throughout all lands, there too, through the lapse of time and the negligence of Prelates, the rigor of regular discipline began to soften. And this permissive allowance of heavenly anger persisted until at last the eye of divine mercy looked upon those inhabiting the earth, and removed the darkness of infidelity and recalled the light of truth. Among the first sent by God for this purpose was Adalberon, the first of that name to be Bishop of Metz: who, most Christian among nobles and most noble among Christians (for he was the brother of Duke Frederick), gave this as his first exercise in governance -- that by both secular power and episcopal censure he should drive out the vice of irreligion from his diocese.
[11] Directing the eye of this good intention first upon monastic discipline, he labored to reduce it to the norm of the apostolic life. And beginning from Gorze, which was preeminent over the other monasteries in his diocese, where scarcely even the vestiges of the established religious life appeared, he did not desist until he had restored the professors of the monastic life, drawn back from the vanity of the world, to an upright way of living; and above all he extinguished with the pastoral sword the root of evils and the wicked stepmother of monks -- namely, the lust for private property -- and those who had lain exposed on the crossroads of the world to the bites of wolves he enclosed within the Lord's sheepfold. Cooperating with him in this was the pious Abbot of Gorze, Agenold, an opportune helper in the restoration of the holy religious life. And so, when the noxious roots had been torn from the garden bed of the Lord -- Adalberon the Bishop planting, Agenold watering, and God giving the increase -- the plantings of the virtues grew more abundantly than usual. Therefore whoever, renouncing the world, wished to take up the sweet yoke of Christ, here learned how meek and humble of heart they ought to be, after the example of Christ. Whoever from the military habit changed their strength to the fear of the Lord, here, as in a field of divine training, gained experience of themselves. Whoever from the clerical lot wished to ascend to a higher degree of humility, here with Jacob deserved to see -- not in dreams but in very truth -- a ladder reaching to heaven, by which they could see Angels ascending and descending. Since therefore so great a fervor of the holy religious life spread the flames of its warmth so far and wide, to this place for the discipline of the Lord all nobility flowed together, all ranks, every profession and age without distinction of persons came running. Nor did anyone believe he had grasped even the beginning of conversion who had not been initiated in the rule of Gorze. Here was found the milk that the little one might suck; here the solid bread that the child might chew, and sometimes, like a nurse, pass into his own body, so that from it he might also feed others who were unlearned or weak.
[12] So far Sigebert. Besides St. Guibert, of whom we shall treat again below, Saints Forannanus and Machalanus also imbibed their monastic training here: concerning whom we shall inquire on the 30th of April whether they were companions to one another on their pilgrimage, as Rayss believes in the supplement to Molanus's Calendar. Concerning Machalanus, the following is read in the Life of St. Cadroe on the 6th of March: Meanwhile, as the desire for devotion grew, they began to aspire to the monastic religious life. Whence, by the will of God, that Lady (Hersendis) directed Machalanus to Gorze -- that is, to the training of the venerable Agenald; but Cadroe to Fleury, where Ercembaldus, a man of great religious life, presided. Both having obtained what they desired, Machalanus professed as a monk under Father Agenald; but Cadroe on the feast of the Conversion of the Apostle Paul at Fleury, in the presence of Lord Erchembald, put on the habit and spirit of a monk. And so, when the appointed time had passed, the oft-mentioned matron sent to Gorze, beseeching Lord Agenald with all affection that Machalanus might be able to return to the place formerly chosen: and having returned, he governed the place he had taken up. The place was situated above the river Meuse, called by its ancient name Walciodorus.
[13] But St. Forannanus is said to have been exhorted by the Supreme Pontiff himself to learn the monastic discipline at Gorze. Thus it is reported in his Life: The aforesaid Confessor of Christ received such a command from Lord Benedict, who as the seventh bearing that name had fixed his anchor in the governance of the whole world by the authority of the Key-Bearer of the heavenly kingdom; namely, that in returning to his homeland he should turn aside to the monastery called Gorze, and there, together with his companions, be instructed in the divine precepts. For they had resolved to submit their necks to the norm of the monastic religious life. Eager to comply with the Apostolic command, they arrived together at the above-named monastery. Where, in a very short time, being fully strengthened in the divine instructions, they attained what they had long desired. Benedict VII was elevated to the Pontificate in the year 975, fifteen years after the death of Agenold, or Einold. Therefore St. Forannanus did not dwell at Gorze at the same time as St. Machalanus, as can be gathered from the cited Life of St. Cadroe, written by an ancient author: unless the writer of the Life of St. Forannanus, who is much later, is mistaken -- which we shall inquire into in its proper place.
[14] The catalogue of the Abbots of Gorze was communicated to us by our Alexander Wiltheim, either transcribed from the Gorzian archive by our Francois Lahier, or collected from other documents: for the years appended to each do not always indicate the death or the beginning of governance, as is clear in the case of Agenold, or Eginold, or Einold, the predecessor of Blessed John, to whom the year 940 is assigned, although he was created Abbot in the year 933, and lived until the year 959 or 960. Others who have the opportunity to examine more deeply the records of that monastery and the neighboring churches will investigate these matters, and whether anyone has been omitted. The catalogue is as follows:
The same Abbot was also Abbot of Prum and Reichenau.
Afterward the Abbey began to be given in commendam, as they say.
[15] The successor of Blessed John, who is here called Giboldus, is called Oibaldus by Sigebert in the Life of St. Guibert. Odolbert is mentioned below in the Life of the same Blessed John. The one who is third from Odolbert, Immo, or Ymmo, is the one to whom Bishop Milo dedicated the history of the martyrdom of St. Gorgonius, with a distinguished commendation of the hospitality and piety of the Gorzians, as is clear from the preface, whose beginning is as follows: To the venerable Abbot Ymmo of the holy Church of Gorze, and to the entire community of monks entrusted to him, Bishop Milo, servant of the servants of God, offers due prayers with supplication in Christ. Because, when I long ago entered the borders of your region, you not only received me honorably, but also showed me every kindness with special affection in general; if I am unable to repay you with fitting thanks in deed (as I wish), I desire all the more devoutly to do what alone I can, to the extent that I recognize myself to have been wanting in some such matter... Therefore, as I mentioned, received honorably by you not by my own merits but by the grace of fraternal charity, I was held by such familiarity with you that I entirely thought myself not a guest, but as it were one of the Brothers themselves. Whence, while amid those sacred discourses of yours, which seemed to me in a manner kindled by the breath of the Holy Spirit, and as it were springing from the very fount of salutary knowledge, etc. But let us now come to Blessed John.
Section III. John, the second Abbot of Gorze after the reform, not of St. Arnulph's at Metz. When did he die? Adorned with the title of Blessed and Saint. His Life was written by John, the third Abbot of St. Arnulph's, but it is incomplete.
[16] John was one of the principal helpers of Bishop Adalberon in the reform of Gorze, and was himself Abbot after Einold. The Life of his which we publish here we received from the same Alexander Wiltheim, with whom Jacques Sirmond had shared it. Andre Chesne cites it in his history of the family of Bar, page 5, and Jean-Jacques Chifflet in his Childebrandine Stemma, chapter 4. Hugo Menard published an epitome of his Life in book 2 of his Observations on the Benedictine Martyrology, and Gabriel Bucelin in his Menologium. We regret one thing: that the Life is incomplete. For when in chapter 1, number 6, the writer had divided what was to be said into five parts -- with what zeal he cultivated virtue while still living in the secular habit; by what means he thence passed to the monastic life; with what labor and constant vigilance he labored in every exercise of the virtues, first in the company of others under the command of a superior; how afterward, being appointed to governance, he held the position he had once seized in the spiritual battle line, and did not yield his ground under any assault of the enemy, until, with the Lord fighting alongside him and preserving him, he emerged victorious; and finally, what the end of his happily consummated contest was -- he executed the first three chapters very amply; the latter two, which seemed to be the most important, are entirely missing, whether because death overtook him before he reached them, or because they have perhaps been lost, just as the last surviving section, concerning the Spanish embassy, is badly corrupted, with decay or some other defect damaging the paper. Perhaps someone will find a complete copy somewhere.
[17] Indeed, without the already cited preface, from what survives of his life we would not know that he was an Abbot. Nor are there lacking those who think that he was indeed a monk of Gorze, but Abbot of the monastery of St. Arnulph's at Metz, not of Gorze; others think that while he was Abbot of Gorze, he was summoned thence to govern the monastery of St. Arnulph's, and having succeeded Austeus, was the third Abbot there. This is by no means persuasive to me. For the writer of the Life of Blessed John -- who indicates that he was a monk, or certainly an Abbot, in the monastery of St. Arnulph's -- would not have passed over this in silence; he writes in chapter 8, number 66, as follows: Since concerning all the members of that holy community (of Gorze), who individually were almost all worthy of commemoration for the merit of their distinguished way of life, the length prevents us from treating them adequately... it is not right to pass over Dom Austeus, the Father given to us in the monastery of St. Arnulph's. Then, when in number 68 he mentions his death and funeral, he makes no mention of Blessed John being substituted for him.
[18] The same writer in chapter 1, number 2, shows that he himself was an Abbot, and that he and St. Cadroe and others who had the care of monasteries round about were summoned on the morrow by Blessed John when he was seized with a sudden illness; and he adds: When the multitude had been dismissed with a farewell, the most reverend Fathers -- Cadroe, Berhardus, Hudo, Adelmodus, and with these I, the least -- together with a number of our holy brethren, remained there to observe his departure for the four days he survived, mingling with the Brothers of that same holy community of that place, who clung to him in unceasing devoted service. John was not, therefore, lying ill at Metz in the monastery of St. Arnulph's: for otherwise it would not have been necessary for St. Cadroe, who was Abbot of the monastery at Metz which was then called St. Felix's and is now called St. Clement's, to remain constantly at the monastery of St. Arnulph's; rather it would have been sufficient to visit him from time to time. The same could perhaps be said of certain others as well. But since each was three or four leagues from his own monastery, it was more practical to stay there and await the outcome of his illness.
[19] Finally, the author of the Life of St. Cadroe, which we shall give on the 6th of March, clearly affirms what we are arguing, writing thus: Moreover, charity, which is according to the Apostle the bond of perfection, so shone in him that unless you had seen it you would not believe it. But to say something of this by way of example: John, Abbot of the monastery of Gorze, a pillar in the temple of God -- whose death, as someone said of Hannibal, "the lions, mountains, forests, and wild beasts bewailed" -- seized with a grave illness, was lying in bed; and because he was a man of indescribable abstinence, he was tormenting his enfeebled limbs with dry foods, as was his habit when healthy, his spirit compelling him. Father Cadroe, hearing of this, led by charity, had come to Gorze and, without the man's knowledge, had ordered a meal of meat to be prepared, so that he might be able to restore him to the Church's children. And when the hour of the meal came, a small table was set before them. When John shrank from touching the dishes brought in, Cadroe, knowing that charity does not seek its own, he who long ago out of love of frugality had resolved not even to touch an egg, took up the meat and ate it. When the man of God, John, saw this, no longer able to resist his command, he restored his weak limbs until he should recover. What then? Did not Cadroe serve the charity of Christ in this also? Would not the writer here -- who says he was a pillar in the temple of God, whose death was in a manner mourned by forests and wild beasts -- have indicated it if Blessed John had at any time been Abbot of St. Arnulph's?
[20] What seems to conflict with what has been said is the following narrative sent to us from the ancient records of the monastery of St. Arnulph: After Austeus, John assumed the pastoral office of St. Arnulph's, in the times of Otto the First, that magnificent and most famous Emperor, father of the second of the same name, who committed against the Saracens in Apulia a battle memorable for all ages in defense of the Holy Church of God. There was a Count Palatine named Teubert, flourishing in wealth, a most vigorous man in divine and human affairs, and distinguished for every kind of goodness. He had begotten offspring of the female sex from his wife Erinertrude. But because male offspring was lacking, persisting fervently in prayers, he besought God to grant him a son. Intent on these prayers, it happened that one day he went to the monastery of St. Arnulph for this reason, and long prostrate on the ground before the most sacred altar, he prolonged his prayer. John, the Abbot of that place, was standing motionless before the doors of the basilica until the Count Palatine should come out: to whom, as he was leaving the church, offering kisses after his greeting, he said: "Rejoice, most noble of men, and know that your prayers have been heard by God." And when he, struck with awe at the novelty of the thing, stood reverently, asking whence he knew this, John said: "He to whom the secrets of minds are open, revealing it, has taught me that you have merited the male offspring long sought from God in prayer: for shortly a male scion will come from your chaste marriage, to be called Benedict, one who is to be blessed in all things by Him who calls the things that are not as though they were. Take care not to change the name which He who created all things from nothing has given: and hand over the child when born to God and St. Arnulph, to be nurtured under the religious rule, whose fame will one day shine forth far and wide." Trusting in the words of the man of God, he returned home joyfully, having received the response.
[21] Meanwhile, not many days having passed, the mother bore in due time the son she had conceived under the auspices of Christ. The father, having secretly taken the child from the mother together with a nurse, brought him to the above-mentioned monastery to Abbot John, requesting that the boy be made a catechumen by him. The holy man did not refuse, but immediately fulfilled what the Count had asked, and imposed the name. When this was done, the Count carried the child wrapped in a purple cloak into the church and, placing him upon the altar, offered him to God and St. Arnulph, with the Abbot and Brothers standing by. Taken from there by the Abbot, the child was returned to the nurse for nurturing, and so was carried home. Finally, when the lady had recovered from her indisposition, when she saw a suitable moment, she said to her husband: "It is time (if it pleases Your Highness) to command that our child be initiated in the sacraments of Christ, and take a title of name from the line of our ancestors." "This was done very recently," said the Count. When she inquired how and by whom: "At the monastery of Blessed Arnulph," he said, "by John, the Abbot of that place, who also ordered him to be named Benedict." The lady, saddened, said: "This name is fitting only for monks who have renounced the world, derived from St. Benedict to them." "This too," said the Count, "he will be in the course of time." Hearing this, she said: "May God not permit such an infamy to be brought upon our family, that I should see a boy born of me ever wearing the habit of this profession." The Count, gently rebuking her and at the same time announcing the prophecy of the man of God, not only recalled her from her intention but also rendered her joyful at the gift granted to her by God.
[22] This John, who is the Pastor of this Church of St. Arnulph, shone with many miracles. In subjection and obedience to his Abbot, when he was at Gorze, he obeyed without delay. The Abbot, however, was subject to him in spiritual matters. John, Abbot of St. Arnulph's, managed all external affairs, just as when he was a claustral monk, by the counsel of the Lord Abbot. He appends several other items, excerpted and condensed rather inaccurately from the Life of Blessed John of Gorze: and finally this: After this it should be known that Abdalratus, the Saracen King of Spain, sent his legates to the most serene Emperor Otto, seeking friendship but writing many things against the faith. To whom our Blessed John the Abbot was sent to preach baptism and to correct their error. For he was prudent in his deeds, and rightly admonished his subjects, and urged them to keep the rule at all times throughout their lives.
[23] The same narrative, expressed in old French, was sent to us from the manuscript of the Chancery of Vic, with this title: Concerning Dom John, the third Abbot of St. Arnulph's at Metz. I strongly suspect that John, the third Abbot of St. Arnulph's, was himself the very writer of the Life of Blessed John, Abbot of Gorze: and that, if what is narrated about the male offspring of Teubert the Palatine, divinely obtained and offered to God, occurred in the church of St. Arnulph through the prediction of Abbot John, this was a different John from the one of Gorze, yet his contemporary. To this point also relates what our Francois Lahier informed us: that in the eulogy of John, the third Abbot of St. Arnulph's, the following is found: This John of pious memory, among his many scholarly exercises, composed responsories for St. Lucy, Virgin and Martyr, with authentic melody, and also the Life of St. Glodesindis, and a nocturnal office for her. But when he had begun the Life of Dom John, his predecessor, being overtaken by death he left it unfinished. We shall give the Life of the holy Virgin Glodesindis on the 25th of July, and that of St. Lucy, whose relics Bishop Theoderic at that time brought to the city of Metz, on the 13th of December. But why is this writer John called the third Abbot of St. Arnulph's? Because, as I believe, the first was Arbert, or Albert, or Herebert; the second Austeus; and he himself the third. Therefore Blessed John of Gorze was not his predecessor, except in the sense that he had departed from life some years before him.
[24] Now we must speak of the time of the same Blessed John's governance and death: but briefly, since the history of his Life fails us at this point. Legates came from Abderachman, the Cordovan King of the Spanish Saracens, to Otto around the time when Liudolf his son withdrew to Italy, where he died the following year. Thus Widukind of Corvey, book 3 of the Annals, edition of 1621, page 31: The Emperor, made glorious and famous by frequent victories, earned both the fear and the favor of many kings and nations: whence he received very many legates, namely from the Romans, Greeks, and Saracens; and through them on these days gifts of various kinds -- golden and silver vessels, also bronze ones, and glassware distinguished by a wonderful variety of workmanship, ivory vessels, and coverings fashioned in every manner, balsam and spices of every kind, animals previously unknown to the Saxons -- lions, camels, apes, and ostriches: and upon him were set the affairs and hopes of all the Christians round about. But Liudolf, the Emperor's son, wishing to keep faith with his friends, left his fatherland and went with them to Italy: where, after spending nearly a whole year, he met his last day. So far Widukind. Now, the words of Lambert of Schafnaburg at the year 956 are: In the same year Liudolf went to Italy and subjected it to himself. And at the year 957: Liudolf died in Italy. Likewise, Marianus Scotus at the year 956: Lutolph conquered Adelbert in battle, and he himself died in the same year. It seems therefore that the legates from the Saracen King came in the year 956 after Otto had defeated the Hungarians in Germany. Perhaps in the following year Blessed John was sent to him, and he returned in the year 959, in which year Abderachman also seems to have died.
[25] Finally, after his return, upon the death of Einold, he was made Abbot of Gorze: and he seems to have died in the year 962, or perhaps the preceding year, on the 27th of February. For when St. Guibert, the founder of Gembloux, died there on the 23rd of May of that year, the Abbot of Gorze was Oibaldus, who above in the Catalogue of Abbots is called Giboldus, perhaps erroneously. Thus Sigebert in the Life of St. Guibert: He summoned to himself his Abbot, whose name was Oilbaldus, disclosed to him his own desire and that of his companions, and asked of him this last favor: that his companions might be permitted to carry the earthly remains of his dead body to the monastery of Gembloux.
[26] Hugo Menard consecrated the memory of John in the Benedictine Martyrology on the 3rd before the Kalends of March as follows: In the territory of Metz, of Blessed John, Abbot of Gorze. Gabriel Bucelin has the same in the Benedictine Menologium, and appends a distinguished eulogy. From the same Menard's Observations, book 2, Andre Saussay in the Gallican Martyrology does indeed call him Blessed, but places him in the class of the Pious, adorned with this brief eulogy: In the territory of Metz, of Blessed John, Abbot of Gorze, of the Order of St. Benedict, a man of great piety and admirable innocence. But in the narrative cited above, in which however the deeds of that John and of the other John, the third Abbot of St. Arnulph's, seem to be confused, the following is found: Blessed John also made many petitions to Bishop Adalberon. And then: Blessed John our Abbot was sent, etc. The same is found in the old codex cited from the Chancery of Vic. The Catalogue of the Abbots of Gorze expressly calls him St. John. Andre Chesne in the Preface to the history of the family of Bar writes thus: Bishop Adalberon of Metz had a paternal uncle Frederick, first a monk, then Abbot of the monastery of St. Hubert in the Ardenne, who died at Trier and was buried in the church of St. Maximin. This is mentioned in the Life of St. John, Abbot of Gorze, not yet published in print. Jean-Jacques Chifflet, chapter 4 of the Childebrandine Stemma: This is also confirmed by the author of the Life of St. John of Gorze, which he wrote around the year 966.
Annotations* Vic manuscript: Ermentrude.
* Vic manuscript: "is perpetuated."
LIFE OF BLESSED JOHN
by the author, as it seems, John, Abbot of St. Arnulph's at Metz, drawn from manuscripts by Jacques Sirmond, S.J.
John, Abbot of Gorze, in the territory of Metz (Bl.)
BHL Number: 4396
Author: John the Abbot. From manuscripts.
CHAPTER I. The Author's preface. Occasion of writing.
[1] It had long been my intention, even while our Father John -- a man of rare example in our age in all things pertaining to a pious, upright, and honorable life -- was still living, to set forth his deeds in writing for the advancement of many: and lest so great a man, through excessive negligence (which would assuredly be accounted sinful and not without guilt), should lie hidden under the veil of obscure fame, to commit them to whatever form of writing I could. Meanwhile, while we were occupied with various matters and perhaps more entangled with business than waiting for leisure, the vicissitude of human affairs, as is its wont, suddenly cut short our hopes, too far extended. For while we delayed, this same most holy man, at the beginning of holy Lent, on its very first day, after the hour of his evening meal -- taken, as was always his custom, most sparingly, that is, of bread and water only -- was seized with a most acute fever, which after five days was followed by his death. Then indeed, as if with belated sighs, we lamented all the more deeply that the times, so present until then, had been snatched from our hands -- we who assuredly would have learned from him better whatever needed to be said about him, while he was still alive, to whom, if there were any need, recourse would have been easy: if, however, there were anyone so intimate with him who could be confident of extracting anything from him -- so completely did he, always fleeing human glory, commit whatever he had done solely to the witness of his works and his heart. But in a wondrous way, just as those who pursue glory are all the more deserted by it, so conversely, it all the more pursues those who flee from it. Whence holy men, the more they desire to be hidden, the more conspicuously, though unwillingly, they are revealed. Therefore, when this event had nearly stunned my mind, and had severely cast me down from the beginning of such a great undertaking as I had long conceived, what gradually restored me as I lay prostrate and despairing, and then, once I was willing, drove me on more and more, was approximately this.
[2] When the holy man, from so violent an illness as has been described, had immediately taken to his bed, by a swift messenger he summoned to himself on the morrow all of us who were found having care of monasteries round about: of whom, by a divine disposition, it happened that no one was then absent; with the addition of religious men from among the chief persons of the house of the holy See of Blessed Stephen, and besides these a not inconsiderable crowd of lesser persons. He received each of those approaching from his bed itself with a holy kiss and a most joyful countenance, and, as time and circumstance allowed, settled certain matters. Moreover, addressing all in common with the exhortation always customary to him, as much as his illness allowed, he spoke briefly about the unhappiness of this life and the happiness of the next. Then, having dismissed the multitude with a farewell, the most reverend Fathers -- Cadroe, Berhardus, Hudo, Adelmodus, and with these I, the least -- together with a number of our holy brethren, remained there to observe his departure for the four days he survived, mingling with the Brothers of the holy community of that same place, who clung to him in unceasing devoted service.
[3] While we sat beside him in that most sorrowful office, and hung upon his sacred lips -- from which, even amid the very struggle between life and death, the grace of salutary doctrine flowed -- various conversations began to arise among us: how the supreme Craftsman, the Disposer and most orderly Governor of all things, should permit this man, who had faithfully served Him for so long (for it was then his fortieth year in the holy religious life), to be so severely afflicted around the time of his departure. For never had we trembled at the more violent crisis of any other. But rather a pious thought burned in each one's breast: that perhaps, to attest his most proven life, the Lord might deign to declare him by some more evident sign to His own glory. Amid these waves of emotion, when hardly any clearer breeze of reason opened itself to our afflicted minds, each one, distrusting only himself, reflected in his excessive grief what would become of him, when not even this man, of such great perfection, was spared by the dispensation above.
[4] But this rash affection of the mind was quickly checked by reason itself returning, since we were convinced by certain sure testimonies of the Scriptures that the life of men is to be estimated not by the display of bodies but by the power of their merits and conduct; and that one should not consider by what manner of death anyone departs from here, but in what state he departs. For by whatever occasion, all must inevitably die. Death, from whatever quarter, is good for the pious. Nor does it matter whether an innocent man dies by shipwreck or by fever, provided he is innocent: and whether he dies by this cause or that, what must be asked is what manner of man he is who dies -- where he is going after death, not whence he is departing from life. By these and similar supports, we clearly enough concluded that the testing of the just man -- which indeed he himself, as one always inflexible in all things, bore wisely and with equanimity -- not only took nothing from his praise but even contributed to the fruit of still greater merit. For what harm does it do to the elect, who tend toward perpetual life, if they sometimes die a hard death? Nor likewise does the novelty of signs or miracles usually make a difference in sanctity; this is clearly shown from the fact that sometimes these occur through wicked persons; and the Church, with the highest honor and studiously constructed memorials, venerates many of whom it is not recorded whether they were distinguished by even a single miracle. For to say nothing of others, John himself -- than whom none born of women is greater, as the Gospel testifies -- performed no miracle; and while he was struck by the sword in prison, whether he was distinguished from any murderer or robber by even one final mark, all the Scriptures are perpetually silent. Therefore, in vain was any such bodily splendor desired for the commendation of so great a man, about whom there was sufficiently firm and unhesitating faith that what was seen in his works, his holy way of life, and his unwearied perseverance in good to the very end, surpassed all signs and wonders, and conducted to the salvation of souls not without the greatest fruit.
[5] When these and many similar things were being exchanged in mutual conversations in that same holy assembly, and all were coming to the same conclusion, it was urged as being most useful and absolutely necessary that the life of this blessed man -- to the extent that it could either be seen or learned from the accounts of our elders -- should be written down for the advancement of many, as a worthy memorial. I, who had been eager for so great an undertaking from the very beginning, being made more ardent by this deliberation, even though I was not unmindful of the slenderness of my talent -- and though my mind, foreseeing the labor, perceived that it would be thrown back upon me by others -- yet adding my voice to the rest that it should be done, I kept urging it again and again. When true resolve had at once succeeded uncertain deliberation, and then by chance they had selected me above all for this task, caught between diffidence and eagerness at the critical moment, while a resolution did not easily present itself, at last impatience prevailed, and I bound myself -- far too precipitous and presumptuous -- to a debt I was not sufficient to discharge. And I frankly confess, like an incompetent writer, that I have taken up material not equal to my powers. But this hope at last consoles me: that by the divine mercy, whatever burden it may prove, I do not doubt it will be lightened by the merits of the same man, who, as I firmly believe, now stands in the presence of the charity of Christ. And he who, while he was with us, did not judge me unworthy -- though undeserving -- of his holy intimacy, will not now, by the grace that is his, as I freely presume, desert one who is pressing forward in this pious work of his love, with the aid of that once-friendly piety. Moreover, since I have subsequently gained many holy men as encouragers, and especially, as the most beautiful summit adorning the whole edifice with wondrous light, our Lord and most excellent Bishop -- most illustrious in both divine and human glory -- Theoderic, our special Patron, impelling me not only by exhortation but also, what is more inescapable, by command, I trust that the support of such men will not fail me: so that what is impossible from myself, through those whose will I desire to obey, the heavenly grace -- from whose fullness we have all received whatever good we have -- may deign to supply.
[6] Therefore, leaving aside those things he did from his earliest years -- of which, it is agreed, very rare knowledge has come down to us -- we shall attempt to set forth, as the mercy of Christ shall deign to guide our pen, only those things by which, rising to the stature of a perfect man, he was of the greatest benefit to those who saw and wished to imitate him. We shall treat these in this order: First, how greatly he flourished in the germ of good action while still living in the secular habit; and how, as that most excellent fruit bore more abundant harvest in the soil of his heart, he thence passed to the monastic life. Then, with what zeal in that same holy profession, with what labor and constant vigilance, in every exercise of the virtues -- both first in the company of others under the command of a superior, and afterward, appointed to governance -- he held the position he had once seized in the spiritual battle line, and did not yield his ground under any assault of the enemy, until, with the Lord fighting alongside him and preserving him, he emerged victorious. Finally, what the end of his happily consummated contest was, at which the divine mercy also granted us to be present.
AnnotationsCHAPTER II. Blessed John's homeland, education, and familiarity with honorable and pious men.
[7] The precepts of secular learning, which is called Rhetoric, in demonstrating individual persons, are said among other things to require that the ancestors of the one who is to be praised be traced back to a remote origin, and thus by degrees, as if by a kind of thread, a line be drawn down to the person himself; as if from those from whom he draws his origin he could be more illustrious and famous -- the comparison perhaps being taken from a tree which, now aged, has dried in its branches, so that, they say, the fruitful root may compensate for the sterility of the branches, and what you cannot hold in the fruit you may admire in the trunk. Let this have been the practice of those who savored only the things of the flesh, and thought that each person was made famous or infamous not so much by his own deeds, illustrious or obscure, as by those of others; when to the contrary, reason establishes that very many have frequently changed from obscurity to fame, and others from the most illustrious stock to the calamity of a shameful life. But by a far different path from these does our religion proceed, in which the nobility of minds and morals, and the true freedom of the spirit, stripped of the dominion of vices, is celebrated rather than the vain and swelling nobility of the flesh, which vanishes like smoke. In this religion the needy are raised from the dust and the poor are lifted from the dunghill, that they may sit in glory with the Princes of the heavenly people. Nor are proofs lacking in support, since David is raised from the pastures of flocks to a kingdom; Peter, with his companions in poverty, from the nets of fish to the principate of the entire world; and the despised and ignoble things of the world are chosen, that the powerful and noble may be confounded. And since the very Prince of this institution says, "If you abide in my word, you shall be truly free, and the truth shall make you free" -- which is nothing other than "shall make you free" -- and likewise the herald of the same Prince: "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty"; whoever may glory in so great a gift of liberty, in vain are the enumeration of that antiquity and the names and ashes of ancestors sought as a title of praise for him -- unless perhaps we should prefer the flesh to the Spirit, whose perishable nobility is accustomed to bring upon the former the disgrace of enduring ignobility.
[8] But to what end are these things led about in such long digressions? Because for any writers whatsoever, in whatever subject they have undertaken to treat, such beginnings are almost customarily taken: namely, in what region of the earth, under what climate of heaven, of what language or nation, of what condition, and from parents of what fortune their subject came forth, as if from the very first foundation of the account to follow, they should lay this groundwork according to their abilities. This I judge to be superfluous labor in the case of this man of ours, whom so abundant a generosity of the Spirit commends; since so great a glory of consummate virtue either equals or closely approaches the lineage of so many perfect men of old, so that whatever happy works are celebrated with worthy praises concerning them has been shown to have shone forth in its entirety in this man, as in a most pure mirror. Yet lest I be blamed by any more curious person for having done too little, or for having let my discourse evade this part of the narrative, as if from a poverty of material -- whatever of such things it may be necessary to introduce, the most important and most fruitful of saving benefit having been embraced, let us pass on to the times.
[9] This John, then, was a native of the territory partly of Metz and partly of Toul, from a once-royal estate called Vendiere, of parents certainly not excessively obscure, and indeed of rather abundant means. His father, of quite advanced age -- so that he was believed to be nearly ninety -- was among his own people sufficiently wealthy, held by all as fair and good and without complaint, down to the lowest person, making himself available to all. And while intent on the country and on governing his household, which he maintained as not a small one in proportion to his moderate manner of life, many things grew for him by just labor; and being considerably increased in possessions, expenses, and money from the blessings of the Lord, he devoted himself all the more zealously to hospitality, almsgiving, the honor of the Church as far as he could, and to the other fruits of good works. Finally, taking a wife of rather free birth, younger in age though he himself was in his old age, he begot this John and two others after him.
[10] He himself was raised in his father's house with all the more tender care, since the spirit of the old man, as one who had produced offspring at that age, kept away every injury with impatience. Yet, having been set barely to learning the first elements of letters, he was for some time educated not far from his father's sight, and afterward, though his father bore it reluctantly, at Metz in whatever schools there could then be. He also stayed for some time at the monastery of St. Michael on the river Meuse for the sake of his studies, where at that time a certain Hildebold, a professor of Grammar and a disciple of Dom Remigius, the most learned Master of that age, held schools: from whose teaching, as he himself very often afterward confessed, whether through negligence or what seemed to be a kind of arrogance -- though his father very often gave him not inconsiderable gifts -- it happened that he brought away a rather meager harvest of knowledge.
[11] When his father thereupon shortly died, and he himself seemed to have entered upon young manhood, after some time -- his mother, being younger, entering into a new marriage -- he was left as the sole guardian of his brothers and the entire household. In that area of practical knowledge, that is, in the administration of all domestic affairs, how energetic, cautious, and of a talent almost superior to all other men he proved himself; how he was enriched with a not inconsiderable estate in field, livestock, household, and the means for establishing and maintaining them; then in the exercise and arrangement of various arts useful for all manner of household equipment, how great his ability was, so that there was scarcely anything in worldly affairs that escaped him -- concerning all these things I think it better to remain silent than to write of them unworthily: especially since the testimonies of many who still remember these things sufficiently survive, from whom those who are moved by such concern can easily be instructed.
[12] Having remained in his own home until the full completion of manhood, he clung throughout that entire time, in various duties and affairs, as opportunity offered, to the familiarity of diverse men, both secular and ecclesiastical, at least of honorable life: from whose companionship he derived for himself the best form and example of living. Having frequented the house of the most distinguished Count Riquinus for some years -- a man prudent and most shrewd in every kind of business at that time -- he gained therefrom very great benefit. For he also possessed the church of the very village from which he came by gift of the same Count. He also enjoyed the company of Dado, Bishop of Verdun, a man of the highest genius and most famous holiness, for no short time: who also wished to make him permanently his own, on account of the well-deserved disposition he perceived in him, and the lively talent he observed; but for what reasons he did not succeed, we have not much discovered.
[13] Then, associating himself in the name of the Lord with a certain nobleman Warnerius, in the territory of Toul, on account of the Church of St. Lawrence in the village of Fontanet, adjacent to that city, he devoted himself most familiarly to his services. On this occasion he then had frequent recourse to Toul, because this church, together with the other one from his native soil which he held at the same time, was of the same diocese. Whence, having obtained as his master in ecclesiastical subjection Bernerus the Deacon of that holy See, a man certainly celebrated in that place both for his reputation of holiness and for his knowledge of letters, he then began to apply himself to the study of reading with more earnest care under him. He deeply lamented that so much time had passed in such fashion up to that point that he was forced to renew his schooling from the beginning. For as a boy he had been entrusted to various teachers for his studies, as was said, and whatever little he seemed to have brought back from there as a faintly warmed ear was almost entirely lost, buried under the weight of subsequent cares. But by the quickness of his talent, with divine grace helping, he repaired those losses in a shorter time with the happy success of the gain that followed. He heard therefore only the first elements of Grammar and the first parts of Donatus from Bernerus himself; and content with that introductory sprinkling, he transferred himself entirely to the divine writings, in which within a short time he displayed such a light of understanding that, to the astonishment of all, he could without difficulty meet whatever questions of the learned.
[14] Moreover, the Church of St. Lawrence, which we mentioned, he cultivated with singular love, and adorned it with whatever was necessary for the ecclesiastical ministry, as piously as he could. Whenever he was free, he placed his bed there and for many days would not leave, and very frequently continued entire nights in prayers: and although he still seemed to give rein to the pleasures of the world, more secretly in the eyes of the Lord, according to places and times, he yearned for spiritual things. There he assigned a certain woman from the household of his lord to the divine offices under his direction: who, as she was given to the holy place with her body intact, so until the due end of her natural life, remaining holy in flesh and spirit, under the stipend of that same Church, never touched by any infamy, she grew old in happiness. There also he received a certain pilgrim priest, already of advanced age, and maintained and cared for him in every way until he departed in a blessed end. Concerning this man, Father John used to tell us many things of good conduct: that he was intent upon the divine work night and day, at scarcely any time except for the care of bodily necessity had he passed beyond the threshold of the church; he continually turned the psalms on his lips with words and meaning so distinctly that you would almost think he was counting the syllables; he occupied most of the night with pure prayer; struggling with his own thoughts by his very voice, and as it were striking them away with his hand, he would say: "Be gone, you vain and idle ones, do not steal from me my little psalm." Also frequently crying out to the Martyr in a plaintive voice: "Lawrence, what are you doing here? Why do you not defend me from these mad ones?" He attested that demons troubled him with various bodily attacks visible to his bodily eyes, so that very often they would most hostilely cast him down even to certain torments of the body, and he would not rise from his bed for several days.
[15] This same man used to tell of himself that in the time when the Normans were running about with fierce incursions around the Seine and the Loire, plundering as they went, he was seized by them and thrown into a certain well of immense depth -- of the kind that are seen in great numbers in his homeland, which is called Beauce (for he was a native of that region) -- and was in no way harmed. Then, extracted again and cast into another, deeper well; when he could not be crushed even in this way, and they determined to draw their sword and strike him, at last one of them said that he had not yet come to the kind of land where he was destined to die, and by divine providence, as it is believed, they released him. After some hours, when the Normans had passed on, he managed somehow to creep out of the well, and having set out on the road he was nearly collapsing from hunger (for he had already been almost three days without food), when suddenly in the middle of the road he found three loaves of bread lying there, by means of which he reached the aforementioned church of St. Lawrence. He affirmed without any hesitation that he had been freed from so many dangers by the power of the psalms, which he always kept on his lips, and which he confessed he had continually chanted even while standing in those wells.
[16] From him the same John was accustomed frequently to express gratitude for having been often admonished, sometimes more sharply rebuked, and multiply corrected for many things he may have done carelessly. But he also adhered in solitary companionship, though secretly, to many other men, if he found any of proven life and learning; and gradually, as if step by step, withdrawing from whatever pleasures of the world, he strove to apply himself to more disciplined activities. He especially delighted in Bernerus the Deacon, mentioned a little before, and held him in the highest honor and esteem, because not only did his learning and his life -- which itself served in the place of teaching -- produce advancement in him, but also because if Bernerus happened to see anything reprehensible in him, he knew not at all how to spare even for a moment, but would immediately rebuke him more severely, and if the matter required it, even publicly. The same Bernerus was, among other things that fame had spread abroad about him with a good odor, remarkable from boyhood for religious life and especially for the most chaste life, biting against vices so that he would not sometimes yield even to persons of higher rank: he had nevertheless great elegance of speech, and very great facility in exhorting and persuading. His living was not very extravagant, but neither entirely abject: for being content with simple food and clothing, though whatever he had was of rather refined quality, and -- so as to be almost noted for it -- he was so much a man of pure soul that he was utterly horrified, by a certain nature implanted in him, at the touch of external filth; and the power of chastity had so pervaded his whole mind that in whatever place he had observed a woman to have sat, by no means would he himself, even if weary, take her place when she withdrew.
AnnotationsCHAPTER III. The occasion of Blessed John's more zealous cultivation of piety; his acquaintance formed with various holy men; his Italian pilgrimage; his holy deeds after his return.
[17] Meanwhile, John was also at Metz, at the monastery of St. Peter, a. where he also had a neighboring house, under the pretext of the church which he held, which together with its own estate was subject to the same monastery. Having been admitted as a hebdomadary of the sacred altar, after some time had passed since he had begun that office there, the occasion of salvation was divinely provided for him in the following manner. In the community of young women of that place, which now happily prospers by the Lord's mercy, there was a certain one, more withdrawn in conduct and manner of life than the rest, of quite girlish years, named Geisa, whom a religious aunt of hers was rearing under a more secluded custody in her care: this aunt was called Frederburg. This Geisa, then, as she daily stretched herself toward stricter ways of holy living, among other ornaments of her holy resolution, had even added the use of a hairshirt beneath all her clothing. John, still scarcely or altogether ignorant of this manner of garment, one day (in what place is uncertain), while exchanging familiar words with her, as he was accustomed to do with others, caught a shadowy glimpse from the girl's breast, beneath her inner garment, which was rather thin, of a hairshirt lying hidden against the skin. Immediately thrusting in his hand to discover what it was, when the rougher touch revealed the thing, he shuddered with violent astonishment and a trembling of his whole body; then he inquired what this garb might signify. She, rather bashful and her face suffused with a blush, after she had been silent for some time, said: "Do you not know that we ought not to live for or serve this world? These things, to which I see most people devoted, I perceive to be utterly vain and the perdition of souls. A far different purpose from these things, anxious only for my own peril, compels me to exist." When she had repeated many words of holy desire in this fashion, John, roused from the depths of his breast to profound sighs, said: "Woe to wretched and most slothful me, who have so long drawn out my delays, living not merely fruitlessly, but even ruinously! To be sure, it was fitting that I, a man, should have preceded this frailer sex in virtue! For to my utmost shame and disgrace, not only do I fail to overtake her who is already walking ahead, but, idle and wholly clinging to the earth, I do not advance or accompany her by any movement at all."
[18] Spurred therefore more sharply by these things, and inflamed beyond what he had ever been by any previous example of virtue, he deliberates with fixed mind upon the establishment of a more perfect life. Accordingly, he seized upon the study of divine reading with those same handmaids of God with the utmost energy, and first running through the history of the sacred library, the Old and New Testament, in its entirety; then whatever books of reading that are used in the divine offices at fixed times in the Church -- the book called the Comes, the orations, and whatever pertains to the Sacramentary for diverse uses -- the rules of temporal computations, which he had previously read through in large part before the aforementioned Deacon Bernerus, he committed to memory so vividly that no one surpassed him. The precepts of canonical institution, that is, the decrees of Councils, the judgments of penitents, the order of ecclesiastical proceedings, and in addition the edicts of secular laws -- all these he wonderfully retained, hidden in his heart, down to a single word, so to speak. Of homilies, sermons, and diverse treatises on the readings of the Epistles or Gospels, as well as the deeds of the Saints and whatever memorable lives of Saints there were, he conceived so great a knowledge that whenever afterward the opportunity of speaking chanced to come to him, as if a book were present before his eyes, from the first to the last sentence, in order, as though following visible footsteps, he would recite everything in common words. He was neither ashamed nor did he despair of laboring at ecclesiastical chant during that same period; and although some silently laughed at his talent as if at an age ill-suited for it, by the stubbornness of his good desire, though with hard-won effort, he utterly prevailed.
[19] These, meanwhile, were his holy occupations of leisure with the aforesaid handmaids of God; from whose community he also transformed very many from the lowest pleasures to the flames of heavenly desires by the fire of divine eloquence, and they remain to this day as witnesses of the order of his life and virtues. Now indeed, in the remaining spiritual exercises -- continence, fasting, vigils, frequency of prayers, and the other bodily labor and mortification of the flesh -- with what great strength he girded himself, and preparing himself from day to day for better things, with the grace of Christ accompanying him, how he always pressed on to further things, will perhaps be better demonstrated by the testimony of what followed.
[20] He burned with all his desire for contempt of the world and the complete renunciation of possessions. But he could not easily foresee to what place he should betake himself. To such a degree had the abundance of examples withdrawn itself from this entire region: nor was any monastery at all heard of in all the Cisalpine regions, and scarcely even in Italy itself, in which the diligence of the regular life was maintained. Since, therefore, he did not know where to turn, the only thing he could do was to wear down the thresholds of certain men whom a more widespread reputation seemed to separate from secular society, and, attentive to their practices and not inferior in working alongside them, he generally spent a month or more, now in the company of this one, now of that one, and in whatever service he could render. At Metz during that time two men were held in sufficient celebrity for their renown of continent life: one was Roland, presiding over the school of singers in the house of St. Stephen, and in the more secluded parts of the oratory of St. Michael, which was in the upper part of the same basilica b. of St. Stephen, continuing day and night in prayers, psalms, and the celebration of Masses. The other was c. Warmibertus, at the basilica d. of the Holy Savior, not far from the cloister of the clerics, serving Christ with no less zeal in divine matters: of whose most acceptable lives to all, many witnesses still survive, from whom anyone who wishes may learn more fully.
[21] Adhering to these men, then, for no small time, and exercising himself with much labor of the divine work, he even began, at that same basilica of the Holy Savior, a cell of reclusion in which he might be shut up forever. But, offended I believe by the unsuitability of the place, since it was in the middle of the city, and meditating rather on some secret woodland retreats in his mind, he decided to defer for the time being. Meanwhile, he heard of the fame of the venerable man Humbert, who, enclosed at Verdun and renowned both for his knowledge of sacred letters and for the testimony of a praiseworthy life, was deservedly held as holy by all in that place. He hastened quickly to him, and within a short time, their minds coalescing with one another through mutual conversations, he spent some days with him, there depositing a pure confession of all his transgressions, and from that venerable man he received a form of penance: from meat, it is believed, he abstained entirely from that time, and seized upon fasts, always dear to him, with untiring rigor.
[22] When he had discovered that another certain solitary was also dwelling in the vicinity of that same city, within the more remote parts of the forest called the Argonne, he approached this man too with the same fervent urgency, in the hope that he might there satisfy the desire long conceived for a hermitage. This solitary, however, named Lambert, was altogether rustic in both manners and learning, and, except that the great labor with which he wore himself down -- labor quite sufficiently harsh and, as it were, irrational -- commended him to some degree in divine matters, he appeared otherwise dull and entirely boorish, so that anyone of the infirm who chanced to see him could scarcely restrain his laughter. The care of covering his body, even of its more modest parts, was his very last concern; likewise his use of food or drink was far more difficult than that of other mortals. He had usually reduced a whole modius of flour into a single loaf, which would suffice him for a month, or certainly two, until from excessive hardness it could not be broken except with an axe, and from it he would daily cut off a portion for himself by weight. Likewise, he cooked in one batch a very large kettle full of greens and legumes together, which, set aside and daily taken in measured portions, dissolved with cold water, he consumed as long as any remained. Suddenly, by whatever impulse of mind, bursting forth from the hermitage, he would enter villages and cities, and again suddenly would shut himself in his cell. Very often beginning Masses in the middle of the night, even if his spirit so moved him, in the evening, or before, or at the crack of dawn -- after a fast of two or three days, as his exhausted body required -- no time of day or night was observed for taking refreshment.
[23] Not at all disturbed by the varied prelude of this man's manner of life, and many times weighing within himself with a certain astonishment such great strength in so weak a body (for he was consumed by excessive emaciation and squalor), John dwelt with him for some time and also built himself a cell to inhabit. Many from the vicinity of the city then came there to visit, bringing whatever was needed for necessary uses, and were not a little inflamed in holy desire. Among these, the aforementioned Humbert also came frequently, departing and returning, sometimes remaining for several days; and a certain man of Breton nationality, named Andrew, excellently educated in the liberal studies, but also preeminent in strength of soul, and -- what is greater than these -- exceedingly zealous in divine matters. This man, driven from his native island f. by the infestation of the Normans, when all the inhabitants of that same island had been either killed or put to flight, together with many other men equally learned and wise, had been received by the Bishop Dado of revered sanctity, whose mention was made above, at g. Montfaucon, with certain Bretons who had come with him, and was provided for quite generously.
[24] Having consulted with these men as to whether it would be salutary and fruitful for him to remain in the same place, they, as cautious men and not ignorant of the manners of that prodigiously foolish hermit, turned his mind entirely from cohabitation with him, especially upon the advice of that same Humbert, that he should first attempt to go to Rome as a suppliant to the memorial of the Blessed Apostles (a journey which Humbert himself had long since completed, by God's favor), and thus at last, life permitting, returning, they should together carry out whatever reason might jointly demonstrate. Soon, breaking through all the impulses of his soul with fervor, and having incurred no mean expense, he hastened his journey with great effort. A certain cleric named Bernacer was joined to him as companion, a man who had long before spent time with that Warimbertus, of whom it was spoken above, at Metz at the church of the Holy Savior -- a man not inferior to others of his time in the art of copying, exceedingly accomplished in the discipline of singing, and most studious of the art of reckoning, and of no small ability in other matters of talent -- of slender means, indeed, but most richly endowed with devotion in divine things.
[25] After he came to Rome and fulfilled the vows of his holy desire at each of the holy places, a longing to press on further seized him all the more, and there, leaving behind some from his company, he himself with the aforementioned Bernacer and a few others, more lightly equipped, ran swiftly all the way to h. the mountain of the Holy Angel by name, which is called Garganus. On that same journey, however, he ascended Monte Cassino, illustrious for Blessed Benedict and frequented by a congregation of monks; and remaining some days with those servants of God, he examined rather carefully whatever vestiges of holy purpose still survived there. He also penetrated those inner recesses of the gulf of the sea, which adjoin the city of Naples -- the dwellings of the servants of God, under the name of the Holy Savior -- marveling at Mount i. Vesuvius, smoking not far off with perpetual vapor; and commending himself to their prayers, he bestowed some portion of blessing from what he had brought with him upon those same servants of God.
[26] At last, with Christ as his guide, in a happy course, and with all things prospering for him, having returned home, (without delay) upon meeting his adviser Humbert, by his counsel -- since no place suited to their desires presented itself anywhere -- he judged it better, though with considerable reluctance, to remain at home with him for the time being, and to exercise whatever pious action he could in that place. And he was, as one who most eagerly perceived the figure of this world to be passing away, possessing as though not possessing, buying as though not owning, using this world as though not using it; and already ablaze entirely for heavenly things, he seemed to manage transitory things in appearance only. For the rest, how his life differed from the institute of a monk, no one could easily discern: so thoroughly wakeful through the night in vigils, joining nights and days in prayers, adhering to sacred readings with a zeal scarcely ever interrupted, and restraining himself with every mortification of the body, he followed the Author of the Cross daily with unflagging effort, his cross raised sufficiently on high.
[27] Whether speech can worthily explain anything about the tenor of his fasts, I utterly do not believe. These he imposed upon himself from the very beginnings with such pertinacity that if any of those attached to him happened to be able to know of them, they marveled with immense wonder how he could manage even to draw his last breath amid such austerity. Rather, to the increase of their admiration, after he had generally passed a day or even two without any food or drink whatsoever -- so that he tasted not even the smallest thing -- with incredible wholeness of strength and a more cheerful countenance, nimble and steadfast, he would proceed to whatever work. Indeed, this very thing we often heard from his own mouth as he conversed with us: that he frequently extended his fasts into the following day, lacking all food or drink. For he confessed, when certain brothers who shrank from certain hardships complained that water did not agree with them as a drink, that to no one more than to himself had the taking of water previously been so hateful on account of continual use of wine. "So much so," he said, "that if on any day I had to abstain from wine, my stomach nauseating at the water, I would even entirely reject bread itself, together with all food, for the whole day."
[28] Furthermore, how swiftly, and as if hastening lest anyone rush in before him, he put on the heavenly armor, and with what strength, trusting in Christ, he undertook war against the opposing powers, and though flesh and spirit resisted, while the better part always contended for the palm, yet always fearing the danger of a renewed attack, he never relaxed his arms; and how amid these things, with vices driven out on one side and virtues admitted on the other, he raised up an edifice of most excellently composed morals in a most beautiful structure -- I judge that the powers of great intellects can scarcely untangle all this, since certainly these things may be reckoned as certain beginnings, even lowly ones, in comparison with what he afterward accomplished by divine gift in his monastic life. All these things, moreover, he performed within the hidden recesses of his house, with God alone as witness, scarcely any members of the household knowing, taking care absolutely that the left hand should not know what the right was doing, and, like the sapling of a tender planting, before it had fixed its root with sufficient watering, he avoided the touch of hands and winds with an understandable caution. Since, therefore, the aridity of my talent is by no means sufficient to match these things by words, let us rather pursue the order of events, passing over these matters.
AnnotationsCHAPTER IV. Blessed John's acquaintance contracted with Einold; deliberation about an Italian retreat; the counsel of Bishop Adalberon of Metz to retain them, with Gorze offered.
[29] The holy Father, and afterward the singular light of monks in these regions, the Lord Einold, was at that time leading his life at Toul, in the highest example of all good things. He, being second to none among his own people at that time in knowledge of letters, both secular and divine, was first indeed the b. Primiscrinius, and afterward also the First Archdeacon of that See, and was enriched with an abundance of all wealth. Touched by the love of heavenly desire, having distributed all that he had possessed, down to the last siliqua, as they say, retaining only a simple garment, his books, and his priestly vestment, he confined himself in a cell adjoining the cloister of the clerics, and for nearly three years, leading his life in the highest and most arduous continence, he rarely went out anywhere except to the church to celebrate Masses and for the purpose of nocturnal prayer. He was content with only one servant, who was sent out for whatever necessaries were needed from outside. For he was sustained by nothing other than what the Bishop of the place, the venerable man c. Gauzlinus, who was truly memorable in works of mercy, or whatever religious persons might send. One small attendant from among the clerics, who would assist him when he celebrated Mass, was also retained. Concerning the quality of his clothing, food, or drink -- with what constancy of hairshirt, frequency of fasting, and austerity of penance he condemned himself -- I fear to be superfluous in speaking, since the magnitude of his activity surpasses any abundance of words.
[30] One day, as he sat alone in his cell, he suddenly heard a voice -- from where, or by whom it was uttered, he knew not -- in a thoroughly clear sound, saying these words: "I will raise you above the heights of the earth, and I will feed you with the inheritance of Jacob your father. For the mouth of the Lord has spoken." Somewhat thunderstruck by this, and revolving many things in his mind (as one does), after he had sent his servant around to all sides, in case perhaps some of the boys from the neighboring schools had uttered this while reciting, and the servant reported that no one had been in any adjacent place during that entire time, the man of prudent intellect faithfully understood that an oracle of divine grace had been directed to him, in the hope of more confidently thereafter presuming upon the gifts of the Lord. This he strove to keep hidden within himself, guarded by a strong custody of the soul. But afterward the faith of all these things was confirmed by the events themselves. And these things concerning the beginnings of so great a man we have inserted briefly, as the occasion of our subject required. For the rest, so great is the matter of his blessed deeds that they would both require a work of their own, deservedly to be taken up by more learned men, and could serve as the most ample fruit for those who hear and wish to imitate.
[31] Since, then, both this John and the Lord Einold himself were separated by such short intervals of place, neither knew the other except by face alone and by common conversation. To such a degree, each fleeing popular glory, did each enjoy only his own witnesses and God. Meanwhile, by a certain chance, the above-mentioned Humbert, having broken out of the cell in which he had long since enclosed himself at Verdun -- for what reason is unknown -- unexpectedly visited the same venerable Father Einold at Toul. For Humbert had long been among the few who knew of his manner of life. When the holy man was astounded at his so unexpected presence, especially because rumor had reliably brought to him that Humbert had been enclosed under the rule of reclusion, and the reasons for his departure had been received -- chief among which was that he had come for this purpose, that they might rather seek the desert together, and there, far better than amid the bustle of cities, free of all human annoyance, he might serve the Lord -- a plan was secretly concocted between them; they themselves, by themselves, with all witnesses far removed, having crossed the river Moselle, which flows past the town, and having found a certain cave in the neighboring forest, took up their abode there, as if they were to be perpetual hermits. Soon, however, certain religious persons from the town, seeking the holy man and overcoming by love the difficulty of access to the place, when they found them, by sounder counsel dissuaded an undertaking of this kind, which would never have been approvable by any good man. For so great was the harshness of the place that neither could they apply themselves to any labor there, nor could anything necessary be easily brought to them by anyone. But Einold himself, as he was a man of counsel, not with difficulty bent to the better judgment, immediately returned to his beloved cell, with Humbert meanwhile returning to Verdun and his own affairs.
[32] When Humbert again visited him more frequently, one day, among the other conversations that such familiarity is accustomed to produce, while they inquired by reciprocal questioning whether there might perhaps be any persons anywhere at that time who aspired to holy desires, Humbert brought forward this John of whom we treat, who was, as was said above, very well known to him. When he had recounted many things about his praiseworthy manner of life, the Lord Einold said: "I have long known the man, and have experienced him by common acquaintance as he came to me frequently; but whether he had the mind or the zeal for these things for which he is now praised, I have not yet been able to perceive even slightly." But Humbert said: "Such is the man; he does not open himself casually to just anyone, but only to one most intimately known, and even then not easily. For hiding himself in every way within himself, the life by which in his more secret hours, under the eyes of the heavenly Judge, he most strictly constrains himself -- this he conceals, with the utmost effort and skill, from the eyes of men when he has gone out in public. Nevertheless, summoned by you, he will be here very quickly, and your mutual conversation will easily prove that I bring nothing beyond the truth concerning him." Soon, conveying by a messenger that Einold wished to see and speak with him, he so arranged it that it should be at John's discretion whether Einold should visit him at home, or John should meet him at Toul, and that he should indicate which he preferred. John, never slow to the performance of any commendable duty, said: "It is rather fitting that the disciple go to meet the master: I shall, as is proper, visit him at Toul." When, therefore, he arrived, with Humbert still awaiting him there, how familiarly and how eagerly they rejoiced in one another! With all others removed from sight, they began to confer about the matter for which they had sent for him; and at length, after a not inconsiderable conversation about heavenly things, when each had poured out the faithful secrets of his desire to the other, they then sought with more anxious care a plan for the life they should henceforth lead, as men who intended to renounce the world utterly.
[33] At this point John, deeming the opportunity to have arisen opportunely, laid open to Einold the whole sequence of his association with religious men, and especially with those at Metz where he then had his only frequent recourse (for he had long since withdrawn from the others in other places), and revealed how greatly those men had conspired in unanimity toward the same purpose. He urged Einold to come and meet those same men with him, since their minds were already inclined to this. And so, with Humbert then returning to his own place, John himself, arriving at Metz after some days and greatly delighted by the holy rule of life of those men, also dwelt among them for some time. Then, returning to his own affairs at intervals, the memory of the sweetness once received, as if barely enduring the delays of a long absence, more quickly recalled his presence to them. Now those religious women of whom mention was made above, at St. Peter's, were Geisa and her aunt, and certain others; and Salecho, a cleric of St. Martin beyond the river Moselle; and d. Radincus, a priest of the church of St. Symphorian outside the southern gate of the city, at whose place they also more frequently gathered for the use of a more secluded place; and Bernacer the Deacon, John's companion long since on the Roman journey. For those two whom we mentioned as of a more excellent life, Roland and Warmibertus, had already departed this life. With these, as if in certain schools of heavenly discipline, exercising themselves daily in the study of all proven virtues with the powers of their holy intellects, those two preeminent men devoted themselves either to readings or to prayers, or certainly to mutual exhortations toward heavenly things, and by their example they more and more provoked those among whom they lived to greater things.
[34] Moreover, the same venerable Einold, now cutting off even the ties of his own city of Toul, to which he had seemed at times to return, while he established among them what seemed a permanent dwelling, urged them all equally to the renunciation of all possessions as well. Whence, as they more urgently deliberated about these matters, they anxiously discussed places in which, having professed a common life, they might dwell together. Since no place in these regions, at least, occurred to them which seemed suitable for the things they had conceived in mind (to such a degree had a certain stain of the world darkened almost all the monasteries), they resolved to choose remote and foreign places. When this had pleased all of one mind and the same judgment, John, from his previous Italian journey, asserted that he had seen certain places in the deserts around the regions of Benevento, very suitable for a life sustained by the labor of their hands after the example of the ancient Saints, in which they could lead their life on easy sustenance -- places that were both abundant in vineyards and terrain, though overgrown with waste, and altogether suited for every use of mortals. In addition, bringing up mention of Monte Cassino, which he had ascended and explored with his own eyes, together with that hidden monastery of the Holy Savior within the gulf of the sea, which overlooks Mount Vesuvius, at last all assented to this: that they should resolve to hasten their departure thither as quickly as possible.
[35] When, behold, by divine arrangement, as is certain, all these things were brought to the notice of the Bishop, the Lord Adalberon, who was afterward a great restorer of divine things. For Bernacer, one of their number, while he was serving the Church of the Holy Savior after the Lord Warmibertus, at the stipend of the Lord of that same church, the great and memorable man Lambert, upon being called aside more privately by that same Lord of his, revealed the whole matter in order; and having more fully disclosed to him the merits of holiness of the Lord Einold and of this John, and of the others who were with them, and the fervor of their holy desires, and how, since no suitable place occurred to them in these regions for serving the Lord, they had determined to seek foreign regions -- he received from Lambert in the interim this reply: that he should try to retain them by whatever means, while Lambert himself, seizing an opportune time, should make these things known to the Bishop. When this fell out quickly according to their wish, by the Lord's doing, Lambert briefly explained to the Bishop whatever he had learned about those same men, adding to this that it would surely be to the utmost shame, and that this stain would be branded upon them all for ages to come, if these servants of Christ should claim that the vast expanses of his bishopric, so immensely enlarged by God's favor, were so closed to them that, because they were received nowhere, they would hasten to some distant place under an unknown sky; and that the many monasteries of his dominion existed in vain, if men of such small number were repelled by them.
[36] The Bishop, having replied that nothing had ever been more desired by him than that they should be retained in his care, and in turn inquiring from the same Lambert about a place for their habitation, Lambert answered that Gorze, a monastery not very far from the city, could be excellently granted to them. Thereupon, the most prudent man, revolving in his mind what he had once had as his vow concerning that same place, before he attained the summit of pontifical honor, and considering that the matter was guided not by human counsel but by divine care, he confirmed his decision without any hesitation at all. Meanwhile, he ordered the matter to be kept secret until time should be given to summon them. That same place, from the splendid condition it had once possessed, now after long desolation was almost presenting the appearance of a wilderness; and apart from a few men living there in the garb of monks, to whom hardly a meager daily stipend was supplied, with all other adornment removed, a foul appearance beset the place. Whatever of its possessions had been outside, Count Adalbert -- a man indeed illustrious by birth, but fierce and violent in character, and scarcely ever commendable for the integrity of his morals to any good man -- held as a benefice from the Bishop whom he served -- an ungrateful favor indeed. He was a kinsman of the aforementioned Lambert, for he had Lambert's sister as wife; and they were at odds with each other over certain animosities. Therefore the same Lambert, after he perceived the Bishop's mind to be inclined toward this, reported more quickly to Bernacer, so that he might persuade the men as much as he could, that when they soon came before the Bishop and were asked what place they would prefer to choose, they should, passing over all others, request Gorze.
AnnotationsCHAPTER V. The predecessor of Adalberon, Bishop of Metz; his zeal for reforming the clergy; his vow concerning the restoration of Gorze; Einold, the first Abbot there; Blessed John, the Procurator; other companions.
[37] While these matters were being agitated in secret councils among these men, all of them still unknown to the others, who were deliberating about hastening their pilgrimage, another of their number, whose name was a. Landincus, suggested to the Lord Einold that it did not seem entirely right for him to abandon either himself or those to whom he was assigned, or to withdraw permanently to any place, without the permission of the Bishop under whom he was nourished by canonical stipend and to whose church he was assigned. With Einold in no way disapproving -- indeed, asserting that the canonical rule so required -- and the rest also urging that it be done as soon as possible, he was presented through the mediation of Bernacer, by the most distinguished man Lambert, who was intimate with all counsels before the Bishop, to the Bishop's presence. When, with the request for permission to depart, what was also in the wish of the rest had become clear from his account, all who happened to be standing by, with admiration mixed with joy, pleaded by their voices and prayers that men of such quality and such great desire should not be let go anywhere, but that a worthy habitation should rather be provided for them.
[38] Soon all were summoned before the Bishop, who received them worthily and reverently. After conversations had been heard and exchanged in turn, the Bishop, having disclosed how ready of mind he was toward them, gave them the freedom to choose a place for themselves wherever they wished in his bishopric. They, having asked for and received a brief interval to confer among themselves, Bernacer, as he had been secretly instructed, named Gorze. While the rest wavered uncertainly, because the pilgrimage had pleased them far more sweetly, John, than whom no one burned with greater ardor for exile, by a certain stratagem, as if the thing were utterly impossible, said: "Excellent -- nor could any better request be made." He was reckoning, of course, that if this were denied to them -- on the ground that the land could in no way be wrested from Adalbert, who relied enormously and almost immeasurably on his own greatness, power, and ferocity, as well as on those of his brother b. Bernuinus, Bishop of Verdun, a man of equally fierce mind -- his own desires would in no way be hindered. But this turned out far otherwise, by the Lord's disposition. For entering from their consultation, when they had reported what they had agreed upon, the Bishop, delaying absolutely nothing, without any hesitation, as he had long since conceived in the fervor of his soul, immediately handed over the place to their jurisdiction. Not long afterward, he also took the land from that same Adalbert (which matter certainly seemed to pertain to no small c. ... although, on account of the greatness of his devotion, it was not regarded by him as of the least importance) and restored it entirely to the monks.
[39] With what great devotion he loved and cherished both them and the place, uniquely above all others, must be sought by the testimony of eyes rather than of words, so that in a short time, from that erstwhile most foul squalor, all the dwellings of that place shone forth in a certain new light and a beauty pleasing to behold. There also, as he had most ardently wished from the very beginning, his sepulcher having been placed long before his death, he was venerably entombed by the Lord's mercy; and the grace of Christ granted him to fulfill by his work what had once occurred to him as a silent vow in his mind, some time before his ordination. For in the time of d. Wigiricus, his predecessor, when one day, mingled with the people who had processed barefoot from the city to that same monastery under the compulsion of a drought, he himself had come to the sepulcher of the Martyr resting there, e. Blessed Gorgonius, and had seen the horrid neglect of the place, so that he discovered the foul footprints of animals even beside the altars themselves -- when he prostrated himself there to pray, groaning deeply at the great negligence of the prelates concerning the places of the Saints, he burst forth in prayer into these words, as he himself was afterward accustomed to relate: "If, O mercy of Christ, and you, His witness who are present here, your gracious aid shall ever deign to advance unworthy me to be a minister of this your holy See, I will change this miserable aspect of this place, which I see with my eyes, into another condition from this one, with you made my favorable helper."
[40] The Almighty heard, and when Wigiricus had been taken away not long afterward, and a certain f. Benno had succeeded him -- a man of Swabian birth, once famous in life in the hermitage near Zurich in its vast solitude, elevated certainly by the pious zeal of the then excellent Prince Henry, the future father of the most glorious Emperor Otto -- and when Benno, by the profound abyss of the Lord's inscrutable judgments, had fallen away from his former sanctity and the dignity of his praise won in the hermitage, and at last, in a lamentable course of events, had been blinded by his most wicked servants in secret, and afterward the same man had publicly resigned his office in a council of Bishops, then Adalberon himself, beyond the expectation of all -- though he was indeed of royal blood, both on his paternal and maternal side, stretching far back beyond the memory of men, yet of somewhat more slender means on account of the poverty of his family estate, which was suffering from his mother's second marriage -- by the consent of all, and by the public and lawful suffrages of the Church, was raised to the pontificate of the sacred See of Metz, by the Lord's advancement.
[41] How his subsequent deeds proceeded more and more happily from day to day, and how they grew under Christ's guidance, and how he poured out his zeal above all others especially in the restoration of monasteries -- no one would seek to compress into a brief speech; nor, if I am wise, would I presume to arrogate this to myself. And certainly the matter itself so forces itself upon the eyes of all that whatever may be said seems less, and the multitude of deeds can in no way be matched by the power of words. For the Church, which he had received worn down by the turmoil of former times from almost all fervor of good pursuits, both in divine and in human affairs, he so advanced, with the Lord working in him, from nothing, so to speak, suddenly to the highest state, that whatever monasteries were subject to his diocese, long sick and almost desperate from an old and chronic disease of departure from the work of righteousness, he restored to regular discipline, appointing men proven in life and doctrine to each and every place, who, having perfectly renounced the world, might profit the rest by example and teaching. The assemblies of the clerics themselves, because he did not sufficiently approve of their shared manner of life with the world, he changed into monastic institutions. The dwellings of the nuns, which he bore with difficulty being obscured by rumor, even if not in fact, he rescued from every bite of sinister suspicion, and constrained them to the same institute as the monks, and to observances in no way unequal, according to the strength of their sex. Not content even with the more ancient and more eminent places, he also distinguished the very cells scattered far and wide in a vagabond fashion, in which scarcely eight or certainly fewer rural clerics rendered the bare verbal offices, with the habit and observances of monks; and as times and circumstances allowed, he restored the lands necessary for their expenses, and whatever belonged to the places, and with notable generosity, by added testaments, he granted what had been withdrawn from their own use.
[42] But although the care of all held him with wonderful zeal, Gorze, as I said, was always his singular love, for the reason that it had been the beginning of his works, and the sanctity of the aforesaid men, Einold and John, especially delighted him. To these men also, on account of the excellence of their virtue, faith, and wisdom, he had recourse in counsel for almost all matters thereafter, whether divine or human; nor was anything that their judgment promulgated ever attempted in vain; whereas, on the contrary, if he ventured beyond it, he repented too late.
[43] They entered the monastery in the year of the Lord's Incarnation 933, when Henry, King of the Germans, held that part of Francia which had once been the kingdom of Lothar -- the same Henry from whom the most glorious Emperor Otto, surpassing the fame of all before him and born no less for the glory than for the benefit of the whole world, arose -- and when the western part of Francia was held by g. Louis, the son of Charles, who, in the battle at the city of Soissons (a well-known story), neither conquered nor conqueror, was thrust into custody until his death. As the previous assembly described them all together, so all succeeded to the sacred warfare, that is, those first and new leaders of the army and the most outstanding lights of that age: Einold and John; then Salecho, from among the clerics of St. Martin on this side of the Moselle; Radincus, a priest of the church of St. Symphorian; Bernacer the Deacon, of whom mention was made above; and with these, two youths -- Theutincus, the servant of the Lord Einold, and Theuterus, who still survives in good manner of life -- admitted with Randincus the Priest, whose nephew he was. They walked for some time in clerical garb, until the Bishop came there and, after the election for a Father to be placed over them had been sought and received in monastic fashion, they exchanged also the monastic habit along with the institution of the regular life.
[44] For by one vow and equal judgment, when the Lord Einold had been acclaimed by all, he was the first of all to profess the regular life according to the institute of Blessed Benedict in writing before the Bishop, and, to be dedicated to the Lord's cross, was clothed with the cowl. Those following, professing in order after the Abbot, all likewise in like manner swore to the sacraments of the heavenly warfare and obedience under him. For the management of external affairs, the Lord John, learned and knowledgeable in them, was chosen. The few monks who survived there from the old manner of life, compelled by the example of the newcomers, also gave their assent to the communion of life. Their revenue or substance was at first quite meager, which nevertheless the interior treasure of the soul easily made tolerable, and a faith full in God, which knows no failure, also impelled religious persons from diverse places, drawn to that first bloom of nascent grace, to rush in competing ardor, one outdoing another, with the supply of whatever necessaries.
[45] To this end, John himself gathered together whatever remained of his former possessions -- as a faithful servant of Christ, or rather proving in a small matter how faithful he would be in a greater -- so that he left nothing whatsoever to any relatives, or even to his own brothers by blood, from any of his possessions. Indeed, to the crowning of his heavenly glories, those very brothers of his -- for there were only two -- he brought after a short time to the divine service with him, and all their goods, both in houses and in fields, together with a most beautiful abundance of vineyards, whatever was to come from all quarters, having been brought together into one, he assigned to the common uses of the monastery, under this condition, however: that while he himself lived, they should be retained under the jurisdiction of the monastery; but upon his death, they should not be reclaimed by heirs, if any closer ones should then exist, unless they first redeemed them by giving thirty pounds of silver to the monastery. His mother also, widowed from her second husband, after some time coming back to him with some members of the household, since she was now of more advanced age, he received outside the monastery at the monastery's stipend; where that holy old woman also afterward spent many years in good conduct, serving the brothers of the congregation, and there she closed her final day in that same service of devotion.
AnnotationsCHAPTER VI. The author, stimulated by Theoderic, Bishop of Metz, and others, to complete this Life. Illustrious monks of Gorze: Humbert, Andrew, Frederick Abbot of St. Hubert, St. Odilo Abbot of Stavelot.
[46] Having been carried to this point with a rather weak effort, as evidence of a quite dulled intellect, as if all my powers had been poured out, sluggish at last from the undertaking, and as if wearied by great labor, I had utterly dropped my arms, and no longer hoped that any road by which I might proceed remained, or that one could be found only with difficulty; when unexpectedly the light of a. all studies, to be named in our age, and wholly born for the use and adornment of all things, the most great and illustrious Bishop, the Lord Theoderic, arrived. Under whose encouragement and impulse, as I stated in the beginning, I burst forth, beyond all other inducements, to this overly bold work. When he chanced to find me at home, he asked whether I had made any progress in the work he had commanded, and how much I had completed. To him, bashful as I was and conscious of my poor talent, I dared neither to deny it nor freely to offer what I had produced, however inept and full of trifles it might be; and hesitating between both alternatives, I was trembling, when he ordered the pages to be brought to him and ran through everything in order. Then indeed, as if like those who under a dim light see something different from what the matter truly is, I was unable to understand how he could extol everything in a manner so unlike what it deserved, and parade it publicly before all comers, sufficiently to my wonder.
[47] By chance, the most illustrious Bishop of the Church of Utrecht, or b. Deventer, and one exceedingly celebrated in the flock of the learned, the Lord c. Popo, was present there, invited to the festivity of the Lord's Nativity, for the sharing of joys, by that same Bishop of ours, together with his own -- that is, Popo's -- father, a man most energetic in the care of public affairs and Count Palatine, whose name was Berno. When the Bishop had repeatedly extolled the same things with words that were more than sufficient, these men, turning their faces toward me together with him, did not cease to add more and more courage by greater exhortation, and to kindle me with very abundant favor, though to my embarrassment, that I should complete what had been begun without any hesitation.
[48] While by these encouragements my spirit was raising itself to some degree of facility, so that it almost promised itself that what it was being urged to with such applause was possible, yet falling back a little into itself soon afterward, and measuring again the consideration of its powers as they truly were, it had been compelled to stick to the ground by the torpor of its own inertia no less than from the beginning. But, to break quickly through the delays of hesitation: since these encouragements, such as they were, had stirred me, then because the love of the man whose story we have undertaken admits no diminishment, it compelled me to spend for his sake whatever of strength might remain to me, and beyond my own strength to strive. Accordingly, from the time the religious habit was received, what his manner of life was -- that is, whatever we were able to learn either from witnesses, men certainly religious, who were present at all his pious acts, or from him himself narrating, as chance brought it about (which, however, since he shunned glory, was rare), or what we ourselves perceived (to whose testimony no greater credence is due) -- from this point, as it shall be of the Lord's mercy, we shall pursue.
[49] Furthermore, lest the sequence seem to anyone either interrupted or extraordinary, if some things about persons who will appear to have a part in what is to be said shall be inserted -- some of whom the preceding narrative has introduced, and others the discourse, as it proceeds, will bring in as occasion of matters and times offers -- certainly to fail to give what follows from what preceded concerning these persons, reason itself, even if we tried, would resist. At the same time, this man, far beyond comparison, since he led his life in such a way that he lived as a solitary among multitudes (for in vain would anyone attempt to withdraw, if he trusted that he could aspire to the same by his own strength of virtues), did not, however, arrogate to himself alone whatever he had done, but judged that others worked together with him in whatever that secret undertaking was, and he never anywhere set forth as greater before himself anything other than the action of the common life. Wherefore, those who dwelt alongside him will not undeservedly have their deeds interwoven with his, who not only will cast no envy upon him, as if they were his superiors, but to them rather, from the companionship of so great a man, a somewhat greater luster will accrue, and their brightness and glory will grow.
[50] Before I proceed further, therefore, first, because an opportunity does not perhaps seem to offer itself more suitably elsewhere, I think it right to say something also about those venerable men, Andrew and Humbert, whom the preceding text mentioned. Both of these were likewise stimulants and, as it were, goads to virtue for both Einold and John, being of no less sanctity. For when they had learned by spreading report that those same men had established themselves in the aforesaid place, and that many from everywhere were hastening to them out of love for the divine service, they too, without delay -- though not at the same time, yet with equal intent and purpose -- flew thither, and having professed the monastic institution, they neither refused nor blushed to be subjected to the mastery and leadership of those to whom they had previously been guides and teachers. And with Andrew indeed came his own brother Magnifridus; afterward other men of the same people also followed. With Humbert, however, a certain boy ministering to him, named Milo, was received -- a boy of good character, and destined to be of no small use afterward.
[51] Moreover, what was passed over concerning the same venerable man Humbert, when it first came up in the narrative, seems to require a brief restatement here: namely, how he too, by divine impulse, passed into the religious habit. Born of parents who, though rural, were not so utterly exhausted in family means, while as a young man he was living among them, it happened one day, as private life draws its acquaintances together, that certain friends or relatives had come to dine at their house. When they had been kept there through the night, as the hour happened to require, and had gone to bed, they placed the small lances which they had carried according to custom against a heap of hay that was nearby, with the iron points turned upward. By chance the same youth, having climbed the heap a little earlier, had fallen asleep there. Roused from sleep near the middle of the night, when no one outside would go out as he had previously agreed, letting himself down gradually through the heap, he was dashed against the upright points with very near peril, so that his garment, caught as it clung to his body and pierced by the iron, he slid down along the shaft all the way to the ground. Having steadied himself on the shaft, and standing, having more carefully explored the matter by touch, and considering God's so immediate guardianship over him, even while he was contriving evil things, he checked his step from his intended course, now deliberating on better things, and for the rest of his life he thoroughly resolved in his whole mind to serve God.
[52] Not long afterward, though his father vigorously opposed him, setting aside all other affairs, he set out for Rome; and having spent no small time there in pilgrimage, he returned and established for himself a cell of reclusion at Verdun, where by long abstinence and the other pursuits of good works, he was seen to have profited many. Also applying himself assiduously to reading, he had in a short time acquired a not inconsiderable treasury of knowledge; in which the marvelous thing was that, previously almost devoid of these things, with the Spirit alone as his teacher, he suddenly appeared no less than the wise, and certainly superior in many things. There, during the same period, two religious women of that town, secluded in a separate cell, were instructed by him, and from the window of his cell alone they received the word of teaching and the rest of his instruction. Two others likewise in the same city were kindled by his exhortation, of whom one afterward became the Mother of very many handmaids of Christ in the territory of Toul, in the place called f. Bouxieres, where a monastery was newly constructed by Bishop Gozlinus of blessed memory. After these two women were first admitted, a manifold swarm of holy fervor poured itself in from diverse parts of the world, so that to this day it seems to shine forth with a certain new grace among all the rest. In that cell of reclusion, then, spending many years, after he had come to Toul to visit the Lord Einold, as we recalled above, and had made the Lord John known to him, and thence returned to his own cell, certainly as soon as he learned of the reputation of their establishment, he too hastened to dwell with them. In that community he thereafter lived in a most pious labor of life, until for the sake of religion he was transferred thence to the monastery of g. Blessed Aper at Toul, where he also came to a blessed end in the care of the Lord's flock.
[53] Andrew, too, after he had spent a very considerable part of his life in the same sacred warfare, now an old man and his whitened head reflecting the purity of his mind, was sent to Rome at the request of Pope h. Agapitus, who had urgently requested by letters, sent with a certain suitable messenger, that the Lord Einold send him some religious men whom he might place in the monastery of Blessed Paul, which he was then endeavoring to transfer i. to the monastic order with the aid of k. King Albericus. Brought thither with another brother who had come to Gorze some years earlier from the monastery of l. Luxeuil, after the regular institution had been established in that place, he was received by the Lord not long afterward and was buried there.
[54] And since, by the mention of these two, we have begun to touch upon the growth of that same congregation, we think it not amiss to introduce shortly, as briefly as the matter allows, also the other persons worthy of mention who succeeded. For thus on a somewhat level course, the narrative concerning the man whom we have proposed will run free and unimpeded by all obstacles, if, with these first disposed of, the labor may press on, devoted solely to the subject at hand and interrupted by no other business. When, therefore, the sweet fragrance of the house in which Christ had reclined was scattered equally far and near in every direction, the faithful, drawn by it, began to flock together from every quarter with wondrous speed: and not only those who, already long kindled by holy desire, or secretly inspired by the Spirit, or stirred by divine reading, had been waiting for someone to show them the path of right living -- these immediately embraced with total eagerness what they saw offered -- but others too, who up to that point had seemed to be languishing in cold torpor, roused by these examples, as if live coals had been applied to them, hastened most ardently to their fellowship.
[55] Nor were these, generally speaking, persons of the crossroads, but men of urban refinements, of no ignoble glory and expenditure; by whose wealth also the place was enriched with no small store of furnishings. Among these was Frederick, the paternal uncle of the aforesaid venerable Lord Adalberon, who as a small child had once been entrusted to the monastery of St. m. Hubert; but when that place, like the rest, was suffering from the same disease, he himself, as he was led by the example of his elders, lived indifferently in the world. And at that time, because he was already quite advanced in years and seemed to be a man of great judgment -- as far as secular affairs were concerned -- and industrious, he clung to the Bishop, who was then still of younger age, and by his counsel most things in the bishopric were then managed. Moreover, with rather stern spirits, as truly became an uncle, he not infrequently called back the youthful enterprises from many unnecessary ventures. At last, reflecting within himself, when he saw such great earnestness in those same men of God, he was stricken in heart, and setting aside all the comforts that had ill-allured him, he quickly joined them. Not long afterward he was appointed Provost of that same place, second after the Abbot, and the Lord John was placed beneath him as his support. Afterward, however, at the request of n. Richarius, Bishop of Liege, he was restored to his own monastery of St. Hubert, and appointed Abbot in the regular order; and until the end, with a praiseworthy rigor of life, he excellently maintained the divine service in a monastic manner. He is buried at Trier, in the monastery of St. Maximin, whither, while the solemnity of the o. dedication invited him, he was suddenly seized by illness and entered upon his last day; and the new fabric of the new church opened its new bosom for the first time to its new guest.
[56] In like manner, Odilo, the first man managing affairs on behalf of the Bishop of the Church of Verdun -- a man illustrious by birth, of sufficient means, exceedingly energetic in the conduct of affairs, and, were it not perhaps that the clerical state impeded him, inferior to no one of his station in whatever the ambition of the world offers -- casting aside all those biting cares, being made poor in spirit, gave himself to this holy poverty, and esteemed the small and lowly stipend as more glorious and sufficient than all the riches of the world. He too, after the well-matured strength of his holy manner of life, was sought for the reform of the monastery called p. Stavelot, and promoted there, he corrected to the lines of rectitude, with Christ's help, whatever he had found amiss; and there he also completed the course of nature.
Annotations* Perhaps "pestilence."
p. Concerning Stavelot, or Stabuletum, or, as it is called here, Stabulacum, we have treated elsewhere and shall treat more fully on September 3 in the Life of St. Remaclus, Bishop of Utrecht, who founded it. There is visible above the altar an ancient chest in which are preserved the relics of the same St. Remaclus; among other images of Saints with which it is adorned on its sides is that of this St. Odilo. I have not yet been able to ascertain, however, on what day his memory is celebrated; that he has been held as a Saint from time immemorial is established by that tomb, which, when I had contemplated it with curiosity, I judged to have been fabricated some 400 or 500 years ago; and under the old image of this Odilo which I mentioned, it is distinctly written, "St. Odilo."
CHAPTER VII. The life and holy death of Angilramnus, Primicerius of Metz, then Provost of Gorze.
[57] At about the same time, a specimen, so to speak, and a most delightful and worthy-of-beholding flower of that heavenly garland then being woven: Angilramnus, first Primicerius of Toul, then also of the holy Church of Metz, preeminent in nobility and wealth for that age, and consequently -- as was sufficient for a. glory -- trailing with him masses of gold and silver and heaps of other furnishings, to be devoted to the uses of the poor after the fashion of that primitive Apostolic people, sought out that holy society. He also delivered to the monastery, under a perpetual testament, no inconsiderable quantity of landed estate. What the subsequent distinctions of his manner of life were, and b. how great the strength of his structure held firm thereafter, will perhaps be heard with more pleasure if first, where his beginnings seemed to have wavered somewhat under a certain shock, a brief account is given; especially since, though shaken, he was not utterly driven from his position, and afterward planted his foot all the more firmly, inasmuch as for a time he regretted having observed too carelessly the place he had taken.
[58] He, then, when he was received with the expenditure we mentioned, because he was a person of ample means and was previously very well known to all through his luxuries, was treated more softly than the rest and shown honor. For some of his retainers had also committed themselves to the same resolution. Meanwhile, as one who had not yet perfectly driven from his heart the glory he had once admitted, he was not at all willing to suffer equally with the others, and, on account of what he had contributed to the place, was a little too immoderately puffed up, and consequently -- what follows -- began to resist reproofs, to refuse to acquiesce in corrections, and, as one who considered all others beneath him, to pass judgment as if from a higher place; and if some persons of weaker mind c. happened to side with him according to his inclination, he would protect them against the pronouncements of the superiors, as he pleased. To these things, Father Einold and the rest who were already of mature age in Christ objected much as the matters and times required -- exhorting, beseeching, and, as his age permitted, rebuking somewhat more severely; to which, however, he sometimes responded with things almost more bitter to their faces, barely restraining himself from insults.
[59] What more? When these things, drawn out over time and grown more tedious through the longer effort, had produced things exceedingly ungrateful on a certain day, while he was being more sharply reproved for some similar insolence or other, his spirit being excited to the highest degree, he flung himself from the presence of the Abbot and of all the rest sitting together, and, already on the verge of a wretched return to the world -- had not Christ come to block his path -- he left the cloister. The brothers, sorrowful and fearful, followed after him, and when they found him in the outer portico where he had sat down upon leaving, they threw themselves at his knees and approached him in every way they could: now beseeching him by the adjuration of the divine name not to do it, not to lose wickedly what he had well begun; now holding up before him the perpetual ignominy that would follow him in the world; let him remember rather the labor already endured, which he would so shamefully abandon in the midst of his endeavors; let him remember, finally, the strict judgment, to which, as an old man, he could see himself already drawing near; let him besides beware the wiles of the devil, who was eager to snatch from him the fruit of all his labor. Repeating many things in this fashion, while he, still inflexible, only demanded that his own property be returned to him (as for himself, he would take sufficient care of what would become of him), they pressed upon him all the more, and with the powers of a charity that knows no measure, they turned the man's spirit this way and that, renewing speeches with speeches, prayers with prayers.
[60] And indeed, with the Lord cooperating, the place was in no way abandoned, until that eye of ancient mercy, as once it looked upon Peter, so now looked upon this man also, and transformed him, as it were, into a certain other man. For he too, bursting into bitter tears, immediately returned, and stripping his body, with bundles of rods held forth in his hand, crying out for punishment, he cast himself at the feet of the Abbot, protesting the magnitude of his grief not only by his groans, but by the gesture of his whole body. Who do you think held back tears there? Who was not dissolved in heart at seeing that white-haired head prostrating itself and rolling at the feet of all? Who, when he cried out with tearful voice, "Strike the guilty one, strike the rebel, spare not, I beg you, the proud and foolish and contemptuous one" -- who did not cry out for his pardon with joy mixed with weeping?
[61] At length the Father, full of compassion, arising, and the others with him, raising him from the ground with the hands of charity, and all things being clemently forgiven, as so great an abasement deserved, they received him back into the community with all alacrity. That day was truly so salutary for him that whoever thereafter observed him could scarcely recognize anything in him of the man he had been before. For with the utmost effort, as far as lay in him, he always sought the abasement of himself and whatever was most extreme. Spurning delicacies and soft things of every kind, he rather embraced what was difficult and more austere. Not bearing honor bestowed upon him with a remarkable modesty, he was burdened rather than delighted by it. He assumed parsimony of food and drink with such art, like some cunning observer, that from each of the daily portions set before him he would gradually subtract something little by little, until he came to a certain minimal quantity. Sometimes he abstained entirely from certain things, as if they were absent: now rejecting all fish of the lesser kind, while he judged that the larger could be obtained more rarely; now, those very ones which he seemed to desire more, when they were offered after being sought from every quarter, he would in some fashion after not long grow disgusted with them. And with such, so to speak, obstinacy -- a victor over himself -- whatever he had once resolved in his mind, he kept it, so that in the end he was content with small porridges of flour, though amid all this he exercised the very frequent fasts of bread and water only that he had also bravely endured while he still lived in the world during the days of fasting. For as we have learned from the testimony of many, while still in the world, for a whole two-day period to pass entirely without any food or drink at all seemed to him almost nothing.
[62] This, moreover, was a source of amazement to those who saw it: that the vigor of his body persevered so vividly that he omitted nothing of the work customary for the brothers. The kitchen, the washing of clothes, the common work of the garden, the washing of shoes, the week of Mass duty, the entire order of the cloister and oratory -- all of these he fulfilled with lively strength, and a cheerful and joyful countenance continually remained upon him. Only after some interval of time had his belly subsided from its former corpulence. Of the constancy of his prayers and vigils, that little hut which he inhabited near the tomb of the Lord Chrodegang, as a solitary cell, until the time of his calling, was the witness. In that hut, as soon as the common office of the brothers was completed, shutting himself in alone with the door closed, he continued day and night in groans and laments and infinite genuflections. And since very often, anticipating the brothers' vigils, he occupied most of the night in prayers, after those same vigils were completed, however much of the night remained in winter or summer, he knew no sleep thereafter -- except perhaps for a bloodletting, which scarcely ever occurred -- but for the entire remaining span, up to the second and third hour, he persevered in that holy contrition and knocking at the heavenly gate.
[63] Concerning his continuation of silence, what shall I proclaim? Since, fleeing even the lawful times of speaking to one another, he would rather convert them into the melody of the psalms; and if perchance he was addressed, returning some brief word, he would immediately hasten back to his accustomed and beloved silences. As for any cares of the body, baths, and other recreations permitted by the common use of the Rule -- he preferred the hairshirt, the meanness of clothing, and other rough attire. What I say last may be the least in itself, but is most great for proving the virtue of his soul. While the brothers on Saturday before the Mandatum, or on Wednesday, according to the ancient custom -- though then newly transmitted to us -- were washing their own shoes, he, coming unexpectedly behind anyone, while the brother held one shoe in his hand for washing, would violently snatch the other, as it were against the brother's will, and wash it. Likewise, when they were washing their faces in the morning, or their hands before dining, now running ahead to the basin from which water was supplied through certain spouts to the brothers, and holding the stopper that blocked the spout while the brother washed, now offering the towel that hung for drying, he ministered the will of his burning heart.
[64] Many such efforts of service on his part served all, and while these and similar acts were evidence of the humility of his heart, in addition he exchanged the higher place of his rank in the choir, which he held, as if impeded by infirmity, even to the last. For indeed, after such great austerity, his strength was failing, and he was no longer able both to stand in choir and to perform the rest of the labor. How great his purity of life was, however, became clear from his end. For not long before his death, one night, hearing I know not what divine message and saying nothing to anyone, in the morning he scratched upon the window of the aforesaid hut the following: "On the 5th of the Ides of September, I dreamed I was to die." Belief in this was quickly established. For after a few days he was seized by fever, lying in bed for more than a month, and was brought by a violent languor to the very day he had foretold. Throughout that entire span he remained without any food whatsoever, sustained by water alone; and so he endured until the Nativity of the Holy Mother of God, which is followed the next day by d. Blessed Gorgonius the Martyr, whose body makes that same monastery most famous. On that day, when a very great throng of religious men had gathered from diverse regions, many of them visiting him, throughout almost the entire day, now one, now another coming in to him, sharing salutary words with them, with his mind and speech entire, he died before about midnight. The multitude that had assembled cared for his funeral in a manner worthy and fitting for so great a man.
[65] On that same night, and, as could be conjectured, at the very hour when he died, there appeared in a dream to a certain member of that same congregation, named Adelger, who was resting with the brothers in the monastery called e. Senones, in the regions of the Vosges -- a certain one appearing to him in his sleep said: "Rise, and because the Lord Angilramnus has died, see to it that the bells are rung for him." Awakened, and having roused some others, while he only made a sign and was not clearly understood as to what he wanted, when daylight came, he recounted the same things, and was still not believed. On the third day, a letter reporting Angilramnus's death arrived, and it was found that the night and hour were in no way different.
Annotationsa. So the manuscript.
CHAPTER VIII. Most illustrious men who became monks at Gorze: Austeus the Archdeacon, then Abbot of St. Arnulph; Blidulfus, Archdeacon of Metz; Gondelach; Isaac; Odolbert, then Abbot of Gorze.
[66] With these things having been commemorated, which it was unworthy to omit, since we are not sufficient -- on account of the length involved -- to treat all those of that holy community, almost each of whom would be individually worthy of record for the merit of his distinguished manner of life, it is not right for us to pass over in silence the Father given to us at the monastery of St. Arnulph, the Lord b. Austeus. He likewise, while in the secular habit, was a companion of the Lord Einold, to whom he was also joined by blood. After some years, having left behind all his possessions, he was truly changed from an Archdeacon into a poor man of Christ, and migrating to that same society, he shone forth with a life not inferior to the rest. He was most eloquent of tongue, as far as outward speech was concerned, and also most studious in the sacred Scriptures, although he also had some acquaintance with the arts. A certain grace of body also distinguished the virtue of his soul: he was most handsome of face and stature. His very voice, full of strength, filled the ears in the sacred harmonies with a pleasing modulation that was unsurpassed; which nevertheless, as far as lay in him, served the desire for heavenly things and the edification of the hearers. In speech, abounding with much grace, he sufficed for exhortation and for moving souls in every direction, and for every facility in whatever kind of discourse -- so that you would have called him an orator. In addition, he possessed no mean skill in architecture, such that whatever he had once arranged in all the symmetries and proportions of places and buildings could not easily be challenged by anyone's judgment.
[67] For some time, then, as Dean in the same monastery and energetically sustaining the burdens of the Abbot in all things, made a model for the Lord's flock by his life, his word, and every example of holy living, so that almost everything seemed to be arranged through him after the Abbot, at length, when the excellent man c. Heribertus, who had been appointed by the Lord Bishop Adalberon as the first regular monastic superior over the same place of St. Arnulph's (the clerics having been removed thence), departed this life, Austeus was appointed as the Pastor to lead them henceforth in the Lord. There his industry quickly became evident. For constructing the monastic dwellings in a most beautiful design, he rendered the place, which he had received entirely uncultivated and with no institutions for religion, most suitable for every purpose of serving the Lord. And while he devoted himself without interruption to the construction of the interior buildings, he applied himself no less strenuously and prudently to the repair of the exterior buildings, which had likewise miserably fallen into ruin everywhere. Whatever farmland was subject to the monastery he so cultivated in vineyards, meadows, fields, and woods that, whereas he had found the property utterly impoverished and promising a stipend barely adequate for a very small number, after a year had been spent (for that year was severe and, as it were, touched by *pestilence), it overflowed by the Lord's blessing into every abundance of necessaries. And when all the brothers' interior habitations had been completed within four years, he set his mind to surrounding everything on the outside with a wall, in the manner of a fortress. This, with the same venerable Bishop providing assistance from every quarter, had been worked on for four months and was nearly brought to completion, had not the ill-starred d. dissension of the kingdom, which arose between the Lord and most glorious Otto -- then still King, afterward Emperor -- and his son Liudolf and his son-in-law Conrad, and which raged even to the eruption of the enemy of God, the e. Hungarians, against us, not intervened. The following summer, however, by the Lord's cooperation, it was swiftly completed.
[68] And although the care of these external matters perpetually occupied him, yet nothing that pertained either to the purity of life and conduct, or to the vigilance of pastoral solicitude, was ever neglected. Rather, every day he completed his accustomed task of prayers, psalms, and sacred readings. On all Sundays and the more celebrated feasts of the Saints he publicly said Mass; in addition, privately every Wednesday; in which, with what groans and what sacrifices of tears he consumed himself, cannot even be told. And, to speak confidently, in the depths of compassion, in the simplicity of heart, in the gentleness of spirit, in condescension to the infirm, in the comfort of the wretched, and in absolutely all acts of mercy, no one was more excellent than he. Having spent fifteen years in these labors, completing his course in the end of holy perseverance, dying on the eve of the Nativity of the Blessed Mother of God, he was laid to rest in the monument prepared by himself long since, far back from the first years of his rule, with a very great attendance of devout men, with the Lord and Venerable Bishop Adalberon performing the rites of the funeral, on the north side of the basilica, in the year of the Lord 960.
[69] Blidulfus, Archdeacon of the holy Church of Metz, joined himself to those same servants of God, already well advanced in their course, not without the great wonder of many. For he was a man supported by no mean nobility of birth and abundance of possessions, and of great cunning of mind in every direction (whether it should be called prudence or astuteness?); in addition, he surpassed others of that place in knowledge of letters (for he was a survivor from the schools of Remigius); yet he had seemed so given to secular things that scarcely any traces of religion could be discerned in him. He, as is said, suddenly seized by illness, quickly summoning the venerable Einold, professed the monastic life. Immediately taking the habit, he was conveyed sick to the monastery, and after a few days, restored to health by the Lord's favor, happy in the better wholeness of mind and destined henceforth to be an example to many, he recovered, and in holy manner of life he appeared inferior to almost no one. After many years, touched by a greater heat of virtue, he sought the wilderness with a certain other man, whose name was Gondelach, in the more remote parts of the Vosges, and there, in that divine sweetness of contemplation, with truly bitter mortification of the body, and truly dead to the world (as the judgment of truthful men who knew him attests), spending ten or more years, he died blessed, and being buried in the oratory of that same cell by that same companion of his, a man equally most holy, he left him there as the heir of his life and his meager possessions.
[70] Now this same companion of his had long ago, many years back, while conspicuous in the flower of youth, migrated from the monastery of f. Fulda to St. Maximin at Trier on account of the renown of his religious life. Then, kindled by the fame of the Lord Einold, coming to Gorze, he adhered as an almost inseparable companion to him for some time, until, at Einold's command, he was assigned with the aforesaid venerable Blidulfus to the monastery of the holy man g. Ogo, formerly a great and illustrious Abbot at St. Maximin, and afterward a distinguished Bishop of the Church of Liege. After the death of the Lord Ogo himself, both of them returned thence to Gorze, and soon, by mutual consent, they withdrew to the more remote parts of the wilderness, as I described. And, as was said, he himself, succeeding the Lord Blidulfus, inhabited that little place until the end of his life, and illustrious for his teaching and purity of life, he came to rest there.
[71] Also Isaac, a religious man of the Church of Verdun, who had lived quite properly in the canonical life, now venerable for his very white hair, together with another man of good promise -- then younger, now, by the Lord's auspicious advancement, the Father of that same holy community, the Lord h. Odolbert -- was received almost two years after the aforementioned Blidulfus had come. He, as a man of great simplicity and entirely devoted to the interior goods of the soul, lived without complaint and in the most innocent manner of conduct, and even merited to foreknow the end of his life by a divine response. For one night, as the brothers were sleeping, the Lord Einold, keeping vigil, suddenly heard a voice crying out three times with a prolonged sound, thus: "Isaac, Isaac, Isaac." When, in the morning, he had summoned the same man and warned him of his approaching end and told him what he had heard, Isaac said: "I too heard those same voices, and I know that my summons is at hand." Immediately thereafter he was stricken by illness and soon departed. Concerning these, then, who were in some way the more eminent in that congregation, let it suffice to have commemorated them here; not that everything worthy of remembrance about them has been said, since indeed a separate volume could be composed about each and every one of them. But many men of great virtues also flourished in that holy community, who would deservedly merit being celebrated in writings and praises as an example.
Annotations* Perhaps "pestilence."
CHAPTER IX. Blessed John's prompt obedience, humility, patience, neglect of his own comforts, vigilance, assiduity in reading.
[72] But from the subject from which we have been diverted for some time, we are now called back, as it were, by a certain cry. Whence, having dispatched those things which we judged unworthy to be passed over, let us return, with the Lord mercifully going before us, to the deeds of the venerable man John, for whom this pen properly labors. First, I wish to describe, as if upon a certain small tablet, what the institution of his manner of life and the fixed virtue of his soul were, from the very beginnings to the end -- a continuous course that deflected in neither direction with admirable vigor. Although I shall by no means arrogate to myself the ability to accomplish this, so too I judge it could scarcely be comprehended by anyone, however eloquent. Nor should it be entirely passed over in silence, lest even the small things that will be said, if they are buried under a lazy napkin, should deprive of their dominical gains those whom they might have profited. He held fast to subjection and obedience to the Father with such pertinacity that whatever the Father had once uttered as a command from his mouth, John would seize upon it without delay, like a servant fearing blows. And in the very first beginnings, when Father Einold, having been entrusted with the governance of the place, was greatly anguished if he had to attend to external matters, since he was meditating on far other things of divine contemplation, the same Lord John, approaching him, said: "Be not troubled by the care of these things, my Lord. I will relieve you of this burden. Only direct your mind to the interior things, as you desire: whatever is external, I, aided by the grace of Christ and your merits, will take upon myself." Since Einold thus committed all things to him and assumed for himself leisure in God alone, there was nothing, however small or great, that the same Lord John ever did without Einold's knowledge, or without his counsel and will. And of this the Lord Einold himself, whenever it was relevant, was the witness, saying: "He was never disobedient to me, nor was there ever anyone who had to restore peace between me and him."
[73] Nor did the prudent and sagacious Lord Einold cease to exercise him with diverse changes in either direction. For very often, deliberately calling him back from external affairs to internal ones, he even reduced him to the very lowest office, in which he was never seen to have refused, even by a nod. Ordered to be Provost, he obeyed at once. The provostship removed: "Be the Dean." He quietly took up the yoke. Departing from that: "Take charge of the cellar." He immediately put out his hand. When another succeeded him there: "Look after the brothers' clothing." He resisted not a whit more. Likewise with guests, with the sick if it so happened, and with whatever else was commanded, he ministered with the utmost care, alacrity, and without any knowledge of delay. Whatever he spent in money or any other goods, he would note the sum on a slip and render it to the Abbot after a week or a month, and no less whatever he had received from outside from any accounts. And when the Lord Einold, disdaining to hear these things because he well knew that John spent nothing superfluously, forbade them to be reported to him any further, John nevertheless kept everything annotated, down to the last siliqua, as they say.
[74] His patience, humility or self-abasement, and -- what surpasses all -- the fervor of his charity toward God and toward all, it is incredible to say with what fortitude he preserved them. Concerning each of these, by which he was frequently an example, if I wished to recount them, the writings would be carried on at too great a length. Whence we note at least the simpler instances. The venerable man Frederick, whom we mentioned above, held the provostship of the monastery, and under him the Lord John served. Frederick, as the superior, very often provoked John with grievous verbal insults, both publicly and in the presence of others. While Frederick blustered at length, John would only prostrate himself on the ground again and again to make satisfaction, and kept perpetual silence. When Frederick, frequently repeating the same things with clamor, wearied by his own anger, was already even failing in words, John, like a statue, would remain immovable and without a voice for a long time. Finally, touching the column and the wall and saying that Frederick should rather direct his words to them than to himself, he would snatch himself out of sight. Frederick, as if scorned by this, would settle down somewhere, still more inflamed. Then after a little while, the agitation subsiding, when he had returned to a more placid state of mind, having drawn the same John aside more privately, he would throw himself at his feet and say: "You have slain me." When John said: "I? In what way?" Frederick would say: "Your patience has slain me." John replied: "Not so; rather your hot temper has slain you." And no more: the quarrels were immediately broken off. For that reverend man, though he was notable in this one respect, was otherwise excellent, and as one conspicuous for his advanced age, he was held in high regard and esteem by all; and these same movements of his spirit, which his former manner of life still sustained, he prudently checked rather quickly, and afterward condemned himself with the most abundant pains and laments.
[75] Nor is what we add unlike this. John himself kept the cellar, while the already mentioned Bernacer kept the vestiary, or the brothers' wardrobe. One day, Bernacer entered the cellar and found a certain vessel which they call an a. imapum, placed beneath the wine cask to catch drippings. Seizing it, he accosted John with complaints, grumbling at length about why he had so ruined a vessel that belonged to Bernacer's office, while John asserted that nothing had been damaged. "For a b. cartload of wine," Bernacer said, "I would not want it so mishandled." To which John replied: "Ten such small vessels can be acquired for a single cartload of wine." At this point, the Lord Einold came upon them; and when Bernacer had already departed, and Einold had overheard the last words that John, still finishing, was speaking to him from a distance, he said: "What is this? Are you quarreling?" When John immediately prostrated himself on the ground, Einold said: "You shall take nothing except bread, water, and salt until I give permission." Receiving the command, referring nothing to Einold himself, nor making any word about the matter to anyone in any way, he abstained for three continuous days. And it chanced that the days then were most blazing hot and the longest of summer; yet on this account he omitted none of his usual work, but rather ran about more briskly and swiftly to every task. For the health of his body was sound, neither excessive in any direction, and by heavenly grace it sufficed with easy motion for any undertaking.
[76] He also endured from the lowest members infinite reproaches on many occasions. Some publicly called him a hypocrite, others a miser, others tight-fisted, others a defrauder. Some, slandering that he had not left the world, thrust before his eyes the household of his own family, which served the monastery together with his mother, saying: "You slyly gathered your people here, so that you might more freely possess them here, and provide for them better here than you could have managed at home. Behold, you have made the cloister of monks into a women's quarters." While they hurled these and worse things in his face, he remained, like an immovable rock. Nor was there ever anyone (as far as I have been able to learn from anyone) who reported a single insulting word from his mouth. And indeed he maintained this silence amid the clamors; there was nothing of anger there; except that, prostrate on the ground, he would silently beg pardon -- which we have learned he frequently did even to those who were the very last in rank. For he had set his mind to this: that there was nothing so utterly abject to which he would not voluntarily incline. Whence we have also learned from the report of men of undoubted trustworthiness that he frequently cleaned the brothers' latrines himself.
[77] Whenever in the common turn he had taken on his week's duty in the kitchen, and consequently the cleaning, he hardly ever, unless a serious obligation occupied him, sought a substitute. He himself drew water from the well, carried it on his shoulder to the kitchen, and hung it over the fire. Vegetables or greens -- picked, or cut by his own hands -- he poured in, washed, cooked, and served. The dishes of the refectory he washed alone; nor in the washing of the brothers' feet, which was the adjoining duty, did he delegate the task to another. And this indeed was common with the rest; but this we heard from his own mouth: that he himself, alone, mixed the flour for the use of the entire congregation -- two or three modii -- with only a single boy pouring the water, kneaded it, worked it into dough, and with excessive sweat pressed it into the forms of loaves. While the bakers succeeded him in the remaining work, this too many branded upon him with a certain stigma of excessive parsimony, though he had done it secretly in the workroom hidden from all -- when in truth, as a faithful servant of Christ, he watchfully guarded lest anything of the monastery's goods should perish, and -- what is greater and more true -- for the sake of his sweat, to be rewarded with heavenly prizes.
[78] How little he regarded the care of his own person can be sufficiently gathered from the following: richer foods, finer clothing, the shine of shoes, the softness of his bed, the warmth of baths, the application of medicines when any illnesses pressed upon him, and whatever he perceived as contributing in any way to some bodily pleasure beyond unavoidable necessity -- these he utterly rejected as if they were criminal. Yet he would not forbid their use to anyone else who might need them. And this was the great discretion in him: that while he himself seemed austere and almost indiscriminate toward himself, no one was more merciful toward others. He himself fasting, he would urge others to eat; he himself keeping vigil, he would grant sleep to others; he himself laboring, he would release others to rest. While he himself, having abstained entirely from baths from the very time of his conversion onward, was said never to have used them -- except perhaps on occasion after a serious illness, when rising from bed -- yet if they were suitable for others, he never condemned or forbade them. Having permanently closed off for himself the taking of food or drink before or after the appointed hour, he suspended no one who sought it on account of infirmity; rather, he himself voluntarily offered and, unasked, pressed the use of meat upon the sick. Likewise with clothing, shoes, and bedding: while he himself always chose what was more worthless, more abject, more scanty, and harder, to the rest he provided more elegant and softer things, as plentifully as possible and as much as did not excessively conflict with their profession.
[79] He was most vigilantly observant of the deceitfulness of vices in these matters, in which he did not easily yield to anyone, even a superior. But as soon as he perceived anyone requesting something out of vice or fraud, he denied it absolutely. For while, as was said, he was rendered as it were mute under the movements of anger when the time for correction had not yet come, where it was appropriate, you would see his tongue blaze forth and pour itself out in words sharply stinging with a certain vehement terror; nor did flattery -- that common disease (alas!) from which most of us suffer -- have anything in him that could be nurtured. In this he likewise abhorred the stain of falsehood as something capital, so that if the necessity of place or time had at any time compelled him to say certain things in the favor of powerful men, he would walk so cautiously in his speech between both paths that he would both extol them as much as was sufficient, and not exceed the boundary of truth. Beyond what is the common observance of men today, we perceived him to be distinguished -- perhaps alone, as far as human frailty allows -- by that Apostolic word: "If anyone does not offend in word, he is a perfect man."
[80] If I begin to praise his vigils and fasts, the mouths of all who knew him will overwhelm me, since they all cry out with united wonder that scarcely anyone in this age existed who could be compared to him in these things. Since it was almost a perpetual law for him, after vigils conducted through whatever depth of night, to know no sleep until daylight, you would hear him in that interval between the nocturnal and morning office which monastic custom allows, roaming to and fro in varied course, and like a bee, continuously revolving the psalms in a quiet murmur, now bending his knees around the altars, now sitting down for a little while, then rising again and standing for some time, and again going out to inspect the time of night by the sky; then attending to the lamps, whether they needed trimming or replenishing; then also visiting the schools of singers; and sometimes spending whatever of the night remained in weaving nets. Very often he anticipated the common vigils themselves, and -- as if this care had been specially assigned to him -- correcting the lamps of the dormitory, very often even, as it seemed, excessively, when they cast their light clearly, then entering the oratory as secretly as possible and prostrated before the altar, he would consume himself for a long time in laments and sighs, as the custodians could hear, with a great flood of tears.
[81] Then, sometimes ringing the signal for vigils himself, he performed the common work of psalms, prayers, and readings with the rest with no less energy. Which at that time, indeed, as befitted the fervent beginnings of their conversion, were extended more abundantly in number, length, and slowness of recitation -- which the faintheartedness of the weaker afterward compelled to be curtailed in some respects. For three prayers, made at night immediately after the signal was given for vigils, were much more prolonged; and after them, with all sitting together in the choir, thirty psalms, from the 119th to the end of the Psalter, distributed in groups of ten into three prayers, were recited silently one by one. The first ten were for the deceased, the middle ten for friends, the last ten for the general intentions. On shorter summer nights and feast days, only the fifteen Canticles of Ascent were said, similarly distinguished by three prayers. The readings at the winter vigils were so prolonged that when the Prophets, which are assigned on the Kalends of November, had been spent in about two weeks, they would either begin again from whichever of them, or other passages would be added. Whence we have also learned that the same man once completed the entire book of Daniel during a single reading, when the third reader was rising to take his turn. Likewise, after the Christmas days, the Apostle was read, and from Septuagesima the Heptateuch all the way to the days of the Passion, and during the Passion itself, Jeremiah was read in full at vigils. Of these, much is now supplied at the table readings.
[82] And in addition to the rest of the nocturnal course and the customary psalms, up to the signal of twilight, the entire Psalter was frequently recited individually by many of them. In these, while the rest sometimes sought some relaxation, John, resisting sleep with such unbroken strength, hardly sat down at any fatigue, so that he stood watchful through the whole of that interval, however long it was extended; and when the morning office or the first hour, which immediately follows -- together with the seven Penitential Psalms and the Litany -- was completed, he would immediately proceed to his reading. When sometimes, as nature overpowered him, sleep crept upon him there, shaking himself instantly from the book, he would pace here and there, always murmuring some psalm; and it was a very great spectacle to see this in him at the summer morning hours, when we knew him to have returned to bed rarely or never, unless a bloodletting intervened. For at night or in the intervals, whether in winter or summer, if the vigils happened to be completed long before dawn, so that excessive fatigue compelled it, reclining briefly in bed, he would rise again so quickly that you would scarcely believe he had even fallen asleep. And this we ourselves often heard from his mouth: that from the very beginnings of his conversion, he had waged this continuous war against sleep at the morning hours, which he had never been able to overcome, since it always returned more hostile at those same hours. "From the old habit of the world," he would say, "I nourished this gentle enemy for myself, because while keeping vigil at night, in the morning I used to indulge my sleep well into the late hours of the day; whence even now, although I do not see the dawn, sleep itself announces every day that it is at hand."
[83] To the knowledge acquired before his conversion, he added the practice of reading in whatever books of divine literature with such zeal that hardly any of the most eminent Doctors escaped him, until, with the Holy Spirit going before him, he arrived at every knowledge of the Scriptures, so far as is permitted to mortals. In these, first, reading through the Moralia of Blessed Gregory in order most frequently, he committed almost all the contents of its maxims to memory, so that in the common conversations of exhortations or discussions, all his speech seemed to flow from those same books. Nor was his reading of Augustine, Ambrose, Jerome, and whatever ancient author came to hand any less. And because at that time, with studies being cold, scarcely even the codices themselves could be found, he read Augustine's works On John, On the Psalms, and The City of God in their entirety. Last of all, he labored with great attention in the books On the Trinity, in which, when he had come upon certain matters of dialectical reasoning -- especially where, for the purpose of demonstrating the relation of the Father to the Son and of the Spirit to both, he introduces the category called "Relation to something," and on that occasion also briefly mentions all ten Predicaments -- and because the need for some of those things impelled him to seek a scholastic opening on these matters, he took up the labor of reading from the very introductions of the Isagogues. While he struggled in this with the natural quickness of his intellect and, as in all other things he had ever undertaken, with untiring effort, suddenly the Lord Father Einold cut short his endeavors in mid-course. For Einold, having himself been long since most studious of those same subjects and having experienced how much labor they required, not wishing John to waste his time on them for nothing, diverted him with a brief prohibition and directed him to occupy his mind rather with sacred reading, where knowledge and, what is greater, the teaching of edification would be more than sufficiently supplied to him. John, who had sworn never once to transgress the boundary of obedience, immediately renounced the undertaking and transferred himself entirely, as in the beginning, to divine things. He also wore out by much use Gregory's commentary on Ezekiel, so that he seemed almost to have committed it to memory. In sum, he embraced whatever works of Blessed Gregory there were, uniquely above all others.
[84] Although amid all this, the Lives, conduct, or sayings of whatever Saints, written in their own style, did not escape him. For from these he had taken into his own practice of life, as it were, Anthony, Paul, Hilarion, Macarius, Pachomius, and the other followers of the desert; then Martin, Maximus, and the most holy Bishop Germanus; in addition, whatever practitioners of a more austere life he had chosen, he would perhaps attempt to follow, if times permitted -- which indeed could be conjectured from the mortification he had undertaken. Whom, however, even if not equal in bodily labors, I would not hesitate to declare with certainty that our age has seen scarcely any other man more emulous in the virtues of the soul than these same saints. The deeds of a certain c. John, Patriarch of Alexandria, whom they call the Almsgiver, he would recall in nearly all his conversations, retaining them almost from memory, with a pleasing and friendly sweetness, and would hold his hearers with much delightful attentiveness by means of him.
AnnotationsCHAPTER X. Blessed John's diligence in cultivating the goods of the monastery and his economy; his industry in buildings and in adorning the church; his wondrous abstinence.
[85] And because to pursue each matter in detail seems excessively laborious -- matters in the knowledge or imitation of which he was no less practiced -- it was a marvel to all that, while he had such great engagement in these things, he nevertheless relaxed nothing of whatever external business needed to be done. Rather, going about among diverse affairs and establishing precepts for the ordering of each, he energetically managed the entire business of the whole monastery in so manifold an array of arts and offices. And although the entire care of the monastery's possessions rested upon him, his visits to them were rare; instead, he would dictate from the monastery itself whatever needed to be done abroad, and summoning his agents for a short time, he would prescribe what they were to carry out and report back in a month or more. When some more pressing matter drew him out, and necessity compelled him to sit down to conduct business, he would hasten this as quickly as the affairs allowed and return speedily to the monastery, sometimes not even having eaten. If the business or the hour required him to remain away, he maintained as far as he could the measure of food and drink customary in the monastery. For he never altered the rule of his bedding, so as to allow feathers to be spread for himself in any way other than beneath his head only -- which practice he followed after his own Master, the Lord Einold, who from the very beginning kept this to the end, both at home and abroad, so that as a true disciple he followed in the footsteps of his teacher, retracing them step by step.
[86] But even in the meals taken with secular folk, he was greatly burdened, though without any of them perceiving this even slightly. For he provided them in all abundance, as much as they wished, and with them he exhibited himself with great cheerfulness and condescension, appearing joyful and affable in all things. But afterward, whenever he conversed with spiritual persons, he would repeat in his teaching that he could never mingle with secular society even briefly without losing something of his accustomed manner of life, and in addition spending more of the brothers' goods than he wished. For he used to say in familiar conversation, whenever talk happened to turn to the brothers who managed affairs abroad, that it was not so expedient for them to conduct business in person so frequently, but rather to entrust it verbally to lay servants, while they themselves should confine themselves to the cloister. "No one," he said, "was ever more like a watchdog than I, or more accused of stinginess, and in truth no one was more frugal abroad, provided that everything was conveyed to the monastery, as I saw was needful. But never," he said, "could I exercise such great diligence that, as often as I ate with them, I did not spend nearly as much as would suffice for the brothers' daily ration. For whenever wayfarers, whether private persons or magnates, inquired whether any monk happened to be present at this or that estate belonging to the monastery, and chanced to find me there, they would turn aside under the pretext of greeting me; and it was not fitting to send away uninvited guests from the table, and thus I could not manage to ensure that whatever of the brothers' goods was abroad, and whatever was acquired by whatever ingenuity, was conveyed entire to the monastery, as was my intention."
[87] In judicial proceedings themselves, even if he was criticized by some, he in no way exceeded the boundary of rectitude or justice. Where pride or contumacy had made certain men haughty or unbridled, while he sought to bend their stiff necks to equality with the rest, he could be swayed by no means, even if they endeavored to secure the patronage of the more powerful. His whole intent looked ultimately to this: that whatever justice acquired should be brought faithfully into the monastery; and he took the best of care that the purse of the monastery should never be contaminated by any fraud or by the misery and calamity of the wretched. Let each person judge as he will: for my part, I will declare with assured faith and freely that he always hated iniquity, and that, with the Lord directing his steps according to His word, it did not have dominion over him, as far as human frailty allows. Those who think he engaged in usury and, under the pretext of the monastery's needs, pursued gains from every quarter, measure him by their own character -- not that I have either seen or learned with certainty any such thing in him.
[88] He did indeed lend many things and received them back, being careful not to be deceived by any fraud of debtors, and, according to the saying of a. Persius: "Learned to snore over the cup with a watchful nose" -- which he had changed into a better art, so that as a prudent steward of the Lord's substance, he observed with the utmost industry that nothing of the monastery's goods should perish, often recalling the saying of Blessed Gregory to a certain Deacon managing ecclesiastical property: "These things," he would say, "are neither mine nor yours. Act so that you may render an account for them to Him whose they are." If grain, wine, salt, or whatever pertained to food, and similarly to clothing, were lent, they were demanded back in the same measure or quantity, so that nothing beyond was exacted. Silver was lent or exchanged by just weight; nor was that which the coinage of money extorts by right ever sought; but whatever one received or gave was returned in equal balance.
[89] For from the labors of the fields and vineyards, in which he excelled with the highest art and was constantly engaged with the utmost zeal, the store of the monastery had overflowed to such abundance by the cooperating divine grace that no necessity from those same labors, since the brothers had an ample surplus, when many products had been sold, was lacking for whatever goods, whether present or future. From this the entire household was sustained, and much was supplied for adornment; nor were there any other gains of temporal goods for him than to exercise strenuously the work of the countryside: to build salt-works, which are found in only one part of that region, called Vic, so that he prepared in that same place many of what they call pans -- some bought outright with their very sites, some that were of the monastery's right and had been repaired -- destined for great use in the future. Together with mills, with rivers to be dammed for the sake of fish, with private fish-ponds to be prepared, with herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, domestic and wild fowl, and also wild game to be maintained, he pressed on so that for whatever needs of the brothers, or of the sick, or also of outsiders, whether present or arriving, there might always remain an abundance of everything.
[90] Having hired master craftsmen of diverse arts from every quarter, he first surrounded the cloister on every side with a wall in the manner of a fortress -- which is seen to this day to be serviceable not only for defense, but even for resistance, should need arise. Then, as the ruins of the old interior workshops lay open, he labored tirelessly until they rose anew. Finally, he applied his zeal to the adornment of the house of God, in diverse kinds of ornaments. Hangings of diverse kinds, veils for sacred uses, various vestments so that nothing should be lacking for the priestly ministries, and also vessels for the use of the sacred rites -- all of silver, in solid and elegant workmanship -- he prepared. Then, undertaking the tomb of the b. Martyr, he covered both it and whatever altars were in the various oratories with silver plates, elegantly adorned with gold; in addition, the ambo for the recitation of the Gospel he covered and joined together with durable strength. I pass over the crowns hanging from the ceilings with so luminous a splendor, the lamps so diverse in their places and arrangements, the candelabra of such great weights and kinds, together with vessels almost beyond naming -- all made of solid silver. Last of all, the numerousness and enormity of the bells which are seen, and the rest of the distinctions of his works, in which his most skilled talent shone forth, as he was proficient in almost all the arts.
[91] These things both escape the memory, and if any that come to mind I attempt to pursue, the poverty of my most meager speech will utterly not suffice to exhaust them; and they overflow into such abundance that even if they could perhaps be set forth by someone, they would produce not an edifying pleasure but -- as I know the manners of our age -- a thoroughly tedious reading. Whence I think we should pass on to other things. But lest perhaps anyone should silently remark that we attribute these things to this man's credit beyond what the facts warrant, and that all these things were rather the Master's doing -- we by no means deny this, nay, we plainly assert it to be so. For by the commands and direction of that same Father and Master, the Lord Einold, all things were accomplished, nor did John ever rashly undertake anything that had not first issued from Einold's mouth. But this is quickly met: the deeds of disciples redound to the praise of their masters. And the Lord John himself never referred back to himself anything he had done, but would say: "He himself commanded it; so also I carry it out." But on that account, he who sweated through all the labor -- while Einold merely gave the directions -- will not rightly be called devoid of the merit of those same works. Indeed, why is a case c. vainly drawn between any parties here, when between themselves neither ever found anything on which to disagree with the other? The Father reckoned as his own whatever the son had done; the son attributed whatever he himself had properly accomplished to the father. Nor, I confess, have more closely united pairs agreed with one another from age to age, with Christ as witness. If faith is given to credence, the reward is certain; if not, no one will prevent us from confidently declaring what we have known with certainty, since the mind suggests many things, and, already impatient of being restrained, it presses on to touch upon certain particular and specific matters.
[92] Concerning the rule of fasting which he imposed upon himself, because I had almost passed it over above, I wish first to touch upon it as briefly as I can. At the very beginning of his conversion, he had resolved to dedicate all the rest of his time henceforth to fasting, excepting feast days and the occasion of some unavoidable care of the body, illness, or condescension to guests. And this he held vigorously for some time, with the strength of youth still aiding him, and with the confidence of the mortification he had once practiced in the world; and as if he were in no way burdened at all, as something light and scarcely felt, with an agile body, a more cheerful heart and countenance, he carried it through. And on those days he took nothing except bread and water; and even in those, applying all parsimony, so that he scarcely took more than half a loaf of bread, which whole weighs a pound; and of water likewise, he would scarcely add anything beyond half the measure of wine that is served to the brothers. Of salt, green herbs, or any such things that are not forbidden to those who abstain, he touched nothing whatsoever. And the Lord Einold himself, while he tested himself, allowed this in the meantime. After some time, however, when he perceived that John had greatly weakened, yet did not cease from his undertaking but rather strove beyond his powers, he restrained him in moderation and advised him rather to choose what he could bear. For he had already so consumed himself that one day, having gone out with the brothers to the garden, while he was bending himself intensely to the work, suddenly failing in heart and hastening to return to the cloister, he collapsed in the middle of the path and was led back between the hands of others.
[93] Accordingly, he adopted a more tolerable rule: that he would observe only two Lenten seasons in the year, one before the Nativity and the other before Easter. The first he began on the Ides of September September 13, when the brothers resume their midday meal at the ninth hour; the second, immediately after the Octave of Epiphany. On Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday he followed the common meal with the rest; the remaining four days he abstained, content with bread and water alone under the same rule we described. But if any feast day intervened, or guests arrived, he would observe the meal on those days too. Also in the matter of bloodletting, which he could scarcely defer for more than a month, he did not reject the care of his body. The reason he anticipated the liturgical seasons by so much, and did not wait for times closer to the solemnities themselves, was so that if some mishap of that sort should seize upon any of the designated days, there would remain for him sufficient time afterward to make up those same days. Whence it very often happened that, when the aforesaid occasions, or any other intervening events, impeded an entire week, or perhaps two or more, from fulfilling his vow, as soon as the desired liberty was restored, he would make up the number of omitted days -- with fasting continued through two or more weeks, with only Sunday free -- to the astonishment or sorrow of all who saw it. And so, that no single one of the forty votive days at this or that season should pass unobserved, this exceedingly cunning guardian kept watch. It was often possible to observe that he even foresaw the future, when he seemed to seize upon such a continuous stretch of fasting as if spontaneously. For it very frequently happened that, when he burned on in this fashion, heedless of all relaxation, subsequently, whether by a message or by some unavoidable necessity, he was compelled to leave the monastery. For as long as he was away, carefully attending to the thefts of human frailty, he took care that secular persons should not be witnesses of his secret, for which he reserved the reward to God alone. Although, therefore, he also strenuously performed the fixed fasts of other seasons, whether the four seasonal Ember days or the feasts scattered through the year, so long as he was alone; for, though always fleeing glory, he often broke them on account of travel and guests; yet he almost never passed over these vows of two Lenten seasons in the year.
[94] During the rest of the year, that is, when the brothers' two daily meals were in effect, he ate in common without any addition or difference. Whatever food was prepared, making no distinction, neither affecting the meaner fare nor rejecting the richer, to the quality of the cooking with which it was served to the rest, he never allowed anything to be added to or changed for his own use. His bread was equal and similar, his wine of the same measure and flavor; never at any time was anything made different from the general provision. On feast days, when the brotherly joy is accustomed to prepare, as richly and exquisitely as possible in honor of the Lord or the Saints, whatever was set before him he freely partook of. "I don't use this" or "Bring or prepare that" was never heard from him. Thus he never appeared remarkable in any matter of food and drink. Indeed, being himself thoroughly skilled in such matters, he would see to it that these things were prepared as sumptuously as possible on those days, and he partook of them without any visible affectation. His body had hardened with an almost natural insolubility, so that food was digested in him with difficulty. Hence he would willingly take potions of herbs, or more often spiced drinks that were suited to that purpose or were beneficial. With only these admitted, he refused the rest so diversely compounded by the art of physicians. This certainly was observed with the utmost effort: that he was scarcely ever, or never, reduced to any drunkenness or satiety from food or drink taken beyond the customary amount, or from which he would be compelled to omit any of his usual work of the divine service, by night or by day. And so, though he appeared to dine in common with the rest when abroad, even in that communal dining he did not exceed the measure he had set for himself for the intake of food. In that saying of the Apostle, "I know how to be hungry and I know how to be full," he shone forth openly, with supreme art and a certain discipline, as one trained and perfected above all others of this time; for he appeared neither more downcast by hunger nor more elated by having been fed. In sum, he maintained the same rigor of penance to the very end of his life with wondrous perseverance; and this so far surpasses that it cannot be exhausted by any speech of ours. Whence, setting a limit to these things for now, let us turn our pen to what we have been able to learn of his outward deeds, in which partly the prudence of a keen intellect and the strength of a soul aided by the powers of grace from above, and partly the working of divine power alone, where human help could not avail, were demonstrated.
AnnotationsCHAPTER XI. Various things given to the monks of Gorze by the liberality of Bishop Adalberon, with Blessed John procuring them.
[95] When at first, as the foregoing text taught, the holy men had assembled at the aforesaid place of Gorze, at the ready will of the Lord Bishop Adalberon, they were sustained for some time principally by his aid, since they did not yet have the means to restore to them anything from the monastery's possessions, which had long since passed to the control of secular persons by way of benefice. Then, when certain persons, divinely inspired, had begun to flock thither on the report of good reputation, and the multitude of the holy congregation was increasing, the still meager resources promised a stipend inadequate for the numbers that then existed, let alone for the ever-growing numbers that were expected in the future. In addition, that same holy man Adalberon, with the kingdom then agitated by diverse disturbances, was distracted by many cares and could provide for them less than usual. Hence, driven to the point of almost seeking outside assistance, they had considered it. And because at about the same time, Ogo, then Provost of St. Maximin, an example of happy future consequence, had restrained himself from his secular manner of life and, by the pious endeavor of Duke a. Gislebert, had restored that same monastery to the regular life, by that same Provost's pious initiative they had to some extent agreed to transfer themselves there.
[96] Amid these things, the Lord Einold steadied the wavering situation with sounder composure, and one day, among other words of exhortation, addressed them all thus: "Scripture asserts that 'when the ways of a man please the Lord, He converts even his enemies to peace.' We can therefore perceive our own negligence from this: that if, with the zeal that was required, our mind were intent upon divine things, it would be easy for the Lord to bend this man and render him kind and beneficent to us, and to turn his heart to what would be expedient for us." He then exhorted them at greater length with words conducive to those ends, and urged them to remember the fervor of their initial conversion, and to examine carefully whether anything was now being done more languidly, coldly, or negligently among them; and if they perceived any such thing, to strive with all vigilance to restore it. He thereby suddenly restored such great spirits in them that now one by one, now all together, they conspired keenly into a certain new battle of their manner of life: each added to the customary and regular duties things that were greater and more prolonged; they voluntarily subtracted from themselves even the permitted things; to food, drink, sleep, speech, and any rest of the body they allowed the minimum, so that they seemed then for the first time to be seizing upon the very beginnings of their conversion.
[97] Meanwhile, the persuasion of the aforesaid Ogo, Provost of St. Maximin, and of Duke Gislebert regarding their migration continued to press them. And with the Bishop having already held aloof from the place for nearly two years, it happened that John was summoned to Metz on behalf of a certain man under the monastery's jurisdiction who had charge of certain episcopal properties. He was first addressed mildly by the Bishop, asking that he not refuse what was requested: "Your request," John said, "is a command." "I ask," the Bishop said, "that you yield that man to me." John, somewhat more agitated, as one whose mind was intent on far other things, said: "We are now using the example of the parable of David, where the rich man, sparing the innumerable sheep he possessed, ordered the single sheep of the poor man, seized by force, to be served to the guest who had arrived. So, while you abound in the infinite plenty of the rest, you snatch from us poor men this one person." When the Bishop, his brow raised, with scarcely a word betraying signs of a disturbed spirit, had turned away, John rushed from his sight. Frederick b. the monk of St. Hubert, of whom mention was made above, entering at almost that very hour and perceiving from the Bishop's dejected countenance his state of mind, said: "Why do I see your brow so drooping?" For the Bishop would assume this expression, as if by nature, whenever he was more disturbed. "By that madman John," he said, "I have been so treated with contempt, as never before by anyone, that I could not even intercede with him for one man." Frederick, knowing the counsels that were being hatched outside, said: "Unless provision is made, you will shortly lose them all. For I know that they have long since conspired with the Duke and the Provost, because too little help comes from you, to be transferred to St. Maximin, and the matter is being hastened." John was hastily recalled, and when asked why he had departed without permission, while he kept a trembling silence, the Bishop said: "I did not think you so spirited, nor did I consider you so difficult in so trifling a matter. I ask therefore that you yield me the man at least until some delay is granted." John, understanding the reason (for a monetary agreement was involved), said: "For as long as you command." "For forty days," said the Bishop. And John: "Even for a year, if it please you."
[98] Not long after this, while the Bishop was resting, a certain person of terrible and threatening countenance appeared to him and seemed to say with a certain severity: "You began the good work well, but you have fallen away from the undertaking far too quickly. The failure of the great is the cause of ruin for you. Restore what you began, lest you fall into worse things." Awakened and pondering much within himself about the work of religion he had begun and so long neglected, he perceived, not without sharp grief, that this was the admonition. Summoning his chamberlain, whose surname was Matzilinus, he said: "Set out for Gorze with the utmost haste, and command the Abbot Einold to be here at once." As it happened, the Abbot had spent that very night at Metz and was preparing his return at dawn. As soon as Matins had been said, while departing and approaching the city gate and waiting for the keys there, behold, the messenger sent to summon him drew near. Seeing and greeting him, the Abbot said: "You have relieved me of my labor. For I was being sent to summon you, and my Lord commanded you to be present to him at once."
[99] When the Abbot soon arrived, and the Bishop was astounded at the swiftness of the event, he was commanded to enter. Greetings having been given and returned, the Bishop said: "It has been a long time, with other matters interfering, since I have come to Gorze; but, God willing, it is my intention to go there." "We shall see you," the Abbot said, "with the greatest joy." "Go ahead of me," the Bishop said, "and indicate on what day you deem it suitable for me to come." It happened that the next day was the fast of the Ember Days of the second month, and the Bishop said it should be done after those were completed. "There is no need," said the Abbot, "for a delay on this account; I shall go ahead today, and tomorrow we shall await you at whatever hour you see fit." "I shall come at the third hour," said the Bishop. Setting out the next day, when he had begun to draw near the monastery, at a place called Ad Crucem At the Cross, he dismounted from his horse and removed his shoes, and so he walked on foot all the way to the monastery. Having been received, after prayer was made and the community was assembled, he prostrated himself humbly at their feet, accusing himself of neglect toward them up to that time, reviving them with the hope of better things from himself henceforth, and humbly begging pardon. When this was easily obtained, he immediately bestowed upon them a certain estate belonging to the monastery's right, which even then his own c. brother Gozilinus held as a benefice, called d. Waringisville, giving his agent instructions that unless he assigned all the revenues in full to the Abbot, should he contrive any fraud or deceit in the matter, he would be punished with the curse of Dathan and Abiram in the presence of Christ.
[100] After the meal of the fasting hour, a repast having been served and the Bishop departing with all good cheer, the next day the Abbot set out with certain of the elders to take possession of the estate. As they were passing by the fortress called e. Scarponne, at about the third hour, John's horse began to limp. "Why," said the Abbot, "is that horse limping so?" "He is in pain from a lost shoe," John replied. "Go no further," said the Abbot, "until it is replaced; we shall wait here in the meantime." When John had hurried off to the town, a certain man by chance asked where he was heading. John, hesitating a little, said: "It would profit you not to conceal this from me." "Where are you from?" said the man. "From the village of the port," he replied -- and this too was part of the aforesaid estate. "We are going there," said John, "by order of the Bishop, to take possession of it." "Hear me briefly," the man said. "The entire census of money is still retained there. For when the collector recently brought it to the Bishop's agent, because about five solidi were missing, the agent refused to accept it unless the whole sum was given at once. And the grain from the previous year still lies stored up, and the agent himself has set aside a not inconsiderable portion for his own use." John, quickly returning when the horse had been shoed, whispered in the Abbot's ear what he had learned. They met the Bishop's agent at about the fifth hour, who happened then to be staying at an estate called Laium, with the Countess Eva, who was then a widow (and whose advocate he then was); his name was Albulfus. Upon receiving the Bishop's mandate, he said: "Please remain here today, and I will provide everything necessary, until I send ahead and receive you there with fitting honor." When some agreed to this, John pressed for departure without delay; certain of the elders said these were childish counsels and that they should rather rest there that day, and that it was pointless to toil without any result. The Abbot said: "It is better that we hasten."
[101] John, riding ahead more quickly (for they were no more than three leagues away), occupied a house suitable for their meal in the estate itself, and most diligently prepared everything for the purpose. Then, entering the granary, a cunning explorer of all things, he found everything in order, just as it had been described to him. Immediately summoning the tax collector, he vehemently warned him, on the Bishop's authority, that nothing at all from the entire sum he still retained should be diminished until the Abbot and the Bishop's agent were present. Meanwhile, he received the Abbot and his party arriving, most sumptuously. With the agent expected the next day, a messenger was secretly sent by the agent during the night, approaching the tax collector to request that he hand over the money he had brought some time ago, so that the agent might deliver it to his lord. The collector, citing the prohibition given him by the Bishop's word, sent him back empty-handed. The next day, as agreed, the agent carried out everything as ordered, and duly assigned the possession to their jurisdiction -- a possession extending to a total of one hundred mansi -- with the inhabitants bound by oath.
[102] Albulfus quietly sent a message to the Abbot, asking that certain things which he had acquired there by his own contract be ordered returned to him. When it was ascertained that nothing there was his at all, but that everything belonged to the use of his lord, the counsel was perhaps to give ten or fifteen solidi for his good execution of the transfer. The messenger, refusing to accept less than two pounds, returned and reported to his master. "You acted foolishly," said Albulfus, "in rejecting what was offered; for perhaps now you will not even get a penny." Then Albulfus himself, now openly, threatened to take the matter to the Bishop over the injuries unless his possessions were returned. John said: "We too do not shrink from that; perhaps his case will not be improved by the damages." Albulfus, conscious of his past offenses, said: "I do not wish to oppose or resist the alms of my lord in anything. I retain so much else, granted by his favor, that I could easily do without these, even if they were more, for the sake of his love; indeed, I would even wish to add voluntarily whatever hereditary right of my own might be applicable." So, with the whole matter settled, they yielded to him a certain portion of the revenues, and for his good peace and favor toward them thereafter, and that they might make use of him in their defense wherever need should arise, they also bestowed upon him something from their silver.
[103] In like manner, not long afterward, when the brothers were pressing with frequent pleas for a certain nearby estate, and the realization of this seemed altogether impossible, and they were referring the matter, now despaired of, to divine aid alone, suddenly the Bishop, having summoned the Abbot, said: "What you have wrested with such great importunity, take at last what you ask for; and render thanks not to me, but to Blessed Peter, who terrified me violently in the night and compelled me to do it."
AnnotationsCHAPTER XII. Goods once taken from the monastery of Gorze, recovered through the industry of Blessed John, with Count Boso restoring them, and Bishop Adalberon.
[104] The times were tossed by too many dissensions, with each side pulling the kingdom this way and that. Otto the Great, afterward Augustus of the world, after his vigorous father in all things, King Henry, had then assumed the first auspices of the realm. Under him, a. Gislebert held the duchy of the kingdom of Lothar, b. Eberard held Francia, Austrasia, and certain places across the Rhine. The Transrhenish regions meanwhile remained quiet; our lands were variously harassed and did not easily accept the yoke. Thence a certain Boso, the son of the former Prince of the Burgundians, c. Richard, claiming a portion of the kingdom for himself and keeping to the most strongly fortified castles, had utterly rejected d. the dominion of anyone. Holding the fortress of e. Vitry in Champagne, among the rest of the surrounding properties, he had usurped certain possessions of the monastery of Gorze, as if by hereditary right. To reclaim these, in the hope that perhaps, with such a man, on account of the fear of God, there might be some place for prayers, John was dispatched by the Abbot and the brothers.
[105] He, for whom obedience had rendered all difficult and impossible things easy and possible, taking only one companion from the household, set out through places infested with brigandage, and which would be formidable even for a multitude. Arriving unexpectedly, the Count was informed of his presence, and, uncertain of what he brought, he was admitted to his presence. When he had delivered the commission of the Abbot and the servants of God concerning the matter for which he was sent, the Count, provoked to anger, said: "What sorcerer brought you here? Where were my guards, that you should have passed through them so?" "However I was brought," said John, "I have arrived here, and I bring the requests and prayers of the servants of God to you, that you may restore, for the love of God and for fear and reverence of His Saints, what you have seized from their possessions." When asked what these were, and upon hearing the answer, the Count utterly denied everything and ordered John to remove himself quickly. But John said: "I can be removed; but there are many others of our people, far more numerous and more powerful, f. who will not cease to succeed in their turns, and you will have no rest from their clamoring as long as you live." "What care I," said the Count, "for their clamoring? They will cry out constantly." "To whom, I ask?" "To some unknown king of yours? To your Duke Gislebert, whom I reckon as my most worthless slave? And it is the same with your Bishop Adalberon, whom I had indeed resolved to help, inasmuch as I had prevailed against him, and I even took vengeance on his behalf against his stepfather Richizon. But since he g. defected to Gislebert against me, let him see what advantage he has gained from it." Then John said: "We will cry out to God, who will regard our person equally with yours."
[106] The Count, more agitated, said: "You will not carry away from here your horse or beast of burden." "That will be in your power," said John. "And when there is no other remedy, I will return on foot; but you will not deter the rest by this." The Count, now even more inflamed, said: "You shall be punished in your very limbs." But John said: "It is easy for you to accomplish that, but for me the punishment will in any case not be excessively painful. If you deprive me of my eyes, you will relieve me of great cares and labors, because sitting at rest I shall be able to be more intent upon psalms and prayers." When the Count threatened his manhood, John said: "You will free me from the greatest anxiety." The Count had almost ordered him to be seized, when his wife, a prudent woman indeed, intervened and humbly warned him not to dishonor himself with such infamy, lest it be said that he no longer spared even monks or servants of God; and since he refused what was demanded, at least he should permit him to depart unharmed. So dismissed, and receiving some provision for the journey from the Countess, who had received him with sufficient courtesy, and given a guide by the same lady to escort him safely as far as the places besieged by brigands, he hastily set out on his journey.
[107] At about the third hour they entered a certain village where a market happened to be held that day; and behold, a multitude throughout the whole marketplace, plundering, despoiling buyers and sellers alike, and threatening death besides if anyone should protest. John, looking at his companion whom he had brought from the monastery carrying a shield, said: "That shield has been brought along to our harm, because you will not use it as would be expedient, and it will perhaps provoke an attack against us." "Because you alone of all mortals," said the companion, "walk about so recklessly, we shall perish by a well-deserved death." When suddenly, as they hesitated, the guide whom the Countess had given them spotted someone known to him. Calling him over and explaining the situation, the man said: "You have come here at the greatest peril, and whether I can extricate you from here by any means, I do not know." John replied: "If you can lead us across the forest that is seen nearby, the Lord will provide the rest." So, passing through the crowd with a calm and measured pace, they proceeded to the forest. Seizing the bridle, spurs were urged more sharply, and crossing the woodland at a rapid gallop, they dismounted on some open ground to take food.
[108] John, producing from the saddlebag slung behind him some bread, cheese, and fish, urged the guide to take food. During the meal, drawing a deep sigh, the guide said: "It has been three or perhaps four months during which I have not used any justly acquired food or drink, except what I am using now. And all of us (woe to us, the wretched!) subsist on nothing but plunder and the miseries of others." At this, John, entering upon a saving instruction, exhorted the young man with many arguments against these things: that it was far better to endure want, hunger, and thirst (which God would surely relieve, as He does for the birds or worms) than to persist in those things by which God was offended. At length the conversation progressed to the point where the guide promised that from that day he would refrain from such things. Having eaten, and the young man dismissed, John arrived at Gorze before the signal was given for the evening office.
[109] Not many days had passed when, behold, a messenger from Count Boso arrived at Gorze, reporting with anguished grief that his lord had fallen seriously ill and was lying in bed almost past hope, and with the utmost urgency requesting that the monk who had recently departed from his presence be sent to him. John immediately, at the Abbot's command, set forth swiftly. When his arrival was announced to the Count and he came before him, the Count said: "When you recently departed from here, I had not thought the end of my life could steal upon me so soon. Take, then, the estates you had asked for; only make me the patron of those same properties, and whatever you may lose from them, I will repay in proven gold." After these things had been said and done, when they had withdrawn from his presence and retired to the lodging where they had been ordered to be quite humanely cared for, the Count was so suddenly overcome by sleep (of which he had been utterly deprived for many days and nights, so that he was wasting away from excessive debility) that from the ninth hour until about the third hour of the following day he did not awake. But at last, awakening, he repeatedly called his wife by name, asking her to bring some food for him to eat; for likewise many days had now passed during which he had had no ability to take food. Having eaten with considerable pleasure, he slept again until about the ninth hour; then, awakening, he summoned John and declared him the restorer of his health. He sent him off with great honor, and provided for whatever John wished...
[110] There was an estate of the monastery, which had long since devolved by the title of benefice to a certain Count Palatine named Hamedeus, who at the same time held the monastery's goods under a h. precaria or praestaria, as they call it. When the same man died, and in that same estate -- because it was near the monastery -- while the funeral procession had not yet been conducted (for his body was to be carried to Metz to be buried in the basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary, called At the Hospital), the news was brought to John at Gorze. The Bishop happened to have arrived there at that time. John quickly reminded the Abbot of the matter, explaining in order that he should petition the Bishop. The Abbot soon went in, and with that gravity of his, somewhat hesitating; after a few words he said: "Have you perhaps heard? They say your Hamedeus has died." "I too had heard," said the Bishop. The Abbot added: "He held a certain right of the monastery under precaria; we ask that we be allowed to recover it." "Recover it," said the Bishop, "with all freedom." The Abbot, reporting the matter to John, asked: "What are you demanding?" John said: "I gave no instruction about this; for that would have come back to us free of charge. But I urged you to request the return of the benefice." The Abbot immediately went back to the Bishop and said: "Brother John says I have accomplished nothing useful with you." "What then?" The Bishop turned his attention to John. "He held," said the Abbot, "certain properties belonging to the brothers' table, which John pressed me to reclaim." The Bishop's entire countenance changed. "You," he said, "have never held any of those things; they have been assigned to benefice at all times." The reason he appeared so difficult in this matter was that he had several brothers from his mother, and up to that time he had been able to do little for them, since many others held the Bishop's properties, and it was neither right nor prudent to deprive them. So great was the strength with which they relied on the fractured resources of former Bishops! And therefore, by this or whatever opportunity, he was waiting for a chance to bestow something upon those same brothers.
[111] Against this intention, however, divine providence wonderfully opposed itself through the aforesaid holy men, men otherwise approved and distinguished in divine matters. For when the Abbot was almost entirely discouraged by the Bishop's response from any further petition, the Bishop ... had dined most pleasantly and agreeably with them; he went, indeed, but barely touching food, he immediately returned; and having said Compline, he laid himself upon his bed, turning many things over in his mind, worn out by sleeplessness for nearly half the night. When sleep could by no means be attained, he rose, as was his custom, and attempted to apply himself to prayer. But his prayer was so much more feeble than his accustomed powers of concentration that he returned to bed in listless disgust. There, long desiring sleep and wearied by shifting from side to side, yet unable to achieve it, he rose, went to the chest of the Martyr, prostrated himself before it, and confessed his fault. He vowed to return the properties in question; moreover, he placed his staff upon the altar, saying: "This, holy Martyr, I restore to you as your own." He then knelt and prayed -- a prayer more intense, he afterward professed, than he had ever before or since poured forth. Rising from prayer, he sought his bed, and was quickly dissolved into sleep; and the previously restless wakefulness, now naturally compensating, his sleep was prolonged into some part of the dawn.
[112] Awakened now as the sun reddened, and disturbed by the memory of the hymns he was accustomed to recite, and having pondered the reason sufficiently within himself, he at last rose and completed Lauds. He then ordered John to be summoned, and in his presence said: "You gave me a wretched night. Go, take the staff placed upon the altar, and possess the estates you had asked for." John, falling at his feet, said: "No, my Lord, that is not fitting. Rest a little, since you are weary, and meanwhile, when the signal for Prime has been given and it has been celebrated, go to the assembly of the brothers, and not to one man, but to all, restore freely what belongs to all." "So be it," said the Bishop.
[113] Behold, earlier than usual, his retinue gathered from various places. For the Bishop himself, as was his custom, having entered the monastery gate with only two or three clerics and as many chamberlains, had dismissed all his attendants and remained apart from the secular world. Among those who arrived was his brother... a certain careless custodian of the church... they made directly for the Bishop's chamber where he was resting... John, learning of this more quickly, came hastily to meet them, and because it was a matter of religious propriety... giving them a sign to follow him, he led them far from the door... whispering in the custodian's ear to immediately lock the door behind them. There he detained them for some time with various speeches, not altogether pleasant to them, saying that the Bishop, because the discomfort of the night had prevented him from sleeping, was only now at last getting some rest, and advising them to take some food meanwhile (for it was summertime). When they refused, saying they wanted nothing except an audience with the Bishop, John said: "It is better to wait until the Bishop, having completed his usual business, offers the opportunity for a meeting." So delaying them, and having quickly prepared a light meal and entangled them with it, he himself went back inside and rang the signal. After Prime had been said, along with the customary psalms, the Bishop was invited to the chapter room. Having offered a brief exhortation to the brothers as occasion required, the brothers -- already partly informed of the matter -- made their petition for the aforesaid properties. Denying nothing, and extending his staff, the Bishop said: "Let the blessed Martyr have what is his, and you -- be mindful of me."
[114] When these things had been completed, those who had assembled immediately burst in, and a violent protest arose from the Bishop's brother over those same properties. When he was told they had already been given back to the monks, he pressed the matter further with many arguments, saying that the monks had an abundance of everything from every quarter, and the Bishop ought rather to look after his own family. When none of this prevailed, and the Bishop, having taken his meal with the brothers, was leaving, the argument was renewed a second time, from the very threshold of the monastery, all the way along the road to the ford of the river, the speech about these matters being repeated. And when, having entered the ford, the Bishop was now greatly wearied by the tedium, he said: "You strive in vain. Truly, even if I had conceded half the bishopric to those monks, I would not take a single step away from them on account of any one of you." There are many other things which, whenever opportunity arose, were recovered for the monastery through John's intervention, properties long since alienated...
AnnotationsCHAPTER XIII. The embassy to the Saracen King of Cordoba, bravely and wisely undertaken and conducted by Blessed John in the name of the Emperor Otto the Great.
[115] ... let us approach the embassy from the King... and of distinguished deeds among diverse peoples, then already moved by the great ... Lord Otto, Lord Otto's envoys were sent, perhaps with gifts befitting royal munificence, led by a certain Bishop with solemn dignity, and were received on behalf of so great a majesty, and long detained. During the delays, the Bishop who led the embassy died. While our side deliberated about who should be sent in his place, after various counsels were discussed for some time, it was finally agreed that, since the same King -- sacrilegious and profane, being a Saracen and utterly alien to the true faith; and although he sought the friendship of the Christian Prince, had nevertheless vomited forth certain blasphemies against Christ in the letters he had sent -- together with the imperial letters that they were carrying, they should also speak their own mind to him, and if it should be divinely granted in any way, change his unbelief.
[116] It chanced that around those very days our Adalberon of sacred memory had gone to the Palace. b. Bruno, destined to be of great and happy use and ornament afterward, the King's own brother, so excellently learned in wisdom and prudence -- both in public affairs and in all the liberal disciplines -- that he surpassed all of his time and nearly equaled the ancients, to which was added much instruction in Greek literature, was at that time the sharer and most prudent counselor of all things to be done publicly and privately; and to him the province of the imperial correspondence had been entrusted. While the others deliberated variously, he named our Adalberon, Bishop of sacred memory, and added that no one was more apt for this business, because Adalberon himself had very many men of perfected life who could be relied upon not to yield to any human terrors, being already dead to the world and ready to speak freely for the faith before any powers. The Bishop was immediately approached and commanded to prepare two of his men suitable for the embassy to the Spains. Having received the instructions, he summoned the Abbot Einold, communicated the royal commands, and directed him to seek out two of his men who would carry out the orders. Angilramnus and Wido were first chosen, and royal... expenses and provisions for the journey were prepared, along with a certain... from the regions of the Spains, who was ordered to guide them, when... behold, the aforesaid Wido, one of the two chosen, one day, rebuked in the assembly of the brothers for some carelessness or other, burst into such fierce insolence against both the Abbot and the entire community that in the end, when the swelling of his excessive animosity and madness could in no way be restrained, and he absolutely refused to submit to the regular discipline, he was stripped of his cowl and expelled from the monastery. This was immediately reported to the Emperor, who ordered him to be tonsured and another to be enrolled in his place.
[117] When for a long time a replacement was sought, and absolutely everyone shrank back, and in so great a congregation no one could be found who would confess himself capable of undertaking this in any way, John suddenly, without any hesitation, offered himself voluntarily. The Abbot was somewhat displeased, since the entire management of the monastery rested upon John; the Abbot enjoyed a welcome peace by John's presence, and if it were possible, he would never suffer his absence. Yet the perfection of charity prevailed -- that charity which does not seek its own things but rather those of others; and since at the same time the Abbot saw that the man was desirous of martyrdom, should fortune so provide, he preferred to send him to Christ rather than to keep him for his own needs. So John was directed by the Bishop's embassy, with the Emperor's assent. The Emperor was far more delighted by this, as he perceived John to be altogether suitable for the business in age and prudence; he entrusted to him the mandates together with the Emperor's letters and gifts, and appointed the aforesaid man of Verdun, whose name was Ermenhardus, as companion, for his knowledge of the places and regions. John requested that the gifts be entrusted to the companion; he himself would carry only the letters. Returning to Gorze, he hastened the journey with all speed, and after the delays of his companion, he himself, bearing the letters with him, commended to the prayers and vows of all the Saints, set out. All his expenses were supplied from the monastery. For his attendants, only one monk, named Garamannus, a Deacon by order, of good character in all things, was delegated to him... five were assigned, and his companion... at a certain village not far from Toul, which is called...
[118] From there he proceeded to c. Langres, Beaune, Dijon, Lyon... they directed their course; there, having loaded their baggage on a boat and conveying it down the Rhone to a certain point, they suffered no small loss. For their boats having been attacked, they lost much of their belongings. After recovering some of what had been taken, they headed for Spain. Arriving at Barcelona, they stayed for fifteen days, until a messenger was sent to d. Tortosa. This was the first city of the Saracen King. A guide promptly signaled them to hasten, and having received them, detained them for a whole month and provided for them in all abundance, until, their arrival having been more quickly reported to the King at Cordoba, a royal command was issued for their honorable reception at every city and place along the way. At last they were conducted to Cordoba, the royal city, and a certain house about two miles distant from the Palace was assigned to them, where, with all things provided in regal luxury, even beyond their custom, they were compelled to remain for some days.
[119] When the delays had grown tedious, and they inquired of those attending to them why they were being kept so long from the King's presence, they were told that the envoys previously sent had been detained by our King for three years; and that it had been agreed that they should be kept from the royal sight three times as long, that is, nine years. Meanwhile, certain persons from the palace, coming to see the men and inquiring about the purpose of their arrival, while cunningly probing everything, could obtain nothing definite from them, since they declared it was in no way permissible for them to disclose their instructions to anyone other than the King in person. Those courtiers then boasted that they already knew everything, and threatened that the envoys had brought letters against their laws, and that the utmost peril undoubtedly awaited them, since the letters themselves had already come to the notice of the princes. And indeed, although it happened by deceit, this was so. For from the city of Toul in our province, they had taken with them a certain priest as companion of the deceased bishop's legate, of whom it was said. This priest, sharing everything with them throughout the whole journey, when they had reached Tortosa, which was the first city of the Saracen kingdom, fearing for his life if he were discovered as the companion of the deceased legate... requesting that a trustworthy person be shown to him, he was more quickly received... from Augusta and the other cities, where... while they lingered, he himself preceded them to Cordoba with the letters... what they knew was little ascertained. But the rumor... greatly disturbed him.
[120] Accordingly, the leading men, having held counsel among themselves and inquiring whether these things had already come to the King's notice, when they found they had little certain information, resolved to inquire of the King himself on this matter. For their law binds them so irrevocably that what was once from antiquity fixed for their entire nation may never be dissolved by any means whatsoever. King and people alike are held equally bound, and every transgression is punished by the sword. If the King commits anything against inferiors, if the King himself commits anything, the entire people punishes him for it. Among those laws, the first and direst is this: that no one shall ever dare to speak anything against their religion. Whether citizen or foreigner, with no redemption intervening, he is punished by death. If the King himself has heard such a thing and has withheld the sword until the next day, the King himself is sentenced to death, and no clemency can intervene. When those leading men, therefore, went to the palace and suggested the matter to the King through messengers (for direct access to him was exceedingly rare, and unless something of the greatest importance had arisen, there was none; everything was conveyed through Slavic chamberlains by letters), the King wrote back that none of those things had been brought to his attention. He said that the envoys were friends who had been sent to him, and that his son had received them in his own house, and that he had not yet learned what they brought. So the tumult was calmed. For in fact the rumor had already reached him, and he had learned through secretly dispatched messengers that it was true; but out of fear of his own people, he had suppressed the entire matter in this fashion.
[121] The King, fearful on all sides and considering that danger might threaten him, tried by every kind of stratagem to find an escape. And first he sent a certain Jew, whose name was Hasdeu... he had seen or heard our men testify... who should probe all things more deeply from them. He... what had been scattered, that he was the bearer of the King's mandate... the foremost fear by which they were troubled, and reassured them, saying that no one of theirs would suffer any harm there, but that they would be sent home with honor. He advised them about much regarding the customs of the people, and how they should conduct themselves in their presence. The younger ones should restrain themselves from any vain or wanton gestures or words. There would be nothing so trifling that would not immediately be reported to the King's notice. If they were given the opportunity to go out, they should on no account make any approach to women, even by a nod, under any scurrilous pretext: no plague could be more deadly to them. They should by no means exceed the law set before them, for nothing would be more carefully watched; and if they were caught, they would be held in contempt. John, responding to these things as was fitting and receiving the adviser most gratefully, and fortifying his own people by means of this man from the opposing party, after many things were exchanged between them, the Jew gradually approached the matter: he inquired solicitously what they had been sent to deliver. When he saw John hesitate a little (for the conversation was then being held privately between them), the Jew pledged his word of silence. Indeed, if need be, he offered the help of safe counsel. John laid out everything in order: gifts sent for the King, and in addition a letter to be delivered to the King's ears; without it, neither should the gifts be presented, nor was it permissible for them to approach the King's presence. At the same time he disclosed the content of the letter in words. "It is dangerous," said the Jew, "to see the King with this letter. Be careful indeed what you reply to the messengers sent to you, for I have no doubt that the severity of the law has already been made known to you, and you must prudently take counsel to avoid it."
[122] When the Jew had then departed, after some months a certain Bishop named John was sent to them. After the many requests and replies of mutual conversation, as is customary among the faithful, he introduced the King's mandate: that they should come into the King's presence with the gifts only. "What then," said John, "about the Imperial letters? Was I not sent chiefly on their account? So that the blasphemies he first sent... may be refuted by those who destroy them." The Bishop replied to this in measured tones... "under what condition we act... sins devoted to this... condition. We are forbidden by the word of the Apostle to resist authority; yet we have this one consolation, that amid so great a calamity of evil we are not forbidden to use our own laws... those who seem to be diligent observers of Christianity see, honor, and embrace them, and at the same time delight in their company, while they utterly abhor the Jews. For the time being, therefore, we seem to hold this counsel: that since no injury is being inflicted upon religion, we should comply with them in other matters, and obey their commands insofar as they do not hinder the faith. Hence it is far better for you now to keep silent about these things and to suppress that letter entirely, than to stir up a most pernicious scandal for yourself and your people when there is no pressing necessity."
[123] John, somewhat more agitated, said: "It would have become another, not you, who appear to be a Bishop, to say such things. For since you are an assertor of the faith, and your higher rank has also made you its defender, it would not be right for you, out of human fear, to draw back from preaching the truth, nor even to restrain others; and it would have been far better for a Christian man to bear the grievous loss of hunger than to share meals with Gentiles to the destruction of others. In addition, and what is detestable and abominable to the whole Catholic Church, I hear that you have been circumcised according to their rite, when the strong statement of the Apostle cries out: 'If you are circumcised, Christ will profit you nothing.' Likewise concerning the foods which you abominate on account of fellowship with them: 'All things are clean to the clean.' And: 'There shall be teachers of vanity and seducers, teaching this, and among other things, to abstain from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving by the faithful.' And: 'For it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer.'" The Bishop replied: "Necessity constrains us; for otherwise we would have no opportunity of dwelling among them. Indeed, we hold and observe what was handed down from our predecessors, from long antiquity." John said: "I shall never approve of this -- that the statutes should be transgressed out of mortal fear, love, or favor... deflected for us now as authorities... indeed, I cannot but grieve at the matter... who seem to make a pretense of the Queen of Heaven, because to them you... confess to me, free by the grace of Christ from these necessities... by God's mercy my resolution stands, that by no terror, allurement, or favor shall I be turned aside from what I have received in the Imperial mandates. For I will not approach him without the Imperial letter, with not a single letter removed or changed from it down to one jot; and if anyone shall bark against the things we bring of the sound and Catholic faith, and a contrary assertion should arise, I will openly resist; nor for the love of life itself will I shrink from bearing witness to the truth."
[124] These things were secretly reported to the King; for those public mandates to which public replies would be required had not yet been sent by the King; the Bishop had come merely for the purpose of probing. The King, employing the cunning stratagems in which he was said to surpass all mortals, devised means of testing the man's mind, now this way, now that, and as if with engines of war hurled against a mighty wall by diverse art, he strove to shake the firmness of his breast, if it could be done in any way. And when, after a month or the space of six or seven weeks, royal messengers were sent to him and sought from him what he had resolved within himself, and they reported that nothing had changed from the first positions, the King was driven in various directions by the wonder of such constancy. And first, indeed, believing he could frighten John more by the threat against the Christians who freely enjoyed their own divine and civil rights in his kingdom, one day -- a Sunday it was -- he sent him a letter full of threats. For only on these Sundays, or on whatever feasts of our religion there were -- especially the Nativity of the Lord, Epiphany, Easter, Ascension, Pentecost, St. John's Day, the Apostles, or the named Saints -- were they permitted to go to the nearby church, which was dedicated in honor of St. Martin, with twelve guards on either side, whom they call Sagiones, escorting them. When, therefore, on that Sunday he had gone to the church, the letter was handed to him on the very road; and because of the size of the parchment (for it was a full sheepskin square)... lest it draw him away from the sacred rites toward which he was heading, he deferred it for the time being... when they returned to their quarters, he unrolled it and found certain things affixed... and he declared he had never at any other time been so shaken by any terrors...
[125] After many things that threatened him unless he assented to the King's commands (by which threats, however, he declared he had been moved by no... emotion), at the very end this was inserted: that if the King should put him to death, he would leave no Christian alive in all Spain, but would slaughter them all by the sword; adding: "Consider this: how many souls, killed on your account, you will be guilty of before God, who, had it not been for your contentiousness, would have perished by no other charge -- they from whom you ought rather to have hoped for peace and salvation -- and who could have obtained from us whatever you wished, had you not persisted against us with such obstinacy." When these things had been read in silence on the very road as they were returning from the church to their lodging, while he was agitated for some time by great storms of soul -- whether he should form some plan against them, or how he should write back to the King in response to these things, since he did not have sufficient practice in composing letters -- suddenly the memory of a heavenly sentence (as he often confessed to us) drove all terror and fear from his mind: "Cast your care upon the Lord." And of another: "Who made the mouth of man? Was it not I?"
[126] Immediately upon entering the lodging, he said: "Brother Garamannus, quickly prepare a skin on which you may write down everything I dictate." When Garamannus promptly produced a cut square of parchment and was told to take it, and when the pen was prepared and the scribe was seated, John began; and the abundance of his words so surpassed the speed of the writer that the scribe frequently complained, as many things were joined together, that he could not keep up. For that same Garamannus was a most elegant and practiced master of that art. In proper order, John responded to each point: that he had been sent as a legate, and would keep inviolate faith with the Imperial mandates; that it was not permissible for him, to whom so great a Majesty had entrusted his own unsealed letters, to see the face of the one to whom he was directed without those letters, or for them to be read in the King's presence without his own presence. If the King would allow this, he would be wanting in nothing regarding the royal honor, because... Otherwise, he would rather endure everything... than depart from or exceed in any way... what had been enjoined upon him; and just as he had already replied to those who had previously attempted to frighten him... even if all the members of his body, from the smallest joints to the vital organs, were cut away by daily cuttings. For no greater torment, he said, could ever be inflicted than if today this joint of a finger were cut off, tomorrow another, then on successive days, one by one, then arm, shoulder, then thigh, shin, foot; and finally, the remaining trunk were mutilated -- yet not even so, terrified by any reasoning, would he yield. He also said he knew well enough from the report of those previously sent to him that the King himself had already perceived that he did not greatly fear death; and therefore it was superfluous to seek to frighten him with what he considered the lightest of things. Now, as for what the King had written, that upon John's death he would leave no Christian remaining in all Spain, and that the guilt of such great slaughter would be imputed to him by God -- this was far otherwise; he was not the cause of their slaughter, but rather the malice and cruelty of the King's own wrath. And while the King would pay the penalties of those slain, for him, together with those killed, by Christ's favor, a better life would follow. Yet it would also be easy for God to change even this; and just as Mordecai once sent word to Esther: "If you will not intercede now, perhaps by some other occasion the Jews will be delivered, and you and your house will perish" -- so also now God could do no less: that after everything had been proclaimed by the King himself, and the swords were already at their very necks, by a new and unexpected turn the Lord would come to the aid of His own. Wherefore let the King know that he was in no way moved by threats or terrors of this kind; because He who by a marvelous ordering delivered Mordecai from the pride of Haman, when Mordecai clung tenaciously to his constancy, would Himself not fail him -- since he was there not for the sake of stubbornness, but of obedience -- in whatever way it should please Him. Sentences of this kind, expanded with many words and buttressed on every side by the strength of fitting testimonies, filled the field of the entire page; nor did words to be spoken fail his mouth before the scribe, having filled the parchment, confessed that no space remained.
[127] When these things were brought to the King, his mind was not moved to anger, as before... For his own advisors, to whom our affairs had already been thoroughly publicized, had long since dissuaded him from... attempting to oppose our Emperor. They argued that he was a most bellicose man, the conqueror of many nations, who would seek redress for all injuries, especially those against his ambassadors, with a severity never before seen; and that, having gathered the forces of his many kingdoms, he would perhaps at last, by right of the victor, subject all Spain to himself, after devastating it with manifold calamities. When many things had been discussed in this way, someone happened to suggest that, since that man appeared to be of such great constancy, and could be judged of no less prudence -- a man whom so long a delay had shown to be so fixed in his principles, and therefore one in whom no trust could be denied to mortals -- he himself should be consulted about what needed to be done in this matter. And so, when messengers came to meet with him and he had received these latest mandates, he said: "At last you have dealt with the matter by wiser counsel. If this had been sought at the very beginning, such great inconveniences of tedium and anxiety would not have been prolonged through so many stretches of time for either you or us. Now the remedy is easy and ready at hand. Let an embassy be sent from your King to our lord the Emperor, so that he may write to me what I should do about the things entrusted to me. When his letters have been seen again, I will obey in all things."
[128] When these things were reported to the King, and the counsel had been accepted as prudently suggested, an inquiry was ordered as to who would be willing to undertake so great a journey. When few or almost none openly presented themselves, and it was proposed that whoever went there would, upon his return, enjoy whatever honor he requested and gifts of every kind, at last among the palatine officials there emerged a certain Recemundus, a thoroughly Catholic man, excellently instructed in letters both of our people and of the Arabic language of the people among whom he lived. His office in the royal court was such that, having heard outside the cases of those of various conditions who came to the palace for their needs -- since all complaints and cases there are written and recorded in letters -- he would bring in the notations, and likewise carry back written responses; and several others were delegated to the same office. He, perceiving the trepidation of the rest, and deeming the opportunity perhaps presented to him of obtaining something... which was the reward for a man who would sell... For this was their customary expression: that whenever anyone was designated for any supreme... he was thus addressed: "Sell me your life; if you come out safely, you shall be most amply rewarded." When Recemundus made this request, the reply was that whatever such a person asked for would be granted. He asked only that permission be given him to speak with the envoys in private after the negotiations were concluded, and that afterward he would declare whether he should attempt the mission.
[129] This being granted him, he met with John and inquired carefully about the customs and institutions of our country: of what clemency was the Emperor, of what moderation toward his own people? Was he precipitate in anger, and was he irrevocable once a sentence had been pronounced? And many things of that nature. Finally, whether he could have confidence to deliver the royal embassy to him, lest he perhaps pay the penalty of the long time during which John himself had been detained. John, replying quickly that all things would proceed shortly, freed him from all trepidation and fear, assuring him that he would be received everywhere with joyful congratulations rather than otherwise. He said he would send a letter to his Abbot, who would receive him magnificently and keep and care for him for as long as he wished, until, having been presented to the Bishop, the Abbot himself, either with the Bishop or with the Bishop's delegation, would present him to the Imperial presence with peace and favor. Allured by these things, Recemundus returned to the palace. If what he requested were granted, he pledged himself to the journey. A certain church recently happened to be vacant of a Bishop: this he sought as the reward of his labor. It was easily obtained, and from a layman, a Bishop suddenly emerged.
[130] Then, equipped with royal provisions and letters, he hastened to Gaul, and in about ten weeks came to Gorze. There, received with the congratulations of all, and invited for many days to the city by the holy Bishop Adalberon, and remaining with him for some days, he was treated most agreeably. Then, visiting various places of interest with him -- since he had arrived when August was already well advanced -- he spent the autumn and winter with them, until after the feast of the Lord's Nativity, arrangements were made for how he should be directed to the Emperor... Meanwhile, things to be attended to remained. Then, around the feast of the holy... accompanied by the same venerable Bishop, together with the Lord... he was honorably received at the Palace of Frankfurt... the fidelity and constancy of the legate were praised with the highest commendation, letters of a milder tone... were prepared; John was written to regarding the suppression of the previous letters; only with the gifts should he proceed, and friendship and peace concerning the incursions of Saracen marauders should be concluded by whatever means, and a speedy return was commanded. A certain man of Verdun, named Dudo, was designated to carry the new gifts and mandates. So the Spaniard returned to Gorze... and there, with the greater part of Holy Lent having been spent, around Palm Sunday, setting out with the Imperial legate, he arrived at Cordoba at the beginning of the month of June. When they immediately wished to enter the royal presence with the new envoy, the King said: "By no means; rather, let those who prolonged the dispute for so long a time first proceed with the earlier gifts and mandates. Then let the second ones be brought in order. Nor shall these see my face at all, unless they first visit that monk, so pertinacious over so long a time, and gladden him with the delight of homeland, of loved ones, of his own King, and of his own mandates."
[131] And so, when all things had been completed, John, now released from the imprisonment of nearly... years, was commanded to appear before the royal presence. When the legates told him that he should have his hair cut and clothe his whole body in finer garments, so as to be presented to the royal gaze, and he refused, they supposed he did not have a change of clothing, and reported this to the King. The King immediately sent him ten pounds in coin... that he might procure suitable attire for the King's eyes, for it was not permitted by the custom of the nation that anyone be presented to the royal gaze in lowly garb. John, at first hesitating whether he should accept, finally reflecting that it would be better spent for the use of the poor, returned thanks for the royal munificence in being so solicitous for him; then he added a reply worthy of a monk, saying: "Royal gifts I do not disdain; but other garments besides those... of which I am accustomed to make use... absolutely neither... of color..." When this was reported to the King, he said: "I recognize a steadfast spirit; even if he comes dressed in sackcloth... I will see him, and he will please me all the more."
[132] After this, on the appointed day when he was to be presented, an elaborate display of every kind was deployed to demonstrate the royal pomp. The entire road from their lodging to the city, and from the city all the way to the royal palace, was lined on either side with diverse ranks: here, foot soldiers standing with their spears fixed in the ground; far off, men brandishing certain javelins and missiles, and making flourishes with their hands, simulating mutual blows. Besides these, certain men seated on mules with light arms; then horsemen urging their horses with spurs into varied snorting and prancing. Moors, moreover, terrifying our men with their unfamiliar appearance, with such varied preludes -- which they considered a matter of wonder for our people -- along a road excessively dusty, more than the very dryness of the season would alone have stirred up (for it was the summer solstice), they were conducted to the palace. The leading men, each one, came out to meet them. At the very outer threshold, the entire pavement was either covered with the most precious carpets, or...
[133] When they had reached the chamber where the King sat in solitude, like some divinity accessible to none or very few, everything on all sides was hung with unusual coverings, making the floors equal to the walls. The King himself reclined upon a couch, as luxurious as could be. For, unlike other nations, they do not lean upon thrones or chairs, but upon beds or couches, conversing or eating with one leg placed upon the other. When therefore John came before him, the King extended his hand to be kissed on the inside -- a kiss admitted to no one else, whether of his own people or foreigners. To the lesser and middling persons... outside; to those whom he received with more distinguished ceremony, he opened the middle of the palm for kissing.
[134] Then a seat was prepared, and he motioned with his hand for John to sit. A long silence ensued on both sides. Then the King spoke first: "I know well that your heart has been greatly hostile to me for a long time, so long as I kept you at last from my sight. But you yourself know fully that it could not have been otherwise... wisdom... did not delay, but that... has been done, I wish you to know... yet of whatever you shall request, you will obtain it." John, in response to this (as he related to us), having gathered some of the bitterness contracted by so long an anguish, was suddenly made so placid toward the King that nothing could ever have been more equable than his spirit. He then responded to each point: that he could not deny that he had been moved at first by the harshness of so many messengers; but that during those same times he had more frequently thought in silence that these things were being carried out against him with feigned rather than true menaces; and that at last, from the conduct and words of the entire three years that had preceded, he had come to understand all the obstacles of delay, and there was nothing remaining that he ought rightfully to suspect was done out of hatred for him. Whence, if any such feelings had existed, he had utterly driven them from his mind. He said he could only rejoice in the favor that the King had offered with such clement magnificence, and that he sufficiently esteemed the excellent balance of the King's steadfastness and moderation. When the King was greatly pleased by these words, and was preparing to address him further, John first requested that the Imperial gifts be received. When this was done, he immediately begged permission to return. The King, astonished, said: "How can this so sudden a parting take place? After so long a time of waiting for one another, scarcely having met, shall we thus be torn apart as strangers? Now, having at last enjoyed a mutual meeting, our acquaintance of minds has opened itself a little on both sides. Meeting a second time, it will be greater; the third time, the full completeness of acquaintance and friendship will be confirmed. Then you shall be sent back to your Lord with an honor worthy of him and of you." John assenting to this, the second legates were ordered to be admitted; and in his presence, the gifts they bore were presented.
[135] Then at last, when both parties had been sent back to their lodgings, after some time John was recalled by the King and spent much familiar time with him discussing the power and prudence of our Emperor, the strength and abundance of soldiers and army, his glory and riches, his skill in war, his industry and successes, and many things of that sort. The King in turn boasted of his own... how he excelled other kings... truly I confess, with this man ruling... there is no one who can be compared to our Emperor in territory, arms, or horses.
[136] But the King... "Rightly," he said, "do you celebrate your King." "Whether these things are true or false," John replied, "he may put them to the test." The King said: "The rest I might in some fashion approve, but there is one thing in which he e. has not been sufficiently provident." "What," said John, "is that?" "That he does not retain the power of his might for himself alone, but freely allows each of his lords his own power, so as to divide the parts of his kingdom among them, as if he thereby makes them more faithful and subject to himself -- which is far from the case. For thereby pride and rebellion against him are nurtured and prepared, as has now been done in the case of his own f. son-in-law, who, having seduced his son from him by treachery, waged open tyranny against him -- even to the extent of leading an alien people, the Hungarians, through the very heart of his kingdoms to lay them waste."
Annotationsf. Duke Conrad.