Adalhard of Corbie

ON ST. ADELARD, ABBOT OF CORBIE.

Circa A.D. 826.

Adelard, Abbot of Corbie in Gaul (St.)

[1] Most of the more recent authors have inscribed the name of the holy Abbot Adelard in their Martyrologies. The name of St. Adelard in the sacred calendars. Hugo Menardus in the Benedictine Martyrology: "At Corbie in Gaul, St. Adalard the Abbot, who, born of royal lineage and despising the things of this world, became ^a monk in his twentieth year. Concerning him, it is recorded that every day, at least twice — morning and evening — he lamented his own and others' sins with most abundant tears. When made Abbot, he so flourished in every virtue that some called him by the name of the most holy Abbot Antony." Arnoldus Wion and Petrus Galesinius say nearly the same. Ferrarius in his general catalogue of Saints, the Cologne edition of Usuard from 1521, the German Martyrology, Molanus in his additions to Usuard and in his Feast Days of the Saints of Belgium, Autbert Miraeus in his Belgian and Burgundian calendars, and Antonius Sanderus in his Hagiology of Flanders all mention him. Some record him on January 1. He is also called by others Adelhardus, Adalardus, Alardus, and by Baronius Adelrhadus.

[2] His life written by St. Paschasius Ratbert and by St. Gerard. St. Paschasius Ratbert wrote his life (on whom see April 26). It was previously published by Surius, and then by our confrere Sirmond with the works of the same St. Ratbert. We have collated these editions against each other and reviewed them against variant readings from ^a manuscript of Corbie, transmitted by the monk Antonius Fortius of Corbie to Sirmond himself and communicated to us by him. We have added another Life of St. Adelard and miracles by St. Gerard, ^a monk of Corbie and later the first Abbot of Silva Major in Gascony (on whom see April 5), copied from an ancient Bertinian codex. Another briefer life exists in the manuscripts of Rouge-Cloître.

[3] Molanus has ^a summary of the Life of St. Adelard in his Feast Days of the Saints of Belgium, and finally adds: "His feast is on the second of January, [His elevation on August 2 and October 10. He was ^a native of Oussia, ^a village in Flanders.] but the memorial of his elevation is on August 11 — though I have found his name in no Martyrology on that day. But the manuscript Florarium records the elevation on October 10." Molanus continues: "He is to be remembered among the Saints of Belgium for many reasons. First, because Meyerus reports him to have been ^a native of Oussia, near Oudenaarde. Oussia is one mile from that city on the Bruges road, commonly called Huyse. Elsewhere I read that Oussia was part of Adalard's patrimony, as also was Berthem, ^a not insignificant village of the territory of Leuven. And the Abbot of Corbie is the patron of both parishes. I have also learned from the pastors of Oudenaarde — not those whom we have known as illustrious Martyrs, but from their successors — that the feast of St. Alard was formerly celebrated in Oussia, and that it is common knowledge among the people that he was born there, and that he left ^a spring there which to this day bears his name."

[4] "But there are also other reasons why he should be remembered among the Belgians. For he belongs to the genealogy of the Pepins and of Charlemagne, the first Dukes of Brabant, as can be seen from what has been said above. And lastly, Corbie recognizes that it receives annually very much from Belgium by the donation of Adalard, and has received even more. Yet he lived outside our present-day Belgium, The fame of Corbie in France and Corbie in Saxony. namely at Corbie in France, adjacent to Artois; and with his namesake he founded Corbie in Saxony. In both monasteries, piety and learning greatly flourished. Indeed, these monasteries were the nurseries of the first Archbishops of Bremen, who converted the northern regions."

[5] After ^a brief interval, the same Molanus adds: "From what has been said, it is clear that certain inhabitants of Berthem err The fable of the people of Berthem about St. Adelard and his horse, refuted. in depicting St. Adalard as the younger son of Haimo, raised in their village with ^a gigantic horse which they have painted in their church; for from the history cited it is established that he was the elder son, born of his father Bernard, brother of King Pepin, as the feast-day lessons state. It is established, however, from authentic documents, even subscribed by the holy man's own hand, that much property in Berthem, from his donation, is held by Corbie, and some also by the inhabitants."

Concerning St. Adelard, and the other Adelard his disciple and founder of Corbie in Saxony, much will be said at June 15, when we treat of the translated relics of St. Vitus, although Abbot Gerard in the Prologue of that history criticizes the author.

LIFE OF ST. ADELARD

BY ST. PASCHASIUS RATBERT.

Adelard, Abbot of Corbie in Gaul (St.) BHL Number: 0058

By St. Paschasius Ratbert.

PROLOGUE OF THE AUTHOR.

[1] It is ^a worthy labor to imitate the most learned men who, Why the deeds of the dead should be written. with pious affection of mind, mourned the deaths of their dear ones in Christ as ^a work of devotion, and in their mourning also pursued them with wonderful praises. Since, as Blessed Ambrose said in his work on Valentinian, although it increases our grief to write about what grieves us, yet we often find rest in the commemoration of the one whose loss we mourn, because in writing, while we direct our mind toward him and fix our attention on him, he seems to come alive again in our words and to flow entirely into the marrow of our mind. Moreover, it is the business of posterity that we commend their examples of virtue to writing, so that we may both pay the debt of charity to our neighbors and not deny to our sons the examples of the Fathers whom they ought to imitate. We know therefore that they have not perished after death, but have been more blessedly changed, so that in dying they might attain to the immortal joys of supreme happiness. Therefore they are not to be utterly obliterated from memory, especially such persons whose departure by the uprooting of death was not ^a ceasing to be, but ^a changing for the better. For, following Scripture, we must not say, as certain faithless ones madly claim: "Brief and troubled is the span of our life, and there is no relief at the end of man, and none is known to have returned from the dead" Wisdom 2:1; nor should we say that "we were born from nothing, and hereafter shall be as though we had never been." Rather it is true and must be unhesitatingly professed that Christ rose from the dead and conquered death by dying, so that likewise all who die in Christ may be found not dead but rather living and blessed in him. For he is the God of the living and not of the dying, Matthew 22:32. because in him who lives, all who are in him are found alive. Hence also Scripture is accustomed to call them "sleepers."

[2] Therefore it is most dutiful, as I said, to imitate holy men — The author was St. Adelard's disciple. namely the aforesaid Ambrose and Blessed Jerome and other holy and imitable men — who most eloquently composed epitaphs for their dear ones. Even if I cannot match their eloquence, know that the subject matter for speaking is not lacking, because in my writing I wish to recall ^a man whom nearly the whole world proclaims to be holy and admirable, and whom we have seen and enjoyed in the familiarity of his love — though unworthy, we who are unskilled cannot wholly keep silent about him, so that while we are denied the sight of him with our eyes, we may at least be found worthy to follow him in the service of our minds.

[3] But as I begin to contemplate this, I am deeply affected within by two very contrary emotions — grief and joy. The Apostle forbids us to grieve over such matters 1 Thessalonians 4:12; but not only my own, but the sudden desolation of all of us, forbids rejoicing. With both dues of piety weighed, we ought rather to rejoice and greatly rejoice in the hope of eternal promise regarding so great ^a patron, and it is not at all doubted that he has already passed through happy contests and rests in Christ, destined to remain forever blessedly. But because I am overcome rather by the tears of love than by the lethargy of despair, I do not doubt that I should be pardoned, especially since the Apostle does not forbid weeping, To what extent it is permitted to mourn the dead. only that we should not grieve over sleepers as others who have no hope. Therefore it is far different to grieve with despair, and to sorrow and sympathize because we have come to this pass through sin, so that we seem to be barely something for ^a little while. From this it follows that to wash the burial of our dear ones with tears is an affection of due piety, not of error.

[4] With this piety, though sluggish of mind, I remember you, Eulogy of St. Adelard. most dear of men, Father Adelard — the ornament of old age, the reflection of holiness, the pattern of virtues. So much, I say, do I remember you in the bond of love that I can hardly at all restrain myself between these two concerns. When I see that the Lord Jesus Christ wept for Lazarus whom he loved, dead, John 11. and was not only weeping but troubled in spirit, I am compelled to weep, deprived of so great an oracle of heaven. Moreover, nature itself teaches that we ought not to forget our dear ones but rather to commend them by whatever abilities we possess, so that love may be held firm in the mind even when the sight of the flesh is taken away, and the love which was once kindled in the mind while we loved, may not die when the one we love lives in ^a better state. Therefore, my dearest of friends, for you I scatter over your tomb, in the manner of the common people, the rites of burial with flowers, desiring to adorn the funeral with the services of letters, so that the perfumes of your virtues may not be held shut within ^a tomb but may waft far and wide as an example for future ages. Nor do I think it right, after the manner of some, to station boys here and there above your tomb who ought to chant your praises in feigned manner, so that like dirges they might stir the hearts of listeners to weeping and groaning. Rather, I shall commend to the trust of letters the claims of truth, lest they be concealed by the torpor of my idleness; and thus refreshed by converse with you, I shall remember you through the ages. Nor shall you be torn from my soul until I proclaim your name and praises.

[5] "Do not, I beg," say to me as I weep: "You ought rather to rejoice than weep over me, my son, especially since you know I have escaped the mockeries of the world and have reached the fountain of eternal life. The author grieves that Adelard has been taken from him. If you loved me, you would indeed rejoice and be glad, for I now enjoy the robe of immortality and am satisfied gazing upon the glory of the Majesty." I know, my Father, I know, I say, that stripped of fleshly garments you now enjoy the heavenly vision; but I am overcome, suffused with pious love, to weep for your present absence, because all that I behold seems sad to me while I sigh, feeling that you are absent. And, to use the words of Fortunatus:

"As ^a loving lamb, driven from his mother's breast, Wanders sadly and anxiously through grassy fields; Now he flees to the meadows, striking the air with his bleating, Now returns to the sheepfold — but without his mother, nothing pleases."

"Thus, Father, I bring myself forth in words about your absence. The day of your death — would that it had never dawned for me, for none more evil could have come for me, this lowly one, nor any more cruel could have shone for all your people. What I should do or what I should make of it I ponder, but, bitter with grief, I cannot find the answer. As the Apostle forbids, though I wish greatly to weep, I dare not; but to rejoice, though unwilling, I am persuaded by the glory of your *brightness. For now your winter, my Father, has passed and the rain has departed. The wedding of the Lamb has come; you enjoy the delights of Paradise; your voice has already sounded in my ears, and the voice of the turtledove is heard, saying thus: 'As we have heard, my son, so we have seen in the city of the Lord; we heard glorious things, but we behold things more excellent, in the city of the Lord of hosts — of hosts, and not of vices, because God has founded it for eternity on the foundation of perpetuity.' I understand well that you sing such things, but I sigh in grief and groan in anguish, for ^a time far removed from your fellowship. And what is more grievous, the world proclaims you ^a man of virtue, yet we cannot touch you or see you."

[6] "I know therefore that you do not wish to accept these praises, you who already hold your own praises written in heaven beyond doubt. He congratulates him on his happiness and invokes him. There you had truly made your storehouse; there your mind's dwelling always was. Hence, though I exact for myself what I give, I congratulate you, because you enjoy what you loved; I grieve for myself, whom you lost too quickly, weaned from your milk. I rejoice on your account, but I mourn on mine. Overcome therefore by your joys, I do not refuse at last to give thanks to God. I give thanks indeed that we had such ^a one as you; but I am overcome by emotion that we lost you before, as companions of Paradise, you enlisted us in your fellowship. Therefore I beseech you, my Father, look through the lattices, look also through the windows, with the Lord's permission, upon your devoted sons. I know how great was your charity, how firm your faith, what hope long bound you like an anchor to the Lord. Most certainly therefore I hold that this threefold cord of yours is with difficulty — nay, never — broken. You marvel now not only at the clouds and stars beneath your feet, but also at the high plain of heaven, clothed in robes of snowy white. Therefore I pray, do not delay to have mercy on the humble, whom you long urged to such contests in the field of battle. Strong, my Father, was your love as death; therefore you were conquered by no enemy, overcome in no contest. You bravely conquered the allurements of the world, and therefore we believe you are crowned with the glory of the triumphant, without doubt. Come, daughters of Jerusalem, and see the diadem with which our elder is crowned for eternity, with what garments he is adorned. Consider how, while still ^a youth, he conquered the malignant enemy; how, as ^a boy, he once trampled the world beneath his feet."

* Surius, Sirmond: "parentis." * Manuscript of Corbie: "materiae." * Surius, Sirmond: "sepulcrum." * Surius, Sirmond: "caritatis."

CHAPTER I.

Adelard leaves the court and becomes ^a monk.

[7] Adelard's royal lineage. He, being of royal stock — grandson of Pepin the Great, cousin of Emperor Charles Augustus — was educated among the exercises of the palace in all worldly wisdom, and, appointed together with the Prince of the lands among his tutors, chose rather to be ^a friend of justice and truth than to consent to what was unlawful, even when tempted by many blandishments. Whence it happened that when the same Emperor Charles repudiated the daughter of Desiderius, King of the Italians, whom he had long since sought in marriage with the oaths of certain Franks, our blessed elder could by no means be persuaded, while still ^a cadet of the palace, to render any service of obedience to the woman the King had taken while the first wife still lived. Rather he censured such ^a marriage in every way, and the boy of blessed character groaned that certain Franks were *perjured and the King was using an unlawful marriage bed, his former wife having been repudiated without any fault. Inflamed by this excessive zeal, he chose, still ^a boy, to leave the world rather than be entangled in such affairs, He leaves the court, offended that Charles repudiated his wife. so that by fleeing he might show that he did not consent to what he could not prevent by opposing his kinsman. He is believed to have been no less prepared than John to die for justice, who with equal effort denounced the King's unlawful audacity and spurned such ^a marriage; not considering the claims of kinship so as to yield to the flesh against the laws of Christ, which he could not bear to see violated, he set them before his own mind. Hence he preferred to bear the ignominy of the cross with Christ, free in mind, so as to confound the strong, rather than to be adopted into the kingdom as the King's son.

[8] Despising therefore the riches of Pharaoh's kingdom, he arrived at last — like Moses in the wilderness — to enjoy God's conversation as ^a monk. For, still shod in worldly ways, he could not see the heavenly vision on the mountain; but stripped of all these and sanctified, by the working of God's grace, he became ^a disciple of the Savior. He had read: "Unless ^a man renounces all that he possesses, and even himself, he cannot be my disciple" Luke 14:33. He was not ignorant that it is easier for ^a camel to pass through the eye of ^a needle than for ^a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore he laid down the donkey's burdens so that he might more easily run the narrow and strait way of God's commandments Matthew 19:24. Having laid these down, he sought the fountain of Corbie — or rather of Christ there — He becomes ^a monk of Corbie in his 20th year. like the Davidic stag. After ^a short stay, the disciple of humility suddenly became ^a master of virtues; and he who yesterday seemed ^a follower of others was found to be ^a leader and guide of his fellow soldiers in Christ. For you, good Jesus, had chosen for yourself ^a cadet and ^a boy; not he you, but you had chosen and pre-elected him, anticipated by your mercy. You chose him when he was about twenty years old, the age at which the unfortunate human condition is fragile and greatly inclined to sin — the very age at which all your cadets, when they went forth from the land of Egypt, from twenty years old and upward, were enrolled by your command in the book of life Numbers 1:24. And when again they are numbered by Moses and Eleazar, all of this age and above who can go forth to war are counted in the heavenly company Numbers 26:2. These alone pitch their tents in the Lord's camp; these alone go forth to battle. Truly it is most remarkable to conquer at that age when one is enticed by various allurements, and to triumph when assailed by many stratagems.

* Others read: "Deo" (to God).

CHAPTER II.

He diligently and piously performs the office of gardener.

[9] Then your servant, O Christ, ^a boy in age but free in mind, cast down the allurements of the world; then he laid aside the armor of King Saul, that with the single stone he carried in his breast the great deceiver of souls might be struck down 1 Samuel 17. You, finally, he chose to carry with him in his heart; with you as author, to fight against the spiritual wickedness in heavenly places. Need I say more? Having thus entered the field of contest, he came to the monastery, where, knocking with ^a year-long vow, he at last entered the gates of justice, through which only the just enter. Then he reached the gate, strong in virtue, which alone leads its own to life. For he entered the narrow and strait way, which belongs to few, so that with an enlarged heart he might run the way of God's commandments with the skill of the most sagacious art. And when he had thus long flourished wholly in monastic discipline, so as to be thought more in heaven than on earth, the Fathers, led by some impulse — as if by royal command — appointed him gardener. He is appointed gardener. He, rejoicing like ^a good athlete of Christ, as if among the delights of paradise, was glad in his obedience; for he knew that the Lord had been buried in just such ^a garden cave, and that there he had appeared to Mary as ^a gardener. He knew that in the same place he had risen, and that angelic visions had also appeared there. Hence, digging up treasure in the gardens of his soul, he anointed the body of Jesus with manifold perfume.

"What do you think he was saying then, set to such an office? Unless I am mistaken, he was saying (if not in voice, then in the affection of his mind) — he was saying, I say: 'Let my beloved come into his garden, planted with virtue, and eat the fruit of his orchards' Song of Songs 5:1. He cultivates both garden and soul. For there were in his soul diverse herbs of virtues; and therefore it is not doubted that he said, 'let him eat the fruit of his orchards' — 'his own,' I say, because he applauded not himself but the Lord's grace if he bore anything good in his mind." Others may cultivate the labors of the fields rather than the virtues of the soul, defended by the cause of obedience; but he, not neglecting such things, had consecrated his soul as ^a garden of delights to the Lord. For he did what he remembered had been said to him: "Set me as ^a seal upon your heart" Song of Songs 8:6. Fortified by this defense, he delighted more in the Lord's conversation within his soul than in the affairs of temporal matters.

CHAPTER III.

Seeking greater quietude he goes to Monte Cassino. He is soon recalled to Gaul against his will.

[11] While the holy Spirit had long and continually moved him thus, he is said to have remembered the precept given to Abraham, where Scripture says: "Go forth from your land and from your kindred and from your father's house, and come into the land which I shall show you" Genesis 12:1. Having considered such things within himself, he began to meditate inwardly and say that he had not yet fulfilled this kind of precept in deed. Although he had left his native soil in mind, he reckoned that he was still present in body. He cannot bear the frequent visits of his relatives. Even though, according to the Gospel precept, he had already left father, mother, or kinsmen, so as to be counted worthy as God's disciple, he was still further troubled, because, on account of his noble birth, his kinsmen and acquaintances visited him more frequently than his quiet soul desired. Hence it happened that, like another Elijah, he slipped away in flight 1 Kings 19, fleeing not Jezebel but the pleasure of the flesh. For this severe soldier of Christ sought to escape, so that by fleeing he might more fully find himself. And so he who had formerly been supported by the flattering attentions of many became ^a stranger on ^a pilgrimage, having nowhere — with Christ (which is the supreme form of possession) — even to lay his head Matthew 8:20. Thus fleeing himself in order to find himself, he came, with himself, in the strength of the word to Mount Cassino, He goes to Cassino for the sake of quiet. unwilling to know the cares of his homeland or to have praises of himself proclaimed on the wind of boasting. He thought that he had only attained solitude and was not yet separated from vices as long as he remained within the borders of his homeland. And lest he be again bound by new snares of the devil, he went beyond himself, if by some means he might truly say: "I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me" Galatians 2:20.

[12] But when he thus arrived at Cassino, which was thought to be the fountain and origin of all religious life, he was indeed received by the Father of the monastery; but by God's disposing judgment, he was permitted to linger there only ^a little while. For it is reported that immediately ^a certain hermit prophesied to him in the Spirit of God, His return to his homeland is foretold. telling him who he was, where he was from, and for what reason he had come so far. And shortly afterward the hermit predicted that the King's messengers would come to seek him out and restore him to his place. Hearing this, Adelard was greatly troubled that success did not attend his plans. He immediately took the Abbot of that place to himself, related his situation, asking and beseeching that the Abbot would kindly allow him to escape, so that his name might not even be heard from afar.

[13] But God soon forestalled their plans, and while they delayed in deliberation, they were immediately overtaken by messengers. He is compelled to return to his own people. They seized him and brought him back to his homeland. How bitter, do you think, was his soul, how sorrowful, that he was returning against his will to the borders of his homeland and the sweet fields of his native soil! Let our fellow monks therefore hear of such ^a man — they who lie idle, smeared with the soot of idleness; let them hear, who drag crowds of secular people after them; The dangerous familiarity of carnal relatives. let them hear, I say, that it is not sufficiently safe to be soothed by the affections of one's relatives. Christ therefore does not know his mother, and ignores his brothers, to show us true fraternity of mind. "If anyone," he says, "does the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother" Matthew 12:50. Then he calls back ^a disciple from the duty of ^a funeral, forbidding him to bury his father by the right of the flesh: "Let the dead bury their dead; but you, follow me" Matthew 8:22. Our pious elder knew all this, and therefore he hastened to flee from among his fellow citizens. He remembered that Jesus had not worked miracles in his own country, and that ^a prophet is not without honor except in his own land Matthew 13:57. But he, stripped of the world's honor, hastened to go beyond the bonds of his dear ones, so that he might truly gain for himself the honor of the mind and, to speak more loftily, live an angelic life on earth. He did not seem able to become sufficiently poor in the midst of his relatives, who thrived in the honor of the kingdom and shone with abundant wealth. Therefore, breaking the bonds of his famous name, he who had once been rich wished to become poor without ambition. But this supreme despiser of self became more adorned by poverty, more famous in flight, more exalted by the lowliness of humility. And to use the words of Blessed Jerome: "Let some monks be richer than they were as laypeople; let them possess wealth under the poor Christ which they did not have under the rich and deceiving devil; let the Church sigh over them as rich men whom the world formerly held as beggars" Epistle 2 to Nepotian. But our Adelard, trampling all the world's goods, conquered in his monastic habit and crushed underfoot everything that belongs to the world.

CHAPTER IV.

He is elected Abbot.

[14] He is elected Abbot. And while he was thus sitting quietly as victor in the high citadel of his mind, by God's disposing providence ^a new order of combat was again appointed for him. Not long after his return, with the consent of the Father of the monastery himself, he was chosen as successor — like another Augustine — while his predecessor still lived; except that the one was ^a Bishop and the other was installed in the place of Abbot. Both, however, are found to be perfect stewards of God. The blessed man was, as it were, ^a follower of the aforesaid Father Augustine, ^a most distinguished imitator of his works: sharp of mind, prompt in will, rich in eloquence, sweet in speech, affecting his listener with such fruit His eloquence. that you would have thought his tongue was nothing other than ^a pen of the Holy Spirit. Tears commended his preaching, and groans softened the hardness of hearts. Thus the evening rain of tears flowed from him, so that minds might more abundantly receive the seed of fruitfulness and the sense of charity might soothe the hearts of listeners with such love.

[15] His voice was full of the grace of vigor and seemed stronger than all constancy. His bodily countenance was bright, His magnanimity and bodily form. and he was believed to be filled with the richness of the Holy Spirit. He was, according to the saying of Horace, which is praised with the highest commendations:

"Strong, and in himself wholly smooth and rounded" Book 2, Sermons, Satire 7.

Strong in faith, solid in constancy and virtue to such ^a degree that he appeared to fear nothing and doubt nothing, even if the whole world should collapse in terror. Yet if he was ever struck by some storm of terror, he would sometimes overcome it by hope, sometimes conquer it by reason; but worldly fear could never pierce him through by making him quail. He is said to have been "smooth and rounded" in himself — or rather in the Lord — because he was not only suited in virtues and character to himself alone, but was also fitting and most worthy of love to all, so that he was all things to all men and won over nearly everyone. He was noble in body, but nobler in character; full of God's wisdom, yet not lacking in works; fair of face, but fairer in faith and holiness; rich in lineage, but richer in goodness, because he was an offspring born of the stock of heaven.

CHAPTER V.

His deeds in Italy: his authority with the Pope and Emperor.

[16] His prudence and justice. He was therefore wholly clothed with the new man, and, insofar as is permitted to mortals here, was renewed in the inmost Lord. His equipage was the chariot of the four virtues; the wheels of his chariot were prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. His prudence was so great that the fountain of counsel seemed to flow from his soul. For he perceived at once things past, present, and future, so as to foresee from each what should be done and what should be followed, as God's counsel directed. How much he pursued justice is attested by France and all the kingdoms of the earth that were subject to his counsel — but especially Italy, which had been entrusted to him to wisely, justly, and discreetly instruct the kingdom and its King, the younger Pepin, in the governance of the commonwealth and in the practice of religion. There he earned such praise that by some, it is said, he was proclaimed not ^a man but, for the love of virtue, an angel. He pacifies Italy by his counsel. For they attest that he never showed favoritism in any judgment, nor was the wall of his soul ever breached by ^a golden fist, as the common proverb has it. He alone, they say, was able to cross the river of greedy Acheron unharmed and return from the Alps without the danger of blindness through the years. Before him the pride of the arrogant trembled, while the humility of the gentle gloried. For immediately upon his arrival he deposed all tyrannical power — those who raged like brigands among the people, and all the more boldly because the rights of their lawful dominion assisted them, by which they devastated the entire land with their wicked power. First he restored peace to them; then, as ^a just arbiter, he restored to each their rights.

[17] He is received most cordially by Pope Leo III. And so, strong in virtue, meek and gentle, he reached the boundaries of the Romans, where he was received by Lord Leo, then the Apostolic Pope, with such intimate respect that it was agreed no Frank had ever before been so received. Whence certain of our people relate that the Pope said to him in ^a humorous manner: "Frank, know well that if I find you to be other than I believe you to be, it will no longer be necessary for any Frank to come here whom I should believe." From this it is evident how great was the weight of this man, whose failure in fidelity would have proved the entire Frankish nation untrustworthy.

[18] But how great he was is greatly proved by the works of promise fulfilled; and the letters he recently sent to Emperor Lothar concerning the keeping of faith among men attest it, He exhorts Lothar to keep his promises. in which, among other things, he writes: "What do you think, O Prince, if faith has so often availed even amid bloodshed and the arms of raging war, even among pagans, that each would entrust himself to the sacred oaths of the other — how much ought ^a Christian's covenant, promised in truth, to avail? Let no one deceive you, I beseech you, Emperor; because when faith is violated against anyone, it is not man but God the witness and truth itself that is despised in it." From such words it is clear beyond doubt that it would be easier to break chains of iron than to corrupt the promises of this man's fidelity, especially since in his breast nothing shone except the fountain of truth and pure simplicity. If you looked at him carefully, in him was ^a soul imprinted with the seal of Christ; therefore he could in no way be corrupted.

* Sirmond: "ludicro." * Corbie manuscript: "iniqua." * Surius, Sirmond: "nullius."

CHAPTER VI.

He imitates the virtues of various Saints.

[19] His soul was like ^a garden of paradise, enclosed by the wall of faith, planted with every kind of virtue. He imitated this man's humility, that one's gentleness; he followed another's frugal diet and moderate manner of dress; he had one's patience and another's meekness. With frequent sighing he would say to me these words of piety: "Upon whom shall I rest, except upon the humble and quiet one who trembles at my words?" Isaiah 66:2. You know, good Jesus, why he so assiduously repeated such things to himself in the affection of his mind: for he held distinctly and fittingly before him all your precepts committed to his soul for persuading men to holiness, He expresses in himself the virtues of various Saints. and from them he conferred within himself, having the words of your commandments before his eyes; and so he contemplated with one glance of the mind the lives of all the Saints, whose exemplary virtues he assiduously pondered, so that from all of them he might assemble one perfect man, full of God and adorned with the office of religion.

[20] He imitated the painter Zeuxis. Tullius, the king of Latin eloquence, writes in book 2 of On the Invention of Rhetoric that at the time when the Crotonians flourished in wealth and were counted among the blessed, wishing to adorn their temple richly with paintings, they summoned ^a certain Zeuxis, who seemed to surpass all painters in talent. Hired at great cost, they engaged him to paint an image of ^a certain Helen — ^a marvelous work that would endure. He immediately asked them whether they had any beautiful maidens; they then led the man to the palaestra and showed him many boys endowed with great dignity, who had brought home the most honorable victories from the gymnastic contests with the highest praise. When the painter greatly admired the forms and bodies of the boys, the people said: "Their sisters are among us as maidens; from these you may judge their beauty." He replied: "Then provide me those maidens, I beg you, so that from them, while I paint, I may transfer the most beautiful features onto the image of the single figure you have requested." They complied, and the painter selected five whose beauty his judgment approved. For he did not think he could find in ^a single body everything he sought for loveliness, since nature has not polished anything to perfection in every part in ^a simple kind — as if, having nothing to bestow on others, she had granted everything to one.

[21] Just so our elder, entering the palaestra of this life after being washed in the font of baptism, *after renouncing the world, saw with the pure gaze of his mind different people pursuing different ends. Some he saw sweating for the honors of the world and the joys of the present life; others for the indulgence and lust of the flesh; some, however, pursuing justice; He imitates the five wise virgins. and others looking to the life to come. Yet from all those he could discern, he chose five virgins who ceaselessly adorned their lamps with the pious oil of charity and prepared to go out to meet the bridegroom and the bride. These he imitated with ^a watchful spirit, lest ^a thief coming by night should steal upon him sleeping. He also heard from the gymnastic song of the Saints what honorable victories they had won; and from all of them he reformed in himself the one image of Christ. For in the one God and man Christ Jesus, he discovered all that is of beauty and adornment in eternal life, beyond what can be understood. But what nature forbade in all parts of the Church, grace has granted as perfect, so that God may be all in all. Therefore, from all things and through all things, he labored so that he might find Christ in all. For this reason, by some, as the letters of Master Albinus attest, he was called Antony; by others, as was said above, He is called Antony, Augustine, etc. Aurelius Augustine. For he performed this act of Gregory, and that of Blessed Silvester.

* Sirmond: "per" (through).

CHAPTER VII.

His lavish generosity toward the needy.

[22] He is generous to the needy, borrowing for this purpose. My own conscience witnesses that I often marveled why he wished to borrow so much in order to distribute to the needy or for the needs of his community, until I examined the life of Blessed Silvester, whose example he imitated in this: so that by always borrowing he would be found poor rather than rich. For he used to say often to those around him: "Do you wish to know, my friend, whether you appear avaricious or generous? Know for certain that if you fear you have given more than you ought, you are convicted of avarice. But if less than you should have, that is surely ^a sign of generosity. And therefore, my son, I advise you: if you have been neglectful, you should appear guilty in this, that you resolve to give more of our goods rather than distribute less."

[23] The Most High Virtue knows that he so frequently and generously gave that he himself seemed poor and his people needy along with him. But then he was joyful, then he exulted in the Lord. For he would say: "If only we could share even ^a little in the poverty of Christ!" But it never seemed to him that he had been able to reach this point, because Christ more continually encouraged the faint-hearted through him to learn to distribute their goods generously and to trust in God's bounty. For divine mercy anticipated him in its ministering. One day, when he had entirely expended all the cheese of the monastery on guests, leaving nothing for the brothers, it happened that ^a certain Cellarer said, with ^a somewhat threatening tone: "I wonder, Father, what your enormous expenditure means. You leave nothing remaining for the brothers to eat." Then Adelard, sweet in speech as always, smiled and said: "The Lord will provide." The Cellarer replied: "You always promise thus, His generosity is recompensed by ^a miracle. but what you so indiscriminately pour out will not be given back at once." Meanwhile, while this was happening, behold — two carts stood before the doors, one bearing some kind of fish and the other full of cheeses. When the blessed Father heard this, he joyfully ordered the Cellarer to come at once. "See, brother," he said, "what you feared is refuted. Your imprudent sloth is convicted." The Cellarer, being simple of heart, seeing himself refuted by these gifts, said: "Give henceforth, my Father, give as much as you wish. For I shall no longer say, 'The Lord will not provide'; but I shall say assuredly: 'It will be given, as much as you wish.'"

[24] Nor could so great ^a man in his prudent judgment be ignorant His marvelous discretion in giving. of what, to whom, and how much to give. Let this alone be counted as ^a fault, if you will: for he used to say, "If what I have to give is so little that I cannot share it between two needy persons — so that at least one of them may receive some help — it seems better to me to give the whole to the one to whom it more rightly belongs, rather than to give almost nothing to both or leave them both entirely empty-handed." Thus to one he gave both gifts of goodwill, and to the other the affection of piety. See, you hard-hearted ones, see the depths of compassion! Even though he could not be generous to all, he was affected by the sufferings, wants, and various misfortunes of all, as though they were his own, in the feeling of compassion.

CHAPTER VIII.

His piety and constant tears.

[25] Truly he was such ^a one that he could have said of himself, in truthful report: "I am wounded by love." For unless he had been wounded by love, he would not have mourned the misfortunes of all as his own with continual lamentation. He weeps twice daily. He wept each day, if not more often, at least once or twice — in the morning, that is, and in the evening. This fire was perpetual in him, never failing from the altar of his soul; it burned constantly with such devotion. There the sweet holocaust was offered to the Lord; there victims were slain, especially in the middle of the night, for he was ever watchful in prayer. All the fat of the flesh and the allurements of desire he then consumed in the fire of flames; and all the inner parts, the head with the feet — that is, the beginning and end of life — he offered to the Lord as ^a sacrifice. He first washed everything with tears, so that all might then be burned more purely to the Lord. I confess plainly that I never found ^a man in whom there was such ^a fountain of tears and such groaning. You would have thought that everything within was dissolved in weeping, and that deep sighs were bursting his breast. Thunderclaps seemed to resound within him, as he struck himself with frequent blows to draw forth the more abundant showers of tears. Without doubt we may rightly call them thunderclaps: for you were within, good Jesus, that you might water the seeds of virtues with weeping, and might wash with the fountain of your sprinkling the fruit of the field which you had blessed.

[26] When I, lowly as I am, once asked him about this kind of mourning and the grace of such weeping, The cause of his tears. he replied thus: "I weep, my son, I weep for myself — not as though it befits me to weep in order to humble myself or to behold the higher mysteries of heaven; but considering what I am, I weep in my mourning. I weep indeed, not because I would wish to weep so, but because I know that I must so weep, I do assuredly weep." O the profound humility of the man, and the loftiest ingenuity of mind! For you said these things not because you knew yourself to be such, but so that you might invite me — whom you perhaps knew to be such — at least belatedly to lamentation, and thus soften my stony breast with your tears. Otherwise, the reason you wept was that, as if having entered within the holy of holies, you could not yet continue what you were seeing: "For hope deferred afflicts the soul" Proverbs 13:12. Therefore you beheld with the mind's eye that heavenly homeland where hymn-singing choirs celebrate praises to God, and you enjoyed that blessed and happy harmony of heaven where unfailing voices resound for the joy of jubilation. And what is still greater, you had made your own soul ^a dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. But when the same Spirit had soared ^a little higher, you wept with excessive love as you sought him, and wept profusely, saying: "My soul melted when he spoke to me — he spoke indeed and departed" Song of Songs 5:6. He departed so that the eager mind might burn more ardently to enjoy him, and when it found him, might hold more firmly the flame of love in him. Hence it was, my Father, that in the moment of death the pious affection did not depart from your lips, His pious words in his last moments. and you said: "My soul has thirsted for the living God: when shall I come and appear before the face of God?" Psalm 42:2. For you already desired to enter the place of the wonderful tabernacle; already the voice of exultation was in your ears, and confession on your lips; already the sound of one feasting was heard; already you somehow participated in the company of those whose dwelling is like that of all who rejoice. Such things indeed stood before your eyes as you wept, and therefore you had grown faint with love and said: "I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, tell him that I languish with love" Song of Songs 5:8. Let the pious reader know that if he ever separated himself from such things even briefly for any affairs, as though leaving the sanctuary, he hastened to return as quickly as possible; but finding himself wholly there at once, he was wholly present, as if he had handled nothing else during the day. Immediately tears were present, groans and all devotion. His spirit quickly revived, and every bodily sense immediately died to the world.

[27] And if he entered the divine Office — as he was accustomed to say with ^a joyful spirit — [When about to recite the divine Office, he deposits worldly cares at the temple door.] he would immediately place all thoughts and concerns of temporal affairs before the door, and entered wholly with himself, so as to be wholly present to God and to himself. If you observed him, you would immediately see him entering the inner chambers of his mind and gazing with ^a reverent countenance upon something beyond description. He dipped the pen of his tongue in the fountain of the Holy Spirit, so that he might praise God with ^a clean heart; and amid those very praises, perceiving some celestial music, he sometimes wept most abundantly. And what wonder? For, as I heard ^a certain Bishop relate, even amid the very throngs of people in the palace, while the King and his counselors were attending to other matters and the crowd was buzzing on all sides as usual, he, seated in their midst, would often weep as though he had come there for the very purpose of weeping. Thus sitting there, he was in secret more closely attending the King of heaven.

[28] And if, amid the dangers of the world, he was occupied here and there on Church business, he nonetheless never abandoned the regular observances; but in place of reading he gave himself to weeping, and in place of other offices he served the Lord with the jubilation of his mind. All his traveling companions and fellow wayfarers knew that he did not wish them to be continually near him; therefore they walked at ^a distance from him, so that he might devote himself to God alone. While traveling, he makes ^a temple in his own soul. For the time had already come for him to worship the Father neither on the mountain nor in Jerusalem — and, so to speak, nor in any particular place — but in spirit and in truth. He had made his own soul ^a temple of that Spirit and ^a dwelling of truth. Therefore, as it seemed to me, he was wholly everywhere with himself and wholly with God, and he walked anxiously with him.

[29] Hence it was that he was always found cheerful, always meek and joyful; hence he was considered so patient, so long-suffering, so kind in all things. He was ^a son of peace and ^a chain of charity, so that brotherly affections clung to one another. Spoleto and Benevento know this: He reconciles the Spoletans and Beneventans. for when they were ceaselessly slaughtering one another with hostile swords, it happened that this blessed man advanced even to that place and entered Benevento. Being there, he restored such great peace between them that to this day they remain bound and united to each other in mutual fellowship in the peace of Christ. Hence he earned extraordinary gratitude not only among them but also among the Greeks and all the islands of the sea, and ^a reputation for virtue. He considered in this conflict that both sides were Christians and brothers, and judged that they could not please God while they were stained with such bloodshed and plundering each other's goods. "For everyone who hates his brother," says the Apostle, "is ^a murderer; and we know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him" 1 John 3:15. Hence the pious Father cast himself between them, and the peace of Christ which the devil had violated, he fully restored. In such work he appeared tireless and an outstanding champion of justice.

CHAPTER IX.

His outstanding virtue exposes him to envy: he is sent into exile.

[30] On account of his outstanding virtues he suffers persecution at court. Whence it happened that when Emperor Charles had breathed his last and his son Louis Augustus had succeeded to the throne, by the devil's jealous agency, truth was once again assailed by the customary plots of the wicked. Nothing new in this: for among the dishonest, truth has always been found to be the enemy, and justice is mangled by the accusations of fools. The aged wickedness of the perverse lamented, according to Plato's saying, that commonwealths would be blessed and happy if they were governed by lovers of wisdom, or if it had happened that their rulers studied wisdom. Inflamed by guile and envy, they plotted how to remove this Daniel from the King's side, so that justice, no longer having ^a defender, might lose its standing, and iniquity, having prevailed through its own frauds, might regain ^a place of domination Daniel 6. You, God, who know and inspect all souls, had placed this resolution in his heart: that he should yield to the commands of the King and the Church — not except for the common good of all — namely that liberty, relieved from the tyranny of the powerful, might more readily serve the Lord, and the praises of all the churches might be rendered more devoutly to the Lord. But God, who always invites his own to higher things, wished to approve this man more clearly and to show how great he was in adversity: so that he who had triumphed so greatly as God's victor in prosperity might also triumph in adversity; and since by God's grace he had already acquired the seven Gospel beatitudes in his life and character, he might fulfill in his works the eighth that remained: "Blessed are those who suffer persecution for the sake of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" Matthew 5:10. He suffered therefore from the arrogance of the wicked and was accused by the fraud of worldliness — he who, for the love of justice and truth, had kept nothing safe for himself in readiness except to surrender himself for their sake unto death in every way. He had never concealed truth through fear; he had never allowed falsehood ^a place; but he mercifully shielded the wretched by opposing the purity of truth to those whom especially avarice and the cruel incompetence of the unfit oppressed. Hence, when the blindness of the wicked had woven webs of spiders rather than nets for hunting more carefully, he chose not to appear before them, lest the ugliness of their wickedness should be more hideously exposed when justice shone forth. Thus it happened that without an accuser, without ^a confrontation, He is ordered into exile beyond his deserts. without ^a hearing, and without ^a trial, justice was punished in him. Driven from his present goods, stripped of his dignity, defamed in the estimation of the common people, for his service to the commonwealth he endured exile. But how blind and foolish was the cunning of the wicked! They thought they could stain and contaminate the fame of the good and of virtue, for the sake of ambition for honors — especially since they were all the more tortured by another's glory as they were unwilling to attain that glory by which they might be deemed worthy of the honor of ^a famous name. But "if God is for us, who is against us?" Romans 8:31. Therefore they lied when they claimed they could defile the dignity and happiness of those who had carried their defenses to heaven. For there "neither do thieves dig through nor steal" Matthew 6:20. For no one has anything more precious after God than himself. Therefore he who guards himself by doing good must necessarily possess both himself and God entirely.

[31] In exile he enjoys the most precious treasure of virtues. The most precious kind of possession therefore is the adornment of virtues, than which nothing is more toilsomely acquired, nothing more sweetly perceived through love, nothing more happily possessed. Our elder had sought this treasure through labor, had more happily found it through seeking, and once found, carried it with him wherever he went as his possession. And so, the more disengaged from the affairs of the world, the more intent on his own treasure, he thus more richly restored both himself and heaven on every side. You knew already, shameless greed, that Christ's soldier was not held by your chains nor darkened by your fog; rather, presiding from the high citadel of charity, he had subjected the world, as it were, beneath his feet through his generous mastery. Therefore he went not wherever the jealousy of the envious, but wherever God's Spirit drove him, as though invited to ^a feast, quite willingly indeed. Tell me, I ask, O wretched worldly greed, why are you snatched by empty joys? Why do you embrace the external goods and momentary luxury in place of the eternal delights of life? Know that those things can never be your own which the nature of things has made alien to you. But if you seek to satisfy nature, know that it requires little. But if nothing can suffice for the luxury of desire — O wretched presumption of mortals, and rash desire that imitates the virtues — why do you plunge into such floods? Why are you overtaken by the calamities of eternal death? Why do you inconsiderately transcend yourself, when from that very thing, if you could be something, you lose everything? Behold, we know that you have always waged war against justice and truth; and hence it is that you are still tortured by spite. You first stained the world with fratricidal blood in Abel; then through all time you slaughtered thousands of Saints with the sword of iniquity; and, most criminally of all, you sold the Lord for the price of greed. Yet still, in conquering you are conquered, you who are now trampled beneath the feet of the Saints. Why do you not hear, unhappy one, the complaints of the Saints against you, crying out beneath the altar of God: "Avenge, O Lord, our blood?" Revelation 6. Perhaps you think that because you did not shed blood in this case, you will be excused? I confess plainly that "iniquity has lied to itself." Do you hear the Lord saying: "Vengeance is mine, and I will repay"? Romans 12:19. But what you had devised unexpectedly, to compel our elder to wander in exile from his lands, his Lord used for his crown. He is proved like gold in the furnace of trial. Therefore, in his accustomed way, he converted the evil of your blindness to another's good. Behold, the gold is placed in the furnace again; behold, it is tested by the fire of temptation; it is therefore pounded and polished, so that the beautiful vessel, formed for honor, may shine more brightly. But while anyone contemplates the present course of such events, perhaps he thinks, according to Virgil's line:

"That no god cares for mortal affairs" Eclogue 8.

For behold, sometimes the just man perishes in his own justice, is destroyed by the fraud of his accusers, and each wicked man claims for himself the praise of wisdom. Yet the outcome proved the end of both fortunes.

CHAPTER X.

Wala and Bernarius, his brothers, and Gundrada, his sister, are banished.

[32] He is sent into exile to the island of Héri. Meanwhile our elder, wise and upright, was sent as if one of the lowborn to the island of Héri. Sent there, deprived of all human honor, yet sustained on every side by heavenly protection. The happy chariot of brotherhood was dissolved for ^a time — ^a chariot joined together like that of Ezekiel, over which Jesus, girded with the breastplate of virtues, most fittingly presided Ezekiel 1. There were therefore five, sprung from the seed of one man, of whom the Emperor Augustus, using the intimate counsel of three, together with them governed the Frankish empire, well ordered for the increase of the commonwealth, in ^a stable quadrilateral. Of these steeds Habakkuk not unfittingly sang to the Lord: "You who ride upon your horses, and your riding is salvation" Habakkuk 3:8. Their pace was unequal, but their spirit was equal, striving for the prize at the start. With the Holy Spirit presiding over them, their one purpose was consummated with equal devotion; they seemed at first to run as horses of different colors, yet concordant in will; but at last, as Blessed Jerome says, they pull the one yoke of the charioteer with equal necks, and being equal in resolution, not awaiting the lashes of the whip but burning at these exhortations of Christ's voice, they became masters and leaders of an army of holiness Epistle 26, to Pammachius. The eldest was our most holy elder, already consecrated to the Lord by age and grace, more mature in counsel, more outstanding than all in holiness. Then Wala, most illustrious of men, who succeeded him afterward, Wala, Adelard's brother. ^a distinguished father of monks; at that time first among the first and more beloved than all; clinging to the King with the greatest intimacy and supported by the highest dignity of the Prefecture; more distinguished than all in the Senate, and in military matters more prudent in mind than everyone. Such praise followed him in every affair of life that he was esteemed to be capable of more through love than the pride and tyranny of all others combined. He was the guardian of justice and the ornament of honor, and the just oppressor of oppressors.

[33] Attached to them at their side was their sister Gundrada, Gundrada, the sister. unequal in name but undoubtedly equal in virtues, constantly present with her brothers; ^a virgin more intimate to the King, the noblest of the noble, who amid the Venerean passions of the palace, the charms of youth, the soothing seductions of pleasure, and all the blandishments of lust, alone merited (as we believe) to carry off the palm of chastity, and was able (as is said) to pass through the impurities of the flesh unscathed. She held the scepter of chastity, because she certainly believed it more profitable to preserve the integrity of her flesh than to violate the rosy flowers of purity. Chastity is indeed ^a virtue (by which she happily merited to be crowned), as Tertullian most eloquently says: "the flower of morals, the honor of bodies, the ornament of the sexes, the integrity of blood, the guarantee of lineage, the foundation of sanctity, the pledge of every good mind" De Pudicitia, chapter 1. And then: "Though rare and scarcely ever perfect, and hardly perpetual." This handmaid of Christ therefore chose, amid all the dangers to chastity, to seek the field of combat, and as victress merited to obtain the triumph of modesty. The remaining two, our Bernarius Bernarius the brother; Theodrada the sister. and his sister Theodrada, devoted to God — who, having already rendered the fruit of marriage, had embraced the second degree of continence — sat at the feet of Jesus with Mary at home: she governing the life of nuns at Soissons, he sharing with us the form of Christ's discipleship. Both, however, hastened to run toward the one prize of the heavenly calling.

[34] I see therefore in this sweet number of five The most beautiful harmony among them. ^a musical sound reverberating on both sides, with their proportions harmonizing in some manner. If you first consider the three men and then the two sisters, there will be ^a Greek diapente, ^a ratio of sesquialter proportion. For the three exceed by one half of their double; and one — namely our blessed elder — harmonizes between two and two; and so they produce the honey-sweet symphony of musical art and the pyramid, the form of geometrical science. But what the one — Adelard the elder — achieves among the four, causing them to harmonize well, he also, surpassing them, invites them to burn with the love of the heavenly homeland, like ^a squared fire. Moreover, if you consider those set over public affairs, there will again be three bound to public offices like Martha, and two intent only, like Mary, at the feet of Jesus, hearing the word. And so our Father the elder stands in the middle, walking meanwhile in balanced moderation between both lives — the active and the contemplative. Finally, if you consider them again carefully, three of them are those who attain the triumph of continence, and two who first contemplated ^a chaste marriage, but ultimately both draw the equal yoke of monastic discipline. In all things therefore they are praised as clothed in double garments, harmonious, concordant, and *of one color. I behold them, each one, clothed with Benjamin in five robes among the Patriarchs; but by our Jesus they are afterwards more gloriously adorned with the simple wedding garment Genesis 45:22. I see five talents entrusted, but one reward above all.

[35] When they thus fought eagerly for one another and for all, the wind of envy came and scattered them far from one another — especially those in whom the glory of the entire kingdom flourished — so that they themselves, being tested, might be made manifest, and those to whom they came might be strengthened by their virtues. But Corbie, then praised already by many voices, mourning and weeping, when she grieved at being widowed of so great ^a patron, Wala embraces the monastic life at Corbie. by the Lord's dispensation merited to receive the most illustrious Wala as ^a cadet of Christ among the other nobles she had, whom afterward, after the death of his brother, she rejoiced to have as Father in Christ's place. O providence of God, whose eyes are prepared to run throughout all the earth, reaching from end to end mightily and disposing all things sweetly — how incomprehensible are all your works and judgments, who use human blindness for the inestimable counsel of light! For you scourge for ^a time the sons whom you plan to crown. Hence it is, my almighty Father, that our Bernarius is sent to Lérins, Bernarius is sent to Lérins. while your Wala is received as ^a novice at Corbie, as I said. Laying aside the belt of military service to clothe himself wholly in the garment of holiness, he first undertook the novitiate of Paradise, to bring to completion in himself the full measure of Christ. Theodrada, as though innocent, was left at Soissons under her holy profession. And the aforesaid Gundrada was sent to St. Radegunde, the former Queen, at Poitiers, Gundrada withdraws to Poitiers. so that she, who had partially shared in her virtues while flourishing amid the dangers of the palace, might imitate the marks of her virtues; and praying to God with her day and night, might meanwhile receive consolation for herself and her family.

a Sirmond: "duplum." ^b Sirmond: "uniunt." * Corbie manuscript: "conceleres."

CHAPTER XI.

All good people lament the sentence against Adelard; he himself rejoices.

[36] But as they departed from the palace as though dishonored, our elder went forth as one invited to ^a feast, among them, as they say, strong in faith, alert in mind, Adelard goes joyfully into exile. conscious of his purity. He gave thanks that he had been found worthy to suffer reproach for the truth. Now soothing his weeping brother with ^a kiss, now encouraging his sister with kind words and the exhortations of the Saints, persuading friends of the fortitude of mind, and exhibiting to the nobles of the palace examples of virtue — in all things he demonstrated the admirable constancy of his mind; so that two of the Archbishops, returning from him in tears, reportedly said to Emperor Augustus when he inquired: "What do you think, O Emperor? Do you wish to punish this man by dishonoring him and commanding him to be exiled in whatever part of the earth? We confess plainly that you could never have given him ^a joy equal to this one, in which his proven patience is now bestowed upon him from heaven; especially since today he greatly congratulates himself on recovering his former liberty in Christ. Know therefore that he has never been seen by us more joyful, never more cheerful at any time. Supported by holy hope, he dreads no encounter with the one who strikes, nor does any pain from this pierce him." The Emperor, hearing this, was overcome with shame and regretted having done what was now embarrassing to undo.

[37] He excuses the Emperor. But the pious servant of Christ said to those who imputed this to Caesar as ^a crime: "Do not, I beg you, my brothers, do not consider that what is done to us is in any man's power. For I confess that even if the same man had chosen something other than what God has once *decreed, it cannot at all be undone until it is first fulfilled in deed; nor can ordained plans be fulfilled unless the same God has assented. Therefore I admonish you, most dear ones: see God at work in us, though through hands I would not have chosen, fulfilling his will. For according to Job, when he has fulfilled these things, such and many other things are ready at hand for him Job 23:14. Moreover, when what has been foreordained is fulfilled, not according to the man's will but as God graciously nods at his own pleasure, we shall at some point be recalled. Meanwhile, I ask you, spare the Prince whom God has bestowed upon us, for he uses in some measure not his own will but the will of our Lord, against whom we have sinned. But, in the words of Blessed David, if the Lord incites him against us, I humbly beg you to pray that he may smell the sacrifice of our humility and receive his penitents in all things — yet so that his will be done" 1 Samuel 26:19. See how great and how immovable ^a patience had clung to them, what learning, what depth of compassion! Therefore amid all these things, amid the voices of all who groaned, amid the tears and words of consolation, he was in their midst the comforter of himself and the persuader of virtues.

[38] He was like ^a mirror of holiness, and amid the grievances of all, an advocate for those who inflicted them. Tell me, I ask, who then, even with ^a heart of stone, would not have wept? Who, even cut from flint, would not have grieved? Or who, even with eyes of iron, could have restrained himself from mourning? His exile is mourned by all good people. — especially at that hour when all cried out with one voice in their lament: "O terrible blindness and wicked counsel, that the fountain of counsel should be deported into exile! This will not be recovered, nor will any Frank like him, so great ^a champion of love and truth, be found. We confess plainly that this is ^a most wicked fraud and ^a cunning poison of deceit. See how most unjust ^a time presses upon us, when just and good men are dishonored and there is no one to intervene! What do you think will become of us? Behold," they say, "the forbidder of wickedness is taken away, and what further place will justice have? What soundness of counsel? — especially when everyone seeks his own advantage! No one therefore counsels the commonwealth, but each most wretchedly counsels himself; counsel is sold for bribes; they pursue rewards and consider their own profits."

[39] With these and similar voices of complaint, the hearts of all were generally compelled to groan with the tears of each. They did not know that it was done by God's hidden judgment, Why God permitted his exile. so that our elder would not see the evils as they occurred, and so that the punishment of sin might meanwhile rage more freely against certain people. Then, as if this alone — what he had first desired — was missing, by the Lord's dispensation he was driven from the human world; and we believe he was nourished with heavenly Sacraments, so that he to whom it was forbidden to see the soil of the earth might become, like John, an explorer of the heavenly homeland. What do you think? Could God forget that he had first delayed him from such ^a purpose against the decree of his will? But now perhaps the long-desired wish is granted to him, as if God, who had first injured him by the burden of this honor, might at last soothe him by the concession of his desire; so that if even ^a thin dust of stain had soiled him amid the dangers of this world, he might wash it away with fountains of tears, accustomed to angelic companionship. This is surely believed to have happened: that for seven years He is exiled for seven years. — ^a number sacred for this purpose — he might be moved by the Holy Spirit, if by some means he might merit to receive in full the sevenfold grace of that same Spirit. Otherwise, such great fame of virtues would not have been bestowed unless, by divine judgment, it was arranged that he who was already famous in nearly all parts of Europe might also illuminate the soil of Aquitaine at its furthest borders, so that he who was everywhere distinguished by the name of holiness might be made more illustrious even there, and then everywhere, supported by God's help, might abound more richly in the rewards of his merits.

a Surius, Sirmond: "querimonias irrogantium iura causidicus." * Sirmond: "probatum."

CHAPTER XII.

His life in exile, lived holily and laudably.

[40] He lives holily in exile. Fit and worthy witnesses and champions of this are the holy brothers among whom the Blessed One, as they themselves attest, lived an angelic life for seven years. He moved these brothers with the holy flame of devotion toward all things that are of God; for so great was the power of charity in him that he could pour himself into all and more firmly strengthen them in his love for God's cause. God's most high power everywhere prospered every rough circumstance for him — the power that made the midst of the furnace for the three youths like ^a spirit of dew blowing Daniel 3:50. Hence he was neither struck by storms nor dashed by the force of winds. For he was founded on the love of Christ. And to say with the Apostle: "Who shall separate him from the love of Christ? Romans 8:35. Tribulation, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or the sword?" Truly, to speak more clearly, neither death nor life, neither things present nor things to come, nor any creature could separate him from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus. For his feet were founded upon the rock, and therefore he could not be moved.

[41] Hence, when the blessed men among whom he at first seemed to live under ^a kind of custody came to know him, they began to burn with great love for him and to venerate him exceedingly — He is loved and honored by all. not indeed for the honor of royal kinship, but for the beauty of his character, and the instruction of his wisdom, and the loftiness of his virtues — holding him in such honor that even the Father of that place and the whole holy community venerated him with the deference of ^a Father and conducted all their affairs according to his counsel, obeying him in everything as he once gave any direction.

[42] He devoted himself therefore to the heavenly Sabbath, in perpetual enjoyment, His exile is turned into ^a paradise for him. and tasted how sweet the Lord is. How immense the praises and thanksgivings that resounded from his lips there, I think no one can fully express. For that dwelling was to him ^a happy one, like Paradise from which the first man was cast out by the serpent's envy. A remarkable order indeed: that man, cast out from there, was covered with confusion; but this one, transported back as it were by the same persuasion, gloried there in that he now enjoyed angelic companionship. For him there was, as ^a certain eminent Poet says:

"How secure ^a rest, and ^a life that knows not how to deceive, Rich in diverse resources, and leisure on broad estates" Virgil, Georgics 2.

And so, exceedingly joyful, he rejoiced amid the soothing delights of holiness as though in the flowery pleasures of Paradise. Nor is there any doubt that, as the Venerable Bede the Presbyter says Sermon on St. John the Evangelist, he was banished to this exile for the hatred of truth, just like Blessed John.

[43] He prays for sinners. For he could see the storm-tossed wheels of the world everywhere, and the camps of Babylon and Jerusalem clashing in confusion, with weapons and flight taken by turns on both sides. Hence it was, my almighty Father God, that your athlete mourned and wept solely for the danger of this life, and suffused with grief, groaned with exceeding lamentation, asking and praying especially that you would spare the blindness of your enemies. For the aged Father now saw and foresaw that in this time the wretched life of the human race was being enervated by pleasures, and that Jezebel called herself ^a Prophetess and seduced the servants of God to commit fornication and eat things sacrificed to idols, following the gluttony of the belly and being crowned with lust. "For," he would say, "it would seem ^a monstrosity if gluttony should reign without lust, or lust without gluttony."

[44] He rejoiced therefore that God's will might be fulfilled in him, because he was wholly prepared to be subject to God. Among other words of patience he used to say to those who questioned him about his exile, He consoles himself in exile by the example of the sheep and the hare. that he did not, like the hare, mind ^a change of place. "For the sheep," he said, "is stripped of its fleece for the clothing of others against the cold, without any jealous resentment, and from the spoils of its garment another's nakedness is warmed. Just so, if there is in me any prudent work of usefulness, I would wish anyone to receive it freely without my loss." And if he were driven hither and thither, he added, at the impulse of the plotter, in the manner of ^a hare, "I neither leave with sorrow the place of rest where I had once firmly settled, nor do I cling with attachment to the one to which I am driven. Our citizenship is believed to be in heaven; therefore we set our minds on things above and not on things on the earth. For we are dead with Christ, and our life is hidden with him in the heavens; so that when Christ, our life, shall appear, we also may appear with him in glory." With these and similar words he steadied the brothers' minds upon the rock, which is Christ, so that, placed beyond the world amid the waves of the sea, they might be more deeply anchored in heaven by hope, which we hold as an anchor.

CHAPTER XIII.

Recalled from exile, he is received with honor.

[45] Even in exile he shines by his own merits. Thus fortified from the Father's battle line for seven years with this array of virtues, it came to pass, by the Lord's will, that his exile at last came to an end and he was restored more glorious with his own honors. I say "his own" because they belonged to him by his own merit, and his supreme office of fatherhood was itself illuminated by his merits. I said he was to be restored with honors, he whom his own honor of merits and wisdom adorned everywhere — not that he had lost anything by which he might be deemed worthy of reverence, but that, deprived by common estimation of the office of honor, he might be restored (as far as it depended on them) to the trappings of rank.

[46] He is recalled from exile, to the joy of all. Thus, when the appointed time had passed, he was at last recalled with the greatest deference, to recover his former dignity, amid the nearly universal joy and congratulation of all. Voices of gladness were raised to heaven from all sides. The monasteries of monks rejoiced; the clergy of the churches resounded with joy; the joys of the common people smiled everywhere. A throng of people gathered as though on some common festival of all, made illustrious by the proclamation of heaven.

[47] The monks of Héri follow him with tears, especially Ragnardus. The brothers with whom he had meanwhile lived, hearing the day of his return, began to be truly saddened and sorrowful, and in ^a way to rejoice as well — but in their excessive love they wept with mighty spirit, and scarcely could they bear to let him go through their tears. Among them the venerable Ragnardus, later elected Abbot, burned with ^a special fervor of spirit, weeping with grief of soul, and in weeping also rejoicing: rejoicing that the lover of truth had received the place of his merited reward, but grieving greatly that he was being deprived of the presence of so great ^a man. Hence it happened that when the pious worshiper of God was about to depart, and all the brothers were kissing his footsteps and washing them with tears and bidding him farewell, this man of God retreated into the inner chambers of weeping, lest he should see the departing one whom he wished more than himself to stay, and for whom he would undoubtedly have been ready even to die. But when the elder had long awaited him and sought him, he was found in ^a dark place, weeping and wailing and heaving many sighs. When he was summoned to bid farewell to the elder and refused to come out, he begged the messengers not to reveal him there weeping. Hearing this, the charity of the holy man caused him to step back from the boat, lest he should leave without kissing the brother whom he knew to be holy. When the holy elder came to him, Ragnardus began to cry out in ^a loud voice: "What have you sought here, happy Father, and why did you now wish to show yourself to me? I have God as my witness that I would rather bury you here dead than depart from here alive with you left behind." Then all the brothers and servants followed him with great weeping. The sails were raised, the oars were at last driven; all gave groans, and they waited on the shore until they could no longer see him. One spirit of love burned in them, and therefore they could not restrain themselves.

[48] He, released from the sight of the flesh though not of the heart, wasted by long bodily fasting, at last reached the palace. He is received honorably at the King's court. There, received with great ceremony by all, there was discussion of how the Royal Majesty might make satisfaction to him; for they feared to incur future danger for the injury done to so great ^a man. Then the blessed elder, seeing them meditating such things with shame in their hearts, rushed into their midst and soothed the Emperor's embarrassed mind with gentle words. He persuaded him that he retained nothing of this affair in his mind, but that he ought to attribute everything to God's judgment.

[49] He is restored to his monastery as Abbot. Meanwhile, compelled by the same Prince, he was urged to take back his holy monastery, with his sons pleading that they might merit to receive him in whatever way. When the long-desired one had arrived to embrace their eager arms, He suffers from fever. the enemy of health, fever, assailed him, so that twin emotions wounded the hearts of each one. Grief over his suffering contended in each with the fervor of joy, for they saw the limbs of their dearest friend being most cruelly torn — he for whom they would bravely have borne even the loss of their lives. But now the magnitude of joy overcame them, now the outpouring of tears, and they raised up together, mingled, praises of gladness to heaven, so that no one doubted the Lord had come in him, and all congratulated the one so received, and he graciously addressed them all.

CHAPTER XIV.

The penance of Louis the Pious. The humility and abstinence of Adelard.

[50] He is recalled to the palace. But when he had rested there sweetly for ^a while, refreshed by the office of charity, he was again summoned more gloriously by the Emperor and returned to the palace. When he entered, as someone said, "illuminated by the rays of virtues, because the Sun has come, the stars pale." The folly that had been hidden under ^a cloak of darkness immediately appeared exposed, and great astonishment arose as to who had led the Senate of the people into such ineptitude. When they discovered that they had been considerably deluded by envy, they annulled nearly everything that, as it seemed to them, The measures taken against him and other innocent people are rescinded. they had argued so cleverly during that time. Thus the harsh captivity of many was dissolved, especially of those who were of royal blood. Liberty was therefore restored to all through one man, wherever they were held — except those whom death had deprived of life first. Then the tonsure of certain men, imposed because of the fury of rage, passed to ^a crown of glory, and they freely gave to God what they had formerly received unwillingly, as though for disgrace.

[51] Emperor Louis does public penance. What more? The glorious Emperor himself, undertaking public penance for certain of his offenses, became the most humble of all — he who, as though through royal arrogance, had been his own worst counselor; so that those whose eyes had been offended by the fault might be healed by the royal satisfaction.

[52] New vigor of justice from his return. And then he labored that the power of justice and wisdom might regain their seats: that each man might preserve the office committed to him, and that each might be given his due rights. He repressed, as the Apostle says, novelties of words and reckless presumptions like ^a plague in all things. Whatever he did not find in the law of charity, he considered hostile to God and rejected like poison 1 Timothy 6:20. And when he had thus shone more brightly through these and similar praises, like gold tested through fire, he became tenfold more honored by all, so that he was excellently celebrated on the lips of all. He was embraced by the hands of all, and was revered by all as ^a Father. To the masters of the churches he was like ^a son in humility, but in counsel and prudence like ^a distinguished helper. While he thus labored tirelessly that all might be found perfect and worthy of God, ^a new order of the Franks seemed to be reborn and the dawn of justice to rise as from the east. The sea of fury had already in part grown calm, and the breezes of windy murmuring, as Virgil says, had died down Eclogue 9. The virgin of desire had returned, if one may slightly change the words; the Saturnian kingdoms had returned, for the offspring of ^a good mind had now shone from the high heavens Eclogue 4.

[53] He desires to resign the office of Abbot. When everything around had thus been illuminated by the zeal of satisfaction, and his people enjoyed the greatest peace with him, he wished at last to divest himself of these cares, so as to be wholly attentive to himself and God. But the holy brothers by no means allowed it, although he alleged many excuses of his old age; for the more mature he was in age, the more salutary he seemed to those striving for the heights of virtue, especially since by the vigor of the Holy Spirit and the still unexhausted freshness of his flesh he was sufficiently vigorous, taking care to be fatigued by labors and the business of vigils even more than the constancy of younger men could match.

[54] He afflicts himself with fasting and vigils. For who was ever so fervent as he? And who was ever so cruel ^a judge of another as he appeared to be of himself? I confess plainly that he never had need of correction except regarding the fact that he was too harsh with himself. Hence, when he was often publicly rebuked by his brothers and sons as to why he was so hostile to himself — he who was so discreet with everyone else — he would say, to soothe their wounded spirits: "I will take care of myself, and I will certainly look after your servant, lest he perish from hunger or labors." But when this was done, hiding himself briefly, he soon resumed his hunger and labors, Yet he remains equally vigorous. so that youthful limbs could scarcely bear the austerities and vigils with which he afflicted himself. Yet he was always full of the grace of vigor, always moderately ruddy with ^a distinguished thinness, comely in countenance and pleasant in appearance. His face and brow were not wrinkled by any lazy fury; rather, ^a mature cheerfulness composed his whole person as comely and fitting. Holy white hair adorned him with snowy brightness, and like ^a lily over rosy garments, the hair of his head hung here and there like elevated palms over his skin. Our elder was, as it is written in the Song of Songs, "white and ruddy, chosen from thousands" Song of Songs 5:10, so that human nature might be blamed in him for being corrupted by vices before it is even mature.

CHAPTER XV.

Manifold praise drawn from the goods of soul and body.

[55] And if I wished to praise for ^a while the clay of his body, adorned with many splendors, Adelard is praised by the attributes of his person. what I offer would be meager: for, adorned with the splendor of virtues, he shone forth like ^a lily amid rosy colors, sprinkled by Christ. Nor is there any doubt that all flesh is grass and all its glory the flower of the field. But the power of Christ, which always flourished in him, endures forever. However, if I wished to paint his nobility and his person to perfection — which in Greek is called characterismos — I would be ineloquent, and upon this subject I think the eloquence of Rhetoric and all oratory would be mute: the famous speech of Demosthenes would fall silent, and the Ciceronian abyss would be stilled. Indeed, if according to the skill of this art his person is considered in every way, so as to be approved as worthy of praise in the matter at hand, he is not undeservedly set above others, in whom much remains that is more happily found. His person is considered by: name, nation, country, lineage, rank, fortune, body, education, character, diet; how he administers his household, what his domestic habits are, by affection, art, condition, and another condition; by garb, countenance, gait, speech, and feeling. By these modes ^a person's character is judged, whether he is unfit or suitable for the task. But now it is pleasing to see whether our illustrious elder flourished in as many praises as there are marks of the art of encomium.

[56] By name. By name, therefore — first in this catalogue of virtues — whether he is wise is asked. And who was wiser than one who, studiously observing all the precepts of the heavenly Master more than those of the art of eloquence, endeavored not to permit what is forbidden for God's sake and to keep everything that is commanded? Since wisdom is the knowledge of divine and human things combined with the pursuit of the good life, it can undoubtedly be said that he is wise who knows how to administer prudently what belongs to God for God's sake and what belongs to men, and wills to do so for God's sake. This therefore is the business of ^a prudent man; and he of whom we inquire is without doubt to be called wise. By nation. By nation of the flesh (which is clear to all) he was ^a Frank; but reborn in Christ and living by the spirit there, he became ^a heavenly citizen. By country. By country, although he truly seems to have been born here, the heavenly Jerusalem — where none dwells more happily — is attested by his own merits to have been his homeland. By lineage. By lineage indeed, as I related ^a little before, he was born of the noblest stock of the Franks; but by grace he was more nobly adopted by God as his son. By rank. Although he seemed great in royal dignity, he was made still greater by the sublimity of eternal life. By fortune. By what fortune he was blessed is proved by the saying:

"The poor man reigns in his narrow state by having God."

Because he despised small things, he entered the joys of his Lord, was exalted and raised above many things.

[57] By body. Whether he was strong or comely in body, faith proves it and the excellence of his character. Hence that passage in the Song of Songs is not unfittingly applied to him: "His head," it says, "is the finest gold, his locks like elevated palms" — because whatever was bestowed on him for adornment, he strove to ascend upward to God Song of Songs 5. "His eyes were like doves over running waters, washed with milk" — because his entire gaze is believed to have been simple and fixed solely on God, not mixed with the gall of concupiscence, but washed in the true innocence of the mind. His cheeks were like beds of spices planted by perfumers — that is, by holy teachers — adorned with every flower of learning and the herbs of virtues. "His hands were turned on ^a lathe," expressing the form of holiness, and with ^a spherical motion swiftly pursuing every good: "full of sapphires," reflecting the appearance of heaven through storing up treasures in heaven, filled with many gifts. "His belly was of ivory," distinguished by the orders of virtues. "His throat was most sweet," on account of the honeycomb of eloquence; and "he was wholly desirable" for the worthiness of his character and his extraordinary charity. Therefore we seek you, Father, while you feed among the lilies; we seek the one whom our soul loves. For in our bed by night we seek you with tears: let your voice sound, I beseech you, in our ears; for your voice is sweet and your countenance is lovely. For we cannot but love you as ^a father, whom we believe will be present for our sake.

[58] By education. Now if it is ^a matter of his education: he was instructed, like another Moses, in all the wisdom of this present life, as one of the sons of the King; then brought to Sinai, where he was illuminated by the Lord's very presence and entered to enjoy continual familiarity. By character. By what character he was adorned, his life attests — ^a life redolent with the highest marks of merit and celebrated with the greatest commendations. By diet. The "diet" which the Philosophers define as the exercise of the fruition of ^a consummated work, in order to arrive at rest, was the Lord whom he loved, whom he had loved, whom he continually desired. The degrees of these virtues are: first is placed the affection of the mind. This affection is ^a change of soul or body arising from some cause at ^a given time. Then from this condition of being affected, one turns to zeal, so as to attain the effect of one's aim. "Zeal is ^a constant and vehement occupation of the soul, applied with great will to some matter." Afterward the habit of the acquired thing is put on, when we obtain in full what is perfect — concerning which it is written: "Let your priests be clothed with justice, and your saints exult" Psalm 132:9. Happy indeed is the garment of virtue, with which whoever is clothed and guards his garments lest he walk naked — he, dressed in the wedding garment, is not cast outside. Had our first parent in Paradise preserved this garment, he would by no means have been found naked with his eyes opened. Hence, as it is written, when he descended, robbers stripped him and, having inflicted wounds, departed. But our flourishing elder, covered in such ^a garment, we believe already hears Christ say: "He shall walk with me in white, for he is worthy, and I will not blot his name from the book of life" Revelation 3:4.

[59] By administration of household. It remains, according to the aforesaid discipline, to inquire how he administered his property. But what shall I say about how he administered his property — he who did not even keep himself for himself? For he did what he had heard from the Lord: "If you wish to be perfect, go, sell all that you have, and give to the poor; and come, follow me" Matthew 19:21. Having fulfilled this, as for how he administered the property of his Church — fit witnesses are the holy brothers, whose counsel and service he employed. Through them he arranged all things so that there was enough for everyone, and not too much was superfluous for anyone, and nothing perished in vain, but all things were generously distributed to the praise of God. He provided what was beneficial for the present life of the brothers and cut away whatever was harmful and superfluous; he administered abundantly to all guests, and preserved the household quite unharmed from the yoke of servitude. He established ^a hospice. He assigned widows of this household who were destitute, and unmarried men, throughout individual estates, ministering to them continual support. He had also more conveniently established, in those same places, ^a kind of hospice for orphans, the infirm, and guests, so that all might possess the property of this Church as their own patrimony.

[61] By affection. In affection, moreover, he was so allured by the enticements of all good things that he burned as if by torches beyond fraternal compassion in the office of charity. By art. Next, therefore, it is evident what art he had been trained in, since he was found rich in the counsel of learning. For he was, as they say, an inspector of prudence with ^a thousand eyes, ^a most eloquent disputant of the virtues, and so supremely holy an instructor of the liberal arts that you would recognize in him that saying of the blessed Antony: that the senses have devised art, and that he who is sound in sense has no need of art. What more shall I say now about his condition? By twofold condition. He who, as I said before, shone forth illustrious from royal lineage. And concerning that other condition — whether he was natural, as some say, or adopted, or repudiated — what shall I adduce, when it is not denied that he was the son of Bernard, brother of the great King Pippin, and an adopted son of God?

[62] As for the garb in which he was invested, it is established that I said ^a little before By garb. that Christ's tunic reaching to the ankles was proved to have been his. Furthermore, his monastic clothing is shown to have been scarcely sufficient, protecting his limbs against the cold rather than bearing any mark of honor. Indeed it was called by some in jest ^a "breastplate of cold," because it was of sheepskin and like ^a corselet, ^a warmth around his midsection. In countenance, moreover, the same man was gentle, By countenance. and he was likened to ^a palm tree in stature, because he was beautiful in appearance and comely, as though nurtured in the delights of Paradise. How beautiful were his steps, By gait. and how lovely his feet for proclaiming the Gospel! — for by them he was swifter than deer, and in sandals more adorned than ^a prince's daughter.

[63] By speech. Furthermore, how eloquent, how full of meaning, how sweet to hear was his speech as it flowed forth! His letters survive, directed to very many persons, and all attest that they never heard anyone speak more copiously or more expressively. Indeed, with ^a voice more melodious than ^a swan's he charmed the ear; but also more sweetly than honey, the melody savored upon the palate of the heart. Moreover, his entire narration was exceedingly open, brief, and lucid (which kind of diction orators extol with the highest praises), admitting nothing impure and leaving nothing doubtful in meaning; indeed, proceeding with ^a level step in his conclusions, his honeyed meaning was closed with the richest ending. Thus the sound of his assertion was an exposition of his words, so that the proper sense of his words was formed by his voice, and the qualities of each individual part were restored to their proper meanings — having all the members of his narration clearly distinguished point by point, both very easy to retain and very ready for persuading or dissuading: always more eagerly spurring his hearers to attend, more hotly than fire to desire, and by shaking off torpor, rousing the negligent.

If such eloquence were granted to me, I would fulfill more brilliantly what I have attempted; but now, excuse is owed for my ignorance, pardon for my intention — especially since no pen would better dispatch this task than his own, whose life excels even as his speech surpasses. But since the stream of talent denies this, merely to have wished it will be proved to have fulfilled the obligations of charity.

[64] By feeling. It remains now to make known what he was like in feeling. But by what art of skill shall I reveal the feeling of his soul — he who was always moved by ^a single ardor of mind in every affair of life? For perpetually desiring to be dissolved and to be with Christ, he wearied himself with labors; yet that to remain in the flesh was necessary for our sake, though he professed otherwise, he deeply felt. Whence with all the effort of his life he strove to be of service to all, occupied always, so to speak, with ^a thousand works of charity — especially because he was the counselor of the whole country and the father of all the needy; who, with mouth and hands, with every resource of his means, was the servant of all for the liberty of Christ.

* Sirm. "one."

* Sirm. "of splendor."

CHAPTER XVI.

The beginnings, site, and progress of Saxon Corbeia.

[65] Saxon Corbeia is begun. Since he was always ablaze with ardor, he came even to the borders of Saxony, where already ^a very small cell had begun to be built at the expense of this monastery by ^a holy man of the same name, Adelhardus, because that same blessed man — since he had been his ward and intimate son — had interceded in his place while he himself was held as an exile on the island of Heri, ^a citizen of the world and of Paradise. The pious Father and most holy elder, therefore, seeing that the work begun was ^a duty of piety, approached the King and petitioned him for ^a site to build, because the one on which it had been placed He obtains ^a more suitable site. was proved to be neither useful nor suitable. Hearing this, the Emperor Augustus rejoiced greatly, wishing to bestow many things upon him — had not the man himself, who never allowed anyone to give him as much as they wished, but only as much as he judged fitting even if it were little, restrained him; always practicing that saying of the Apostle: "It is more blessed to give than to receive" Acts 20:35. Having received authority from the King to build wherever he wished, he chose ^a site very pleasant and exceedingly suitable for monks to dwell in, where the King also afterward bestowed very many benefactions for the love of Almighty God.

[66] The site of Saxon Corbeia. Now the site, for those traveling eastward from * Fons Patris, is situated upon the bank of the Visurga, in the fashion of the letter Delta, set in ^a valley plain. To the east it has the aforesaid riverbed and ^a hill stretched out in front along the river. Then from the south another hill emerges from the river and extends in ^a curve toward the west. From the north, however, another hill proceeds in ^a corresponding position in the opposite direction, until they join together, leaving ^a path through the middle; and thus ^a valley is formed in the middle, expressing the shape of the letter Delta in this manner, as far as I recall. And not without reason: for the master of truth, taught by divine will, chose such ^a place that would both nourish the disciples of Christ and inscribe them with its own character and mark them by its situation.

[67] The perfection of the triangular form. For nothing in all the figures of Geometry is found more consummate or more perfect than the triangle. For this number is the sole beginning of all extension and surface in Arithmetic; in Geometry it is likewise found to be the most basic. And whoever has diligently examined this figure finds nothing more wonderful in these arts, nor is anything greater or better proclaimed in our teaching than the Trinity, the true God. Therefore anything formed without this number is understood to be nothing perfect — namely, without ^a beginning and an end and ^a middle between beginning and end. This figure, moreover, is the chief of extension, as I said, because all other surfaces are resolved into it. And since it is subject to no prior principles, nor took its beginning from any other extension except from itself, it is resolved into itself. If it be erected upward, as has been shown, it demonstrates that those dwelling therein ought to blaze with the fire of charity. Moreover, that extension takes its beginning from it shows that the "broad commandment of God" Psalm 118 can be fulfilled only by ^a heart that is enlarged. That it resolves all surfaces into itself clearly signifies that all remaining virtues are consummated by its breadth; and charity itself is perfected only by worshiping the Trinity in unity, so that true perfection — the undivided Unity — may be held in these three. Let it suffice that I have said these things to show how prudent and wise he was, and with how great an ardor of charity he burned, who had prepared such and so great ^a dwelling place for his disciples — irrigated with waters, as if it were ^a lesser Egypt and another Paradise of the Lord, for those coming from Fons Patris toward the rising sun. Truly, "from Fons Patris," I said, because those reborn in Christ are believed thence to ascend not only to the rising of the sun but even beyond the sun. This place the blessed Father named Corbeia after the other one, so that it might be ^a sign for posterity from which the first had been founded.

* That is, Paderborn, which means "the spring of the Padus" (river).

* Sirm. "of disposition."

* Sirm. "always the boundaries."

CHAPTER XVII.

Adelardus inculcates the pursuit of poverty upon his monks. He diligently provides for them.

[68] He instructs the younger monks. Who, my dearest Father, could sufficiently narrate your provident teaching in all things? I truly confess that whenever I recall you clearly, I marvel greatly at how provident you were in all things. For I remember your teachings, with which you nourished and instructed those tender ones in faith and charity — among which you also placed hope in the middle — and concerning conduct and every doctrine of life. Also, how they ought to receive things offered to them by anyone, you went through with them amid the business of your cares, commending to them above all that they should be covetous of nothing earthly, nor wish to receive anything whereby others would be burdened; and if they were heirs of the benefactor's goods, they should carefully consider lest perhaps those whose inheritance it was should afterward become destitute. This was his attentive and pious consideration in all things, in whatever places he presided: that he should accept nothing unworthy, and that no one should afterward be oppressed with regret, as it were on account of an act of mercy. For he said that many — not only rulers of churches, He exhorts them to poverty. but even those living there for God, who seem to have renounced the world — had been deceived for this reason: that they abounded in too many possessions, to such ^a degree that they were compelled again to serve the world — they who should have been dead to the world. "What profit," he said, "can it be to strip future heirs of their own goods, and again to enslave them in worldly affairs? It is therefore evident that in the present time we serve the state because it, weakened by our own desires, manifestly claims that it cannot sustain itself. And for this reason we wretches, who should have been free in Christ, have become, even unwillingly, slaves of ^a most disgraceful servitude. Having seized upon an opportunity, as if in God's cause, we bear the military service of the world, whereas the Apostle says: 'No one serving God entangles himself in worldly affairs' 2 Timothy 2:4. For it is not demanded of us because we retain only what is necessary, but because we possess what is superfluous, as they themselves say; and where we, miserable wretches, desire to be enriched in our possessions, there we are straitened in every good work. Wherefore, little children, be content with the poverty of Christ, without which no one is rich. For know that blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is promised to them. And therefore, my brothers, do not, as if for the work of piety, lose your eternal possession by pursuing avarice. Be, therefore, what the eternal calling of Christ willed you to be: so that by sharing in the poverty of Christ you may deserve to be rich with him without end."

[69] Adelardus rejoiced in the progress of his monks. With these and similar words, as he daily strengthened and confirmed them, there was being built in that place, by God's working, the foundation not only of ^a monastery but also of the heavenly homeland. What do you suppose — with how great ^a joy was his soul then filled, and with what gladness, when the love of Almighty God so blazed in them that even that entire region blessed God through them? I confess, therefore, that when he returned to us from time to time, out of pious love and spiritual joy he could scarcely contain himself, exulting and rejoicing this way and that, because Christ was being glorified through him in many. Indeed, watering and feeding us with heavenly nourishment, planting and propagating them in Christ, he acted so that they might bear much fruit for God. And so, showing himself thus in all things, he was believed to act in the place of Christ; and he surpassed all even as ^a model of humility.

[70] He who was thus perpetually moved by ^a single spirit of jubilation yearned for the stage of ingression — which ingression, according to Blessed Augustine in his book On the Greatness of the Soul, is one of seven stages and the sixth virtue of perfection. For the fifth of these degrees is Tranquility; the sixth, Ingression; He always yearns for God. the seventh, Contemplation. These can most fittingly be expressed thus: In itself, when any soul enters into and dwells with itself. Toward God, when daily desiring ardently, it enters toward Him, saying thus: "My soul has thirsted for God, the living fountain: when shall I come and appear before the face of God?" With God, when now by ^a clear light it ceaselessly clings to Him in contemplation — into whom even the Angels desire to gaze. To this point our elder now rejoices that he has arrived; he rejoices that he has deserved it; he gives thanks; and with the utmost spirit of eagerness he embraces the fact that he has attained it.

[71] Whence what else shall I say than that word of Elisha: "My Father, my Father, the chariot of Israel and its horsemen!" 4 Kings 2:12 Behold, how suddenly you leave us desolate! And so we seek you with ^a tearful voice and search out your honey-sweet ways early in the morning within our hearts; nor does the pupil of our eye anywhere find rest, nor is it consoled, unless it promises itself that you are present for our sake in ^a better way. His charity toward his own. For we remember with what breasts you nourished us, and how greatly we enjoyed the oracle of God in you, and on what wings we were borne, and with what tenderness of charity we were nourished — so that even if we were made of stone, your compassionate prayer would have softened us. For you had become all things to all, that you might win us for Christ. And if you turned to the particular business of certain individuals, in one moment you gave counsel for life to one, while at other times you soothed another with kisses. Then, clasping the hand of this one, you charmed the spirit of that one with wondrous affection, and thus you were one for all and wholly devoted to each.

[72] He always kept the names of his monks written and at hand. Although you always held the names of the brothers inscribed within the depths of your holy solicitude, nevertheless ^a certain number of them carefully written by hand was almost never absent from you — and this for the purpose of inspecting all of them diligently and anxiously weighing the conduct of each one before yourself. For you were already disputing within yourself about each individual in judgment, lest you should afterward suffer loss on account of the sheep entrusted to you. Well, therefore, did you know what was fitting for each one; and so you provided for all what was suited to the salvation of each. Your discretion, therefore, in no respect — so far as one may say — deviated from its purpose, in its readiness to accomplish what was fitting for each; and in general it provided what was suitable for all. How often he spoke with each one weekly. Leaving scarcely anyone in the course of ^a week unaddressed with the affection of familiarity; no one whom you did not instruct daily in ^a general way, unless prevented by some impossibility; offering salutary things to all, denying to absolutely none — as we believe — what was necessary. Therefore, daughters of Jerusalem, as I am compelled to say, weep for this elder of ours and take up lamentation. Weep for the man who clothed us in the scarlet of charity, all interwoven above with delights, who provided ornaments of virtue for our cultivation. Put on sackcloth and mourn bitterly, for he who consoled us and cherished us as ^a nurse in her bosom has been taken away and has departed. Whence my soul shall weep with weeping, and tears shall be on my cheeks as long as I do not behold the one whom my soul loves. Do you think, Father, that ^a time will come to me when, if in any way at all, it may be permitted to gaze upon the face and form of your countenance?

CHAPTER XVIII.

How he prepared himself for death.

[73] But what meanwhile shall we now do, O my soul? Behold, until now we have been dwelling, as it were, amid rosy fields, and we have beheld the pleasant gardens of the virtues, more abundantly watered from the fountain of the Holy Spirit. Now, however, it is pressing that we set forth the end of his death — an end which to have had is cause for glorifying God; to have lost him, cause for weeping; but that he arrived at the joys of the Blessed, cause for rejoicing together. But the more pleasant it is for us to dwell on what we love, the harder it is to endure his absence, whom we always perceive as present. Whence, as if besprinkled with mist, He left behind the greatest longing for himself in death. all that we behold is sorrowful: our eyes grow dim, we are covered with sobs, our fingers tremble, our head spins, tears flow — and moreover there is, through the pious affection of love, ^a certain willingness to weep. Whence the more copiously we forge these words for consolation, the more ardently we are moved by love, and by loving we are pressed down by grief. Therefore, my dearest Father, I shall pass swiftly through the pages of your death, upon which, for one who lingers too long, ^a vehement languor falls. From this side, meanwhile, the occasion for mourning drips in, but shortly after we shall be consoled by the arrival at the place where you now rejoice in joy. Wherefore we beseech: before the pen begins to strike the hour of your departure, return, O Shulamite, return, I say, for ^a little while, that we may gaze upon you. For from there the pen shall receive the spirit of speech, and we shall pass more lightly through the bitter courses of reading. Return, return, my dearest one. And what shall we see in you, except how you are arrayed like the ranks of an army? Turn toward us at least once, we beseech you, so that all of us may see what manner of man we had before, and how great you are even now. Behold, you have ascended, we know, through the desert like the dawn arising, beautiful as the moon, chosen as the sun, terrible in God, like the ordered ranks of an army.

[74] The speech of the dying man to his own. What, therefore, can appear more terrible to human sight than were the aspects of your countenance in the hour when you granted us your pardon? For you had commanded, at our request, Father, that we should all sit upon the ground, so that you might see our faces fully and we might behold yours with uplifted eyes. In which arrangement, I confess, nothing more orderly had I ever heard granted by ^a master, and nothing more inflamed or more terrifying had I ever seen than what was in your eyes. Pressing out the meaning more closely, therefore, you spoke thus abundantly to all: "Behold," you said, "I come to render an account of the sheep entrusted to me. But you, O flock committed to me, who are about to receive ^a sentence concerning your obedience and disobedience — attend to the fact that the same one who now stands before you will be present before you at the fearful judgment, and I will present what I have gained He asks their pardon. from the money of the talents, or how I have spent it. Nevertheless, in the meantime, if there is anything in which I have transgressed against you knowingly or unknowingly, willingly or unwillingly, forgive me, even as I, insofar as it is fitting — if there is anything that is mine to forgive — release it in Christ's name."

[75] He prepares himself for death. When these things had been thus set forth, he withdrew full of the fervor of the spirit, as though about to be an arbiter in his own cause — in order to prepare himself, as if about to fight then against the spiritual wickedness in heavenly places, to render an account of his stewardship. Although he had always deliberated as though at the moment of death, yet then, as if about to march against legions, he more diligently arranged the battle line of his mind, if perchance he might escape without impediment the mockeries of this life. But because "the adversary" is read to surpass ten times his own with twenty thousand, he always prayed to the Lord for the things of peace: "Lord," he said, "set me beside you, and so let the hand of whomever fight against me; otherwise I shall not escape the squadrons of the wicked, for you alone were found free among the dead. For the exactor came to you, and in you found nothing that was his. Therefore make me cling more firmly to you, so that I too, through you, may be found free in your body from all evil."

[76] He examines his works precisely. Examining himself thus entirely, he still found in himself certain things, as though not yet exhausted, and he ordered them to be set forth before certain brothers (of whom I, although unworthy, was one), asking whether he ought rightly to fear that he would come into judgment on account of these things. Having heard them, we judged according to divine Scripture that those things did not pertain to him which he himself mourned as his own for so long and so deeply. What do you suppose — how subtly he disputed the remaining matters with himself? How severe he was with himself — he who punished himself even for the faults of others as though for his own! He admonishes each one individually. Meanwhile, admonishing and instructing each one about particular matters, he urged that after his death they should come together in the peace of the election, chastely and rightly according to God. He also set forth his faith before certain of us, and nearly his whole teaching which he had taught, so that thereby he might more firmly commend it to our hearts. Hence it is that we who are absent are suffused with such sorrow; but from another quarter we are joyful, because such things are recalled of our Father. From one side we are moved to this, from another we are drawn to that. For we lament in him the maturity of his conduct, the firmness of his faith, the solidity of his hope, the foundations of his charity, the most profound humility of Christ in its entirety, and his most bountiful generosity in all things. Nor, I say, do I mourn as the Savior mourned wretched Jerusalem; but I weep that in the death of one man all the virtues have perished together — not that he who has departed is absent from us, but that we have ceased to behold such ^a one as we can scarcely or never recall without tears. Luke 19:41

[77] For who will remember him with dry eyes — he in whom nearly every ornament of virtue has been taken away? Or who will not grieve that the bulwark of all Europe has suddenly perished? He was skilled in languages and eloquent. Or who will be able without ^a pang of mind to recite the brilliance of his epistolary eloquence? If you heard him in the common tongue, he flowed forth with honey-sweet speech. But if he spoke in the barbarian language, which they call Teutonic, he surpassed all in the eloquence of charity. And if in Latin, then beyond that, through the eagerness of sweetness, there was no more breath left. Therefore, O you all most dear to me — all you who know what good the presence of so great ^a man holds — as you pass along the way, attend and see whether there is any sorrow like the sorrow of us all. See, therefore, how suddenly the Lord has harvested us, and we have become squalid, our beauty taken away. Jaundice has seized us, because our rosy honor has been turned to ashes.

CHAPTER XIX.

His final illness: his pious death.

[78] The elder Simeon had therefore prepared himself to meet the Nativity of the Savior with lamps burning, and joyfully to receive in his arms the Lord Jesus, King of Kings, proceeding from his bridal chamber. He is seized by fever. But three days before the Nativity of the Lord ^a most violent fever struck him, while he was weeping at midnight in the basilica according to his custom. Persevering thus through the vigils together with the brothers, he was consecrating to the Lord ^a sacrifice of jubilation in his heart; and the more loudly the choirs sang, as many witnesses attest, the more he wept in jubilation. And so, dragging himself onward all the way to the praises of Matins, he languished no less, burning with fever for the love of Christ, as it is written in the Song of Songs: "Sustain me with flowers, surround me with apples, for I languish with love." And although he was daily pressed harder and harder by many pains, he did not relax his spirit, being always intent upon God. Song of Songs 2:5 While sick he daily hears Mass and receives Communion. He arranged all things so providently, therefore, as if he bore nothing evil in his body — establishing and ordering each department so that his end should find nothing imperfect, especially so that the holy day might be celebrated with fitting honors. When this was accomplished, he began to be more vehemently pressed by fevers. Daily, nevertheless, he came to the oratory of Blessed Martin — whom he had always loved with abundant love throughout his life — and there, hearing Masses, he received Holy Communion, until the last day of his life led him forth from the darkness of this night.

[79] Meanwhile the blessed man Bishop Hildemannus, whom he himself had nurtured as ^a monk Bishop Hildemannus of Beauvais attends the sick man. and had elevated to so great an honor at Beauvais through the King's concession, hearing that the holy Father was ill, came at once and kept vigil continually before him until he reached the end of his life, and buried him with his own hands together with all the brothers. When he had arrived, the holy Father rejoiced with the greatest eagerness and delight, so that he could scarcely contain himself for the excessive joy of his exultation. For he gave immense thanks to God that He had consoled him by this man's coming, and he said: "O God, founder and ruler of all things, I give you thanks, because I have not been defrauded of my desire."

[80] Meanwhile, when the same holy Bishop had begun to inquire of us whether he should be anointed with the oil of blessing, as was sanctioned by the Blessed Apostle, we asked him whether he wished it — he whom we undoubtedly knew was not detained by the burdens of sins. James 5:14 He is anointed by him. Hearing this, with his eyes raised to heaven, he earnestly begged that it be done. What do you suppose the holy soul was doing then? With how many tears was he then filled? His eyes, therefore, were fixed upon God, his hands extended toward the heavens, and invoking the Holy Spirit, he said: "Now you dismiss your servant, O Lord, according to your word in peace, for I have received all the sacraments of your mystery; and now what remains except that I come to you? Yet not as I will, but as you will: only let your will be done." For he had long thirsted to come to that fountain. Whence also, as it were with ^a joyful voice, full of the gravity of faith, he frequently said: He yearns for death. "I shall depart hence and come to my God: joyfully, I say, I shall come; joyfully I shall die; and joyfully I shall cross the vast chasms of this life, for I am about to arrive at everlasting joys, long since promised to me."

[81] With these and similar words he continually armed himself, this soldier of Christ, until he entered the place of the wondrous tabernacle, in the voice of confession and praise, where the host of the celebrating multitude was also found. And there now our elder, dancing for joy, is believed to sing beforehand: "The night is far spent, and the day has drawn near." While on successive days, still burning with fever in the flesh, he thus commended himself to God with immense praises, it happened suddenly, while he was alone by himself, that the holy Bishop entered to see him. Christ appears to him. To whom, immediately crying out, he said: "Run quickly, O Bishop, I command you, and kiss the feet of my Lord Jesus Christ, for behold, he is present." But the Bishop, hearing this, trembled greatly, for he did not at all know where to go or what to do. He, however, having said this, withdrew into silence and was still. Then afterward, when the octave day of the Nativity of Christ was completed, he began more eagerly to press his petition, that now, with the festival days celebrated, he might be allowed to depart hence — if somehow he might at last arrive at that feast which no night interrupts, nor can any sickness corrupt. And when the space of midnight had passed, he thus addressed the brothers, saying: "O sons, always most dear to me in the Lord, know that today I shall depart hence, He predicts his own death. for permission has been given me now to depart and to see (which God grant may happen) and to appear before the sight of my Redeemer. The course of my contest is now finished, and it remains entirely that I should know not what I am to receive as ^a reward for my calling." Yet we believe, Father, that "eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man" what God has prepared (otherwise the labor of faith is vain) — especially for you, who could have said truthfully with the Apostle: "I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me ^a crown of justice, which the Lord, the just judge, will render to me on that day." 2 Timothy 4:7

[82] Then, when morning had come, having summoned certain of us, the same blessed Father began to urge that they should speedily anticipate Matins. When these things were said, his heavenly tongue fell silent in the praise of Christ. Then, with all the holy brothers assembling together, he received Holy Communion at about the first hour of the day, as was the custom, and they began to commend him to the Lord with hymns of praise, He again receives Communion. and thus they persevered in his obsequies until the ninth hour of the day. Then, at the same hour when Christ also gave up his spirit on the Cross, he breathed forth his soul, so that an indication might be given that he whose cross he had carried in life, He departs most blessedly. and whom he had followed, in the very moment of death he also followed in his footsteps, until he should arrive at him whom he had sought, whom he had desired, and whom he had long yearned for with all his heart. Who, do you suppose, was the mourning of all at that hour, and how great were the lamentations of the monks? The united voice of those singing on high was raised upward, All mourn. and the weeping of all below tore at the hearts of each one — because, as has been said elsewhere, it was pious to rejoice with so great ^a man, and pious to weep at his departure. For who would not weep, even if born of stone, at that hour, when the illustrious shepherd of God was leaving this world and ascending to heaven? For he was the one, O good Jesus, whom in the whole world, out of all, I found to be the only true Abbot: he, out of all, whom I found seeking the things of another more than his own. He who, as ^a mother loves her only child, so most tenderly loved each one, and invited them to take hold of more solid things.

CHAPTER XX.

The lamentation of Ratbertus. The burial of Saint Adelardus.

[83] Wherefore, I beseech you, attend, O men, and see, all peoples, the mother Corbeia weeping — she who is the beehive of monks — weeping, I say, and speaking: The author mourns Saint Adelardus taken from him. "My magnificent one has been taken from me, and there is no one to console me out of all my dear ones, for the Lord has fulfilled his fury upon me and has done what he had purposed. He has fulfilled, therefore, what he had commanded from days of old: 'You are dust, and to dust you shall return.' Therefore my dearest one has gone and has departed. The virgin of Israel has therefore returned to her cities, and henceforth walks gloriously upon the waters of eternal redemption. For he it is who was most dear to me in my prayers: he who converted my soul and was the guardian of my life: he who, rising for us at the beginning of the watches, poured out his heart like water before the sight of the Lord. Now, however, the Lord has placed us, desolate for ^a little while, consumed with sorrow on his account. Therefore we place our mouths in the dust, hoping in the mercies of the Lord, if perhaps there be hope that we may arrive where our pious patron is now believed to have arrived. Until that happens, until the longed-for day comes, let my tongue cleave to my palate if I do not remember you, Father Adelardus, if I do not set you at the beginning of my remembrances. Otherwise let my right hand forget me, if I do not proclaim your name and your praises. I believe, O dearest of my dear ones, that ^a mother's love could sooner perish than that we should not love you. For even if she forgets her own, we shall never forget you; but as long as the ages endure and night shares its rounds with day, the fame of your most holy life shall always be proclaimed, and we shall never be free from your praise. But you, we beseech, draw us hence after you; let us run in the fragrance of your ointments, for your breasts are better than wine, fragrant with the finest ointments. For the upright love you; and so we seek, until we arrive where you feed, where you rest — for we know that it is in the meridian."

[84] The fable of Orpheus. Therefore we do not — as the fables relate the Thracian bard to have done — groan at the death of ^a spouse in the underworld; rather, we raise to the stars the name of ^a father, whither we declare you have solemnly ascended. And so, if that man was happy who could, in poetic fiction, behold the bright fountain of the Good, and happy was he who could loose the chains of the heavy earth — happier are we who, after you our Father, can direct such holy prayers. For that aforementioned bard is feigned to have made the forests run after him by his mournful melodies as he wept for his wife, and to have made rivers stand motionless. He joined the fearless doe to savage lions, and the hare no longer feared the hound now pacified by song. When the ardor of his inmost heart burned with its flame, and not even all that he had subdued could soothe his soul, he goes gently to the powers above, seeking his wife; and not having found her, he descended to the infernal dwellings. There, tempering sweet songs to sounding strings, whatever he had drunk from the noble * fountains of the Muses — at whose voice the goddess of the shades, taking pity, said: "We are conquered at last, O arbiter; and therefore we grant the wife to her husband, purchased by song." What grief do you suppose he uttered then, according to the poetic narration? And what great lamentations did love redouble? And with what prayers had he implored pardon? At his new songs the underworld was astonished; the avenging goddesses of crime now wept, moist with tears.

[85] But we, dearest Father, do not introduce such things because we are ignorant that no one has returned from the underworld without Christ; rather, we wish to reveal what good love contains. For love is itself the greatest law; and therefore, imitating it, we seek you as if through the law, because your whole * life was ^a law of life — so that we may deserve to arrive at you, or rather at you because at Christ, whither we believe and pray that you have arrived. And we beseech that God, moved by our tears, may hear us, and that you may be happily granted to us — or rather we to you, since we ask that you have been given to Paradise. For we believe that you are already crowned there from the summit of Amana, from the peak of Senir, from the lairs of lions, from the mountains of leopards. All these things, indeed, you conquered in triumph; and therefore you have been made pleasant and comely among the delights of Paradise, and there is no blemish in you. The right hand of Christ embraces you, and sleeping in the slumber of peace, you rest your head upon his left hand; and therefore you have become as one who finds peace in his presence. Your bed, therefore, because you dwell in the peace of Christ, is flowery according to the quality of your merit; the beams of your house are of cedar; the rafters, indeed, of cypress. And we, Father most dear to us, insofar as we understand, rejoice and congratulate you, because with the house overturned, the coin that was lost has been found in you — for it had been lost, encompassed by the darkness of night, but with the lamps lit, it is more happily found for you anew. The mystical honors shown at the funeral of Saint Adelardus. Whence in the meantime, when we can do nothing else, we sit weeping around the precincts of your tomb and sprinkle upon it the flowers of our prayers. We read over that good name which you acquired better than great riches. For some of our number, growing pale, pluck violets and white lilies for you; others, narcissus and blooming roses; others scatter fragrant thyme; these adorn it with colocasia and soft hyacinths; some intermingle sweet fragrances; indeed, certain ones water it with the salty fountains of their tears; and I weave over it the tapestries of letters, so that for the ages of future time it may preserve your holy name. For I do not weave with the eloquence of artificial art; rather, I wrap it in clean linen, with the work of purity. Moreover, if anyone desires to know this man more fully — how bravely he conquered the world by faith — let him read the passage where ^a new name is inscribed for him, and the name of the new city of Jerusalem. And when he has understood with what ornaments the city gleams, let him ascribe all this to him, inasmuch as he himself is in ^a certain manner believed to have been made by God both the city and the possessor of this city.

[86] Whence rejoice and be glad, O faithful virgin, happy Corbeia, so called from of old, because you have deserved to enjoy and possess so great ^a patron in Christ. I beseech you, O illustrious mother of religion, embrace this man whom you trained as ^a recruit in heavenly ways soberly and with discretion, and imitate him who afterward enlarged you with many honors. Why, therefore, are you consumed with sorrow, O virgin and daughter of the Most High God, as though you had no counselor? [These things were written under Wala, the brother and successor of Saint Adelardus.] Behold, he has left you his brother as heir, who will yet toil for you through many labors. Wipe away your tears, I pray, for you shall send forth from your midst this elder too, when all the regions of the earth shall have sent their most distinguished men. Moreover, when the neighboring monasteries shall have contributed — namely, Vedastus from * Atrebatum, and Centula the most holy Richarius, and other places round about their men noble in religion — you too shall perhaps offer, with no lesser devotion, ^a man most worthy of God. Nor shall you then be unfruitful, when among the rest you shall bring forth even this one for the Lord from the dust of the earth; rather, joyful and glad, you shall come, bearing at least ^a few sheaves. Therefore take courage and act more bravely, as long as Amalek confronts you on the way, for another Joshua is now with you as leader and champion in battle, fighting in the battle line. Support him who is already fighting at the head among many; behold also the other on the mountain, already stretching his palms heavenward to the Lord. This one fights, that one prays; this one presses the enemy, that one conquers. For this is he, O mother most dear to me, the lover of the brothers and of the people of Israel. This is he who prays much for his own with perpetual charity. This is he who, as I believe, will be ^a continual intercessor for his fellow citizens. Whence also, O Lord, according to the words of Blessed Ambrose — since no one has anything more to offer another than what he wishes for himself — do not separate us after death from him whom in this life we knew as most dear. But where you are, cause us to be together with him, so that we may enjoy his perpetual vision in your presence in Christ — he whom for your sake in this life we loved most dearly, now buried in the peace of Christ.

[87] The tomb of Saint Adelardus. The remains of the dearest elder were decently buried in the basilica of Blessed Peter the Apostle, beneath the roof in the center of that same middle church, covered with ^a polished stone, upon which the following is fittingly read, sculpted in eight verses in the measure of musical song:

Here lies the abbot venerable, distinguished in merits, Our Adelardus, an elder worthy of honor. Of royal lineage, by right ^a colonist of Paradise: A man upright in charity, in conduct, and in faith. As you recall him beneath this tomb, whoever you are, O traveler, Consider what you are, what you shall be — for death seizes all. For after the octave of the Lord, here released from the flesh, On the following day he sought the stars in triumph.

[88] Other abbots buried in the same place. And there are buried around him four venerable men on every side, who had been brought forth by the Lord in one and the same office of service. I do not think this happened by chance, but rather that those whose warfare in Christ was one might the more sublimely bear their own cross after Jesus in that same place; so that there might be one place of burial as well — which at that time more illustriously cohered according to the likeness of that same Cross. In the midst of them our elder is seen, over whom the bells are rung at the hours of the divine office, so that from this it may be clear — as is believed to have come about — that his tongue was the cymbal of the Holy Spirit and the Invitatory to the office of the divine work, dedicated in that same place. Whence also eight verses are inscribed as ^a title — because he died after the octave of the Lord — so that it might be shown that, with the work consummated by which he had long invited all, he had happily arrived at the octave of the Lord, with no diminished number of letters.

* Sur. Sirm. "of musicians."

* Sur. Sirm. "way."

* MS. Corb. "Atrapis."

* Sur. Sirm. "them."

* Sur. Sirm. "connected."

ANOTHER LIFE OF SAINT ADELARDUS

BY SAINT GERARDUS,

Abbot of Silva Maior.

Adelardus, Abbas Corbeiensis in Gallia (S.) BHL Number: 0060

By Saint Gerard.

PROLOGUE.

[1] Great is the Lord and exceedingly worthy of praise, glorious and magnificent in his Saints. For he himself is the crown of the Saints, he their hope, exultation, and joy. His singular vision is their universal delight. Moreover, by their exultation all the earth is established, The Church is fruitful with the offspring of the Saints. Mount Sion, the sides of the North, the city of the great King — the universal Church. Adorned with the abundant progeny of her nuptials and through them fruitful with ^a diverse order of children, she adorns with chosen citizens that Jerusalem — namely, the heavenly city — to whose image this earthly Church is prefigured. In this Church the hope of that city is held; in that city the desired reality is possessed. This Church makes men blessed; that city refreshes the elect. Nor is this Church devoid of the citizens of that one, for God is known in their dwellings — where indeed Emperors bow before the tombs of fishermen; fishermen are honored by the succession of Pontiffs; Pontiffs by the devotion of Abbots. And therefore may it delight us supremely to submit to the highest good, may it be our pleasure to serve the Lord, The Saints in heaven intercede for us. who is not only ^a supporter of the growth of those advancing, but also remedially provides for the falls of those stumbling — both bestowing upon us Angelic assistance, that it should not be lacking, and conferring the patronage of the Saints, whom we should not hesitate to call upon as intercessors for our offenses. And although it is fitting that all should honor them universally with common offices, since they are assigned to diverse provinces; yet to each and every place He has mercifully allotted certain ones whom He has specially given, wishing them to be embraced by us and more earnestly invoked.

[2] Among their number, the light of his country, Blessed Adalardus, stood forth as the praiseworthy Abbot of Corbeia, who shone not only as the jewel of the Franks [Saint Adelardus had as his disciple Anscharius, Archbishop of Bremen, concerning whom see February 3.] but also rose as the star of the Saxons. He begot sons for the Church; he nurtured fathers of Corbeia. At length, Saint Anscharius — who was elected by Walo, the brother of Saint Adalardus himself, at Corbeia, to be sent with Herioldo, King of the Danes, for the preaching to the Danes by King Louis; and who afterward, afflicted with many punishments by the same people for the faith of Christ, at last rested in his Archbishopric of Bremen, adorned with many merits — was the student and ward of that same Saint Adalardus. Ratbertus Paschasius likewise, Abbot of the same place, Likewise Paschasius Ratbertus. who produced ^a splendid book on the Body and Blood of the Lord, merited his fatherhood by ^a worthy filiation on his part. By his body, together with others, Corbeia is also illustriously adorned — men who, diverse in diverse ways, attained in Christ the merits of diverse sanctity. How great and of what quality this man was, Abbot Herigerus of Lobbes attests in ^a certain letter — he who at that time was considered the wisest among the wise. Although it would take long to insert it here.

[3] The life of Adelardus by Ratbertus is rather an epithalamium than ^a history. Let us endeavor to turn our pen back to Saint Adalardus, from whom we have digressed briefly. In the breadth of his charity, his sons burned with such love that by one of them ^a life of such prolixity was composed, so full of lamentation, with such amatory languor drawn from the Song of Songs, that it might better be called an epithalamium than the text of any history. By which confusion the custodian of the church at Corbeia, being not moderately offended, often admonished the Abbot to order the superfluous parts cut away. But while the Abbot was occupied with worldly cares, the custodian, moved by reverence for the Saint to whom he clung by the privilege of love, ordered the flowers of his life to be gathered from so great ^a meadow of verdure. This life was written historically. In obeying his command, no detriment is done under brevity to the opinions of earlier writers — excepting him who did not write authentically concerning this history in the Translation of Saint Vitus, having entered upon this path of writing only through this way. See June 15. For how else could he have introduced the new Corbeia which Saint Adalardus built, although he described to perfection the translation itself as carried out by his successors? Yet he erred confusedly about the Chronicles of the Princes and the Saint's successors. To remove the offense of his erroneous falsity, let the testimony of that same writer suffice for all readers — he who even in what he affirms out of ignorance directs that it be sought in this history. Wherefore let us now pardon him this offense of disorder — on this condition, namely, that in those things in which he opines otherwise than they are, he should be believed by no one in every particular — and so let us turn our pen to the truth of the matter.

CHAPTER I.

The lineage of Adelardus: his novitiate in the monastic life.

[4] In the time, therefore, when Charles held the scepter — that Charles, to whom the palm of virtue brought fame together with the end of his age — Adalardus, ^a boy of good disposition, was serving his apprenticeship in the palace. Antiquity does not pass over his parents in silence, and therefore posterity cannot conceal how great was his nobility. For according to the genealogy of his entire noble lineage, The lineage of Saint Adelardus. tracing the line of his birth from the freeborn Kings of the Franks, he had as his father Bernard, brother of the great King Pippin; and as his cousin and namesake of Pippin, Pippin the Younger; as his kinsman and fellow student under the tutelage of the school, the same Emperor Charles. He was also ^a Frank by nation — who are called Franks from their fierceness; of Trojan stock, indeed, The origin of the Franks: but fabulous. who, led through the Illyrian gulfs, settled in the Maeotian marshes under ^a certain leader Antenor. Whence they share ^a civic community with the Romans who followed the standards of Aeneas, and the common affinity of one empire once existed and ought still to exist. This, moreover, was at the time when Charles was called and was the Roman Emperor. For he alone was the one whom the world held greater in fame.

[5] After the blessed boy had crossed the fountain of the liberal arts with unwashed feet, so to speak, he began to flourish among the foremost of the palace in age and wisdom, The education and conduct of Saint Adelardus in his youth. and to be held first under that same scepter-bearer. Yet he feared God and guarded his heart with all diligence. He had also two brothers and as many sisters, whom he surpassed in merit just as he did in age. For although, as ^a young man, he was naturally pliable as wax to be bent toward vice, yet he was immune from those vices with which that age is accustomed to be stained. Always on his lips was the attestation of justice, always in his heart the detestation of wrong; and the younger he was, the more sharp-sighted.

[6] But in that time, those whom obsequiousness had made his friends, truth begot as his enemies. For the Emperor married the daughter of Desiderius, King of the Italians, in lawful wedlock; but afterward, out of hatred for her father, he repudiated his wife, now detested because of this wrong, and with the perjured consent of the Optimates of the Franks, he imposed another upon the kingdom in public adultery. How abominable this was, even now the East can report to the West. And if it did not entirely displease the just, I believe it could not have pleased the good and perfect. He leaves the court and the world. Wherefore the youth, utterly detesting the illicit marriage of his kinsman, publicly protesting that the Optimates of the Franks were perjured, chose — still ^a boy — to set aside the palace and with the palace the world, rather than be seen to share in and consent to such things: so that to ^a kinsman whom he could not prevent by opposing, he might at least show his dissent by fleeing.

[7] At the age of twenty he becomes ^a monk. Having therefore renounced the insignia and apprenticeship of the palace, in the twentieth year of his age — when the youthful spirit is held to be more inclined to sin — he resolved to take up the yoke of Christ, ennobling his freedom by servitude to Him. Since he was preparing to serve Him not in pretense, he sought ^a monastery in which he might receive the example of warfare with ^a new devotion. A fitting place for this devotion was found — the one called Corbeia. Nor did his hope deceive him, for what he sought devoutly yielded itself to him still more devoutly. How great the nobility of that place was at that time is still apparent enough to those who observe the vestiges of its former grandeur alone. For to say less than is fitting about its praise, it was truly the court of God and, without the concupiscence of the apple, another Paradise. And what was it then — it which now scarcely preserves the signs of Corbeia? — such, surely, as befitted ^a soldier of the supreme Emperor.

[8] In this place, therefore, knocking and being admitted by knocking according to the Rule of Saint Benedict, to be trained, His novitiate in the monastic life. first having laid down the burden and habit of the secular life upon entering, he began to run the way of God's commandments. And immediately, having become ^a disciple of the divine law — he who before was already ^a perfect master of worldly knowledge — through the attainment of the highest humility he quickly grasped the perfection of both laws. For this was why he had come; therefore the labor of learning was not great. The grace of the Holy Spirit also made all things teachable for him, all things entirely possible. Whatever was commanded of him, he obeyed as if it were divinely commanded. He was second to none in humility, and although ^a novice, he was nevertheless first of all in devotion. Toward his superiors he was inclined with fitting reverence; toward the younger members he was moved with paternal affection. And so, having become all things to all, ^a little later he surpassed in virtues all those whose humble servant he had been ^a little before. After he had professed by deed and habit the conversion of his conduct, the monk whom he sought he made himself — ^a champion in the monastery — indeed, strengthened by the right hand of God, he fought against the spiritual wickedness in heavenly places.

[9] And when he had already so flourished that within the monastic discipline he was believed and known to be more present in spirit to heavenly things than to earthly, ^a certain obedience was committed to him, that this new cenobite might be proved in all things. He is made Gardener as ^a test of his humility. The care of cultivating the garden was entrusted to him — for the sake, that is, of bearing fruit from it through obedience — and (as some assert) by royal command, as if, being humiliated by this obedience, he might be bent in spirit to return to the palace. He accepted this obedience in ^a monastic spirit and willingly; and having accepted it, he fulfilled it devoutly to the best of his ability and knowledge. He cultivated the garden, and with Mary he sought the risen Jesus in the garden. You might have seen the new cultivator — who just recently held his place among the foremost of the palace — now tearing up thistles of the earth with rake and hoe. You might have seen the young gardener, now laboring in ^a cowl not his own, who just lately was clad in silk among the Palatines. But this was the change wrought by the right hand of the Most High, who chooses for himself whom he wills and of what sort he wills. Truly this was the way by which he was to journey to the stars.

CHAPTER II.

He flees to Monte Cassino: he is recalled.

[10] Nor was this way sufficient; after it had been traveled and found wanting, it could no longer be maintained. He seeks ^a stricter way, that he might ascend from virtue to virtue. This entry into the religious life seems nothing to him unless through it ^a greater progress in virtues may proceed for him. He is burdened by the frequent visits of his relatives. He considers it no small hindrance to be in the midst of kinsmen and relatives. For he was loved exceedingly by his own, and therefore visited beyond his own will by them. This visitation was not ^a solace but ^a desolation of mind for him. Choosing not to be ^a disciple of Christ only by turns — since he had left behind himself entirely and completely — he did not want his purpose to be hindered by relatives. He detested the soil of his birth, because he had heard that ^a hundredfold reward was rendered for such renunciations. He therefore came to such ^a resolution of mind that he determined to avoid such things by flight, since he could not do so otherwise. For had he sought permission, he knew it would have been entirely denied him. What, therefore, was he to do? It seemed irreligious to depart thus, but more irreligious still to remain among his struggling friends.

[11] Accordingly, while he turned such things over and over in his mind, good intention put an end to all doubt. A second Elijah, he immediately slips away in flight, fleeing the pleasures of the flesh, in order that he might be found by himself. He goes to Monte Cassino. Moreover, the place to which he withdrew is witness to the reason for which he left his own place. For he did not seek some byway of ^a more lax life; rather, by will and by journey he directed his steps to Monte Cassino, where, having been received with no small honor, he contrived other things in place of his urgent and sought-after goal.

[12] His return to Corbeia is foretold. He could not, however, long remain hidden — he whom God did not wish to be hidden, but rather to magnify more gloriously by this very flight. A certain hermit was dwelling there who, while conversing with the servant of God in the humanity of hospitality, predicted to him the things that were to come — both who he was, whence he was, and for what purpose he had come. He added moreover things that would by no means please him: namely, that legates of the Emperor, having followed him to bring him back, would arrive without delay. Hearing these things, the man of God dissembled, but became sorrowful; and having exchanged ^a briefer conversation between them, they asked each other for prayers and consoled one another. And so withdrawing to the father of the monastery, he at last confessed the reason for his coming; he sought advice, asked for help, and begged for the opportunity, permission, time, and place to depart, so that he might be allowed to migrate further, where even his name would not be heard. The Emperor's legates bring him back to Corbeia. But the other, praising his intention, did not turn aside his petition; yet he deferred his response. And during the delay of this response, they were immediately intercepted by the Emperor's entreating legation. And because ^a year passes while they deliberate, their deliberations are immediately dissolved. The Imperial command is heard, and upon hearing it, they return together to the monastery.

CHAPTER III.

He becomes Abbot: he pacifies Italy: he is generous toward the poor.

[13] And because the undertaking did not succeed according to his wishes, he resolved to be in his own place whatever manner of man he had determined to be in ^a foreign place. He stands among his relatives, and flees from them, since, holding the cloister as his desert, The austerity of his life. he devotes himself to prayers. He has nothing except himself: from himself he strives to acquire the Kingdom of God for himself. He gives himself to vigils; he torments himself with fasting.

[14] Consequently he becomes such ^a man that he is deemed worthy to be elevated not only in rank but also in honor. Nor is there any delay in his elevation, God disposing the hearts of all to this end. He becomes Abbot. For the father of the monastery, feeling himself destitute of bodily strength, installed Adalardus as his successor by the consent of all. Invested with the honor of this dignity and legally enthroned by the Prince of the realm, he does not become ^a lover of display, nor pompous as many are wont to be. As he himself was, such he wished his own to be; and that they might be so, he drew them by example He instructs his monks by word and example. and proclaimed it in his words. Nor was his preaching lacking in manifold knowledge; and his most sweet eloquence grounded that knowledge in the hearts of his hearers. How fittingly he shone in this regard, all Gaul — which relied upon his counsel — proved when it was brought to peace. Italy above all, which had been committed to him by Charles, that he might train Pippin the Younger in governing and shape the Italian kingdom to the balance of justice — there he worked such fairness that he earned from the people the praise of an Angel. He pacifies Italy. For he accepted no man's person in judgment, nor sought ^a knot in ^a bulrush. Upon his arrival he deposed all tyrannical power — the power, that is, of those who like brigands exercised among the people the tyranny of plunder. He restored to each their own, and thus he removed the cause of quarreling among them and established united peace.

[15] Thus arranging the affairs of the kingdom, he came to the borders of the Romans, He is received with honor by Pope Leo. where he was received by Pope Leo with such familiarity as is known no Frank before him to have been received. Nor did this happen by chance, for the Pope found him to be such ^a man, and therefore bore him this testimony: "Know, O noblest of the Franks, that if I find you to be other than what I have believed in my heart, I shall henceforth trust no one of your people." A man of great authority, whose faith, if it had strayed even slightly, would have brought the evacuation of ^a kingdom. But how could he stray from it — he who strove to restore it to those who had strayed, and even to make it known to Emperors by written letters? In this, indeed, he was rich; but the lack of worldly goods he willingly imposed upon himself, because he wished to be poor in Christ. He received from many on loan in order that he might always give He is generous to the poor. and always have, and yet always be in need of repaying. He always had generosity in hand, which flowed back to him through his very giving. He distributed and abounded; he was enriched as he gave, because divine recompense always preceded him. This was once made known by divine goodness to his own people, who did not believe it but bore it with indignation.

[16] At length, on one occasion he had used such great liberality upon those who petitioned him that nothing at all remained for the brothers' sustenance — no fish, no cheese, no food for monks except bread. Whence ^a brother, who had been assigned as steward of such provisions, being indignant beyond measure, said: "I wonder, Father, what is the purpose of such expenditure, with no repayment from anyone. You do not consider the shortages of the brothers as you ought; instead you relieve the needy while you yourself are in want." But he, smiling and dissembling, said: "Do not be troubled, brother, for those who seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing" Psalm 33:11. "You," said the other, "always make such promises; but what you ceaselessly pour out will not be so quickly given back. The brothers will feel the one who spends before they should see the one who repays." God rewards his mercy toward the poor. The Father, provoked by such great indignation — he who endured the indignant brother out of charity — was regarded by the Son of charity, who extended the hand of generosity. For at once two carts appeared at the door — not conveyed by the ministry of oxen, but brought divinely to the servant of God — one laden with cheeses, the other with fish. The blessed Father, relieved by this visitation and rejoicing more in the brother's reproof than even in the relief itself, gave the order, and that brother appeared forthwith. When he was at hand, the Father said: "For those who fear God, brother, nothing is ever lacking; blessed is the man who hopes in Him. Behold, what you feared is refuted by God, and your unbelief is openly convicted. At last, convicted, be ashamed; and having received what you were demanding, despair no more." But the other, departing in confusion — for he was dove-like in simplicity, though not without gall — said: "Grant me pardon, Father, I beg you; henceforth I shall indeed believe that all things yield to you according to your desire. What you gave is returned, since you have what you received — the grace which you merited." A true confession, not discordant with his merit. For he was not ^a half-hearted giver, but entirely and wholly generous. I lie if I am left without testimonies.

[17] Wonderful discretion in almsgiving. If fortune at any time presented him with two beggars at once and he did not have an adequate dole at hand for both, he judged it better to give the whole to one rather than have each of them seem to depart almost unrelieved. To the one he gave the practical effect of piety; to the other, only the affection of goodwill.

CHAPTER IV.

The piety of Adelardus: his zeal for peace.

[18] Nor was he devoid of the depths of piety; and how great was the piety within him he could scarcely conceal in his heart, Tears were the tokens of his piety. still less in his eyes. For tears always flowed from them like some aqueduct — tears that, as could be seen, were witnesses of sweetness, not of guilt or ^a penitent conscience. When he was asked by his more intimate companions the cause of his weeping, he would say: "I weep for myself, my sons — not displaying my humility but confronting my conscience. I know myself inwardly and in mind; therefore I weep for what I have committed." He said this not because he was such ^a man, but so that those who were such might be invited to lamentation. Whenever ^a worldly affair occupied him — as the temporal administration of such things demanded and demands — shortly afterward, disengaged, he was entirely present in divine matters. Immediately the flood of tears would flow, and amid the tears the murmuring of psalms whispered sweetly.

[19] When about to pray, he sets aside worldly cares. Wherever also he entered for the divine office, he would set all worldly thoughts beside the threshold of the entrance and go in wholly as one before God. While others sang the psalms, he wept, for he was dissolved in tears by ^a sweeter music through which he entirely consisted. For he was of such sweetness, and of such sweet intention toward God, that even if he were assisting at royal councils, Hearing music, he weeps. upon hearing any melody he could in no way restrain himself from tears. Nor is this surprising, because the sweetness of the homeland — in which he finds his sweetness — for which he always sighed ^a new song, dissolved him by this sweetness.

[20] And when he traveled on account of the business of the Church — from which kind of service, though sometimes, he was rarely separated — he walked apart from all others. Nor did he abandon the institutions of the Rule; rather, he gave himself to tears in place of reading, and to prayers in place of the remaining routine of the community. His companions, who were accustomed to such journeys, On ^a journey he walks alone. went before and followed him, attending to their own jests; but he himself alleviated the rough stretches of the road by singing psalms.

[21] Wherever he walked, peace accompanied him: he waged war against war; he had struck ^a treaty with peace. With whom once arriving at Beneventum, He makes peace between the Spoletans and the Beneventans. he found it had taken up arms against Spoleto. In these conflicts they raged with such violence that all their possessions were annihilated by arms, plunder, and flames. Bellona raged toward the destruction of all; to all it seemed ^a fine thing to recover their losses through the midst of the enemy. This was the measure of the war: to give out before being conquered. At length the man of God walked between them as ^a mediator of peace, and disclosed to both sides the counsel of peace. Nor did he desist until he had restored the treaty between them, even to the exchange of kisses: he restored peace to both parties; he fixed their customs and boundaries with ^a firm limit. With these and similar efforts, he tirelessly federated the kingdom.

CHAPTER V.

He is banished by Louis the Pious: he lives ^a holy life in exile.

[22] But in that time, justice was seen to depart from the earth. Mortals suffer an eclipse while the sun shines, Charles the Great dies. because among them the color and beauty of things perishes. For the light of the world, the Emperor Charles, having entered the way of all flesh, expired, and by dying made his son Louis Emperor; Louis the Pious succeeds him, dissimilar to his father. but not so well-fathered as the Empire would have required. For he did not follow the way of his father, but adopted the mind of Rehoboam, son of Solomon. Whatever the father had loved, he hates; whatever had pleased him, displeases the son. The paternal counselors are removed; new ones are installed, and haters of the former ones. 3 Kings 12 Their aged perversity immediately lamented that public affairs were prosperous — precisely because, according to Plato, their rulers embraced wisdom. For those were they who in the time of Charles had envied the man of God, enhanced in wisdom and honor; and they preferred that justice and right should be confounded rather than that this man should reign. Adelardus is called into disfavor. Having obtained their time for vengeance of their envy, they are bound by conspiracy to separate him from the King's side — so that justice, no longer having ^a defender, might lose the kingdom, and iniquity, to be captured in its own time by their frauds, might recover ^a place of dominion. Nor was the thing very difficult, for the occasion, the time, and the person were at hand. Finally, as they say, good men are more suspect to Kings than bad ones. For such men, the virtue of another is always fearsome. He is sent into exile. That this was so for the man of God, nothing proved truer — he who, without ^a judge, stripped of the dignity of his honor, suffered exile for the benefit of the commonwealth, and so received evil things in return for good. O what morals! O what times! — from golden vessels, truly, to earthenware. But blessed are those who suffer persecution for the sake of justice — for which, as if the world were not exile enough, he received without trial the sentence of another exile. Not, however, without judgment, because he was to be happily rewarded by the divine one.

[23] And so that happy family of brothers and sisters was dissolved, which, like ^a certain constellation, had seemed the brilliance of the whole palace. They were five in number, [The brothers and sisters of Saint Adelardus: Wala, the virgin Gundrada, Bernharius, Theodrada.] distinguished by sex and by age, but united by the same goodness. Saint Adalardus held the first rank in age and sanctity; after him, Wala, the most illustrious of men — the heir of order, justice, and equity. Clinging to them from the side was the holy virgin Gundrada — unequal, indeed, in sex, but not unequal in sanctity — who alone, amid the amorous flowers of the palace, deserved to escape the fire of youth. The remaining two were Bernharius and Theodrada, who, having rendered the fruit of marriage, chose to hear the word of God at the feet of Jesus with Mary. And she indeed governed the life of the nuns at Soissons; he, however, assumed the form of discipleship of Christ at Corbeia.

[24] These flowers of the palace, therefore, are sent innocent to diverse places. Saint Adalardus, having obtained by God's dispensation ^a place on the island of Heri in Aquitaine, All are scattered in various directions. which he had previously sought through flight. Wala, by God's provision, is received at Corbeia, so that she who was weeping and grieving, desolate from the departure of so great ^a Father, might be consoled by the succession of his brother in sanctity and in prelacy. Bernharius is sent to Lerins; Theodrada, as if more innocent than the rest — though all were innocent — is left at Soissons. Gundrada is directed to Poitiers, the worthy one to dwell with ^a worthy one — namely, to serve Saint Radegund. O hearts so united, why are you separated by the expanse of the world? Those whom God has joined, why has man separated? This proscription, moreover, was not ^a legal judgment, but ^a furtive denunciation. Yet it excludes by the grace of accepted benevolence every injury of malevolence.

[25] The constancy of Adalardus. And when they were going forth from the palace together, Adalardus proceeded, giving thanks that he was deemed worthy to suffer reproach, soothing with kisses his brothers and sisters who were weeping, persuading his friends of the fortitude of his mind, displaying to the Nobles of the palace examples of the virtues, and above all demonstrating to all the wonderful constancy of his spirit. For many followed him — since they could do nothing else — showing by their tears and contrition of heart that they were displeased. And when, as they departed, he bade them farewell and he himself, having received their farewell, withdrew, they depart with tears. And two Archbishops, who with eager foot and ardent mind stood by the King, said: "Do you think, Emperor, that you are taking vengeance by dishonoring this man with this proscription? Two Bishops decry the act. Either you are badly advised or have not deliberated well. For you are not dishonoring him; rather, as it seems to him, you are fully honoring him. In truth, he congratulates himself today that he has recovered his former liberty in Christ, and he confesses without pretense that you could not have made for him any joy equal to this one. Whence you may know beyond doubt that he has never at any time been seen more joyful by us." At this the Emperor was suffused with embarrassment. He was sorry he had done what now seemed empty grounds for shame; but if it could be undone, it certainly would not be done hereafter. While all imputed this to him as ^a crime (and it was indeed so, He excuses the Emperor. for one committing ^a sin could not be free of sin), the man of God resisted with every argument: "Do not," he said, "impute to him what is not in man's power. He is making use of God's permission, to whom it is established we have in every way transgressed. For if by the Lord he is roused against us, it is fitting that the sacrifice of humility be offered."

[26] Preaching these and other things, he departed to the place designated for his use — ^a place also sought by him with every desire. How great was his humility and grace there, the brothers are fit witnesses; among whom he led an angelic life for seven years. For the more he was freed from worldly cares, His angelic life in exile. the more attentively he yearned for things divine and heavenly. He was constant in prayer; after prayer, in reading; after reading, in relieving the brothers. He relieved them with honey-sweet counsel, offering himself as ^a mirror for them to follow in action. He was small among the lesser, less among the greater — venerating the greater as lords, cherishing the lesser as sons. And they rejoiced in his fatherhood and displayed themselves in worthy filiation as though under their own Abbot. They sought him when he admonished and heeded him in all things when he counseled. He was an object of veneration to all. For his speech was seasoned with salt, and he turned all adverse events into favorable ones. The father of the monastery venerated him in the place of ^a father, and did not think anything should be done without his counsel. For him, however, it was ^a small matter to counsel in such things — inasmuch as he was accustomed to arranging the twofold care of an empire — unless the diligence or charity of the brothers overcame him. But because his conversation was in heaven, according to Paul, divine contemplation always held him — from which he scarcely ever departed, unless the brothers' charity or the refreshment of ^a meal drew him away. And that ^a quick conclusion of this description may be reached — since ^a full definition of his virtues cannot be made — he showed himself to be such that no speech can comprehend.

CHAPTER VI.

He is recalled from exile: he returns to Corbeia.

[27] After he had completed the seven years with such veneration, After seven years he is recalled from exile. still as new in God's service as if he had not yet completed two — God, in whose hand the heart of the King is held, with his accustomed condescension brought his exile to an end. For the Lord looked upon the earth, and justice looked down from heaven. Equity settled upon the kingdom, and the iniquity of many grew cold. The color of things grew green again; the flowers of the churches were colored anew. For already the time for showing mercy had come, already the time for them had arrived, because the clemency of God inspired the Emperor Louis to recall the holy Adalardus from exile. In his recall there was such exultation in the empire as if the divine visitation itself were visibly descending from heaven. All rejoice at his return. And indeed it was not otherwise, for God was visiting mortals through him. The monasteries of monks gave thanks; the beauty of the churches resounded with joy; the arrogance of the proud was humbled; the patience of the humble was exalted. There was ^a concourse of people, their former dignity having been restored, because he who had been taken away from those sitting in the shadows of error now shone upon them as the sun of justice. With the father received, orphans find ^a mother; widows and wards receive their governor.

[28] The monks of Heri grieve at his departure. But as great as the joy was for these, so great was the sorrow that arose for those from whom he departed. They rejoice and grieve, because they would wish to have him always and yet would prefer that he return to his own see. This was ^a discordant concord among them and ^a concordant discord. Weeping around him with the tender sweetness of love — for they were not yet satiated through seven years (which is wont to be tedious for many) with his most sweet affection — they were scarcely compelled by the fervor of charity to let him go.

[29] Especially Raginardus, later Abbot. Among them, moreover, ^a certain Raginardus held an especially prominent affection — he who was to become Abbot of that same place after the one who then held the office — who, burning with ^a singular love of charity toward him, both rejoiced and grieved, by the alternating motions of his soul. Because the champion of truth was returning home, he was glad; but he grieved beyond measure that he was being deprived of the presence of so great ^a man. And when he was already leaving the monastery, and the brothers were following him with tears, bidding farewell and escorting him, that man hid himself in ^a valley of weeping, satisfying his grief with groans and tears, because he could not bear the presence of one departing. And he, frequently seeking him and often halting to wait for him, resolved not to depart at all as long as it remained for him to bid farewell to this brother. When the hiding place was finally discovered and reported to him, and he was urged not to detain the one wishing to depart, the brother said: "Do not, I beg you, reveal me to those seeking me, for more easily when absent can I bear the departure of one leaving." The message was brought to the Saint; the place where he lay hidden was shown. At once, retracing his steps with the feet of charity, the Saint came to his brother, lest he remain unsaluted. And when he arrived unexpectedly, the other, leaping up in consternation of spirit, cried out weeping: "Alas, Father, I have added sin to sin! I did not wish to come out to you, and so, wretch that I am, I compel you to come back here. But grant me pardon, for I hoped to remain hidden. I do not know what to do in the meantime, but now, in your presence, I can scarcely bear my longing for you. But far be it that any delay should be tangled for you on my account. May the grace of the Lord accompany you, for with me, whether I wish it or not, your presence will always remain." Having said these things, and having given and received their farewell, they lingered long in the charity of ^a kiss; and so the Saint departed with the rest, with that brother also accompanying him.

[30] The ropes are made ready; the ships are launched; Adelardus departs from the island of Heri. and with sails spread to the breeze, the anchors are weighed. With bared arms the rowers are fitted at the oars and yardarms. The brothers utter groans, and the ships make their sound; and standing so long upon the shore, they fix their gaze upon the departing one until, with their eyes squinting, instead of one they seem to see ^a multitude.

[31] He is received with honor by the King and the Nobles. But he, the bonds of sight severed — though not of the heart — after some days at last arrived at the palace, wasted by long emaciation of body. There, received favorably by the King and the Nobles, he was tearfully begged to grant pardon. They confessed their error and found him forgetful of the injury. For seeing them suffused with shame — those who formerly had not been ashamed to indulge their envy against him even to the point of action — he anticipated their satisfaction, and with lowered eyes he soothed those now making amends so sweetly: "Nothing," he said, He excuses their sin against himself. "O Caesar — nothing, O Nobles — happens on earth without cause. Nothing happens in the world without the judgment of God. If God reproves us for our sins, what is that to you? Let us see to it ourselves. You could do nothing without God's permission. Luke 6:37 Now let us heed God's command: 'Forgive,' He says, 'and you shall be forgiven' — which I shall do first; follow me." It is done without delay by all; all things are cleared away.

[32] When these matters were thus settled, he was urged to resume his former see at the pleading of his sons, He returns to Corbeia. for whom that seven-year period, consumed with longing, had seemed longer than ^a hundredfold of years. He accepts, and does not refuse — for indeed, according to the canons, he could not; rather, the love of his sons commands him. And so, with ^a great retinue of his own, he returns to Corbeia. O what ^a joyful day then shone upon the Corbeians! That day — ^a day of gladness, ^a day of exultation and glory! With how great ^a welcome he was received, who can fully declare? The vested order of monks advances, and the white-robed order of clergy precedes the monks. He is received with the greatest joy of all. Every sex and age rushes to meet him; and nothing is heard except the harmony of ^a single praise — namely, of those praising the clemency of Christ on account of the return of their father. They sing in harmony and dissonance alike, because sex changed their voices, not their praises. Nor did the desolation of his departure pour forth more tears than the consolation of his return now poured forth again.

[33] But there was not lacking an impediment by which such great joy was somewhat hindered. For him on whose account these joys were shining, He is afflicted by fevers. the pestilential flame of fevers, invading limbs long attenuated by exile, attenuated them still further now with the sickness of illness. This circumstance indeed diminished their joy, but increased the tears proceeding from both sides — both from joy and from sorrow. They were relieved only by this consolation: that they preferred to have him ill rather than not to have him at all in health. Wherefore, abounding toward him with every humanity, they showed him the office of charity with loving filiation.

CHAPTER VII.

By his counsel the remaining exiles are recalled: the Emperor does penance.

[34] And when he had rested somewhat more quietly, and by resting — whether he wished or not — had improved ^a little, he was summoned again by the Emperor; He is recalled to the court. and he who was formerly received gloriously is now received still more gloriously at the palace. Such grace accompanied him as he entered, such wisdom as he spoke, such eloquence as he reasoned, that each person's own foolishness was immediately evident. They marvel and are astounded and hang upon his reasoning, because those who had previously seemed to themselves perfect orators now stood nearly speechless with ^a finger placed upon their lips. Whatever they had deliberated was rendered null; whatever he declared was ratified. And so the captivity of many was dissolved — especially those who were joined by royal kinship — and thus first of all his happy family of brothers and sisters was mended, Many are recalled from exile. and in one act full liberty was restored to all. All were recalled from diverse regions — except those whom death, more happily anticipating them, had sent back to their homeland. The tonsure of some, received without right, was transformed through him into ^a crown, and what had been imposed for shame was offered willingly to God.

[35] Louis does penance. The glorious Emperor himself, undertaking public penance, made himself more humble than all in his offenses — he who by royal arrogance had become another Tarquinius. For whatever he had caused others to commit by his example and permission, he at last, instructed by salutary counsel, healed by royal satisfaction, going before all and leading them back to the way of repentance — those for whom he had been the path of deviation. He heeded Saint Adalardus in all things, and prayed to restore the Empire to its former honor. Nor did the Saint fail, but restored justice and equity to their proper seat. Many things are amended by the counsel of Adelardus. He suppressed novelties of speech and reckless presumptions among the people. And because in departing he had changed his sky but not his mind, he increased tenfold beyond what he had been when he departed, restraining the altered Empire with fear and love. Moreover, he was also commanded to teach all the churches — to which, in counsel and prudence, he appeared as ^a master, but in humility as ^a disciple. Nor did he desist until he made the kingdom of the Franks flourish in every glory.

CHAPTER VIII.

The deportment of body and soul of Adelardus, his benignity, his care of his subjects.

[36] Adelardus wishes to resign his office. With affairs, therefore, composed in peace, he considers divesting himself once more of worldly cares, so that he may spend the remaining time of his life in divine pursuits. But he was not permitted — by his own sons, that is, whose greatest hope after God he was, and their maternal Father. For the more mature he was in age, the more useful he seemed to those striving toward virtue, and the more accomplished in whatever needed to be done. Nor was there anyone who could exercise authority over him in this matter, especially since, by the vigor of the Holy Spirit and the still-unexhausted greenness of his flesh, he was so vigorous that in labors and in the management of affairs no young man's constancy could follow, let alone equal, him. So perfect was he in action, handling all things gently — yet himself without gentleness. Severe with himself, benign toward others. For who was ever so much ^a lord over his own slave as he was over himself? Who so cruel ^a judge of another as he was of himself? When he was sometimes besought by his sons with paternal veneration as to why he was so lacking in discretion toward himself — he who treated others most discreetly — he would immediately promise correction before them; but ^a little later he would resume his vigils and his hunger.

[37] He was, however, handsome with the grace of comeliness — of ^a distinguished thinness, His form was full of dignity. and of ^a very fair complexion. No disfigurement overshadowed his face; rather, constant cheerfulness composed him as seemly whether eating or fasting. White hair adorned him with snowy brightness; and like ^a lily upon rosy garments, the hair of his head shone over his ruddy skin. Had he been chosen from among thousands, none more fair nor more ruddy could have been selected.

[38] His benignity toward the poor. As for the rest, there is no limit to his praise. In person, in nobility, in wisdom, and in integrity, he did not fall short of the very art of his ministry. Indeed, how excellently he managed the property of the Church, Corbeia will testify as long as it shall endure. There was the harbor of the poor, the regard of the rich, the maternal home of orphans; and by his example there still remains ^a refuge for all who petition. No rich person departed without ^a gift, no poor person went away without ^a donation. He assigned unmarried men and widows to receive stipends throughout the individual estates, who everywhere in suitable places, receiving from him ^a hospice, possessed the property of the Church in common as their patrimony. For ^a treasure in heaven was being prepared for himself and his own; and the house of God was wisely administered by ^a wise man.

[39] Furthermore, the habit of his clothing was scarcely sufficient against the cold; His clothing. yet it protected his limbs rather than conveying any mark of honor or costliness. Indeed, he had no need of any arrangement of the body — for nothing of human beauty was lacking to him, nor indeed of the inner soul. The composition of his body and voice. In appearance he was incomparable; in stature, tall; in gait, virginal. His voice, with its swan-like sweetness, charmed the hearing; and his speech made every listener mindful of him.

[40] He himself, moreover, held such ^a memory of his sons in his fatherly heart He carried the names of all his monks with him. that he not only inspected their conduct but also always had the number and names of them written in his hands, so that it would not slip from his mind for whom and for how many he would have to render an account to God. Therefore, exercising the greatest care for them, he left none of them unaddressed in the course of ^a week, How often he speaks with each one weekly. lest the enemy, finding them idle, should sow tares in their hearts.

[41] Accordingly, whoever wishes to know how effective he was in the arrangements of his governance The Book of Ordinances of Saint Adelardus. may read about it in the book composed on these matters, not without great admiration; where he will also perceive how wisely the house of the church of Corbeia was arranged by ^a wise man.

[42] And what is more praiseworthy in him, since he was neither less than Moses nor inferior to Solomon in ordering affairs — and indeed in all things that the Holy Spirit would wish to suggest to him? If he spoke in the vernacular, that is, the Roman * tongue, He was skilled in languages. you would think him ignorant of all others. And no wonder — for he had been liberally educated in all. But if he spoke in Teutonic, he excelled more perfectly; if in Latin, in none was he more accomplished. This is attested by his many letters, which, directed to very many persons, are considered by all to be most liberal. The letters of Saint Adelardus. For he could not have failed to know letters sufficiently and liberally — he who was nurtured and educated among the school companions together with his cousin the Emperor Charles; and after he renounced the world, he applied himself quite studiously to monastic learning.

[43] Thus, therefore, perfected in both disciplines — worldly, that is, and divine — having become all things to all, he was the most equitable arbiter between Kings and Princes, great and small, in all things, pleasing to God and to men. He benefits the entire empire. Counsel, indeed, for the whole country thrived in him; and although his sole desire was to be dissolved and to be with Christ, yet, overcome by the entreaties of his own, he arranged the peace and honor of the empire on every side.

* That is, the vernacular Gallic language, which, like Italian and Spanish, was formed from Latin.

CHAPTER IX.

He builds the new Corbeia on the Weser river, furnishes it with necessary resources, and frequently visits it.

[44] While attending to these matters, he arrived in Saxony with this particular business as well. Theodradus the Saxon, ^a monk of Corbeia. The nature of this business was that he had once resolved to establish ^a contemplative religious foundation there — for the purpose of which, through ^a certain boy named Theodradus, brought from Saxony to Francia by the King and made ^a monk at Corbeia, he had obtained from the boy's parents ^a site for building. In this place he from time to time planned to build ^a church suitable for the use of monks; but because he understood the site to be not sufficiently suitable, he always postponed it with doubtful delay. He prolonged this delay until the death of Charles, and after Charles until the time of his own banishment to exile. During the time of exile, moreover, those who had previously received whatever was under his authority reduced it to their own power.

[45] Another Adelardus begins the new Corbeia. But he had there ^a certain son in Christ — familiar to him above all his monks, and bearing the same name. This man, lest some other person should intrude, took possession of the aforementioned site in his place. And because he had previously known this to have been the Saint's wish, out of love for him he began from the resources of Corbeia to build ^a cell there. He began, but did not complete it, until the Saint returned from exile. And when he had returned, he set in order whatever among his affairs had fallen into disorder.

[46] Saint Adelardus goes to Saxony. In this manner he now arrived in Saxony; upon arriving, he inspected the site from every side, and having inspected it, understood it to be entirely unsuitable. He was in suspense of mind, because he did not wish to abandon the begun work of religion, and yet, having no more suitable site, he saw this one to be uninhabitable. At length he betook himself to the King and petitioned him to grant ^a site suitable for building. He builds the new Corbeia. Nor did the King hesitate for ^a moment, but, rejoicing at his pious intention, left the choice to him wherever he might find one. He went, he sought, he found, he reported back; and having happily received permission to build, and moreover endowed with many gifts by royal generosity, he abandoned the cell and began to build ^a monastery.

[47] The site of Saxon Corbeia. The site is upon the Weser river, of the greatest pleasantness and such temperate climate that it is manifestly created from the beginning for the use of monks. For it extends in the level of ^a valley, shaped in the form of the letter delta. It has, indeed, toward the east the riverbed, beside which ^a mountain stretches in front. From the south, moreover, another mountain emerges from the riverbed, which extends with ^a widening curve toward the west; from the north, however, another in ^a corresponding position from the opposite direction, until, leaving ^a path through the middle, they seem to join one another. And thus the very level valley remaining in the middle, like another paradise, appears flourishing in the pleasantness of the entire climate, in this way expressing, to whatever degree it coincides, the figure of ^a triangle.

[48] In this place, therefore, building ^a church with its dependencies, He furnishes the new Corbeia with monks and other resources. he adorns it with the best monks he can find. He instructs the monks in conduct, the place with resources, and all things for all, as Saint Benedict prescribes. He calls the name of the place Corbeia, so that it might be ^a sign to posterity whence it took the material of its existence, and he decrees it to be ^a daughter of the Corbeia of the Franks. And rightly, because whatever it was, it began from the other ab ovo. Nor was it very long before it could compare itself to its mother in resources, even if not in dignity. For with the good odor of the monks whom the most holy Father brought from the bosom of the mother to the daughter — all chosen ones — spreading far and wide, so great was the generosity of the Emperor and all the Nobles toward the church that the willingness to receive gave out before the willingness to give. So great was the veneration that burned toward the holy Father and his sons that they preferred to inscribe the church as heir of their goods rather than their own children.

[49] But he, seeing that sufficient provision had been attributed to the church — as much as was needed — in estates, in gold, and in the rest of things, set ^a limit to receiving, and by daily preaching uprooted from the hearts of his subjects the vice of coveting. He sets ^a limit in accepting alms. "We ought," he said, "to be dead to the world and to reign with Christ in our life. But behold, many who seem to have renounced the world are found, abounding in too many possessions, to be serving the world once again. How absurd this is, consider with us. Otherwise it profits us nothing to have stripped ourselves of our own goods, as the Apostle says: 'No one serving God entangles himself in worldly affairs' 2 Timothy 2:4. It is not for us to grow rich at the expense of others becoming poor; nor is it for us to rejoice at the expense of others grieving. Let us be content with sufficiency — we for whom even the poverty of Christ ought to be sufficient: he who, being rich, for our sake willed to become poor."

[50] He frequently revisits his monks. Preaching these and other things, he often migrated from Corbeia to Corbeia, rejoicing together with them — hearing, namely, that they were ^a good odor in Christ. He delighted in so worthy ^a plantation and took pleasure in their now deeply-rooted unity. For they were in common with each other, and because the younger daughter was already growing to sisterhood under the same father, they were most beloved sisters. Happy the Father in such filiation! Happier the daughters in such fatherhood! Happiest the sons, if they shall have persevered in this unity! For behold, the Father departs: he leaves behind in the world, but does not leave behind in Christ, those whom he had nurtured. The time to be dissolved and to be with Christ is at hand — the time of dying on earth and of being reborn in heaven.

[51] For the solemnity of solemnities was drawing near — that solemnity, namely, in which through the mystery of his Incarnation the Lord set his tabernacle in the sun. He had returned from Saxony to Gaul, so that with his daughter established in Christ, he might celebrate the Advent of the Lord at the mother Corbeia. And now, like another aged Simeon, he had prepared to meet the coming Lord He is seized by fever. and to receive joyfully in his arms the King of Kings proceeding from his bridal chamber — when behold, three days before the Nativity of the Lord ^a most violent fever struck him, while he was praying and weeping according to his custom in the basilica in the middle of the night. Persevering thus through the entire vigils together with the brothers, he sang psalms with them and wept as he sang, all the way until dawn, consecrating to the Lord ^a sacrifice of jubilation in his heart.

[52] He foretells his own death. As the light advanced, he ordered the brothers to assemble before him. When they were placed before him, admonishing each one about particular matters, he announced that the time of his dissolution was at hand, and he spoke in common about peace and unity in the election to come, according to God. And reciting the Creed with ^a prayer, commending himself while the rest wept, he retained those with whom he had business to conduct regarding the ordering of affairs.

[53] He arranges all things. And as day by day the illness grew more and more severe, he arranged all things so providently as if he bore nothing amiss — laboring especially lest, on account of the annoyance of his weakness, the holy solemnity should have less than its due honor and observance. The remaining things he labored no less to set in order, lest anything under his care should seem to remain imperfect after him. On the day, therefore, celebrated with what veneration he could — the day on which the supreme divinity deigned to assume our humanity — the remaining days were ordinary for him, because the mortal fever began to rage more greedily within him. He receives Communion daily. Daily, nevertheless, he came to the oratory of Blessed Martin, whose memory he recalled with the privilege of love, above all others together with all others, and there, hearing Masses, he received Holy Communion.

[54] Bishop Hildemannus of Beauvais visits him. Meanwhile, hearing that he was ill, Bishop Hildemannus of Beauvais — whom he had nurtured as ^a monk and had elevated to that honor through the King's concession — was detained by no celebration of the present festival, but visited his father in compassion for his infirmity, exchanging joys for solicitude. At his arrival the holy Father rejoiced with such eagerness that, were it not his last, he would nearly have forgotten his illness in the face of such consolation. He gave thanks to God and to the Bishop, that he had not been defrauded of his desire. For he had desired to see him and to die between his hands.

[55] He is anointed by Hildemannus. And when asked whether he wished to be anointed with the oil of blessing by the Bishop, with his eyes raised to heaven, he prayed with all his might that it be done. The Bishop was called, came, and at once what he requested was accomplished. For scarcely from the time he arrived did the Bishop withdraw from his attendance; rather, having placed ^a small seat before the bed, he always sat in his presence. On ^a certain day, however, when he had stepped out of the chamber for ^a little while and the feverish man remained alone within, Christ appears to him. visited by the presence of God, he began to cry out when the Bishop returned: "Run swiftly, Bishop — I command you — and kiss the feet of my Lord Jesus Christ, for behold, he is present to me." At this the other trembled greatly; and not knowing where to go, he stood fast, bewildered. The Saint also withdrew into silence.

[56] But on the eighth day after the Nativity — that is, the day of the Circumcision — he began more eagerly to press upon God with prayers, that with the festival days celebrated, he might at last be permitted to depart hence. Nor were his prayers without their fulfillment; for when the space of midnight had passed, foreknowing things to come, he addressed the assembled brothers in this manner: "O sons, His last speech to his own. fruit of my old age in the Lord: I have fulfilled my number; know that today I depart hence. It has been given to me to enter the way of all flesh and to appear before the sight of my Redeemer. The course of my contest is finished; I do not know what reward I am to receive. But help me, I beseech you, so that I may rejoice in you and you in me in the Lord."

[57] Having said these things, he gave permission for them to go out, retaining ^a few whom he urged to hasten and anticipate Matins. He receives Communion again. When these were finished, he received the Viaticum; and having received it, his tongue fell silent in the praise of Christ. But the tongues of his sons did not fail him — those, namely, which he had trained in the praise of God. Commended to the Lord by their psalms, prayers, and tears from the first hour, around the ninth hour He dies on January 2. he breathed forth his spirit and struck his own with ^a sorrowful faintness.

[58] There followed the voice of those commending his soul to Christ, and the sobs of those interrupting the voices. For who would not weep, even if born of stone? Many things intervene which can draw forth tears. He is mourned by his own. The orphaned sons stand forth, and Corbeia, their mother, is widowed; whose grief and mourning penetrates even the halls of heaven. The sheep stand without ^a shepherd; mute grief grows without ^a voice. For he was the one, O good Jesus, whom in the whole world, out of all, I found to be the only true Abbot — he, from among all, whom I found seeking the things of another more than his own. He who, as ^a mother loves her only son, so most tenderly loved each one, and invited them to take hold of more solid things.

There followed the lament of Corbeia — or rather of Saint Ratbertus — as in the earlier Life, and the epitaph of Saint Adelardus; all in exactly the same words, except that the fable of Orpheus seeking to recover Eurydice was omitted. But I have excised all these. If they were truly ascribed to Saint Gerard, one may read them above at chapter 20, section 83 and following.

MIRACLES OF SAINT ADELARDUS THE ABBOT.

Adelardus, Abbas Corbeiensis in Gallia (S.) BHL Number: 0061

By Saint Gerard.

PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR.

[1] Corbeia has three churches. How great was the nobility of the place of Corbeia among the ancients — whoever may be silent about it, the stones cry out, not only to the ears but also to the eyes of posterity. For in it three principal churches are maintained, in which the confession of the Holy Trinity can well unite the hearts of the faithful: the first bears Peter the fisherman as its patron; the second, John the Evangelist for those caught by the nets; the third, Stephen the Protomartyr for those evangelized. A beautiful order, assuredly ordained by God. It was founded by Queen Bathildis, concerning whom see January 26. Its site. For I would not say that Bathildis the Queen was the foundress of these, but rather the grace of the Holy Spirit, the inspirer of her and of all good things.

[2] Accordingly, the site is wholesome and very fitting, flourishing in the pleasantness of every utility — entirely suitable for the uses of monks, as having been sought and found for this very purpose. On one side the river Somme flows past; on the other, the little river Corbeia, running together, gives the place its name; The river Somme. The rivulet Corbeia. but immediately falling into the Somme, where it gives it also loses. And so, with meadows, waters, and fields stretching far and wide, it is held both similar and dissimilar to the Corbeia of the Saxons — of which, together with this one, Saint Adalardus was both ruler and founder.

[3] Having set forth above his deeds and the manner of his life, there follows the noble subject matter of his precious death. The burial of Saint Adelardus. For having been buried at the church that holds primacy under the principality of Peter, he lay in the middle place, before the lower step of the chancel screen. The tongue of the epitaph is ^a sign, but no other likeness of burial is made. There for ^a long time ash returned to ash, his flesh awaiting the resurrection with the elect — until that generation should almost beget an entire new generation, He lay hidden for ^a long time. and it should escape the notice of all except the learned where so happy ^a treasure rested. The burial lay hidden for ^a long time, trodden upon like the rest of the ground by all; no one passing by, no one praying was aware. At last the discerner of merits, wishing to make known and glorify the burial through the merit of the one buried, made such ^a beginning of glorifying his servant.

CHAPTER I.

The wonderful manifestation of his burial, through the man whose feet adhered to the pavement.

[4] A certain man came to pray for the intercessions of the Saints with which so great ^a church flourishes; A certain man praying over his tomb has his feet adhered to the pavement. and because the proper order required it, he first sought the Prince of the Apostles. He sought Peter and found Saint Adalardus — he found him lying hidden, yet reigning in his hiddenness. For, unknowingly prostrating himself upon the tomb of the Confessor, he was winning the ears of the heavenly powers with whatever prayers and vows he could. He prayed and was heard; he rose — I know not whether his prayer was granted. But when, having made the sign of the cross upon his face, he wished to depart, his feet adhered to the pavement as if fixed with nails. The wretched man was astonished; astonished, he began to cry out pitifully; and because he could not move his feet, he turned his face about tearfully. The novelty of the thing drew many to the tomb — monks first of all, astonished, marveling, yet rejoicing at the novelty of the signs: seeing, that is, ^a man unable to move himself, and yet standing sound. He asked them whether anyone rested there, and was asked by them whether he was tormented by the consciousness of any crime. "I know, my lords," he said, "that I am ^a sinful man; but help me, I beg, with your prayers and with your counsel." Both were done at once: prayer was offered by them; he, instructed in the matter, made ^a vow to the Saint — namely to Adalardus — to construct ^a tomb. He makes ^a vow to Saint Adelardus. He is freed: he builds ^a new tomb. And so, bound by himself, he was immediately released by the one who held him. Joy arose for both parties: for him, the freedom to depart; for the monks, the renown of their patron. Nor was the Saint lacking in the reward of binding and loosing; for the man, returning, built ^a fitting tomb, establishing moreover an annual day of payment for all the days of his life.

CHAPTER II.

Concerning ^a crippled woman healed by God through the Saint's merit.

[5] This binding, therefore, was afterward the loosing of many. For from this famous occasion the place began to be frequented with great veneration. The healthy and the infirm came together — the former seeking the salvation of the soul, the latter of the body. Among them ^a certain crippled woman, always lying beside the tomb, seemed in ^a manner to be doing violence to the man of God. Neither the night, except for the first watch, excluded her, nor the day, unless she was refreshing her body with nourishment. Ulfiardis of Corbeia, ^a crippled woman, assiduously prays at his tomb. She was called Ulfiardis; and she was therefore always so readily present because she was an inhabitant of Corbeia — so crippled that she moved rather by the feet of those who carried her than by her own. And if bearers were lacking, you would have thought you were seeing not ^a biped walking but ^a quadruped creeping on little stools. All other hope of recovering health was gone, except — after God — the compassion of Saint Adalardus. On ^a certain night, therefore, coming to the tomb as was her custom, she sought the earth with her head, but heaven with her prayers. She sat after her prayer, because she could not stand, holding ^a candle, turning the eyes of the monks who were singing psalms toward herself by her tears and her wretchedness. She multiplied her prayers, because she sought not another's but her own salvation. At last divine mercy was at hand, because the intercession of His friend was present. The crackling of sinews was heard, as sinews sprang back to sinews and joints to joints. The woman, perceiving her healing through the intercession of Saint Adelardus, She is healed during Matins. called to her attendant sitting behind her. The attendant came to the one calling, and more quickly than words can say, found her well and standing erect. Those present marveled; those seeking the same things were at once made more certain of their own salvation. For the monks, too, such exultation was added that in praise of the servant, there seemed to be an interruption of the praises of the Lord. Ingebrannus, Abbot of Saint-Riquier. But present at Matins was Abbot Ingelrannus, who at that time philosophized more profoundly than others, and whom not chance but providence had sent as ^a witness of this sign — he whose flock the holy Richarius shepherded. Before him the Abbot of Corbeia, Heribertus, beckoned with his hand — for Saint Benedict had imposed silence upon them — Heribertus, Abbot of Corbeia. to ask whether he should interrupt Matins and sing the hymn Te Deum laudamus. He refused, and indicated that Matins should be completed, and then all should celebrate the event with praises. So it was done: the woman was present at the praises, and she herself became, by the tongue of her own healing, ^a witness to those who knew and those who did not. To all the Corbeians, moreover, known as she was as ^a cripple, her wholeness gave full credence to the miracle.

CHAPTER III.

Concerning the healing of ^a woman's hands through the merits and intercession of the holy Confessor.

[6] There was also ^a woman in the same monastery of Corbeia who, suffering from various infirmities of body, had her fingers so adhered to the roots of her palms that she was entirely deprived of the use of both hands. Placing her hope entirely in the Saint of God — by whose clemency she had often seen many of the sick recalled from the very peril of death — she came daily to the tomb and among the other sick implored the aid of God and of Saint Adalardus. A woman with crippled hands prays long and often at the tomb of Adelardus. And though she saw many, many times, depart healthy — those whom she herself had striven to approach first and most earnestly — she fell into no despair on that account, but was rather animated to petition. For she imputed it to her own sins that her petition was less efficacious. She asked, therefore, and received; she sought and found; she knocked and entered. And because she did not desist, like the Canaanite woman, she was made whole by her faith. For when she had implored the Saint's mercy for ^a long time and, lying daily beside his tomb, had awaited the effect of her supplication, at last on the first Sunday of the Lord's Passion At last she is healed. she happily merited to find what she had long sought. For standing with attentive mind before the tomb where the holy body was entombed, amid prayers and tears she began to extend the knots of her fingers. The palm of each hand was restored to freedom — each hand could now seize and release. Her hands returned to their function; what had labored with infirmity was restored to health. And so the glorification of the Saint was reported to the praise of God by singing the Te Deum laudamus. Richardus and Fulco, Abbots of Corbeia. And that all things may be reported under testimony: ^a fit witness was one who was then indeed ^a boy, but afterward Abbot Fulco, who inherited the burden and honor of Corbeia when Abbot Richardus was removed from human life.

CHAPTER IV.

Concerning the elevation of the Saint, the burning of the church, and the peril of the kingdom.

[7] The church of Corbeia dedicated to Saint Peter is destroyed by fire. But enough of these matters; now we must tell how his elevation was celebrated. In that time many misfortunes befell Corbeia, and very many more the kingdom of the Franks. For at Corbeia the principal church of Saint Peter, through the envy of the devil, was set on fire; nearly all of Gaul was condemned to the peril of famine. King Robert exercised his office in the kingdom of the Franks, Famine rages in Gaul. and Abbot Richard exercised the office of Christ at Corbeia — each happily, except that with the one, fire, and with the other, famine reigned cruelly for seven years. For the famine delivered so many peoples to death that the sisters of fate seemed to cut their threads not with ^a thumb but with ^a sword. Especially around Amiens. This plague of the dying, while it afflicted all regions exceedingly, struck the regions of the Amienois most severely.

[8] Compelled by this necessity, they resolved to provide themselves with ^a remedy more quickly — namely, to appease God, whom they had offended by manifold evils, with certain goods. For it seemed to them that this punishment was imposed upon them from heaven because they had never kept the peace which the Lord uniquely loves and commands to be loved. For such ^a custom is naturally innate in the kingdom of the Gauls, The Gauls, beyond other nations, are prone to wars. that beyond all other nations they always wish to exercise the fury of wars. But what now? There is no need to wish to die in war, because they are dying in droves by the sword of famine and pestilence. The world cannot bear the wrath of the Judge; counsel is taken with the Ninevites. Peace and justice come together as one; already, already it pleases them that the Saturnian kingdoms should return. One counsel remains for the desperate out of all: [A pact to be renewed annually concerning the keeping of peace and the recovery of their goods by law, not by force.] namely, to seek the intercessions of the Saints in order to appease the wrath of the heavenly judge. Relics are sought; they are brought together from the neighboring places; and there an inviolable pact of peace is confirmed. And so the people of Amiens and Corbeia come together with their patrons: they decree ^a full peace — that is, for the entire week — and they promise unanimously to God that they will return each year to Amiens on the feast of Saint Firminus to confirm this. They bind themselves by the vow of this promise and seal the vow with ^a sacrament. The terms of this promise were that if any should quarrel among themselves in any dispute, they should not avenge themselves by plunder or fire, until on the appointed day, before the church, in the presence of the Bishop and the Count, ^a peaceable hearing should be held.

[9] How pleasing, moreover, this counsel was to the Lord of Lords was demonstrated more clearly than light by the assembly of Saints that was there. The sick are healed at the Corbeian relics. For on that day Corbeia proved how great before God was the merit of the intercessions of her patrons. When their relics were set apart in ^a certain place — where, that is, it pleased the Abbot and the monks — as many sick as came there to pray were at once made well and whole. And so, with peace arranged, each returned to their own. From that time the fame of such things began to be spread so far and wide that Corbeia was deservedly deemed to be called ^a second Rome. For those present and absent, those bound and imprisoned, invoking the name of the Corbeian Saints, immediately felt the primacy of Saint Peter.

[10] When, therefore, the fame of so great ^a good grew daily more brilliant, it pleased its author to magnify the place more nobly — namely, by demonstrating the merits of Blessed Adalardus, whose body was still covered by its sepulchral tomb. The body of Saint Adelardus is elevated. It was covered, moreover, in the church that had been consumed by fire; but the brothers had moved to the neighboring church of Saint John the Evangelist with the relics of the Saints. How and to whom he revealed himself, and likewise how gloriously God magnified him at the tomb after his elevation, must indeed be told; but first the former things, and afterward the latter.

CHAPTER V.

By what signs Abbot Richard was encouraged to raise the holy body.

[11] Saint Adelardus appears to the priest Himoldus. A certain priest named Himoldus, possessed of ^a sufficiently good reputation according to his station, was dwelling in the aforementioned monastery of Saint John the Evangelist, because he was held to be the sacristan of that church. To him on ^a certain night the same Confessor presented himself in ^a vision, and leading him through the various chambers of the burned church, he revealed to him many wonderful and astonishing things, which the man, having awoken, deemed worthy to narrate to many. For he saw among other things ^a certain shadowy figure of ^a man, of ^a deformed stature, black, squalid, covered with rags and years, who, resting his jaw upon his hand, was entirely — so to speak — not ^a sign of one grieving but of grief itself. Concerning whom the priest, inquiring in many ways of the holy guide in his dream, asked: "Who is this, my lord, The demon grieves at the restoration of the churches. who displays such great sorrow?" "This," said Saint Adalardus, "is that demon whose sole will is to drag all things to destruction, and who consigned this sanctuary to the ravages of fire. Because, however, beyond his expectation he now sees it coming about that the most excellent cenobites are wholly engaged in restoring the house of God more elegantly than it was before — therefore he afflicts himself with as much grief as you see, and grieves over that which makes you joyful." At this the priest was stupefied, and being stupefied was awoken; and he was not made ^a deaf hearer, but ^a truthful preacher of his vision.

[12] And so by these things, and by those said earlier, and by the many signs that were frequently manifest, it seemed to Abbot Richard of blessed memory that what God wished and was showing by his willing should not be deferred through his negligence. [Richard, the twenty-ninth Abbot of Corbeia, elevates the body of Saint Adelardus.] Whence, having sent legates to receive ^a blessing from Pope John, who at that time was held to be the Vicar of Saint Peter at Rome by Pontifical hierarchy, he was not only permitted but even commanded by Apostolic authority to do what he would gladly have done even unbidden. And because Fulco, Bishop of Amiens — whom the Abbot by the counsel of the brothers had planned to have present at this ceremony — was absent, Drogo of Therouanne, commendable by the testimony of every good reputation, was summoned. When, together with him, the ministers had been prepared in twofold fashion — namely, in disposition of heart and body — the holy body was raised from the tomb on the sixth day before the Ides of October, and presented by the hands of the Bishop and the Abbot for veneration by the expectant people. The lame, the deaf, the mute, the maimed, and the blind were at once healed. Many miracles occur at the elevation. The crowd of those approaching grew dense; there was no end to the offerings of the faithful — inasmuch as the place and time gave out before the intention of the offerers. From then on, therefore, the title of Confessor was inscribed together with the other Patrons of Corbeia, with whom he protects Corbeia to the present day and shall always protect it. This elevation of the holy body was celebrated The year in which it was done. in the year of the Lord's Incarnation 1040, in the eighth indiction, while Conradus ruled the Romans and Robert the Franks.

CHAPTER VI.

Concerning ^a mute and deaf man healed before the tomb of the holy Confessor.

[13] Nor should it be passed over in oblivion how God deigned to glorify him after these events — as I learned from the very man who rejoiced in that glorification. It was the vigil of that feast A great throng of people gathers at Corbeia for the feast of Saint Peter. by which, through the passion of the cross, the heavenly key-bearer ascended to heaven. Every road round about seemed to be heading for Corbeia (so highly had Peter esteemed the glory of his own Corbeia) — some to pray, some to trade, some to seek relief, because that church which Christ had founded upon such ^a rock had been burned. Among these was brought ^a certain boy named Roger, whose capacity for speech and hearing nature had reserved for the clemency of Saint Adalardus. After the parents had visited all the other oratories of the Saints, at the first hour on the feast day they came to the tomb A boy, deaf and mute, is healed at the tomb of Saint Adelardus. which Saint Adalardus had made glorious with his remains. The tomb, however, was in the church left desolate by the fire's destruction; but the body, with the other relics, had been honorably placed in the church of Saint John the Evangelist. The parents prayed for themselves and for their son, invoking Saint Peter often and Saint Adalardus more often still. Both were present — indeed, God was present on account of both. For the boy, having recovered his health, began to address and hear those who were present. O heavenly condescension! And lest anyone should ascribe to others what God had singularly granted to Saint Adalardus, this healing took place not before the body, but before the tomb. These things were reported to the Abbot and the monks; the joy of the festival was increased; ^a festive procession was formed. Saint Adalardus was carried in procession with the people following; they came to the tomb; there they sang; the hymn Te Deum laudamus was prayed; ^a brief discourse was delivered about the event; and so they departed.

CHAPTER VII.

Concerning ^a man deaf and mute, crippled in hands, feet, and his whole body, who was healed over the tomb.

[14] A man deaf, mute, and crippled comes to Corbeia. There was another man in Normandy named Gislebertus, deprived not only of natural bodily function but almost of human form. For he was crippled in his entire body, hunched over, his face bent backward, deaf also and mute — with only his eyes preserved, by which he might behold his own wretchedness. He was brought by his family to Corbeia; there he stayed ^a long time, receiving alms along with the other sick from the brothers. At length, after much time, he was admonished in his sleep by Saint Adalardus Saint Adelardus appears to him in ^a dream. to go immediately upon waking to his tomb to pray. Awakening, therefore, he wished to go, but though already visited by the Saint, he was by no means able to go. And because he had often been instructed by watching the signs of the monks, he beckoned to those who were with him to help him. And they, compassionate toward his misery, carried him to where the Saint lay with the others, toward the church of Saint John the Evangelist. But he turned them aside by ^a nod and directed them toward the tomb, so that there might be no doubt for anyone by whom he had been visited. They carried him at once and set him down before the tomb. He is healed at his tomb. There he lay for ^a little while, prayed, and was heard. He felt the power, rose, gave thanks, and departed whole.

CHAPTER VIII.

Concerning the indignation of the people of Amiens, and the healing of ^a mute and deaf man.

[15] The assembly of the people of Amiens and Corbeia for the confirmation of peace. There had also grown up between the people of Amiens and Corbeia ^a certain new devotion, and from this devotion ^a custom had sprung up that was also reciprocated every year. For on the octave of the Rogation Days, both parties came together in one place; there the bodies of the Saints were brought together; disputes were resolved; the quarrelsome were recalled to peace; the people exchanged their turns of prayer. The decrees of both localities were renewed; ^a discourse was delivered to the people; and so they departed. But as time went on, the matter itself began to grow cheap through familiarity, and irreverence arose from much veneration. Various disorders result. For both sexes began to attend to laughter and games, to organize dances, and to act irreverently — and thus nearly all neglected the bodies of the Saints. This displeased the good people, and especially the monks.

[16] Abbot Richard presided over Corbeia — an abbot indeed of blessed memory — who, when he had observed such things happening for several years, one day when they were about to go forth in procession, called the brothers together and said: "I fear that we will offend the Saints who are accustomed to be carried; for you see how much irreverence is shown to them each year. But if it seems good to you, let them rest in their resting places." The Corbeians carry only the relics of Saint Adelardus. "That is not fitting," said the brothers, "because if we appear otherwise, those coming with their own Saints — the people of Amiens — will impute it to our pride." "Let it be done as seems good to you," said the Abbot, "but if you are willing, carry Saint Adalardus alone, because none of the others shall be carried about." What he commanded was ratified; no one could contradict, for God had so disposed. And so Saint Adalardus, as if less worthy than the others, received the indignity which he had been ordered to bear for the others. They went forth in procession; they came to the appointed meeting. The people of Amiens arrived with Saint Firminus; the Corbeians with Saint Adalardus. And as they came together, they intoned antiphons according to custom; they halted on both sides and prayed with due devotion. But from ^a brief ignorance, ^a great grace is sometimes acquired. For there were some who bore it with indignation, as if the monks had disdained to bring there the other relics of the Saints — those, namely, of Saint Peter and Saint Gentianus. In truth, however, it was not omitted for any other reason than — as was stated above — the irreverence shown to them by the people. But many say many things while how the matter stands is unknown to many. The monks, therefore, having reverently placed Saint Adalardus nearby, attended their Patron with the diligence that was due. The people of Corbeia acted according to custom — honoring Saint Firminus with gifts and petitioning him with prayer. Saint Adalardus, placed opposite, was not frequented with the veneration he deserved. No one prayed beside him; no one sought anything from him — and yet, before being asked, he was already preparing to give.

[17] A mute and deaf man is healed through the intercession of Saint Adelardus. The Lord, therefore, did not endure the abasement of his servant, but through the relief of ^a certain man immediately showed those present how great was his merit before Him. He exalted his chosen one and magnified him above all who had been brought before him. For ^a certain Retbertus, as he had been admonished in his sleep, coming with the people of Amiens — ^a servant, namely, of ^a certain Roculfus from the castle of Aligniacum — began to pray in the sight of all beside the bier; and all the more earnestly because he was entirely deprived of hearing and speech. He was drenched with ^a shower of tears; he expressed by groans and nods of his head what he could not by voice, as if he saw the Saint speaking to him, so eagerly longing with an eloquent heart. All gazed intently upon him; he, however, upon no one — but stood striking his breast and kissing the bier. At length divine clemency looked upon him, so as through him to display the merits of his holy Confessor. And when he had felt within himself for ^a little while the power of God, long and greatly yawning, he began to press toward speech. He moved many to piety, more even to the pouring forth of tears. Straining with all his might toward speech again, through his nostrils, his mouth, and his ears he expelled ^a river of blood that bespattered the entire bier drop by drop. And so, his voice released, he burst forth with that which he had previously wished but could not utter: "God help me," he said, "and you, Saint Adalardus." This was the first utterance after the recovery of his health; and at once all began to run, and he himself, scarcely able to stand, began to stagger as if drunk. But he was caught and gently seated; he was questioned, and confessed by explaining the power wrought within him. Both peoples rejoiced and gave praise — both orders and both sexes. No doubt lingered where so manifest ^a cure had been wrought. Indeed, there was the greatest cause for belief: the very person — known to the Amienois themselves among whom he had come — who had recovered the use of speech and hearing. Roculfus himself, whose servant he was, also bore faithful testimony. God, too, who had wrought the miracle, had left behind ^a clear sign for belief; and the blood that had bespattered the bier was wiping from all hearts the venom of unbelief.

[18] Thanks are given to God with great solemnity. How certain the matter was even to the clergy of Amiens may be judged from this: that by one of them ^a high place was immediately mounted, and ^a discourse was delivered to the people about this event and about the others. Voices worthy of praise resounded, and the tumult of such great exultation grew. The crowd around the body became impenetrable; prayers were poured forth; offerings were made. The hymn Te Deum laudamus was intoned; both orders and both sexes resounded in it. And so Saint Adalardus vindicated the Saints from the indignity which he had been sent to bear for them.

[19] The body of Saint Adelardus is solemnly brought back to Corbeia. When matters were thus settled, the assembly was dissolved and the monastic procession began. The body was brought back to its own see, with the people of Amiens also following. The fields resounded in his praise; those from the neighborhood came to meet him with fitting veneration. Certain monks, going ahead to the church, dressed in albs and copes, came out to meet him with the other relics of the Saints. And when, singing hymns together, they had returned to the church and had placed the body of Saint Adalardus upon the altar, once again the man who had been healed, prostrating himself before the body on the pavement, gave thanks, once more emitting blood through his ears, his mouth, and his nostrils. The entire church resounded with joyful voices; no one in it ceased from praises and hymns. And rightly so, for he is worthy of such honor who is deemed worthy to be honored by God.

OTHER MIRACLES OF SAINT ADELARDUS.

Adelardus, Abbas Corbeiensis in Gallia (S.) BHL Number: 0062

By Saint Gerard.

PROLOGUE.

[20] The virtues and miracles by which the power of divine operation deigns to illuminate his Saints in the present life, as often as they appear, deserve to be transmitted to posterity through the record of letters — so that their hearts may be roused to praising the power of God and may be more ardently kindled to showing honor to the relics of the Saints. Whence we briefly note down certain miracles which our Patron — Saint Adalardus, that is — has wrought in our times, or rather which divine power has wrought through him. These things we did not perceive with our own eyes, but learned from the report of faithful men who saw them and were present. The author received what he writes from trustworthy men. Full faith is to be given to their report, for the sanctity of their conduct and the reverence of their age commend them. For it would not be to their spiritual advantage, nor would it increase the glory of the Saint, if anything were now supported by falsehoods concerning one who is known to have been previously glorified by many miracles. Just as we received these things from them, so we set them forth in their order.

CHAPTER I.

The reason why Saint Adalardus was carried away into Flanders.

[21] Henry, therefore, King of the Franks, who had succeeded his father Robert in the kingdom, Corbeia given as ^a dowry to the Count of Flanders. had ^a sister named Adela, whom he joined in nuptial bond to the Marquis of the Flemings — Baldwin the Elder, that is — and conceded to him Corbeia, which bordered on his kingdom, as ^a dotal gift along with many other things. On account of this union, however, the King and the Count struck ^a treaty between themselves, and ^a great friendship flourished between them for as long as they lived. But since, as ^a certain philosopher says, friendship is often disinherited, after both — the King, that is, and the Count — had yielded to mortal nature, between their sons — King Philip, namely, and Count Robert — the bond of friendship was broken. King Philip reclaims Corbeia by force. King Philip, moreover, reckoning it ^a loss that his kingdom had been, as it were, diminished by the deprivation of Corbeia, which his father, as we said above, had given to his sister in marriage, entered that same Corbeia with royal pomp and compelled the townspeople to swear fealty to him as King.

[22] When this became known to Count Robert, he took it ill that an injury had been done to him. Since he could not — as his anger demanded — avenge the injury upon the King at present, he turned it upon the church of Corbeia, which had not deserved any such thing. The Count of Flanders seizes the Corbeians' property in Flanders. For he immediately invaded its estates and holdings that were widely spread throughout his territory, and denied to the brothers who were serving Christ there what had been assigned for their clothing. Whence Abbot Fulco, who at that time presided over the church of Corbeia, and the brothers, being greatly troubled, poured forth ^a tearful complaint before the King and implored his counsel and assistance on this matter. But since, either through the impossibility or the negligence of the King, no recovery of their losses was made, and they had suffered great damage by being deprived of their revenues for nearly two years, they began to waver in mind, wondering what ought to be done. The body of Saint Adelardus is sent to placate the Count. At last, casting their care upon the Lord as into ^a harbor, they fixed the anchor of their salvation in Him. For it was their common counsel to have recourse to divine assistance and to present Saint Adalardus to the Count, so that the Count, swayed by his presence, might restore to him and to Saint Peter their allodial property.

CHAPTER II.

Concerning the transportation of the Saint into Flanders, and how upon his arrival the doors of the church opened.

[23] Therefore, having chosen from among the brothers those of sounder counsel to accompany the Saint, and having prepared all things necessary for the journey, setting out with great honor, as was fitting, they arrived in Flanders, not despairing of the mercy of God and the merit of the Saint. But as rumor ran ahead, the Count had heard that the Saint was to be presented to him by the brothers, and he had forbidden that the entrance of any church should be open to them, supposing that in this way no approach to himself could be made by them. But the matter turned out otherwise than he had reckoned. For as they made their way toward the estate called Curba, where ^a church belongs to Saint Peter by hereditary right, the priest, according to the Count's command, having barred the doors of the church, had sought ^a secret hiding place with the keys so that he could not be found. At length they arrived at the church; the keys were sought; In the district of Curba the doors of the church open of their own accord. the priest was sought everywhere, but the seekers were denied the ability to find him. Wonderful to tell — seeking ^a faithful hearer! While some delay occurred in searching for the priest of the church, at once of their own accord, with the bolts shattered and the bars flying apart, the doors of the church stood open and made themselves accessible to the Saint and to all who accompanied him. No magic was at work there, no mechanical art, but to demonstrate the merit of Saint Adalardus, celestial power appeared in the opening of the doors. Behold, in this deed, another Peter — and one to be compared with Saint Peter, to whom the keys of the kingdom of heaven have been committed, in such ^a miracle! For when Saint Peter was freed from prison through an Angel, the iron gate opened of its own accord; for this man likewise — now freed from the prison, that is, from the dungeon of the flesh, through the Angel of counsel — the hard timbers of the doors yielded of their own accord. O wondrous condescension! He merited from the Lord the grace that had been granted to the heavenly key-bearer. And rightly in ^a foreign land did the church of Saint Peter open to him — he who, having obtained as his lodging at Corbeia the church of Saint Peter, was performing an embassy, as it were in the bond of ^a shared fellowship, to recover his goods. In this manner, the Saint was carried into the previously inaccessible church; the people of both sexes who had assembled followed in procession. Praises with the exultation of voice and heart were offered to the divine Majesty by the monks and clergy, while the people applauded and gave thanks to the Lord.

CHAPTER III.

How the Count restored to him everything he had taken away.

[24] On the following day the body was carried away from there, and the journey was hastened to find the Count. A great throng of people meets the Saint. Wherever the arrival of the Saint was heard, from afar — on account of the miracle already made known — an immense multitude of people came to meet him. And now, not only did they compete to open the doors of churches to him contrary to the Count's command, but persons both ecclesiastical and secular also demanded that the Saint be brought into the churches, fearing to incur the divine offense more than that of the Count. The brothers, hearing that the Count was staying in the district of Tournai, near the stronghold of Schelmas, Baldwin besieges Schelmas. which he had surrounded with ^a military siege, turned their course thither and at last arrived where they had set out for. When the Count heard that the Saint was being brought to him, he hastened to withdraw from his presence. Then the Princes who were accustomed to attend at his side, and upon whose counsel all his planning depended, began to rebuke him on this account, saying that nothing would prosper for him as long as he despoiled the churches of the Saints of their possessions. They counseled him to meet the Saint with humility and to make amends for whatever he had done amiss regarding the Saint. He reverently meets the body of Saint Adelardus. To their prudent counsel the Count assented and humbly went forth to meet the Saint. You might have seen another King of the Ninevites descending from his throne and, walking barefoot out of humility, laying aside his honor. With such devotion, surrounded by ^a retinue of soldiers, the Count approached the bier of the Saint and, taking the litter into his own hands — while the soldiers vied to lighten his burden — carried it into ^a church not far distant. There, whatever he had taken from the church of Corbeia, he restored in the presence of his chief men before the Saint; and whatever he had done amiss regarding Saint Peter and Saint Adalardus, He restores everything to Corbeia. he made amends for, requesting that through them forgiveness be obtained for him from the Lord. The brothers, in the name of the Lord — who does not despise ^a contrite and humble heart — and of Saint Peter, to whom the Lord gave the power of binding and loosing, absolved him; and they sent him back, rejoicing and commended to their prayers, to the siege of the stronghold. Then, not ungrateful for the divine mercy by which they had obtained the Count's favor through the mediation of Saint Adalardus, they returned immense praises to God most high, whose ear, which they had struck with their prayers, had heard the preparation of their hearts.

CHAPTER IV.

How the Countess wished to retain the relics.

[25] Thus, not having labored in vain on their journey, they joyfully set out with the Saint on the road of return. But ^a certain troublesome disturbance intervened, so that ^a greater joy might follow. For it happened that they arrived at the town called Insula and carried the Saint of God into the church of Saint Stephen the Protomartyr, which is situated there. In those days the Countess Adela, of whom we made mention above, was staying at that same castle while the Count — her son, that is — was occupied besieging the aforementioned stronghold of Schelmas. When she heard that the holy Confessor of God was present, she rejoiced greatly that the opportunity of retaining him had been presented to her. Having therefore summoned the monks, among other words she spoke to them, she said: [The Countess of Flanders wishes to retain the body of Saint Adelardus, and posts guards.] "Know, my lords, that Saint Adalardus is very close to me by the kinship of our common stock, and therefore, that he may prepare for me the grace of honor in heaven, I wish to exalt his honor on earth. Whence it sits in my mind to retain him in this land, because I shall be more capable here of carrying out what I desire. For either I shall have ^a new church built for him, which I shall enrich with immense resources, with monks or clergy assigned to serve the Saint; or I shall have him carried to the monastery of Blandinium, which is dedicated in honor of Saint Peter the Apostle, situated in the castle of Ghent, where I shall have honor shown to him above all the Saints who are kept there. I therefore forbid you to remove him from the church of Saint Stephen, and command you to return to your own place — unless you should prefer to remain with him." Thereupon she ordered the gates barred and the exits of the roads guarded with posted sentinels, lest the Saint might secretly be carried away in the silence of the night.

CHAPTER V.

How the holy relics were carried through the midst of the guards.

[26] The monks deliberate what they should do. What were the monks now to do? Situated in ^a foreign land and deprived of the help of their own, they could not oppose the power of the Countess — so as to use any violence in carrying off the Saint. At once they returned to Saint Adalardus; and, placed beyond hope, they deliberated what would be best for them to do. Seeking counsel on this matter, they uttered among themselves, in complaint, such words as these: "What shall we do? Where shall we turn? A return to our own without Saint Adalardus is not an option for us, because perhaps they will either expel us or — what is more disgraceful — stone us. Indeed, the reproach and disgrace prevent us from not returning, because if we do not return, they will impute so great ^a loss to our consent and our machinations. Furthermore, even if we could have the goodwill of our brothers without the restoration of the Saint, the loss of our Father will be the desolation of our mother Church. For that mother of ours, who cherished us as sons in her bosom, will be left like ^a hut in ^a vineyard and like ^a shelter in ^a cucumber field." In this way the little ship of their hearts was first tossed upon the sea; and as Christ slept within them — because they doubted — they began to sink. But when they cried out, "Lord, save us, we are perishing," at once the Lord was roused and commanded the winds and the waves.

[27] While they were taking counsel, it was divinely inspired that in the silence of the dead of night they should remove the relics exposed from the bier of the holy Confessor and, with them, seek safety in flight for themselves and their own. This the Savior himself is read to have done, and to have admonished his followers to do likewise: "When they persecute you in one city, flee to another" — though we may understand this figuratively. With all throughout the town, therefore, occupied by sleep, the monks denied rest to their own eyes, seeking the opportunity to bring to completion what was in their hearts. The relics of Saint Adelardus are in ^a silver casket. At midnight they approached the silver casket in which the precious treasure was housed and removed it with bold — so to speak — but faithful hands. Then, wrapping that treasure — more precious than gold and topaz, and surpassing in its fragrance the scent of all spices — first in ^a clean cloth, The monk Euerardus secretly carries away the body of Saint Adelardus. then in ^a deerskin, they entrusted it to be carried away by one of their number — Domnus Euerardus, namely, who seemed more resourceful for this task. While the rest remained behind with the shrine of the Saint, he, anxious in no small measure about the treasure committed to him, was distressed in mind as to how he might pass through the city on account of the sentinels' watch. And while he was entirely occupied with this concern, the morning hour dawned — the hour in which, with the grief of evening dispelled, joy is prolonged by the resurrection of Christ. Then Christ, who is the true sun of justice, dispelling the shadows of error and sorrow, showed him the path of salvation and gladness. For at that same hour there presented himself to him ^a certain monk — as if sent by the Lord — whom the Archbishop of the city of Reims had dispatched to the Count on his own business. Joining himself to this bearer of the holy relics, he passed through the midst of the sentinels' ranks, with the gates standing open; and by the providence of God — that is, through the merit of Saint Adalardus — he left their watch frustrated.

[28] He passes through the midst of the guards. Indeed, in this event the miracle that occurred at the tomb of the risen Christ was renewed — if, that is, we may dare to compare the power of the soldier with the glory of the King. But we do not diminish the glory of the King if we proclaim the power of the soldier, because the power of the soldier is the glory of the King. For ^a guard of soldiers was posted at the tomb of Christ lest he be stolen by his disciples; ^a watch of sentinels was likewise assigned to the gates and exits of the roads lest the body of Saint Adalardus be secretly carried off by his monks. Christ, rising at early dawn, rendered useless the soldiers guarding the sealed tomb; Saint Adalardus likewise, departing at early morning, deceived the guards watching the gates and exits of the roads. At Christ's resurrection, the soldiers became as dead men from fear; after Saint Adalardus was carried away, the guards were rendered stupefied with excessive astonishment.

[29] He is received with great joy at Corbeia. In this manner the body of the holy Confessor was brought back to Corbeia and received by the monks with great jubilation of clergy and people. Placed with great honor in the archive of the church, as his dignity required, he adorned with his presence the place which his absence had first rendered obscure. The brothers, moreover, with heartfelt devotion, returned immense praises to the divine goodness on this account, counting it ^a small matter if the casket were lost, since the restitution of the precious treasure had made them blessed and rich. For the former was ^a recoverable loss; the latter, had they lost him, would have been an irreparable one. But He who willed to restore the treasure of the body deigned also to return its vessel, so that just as in the removal of the body, so also the Saint's merit might be manifest in the return of the vessel.

CHAPTER VI.

Concerning the return of the casket, and the healing of ^a lame man upon its restoration.

[30] The Countess sends the others home. Meanwhile, as rumor flew, when it was reported to the Countess that Saint Adalardus had been thus taken away by the monks, she took it ill that she had been so deceived. Yet understanding that this was of the divine will, and that therefore she could no longer swim against the torrent, she asked pardon and allowed them to return to their home with the casket of the holy Confessor. And so, as though departing from Egypt where they had been held virtually captive, protected by the cloud of heavenly defense lest they be scorched by the sun of tribulation, they arrived — led by our new Moses — in the land of peace and security.

[31] The casket is brought back to Corbeia. And when they had already drawn near to Corbeia, sending messengers ahead, they informed their brothers to come promptly to meet the casket of Saint Adalardus, bearing with them the arm of that same Confessor. At once new joy was added to the joy still fresh; bells were rung; the church was adorned with tapestries and hangings; it was illuminated with many lit candles. Then, with the people assembled, ^a festive procession was formed, and with the arm of Saint Adalardus they went forth to meet it, preceded by candles and crosses. 1 Samuel 7 Then the children of Israel, as if receiving the Ark of the Lord brought back from the Philistines, carried it into the tabernacle of God; and, singing with David in the voice of exultation and confession, they went before it, while various kinds of musical instruments sounded on every side to increase the joy. 2 Samuel 6

[32] A lame man is healed at the empty bier of the Saint. And behold, ^a certain lame man lay at the gate of the church, so crippled in both feet that the soles of his feet — pitiable to see — clung backward to his buttocks. He had come there, crawling as best he could on his hands and knees, not only to beg for sustenance from those entering, but also to ask Saint Adalardus to be present to his sufferings. When he had seen the bier of the Saint being carried in, preceded by the long order of the procession, he began to cry out, as much as his illness permitted, for mercy upon himself. But Saint Adalardus, after the manner of Blessed Peter, gave him neither gold nor silver, but what was better — by the concession of divine grace — he bestowed upon him. For in ^a wondrous fashion you might have immediately seen the sinews, previously contracted, stretch out; the skin tear; blood flow; the feet and legs return to their natural position; and the man himself grow faint from excessive anguish, so that he seemed almost to expire. At last, raised up upon his own feet and needing the help of no one, he approached the bier of the Saint. O praiseworthy gift of God! O merit of the Saint worthy of proclamation! The bodily presence of the Saint was absent, and yet the Lord was showing such things in the vessel of his body. But He who could show this in the vessel of his body could also — He who had willed to heal the sick through the shadow of Saint Peter's body. Then the healed man, following and carrying the bier, gave thanks to the Lord, imitating that Evangelic leper who returned and gave praise to God Luke 17. With such great joy, when the sons had been received in the bosom of their mother Church, bringing forth from the treasury of their conscience ^a sacrifice of hope and faith — which the fervor of charity had kindled upon the altar of the heart — they sang the hymn Te Deum laudamus before the altar of the divine majesty.

CHAPTER VII.

Concerning the reposition of the holy relics in the casket.

[33] The events are narrated to the people. Then, ascending the steps of the pulpit — they who from the valley of weeping had ascended through the steps of the virtues to the mountain of exultation — they condescended to the people below, who lay in the depths and could not climb to higher things, by offering the draught of ^a salutary sermon suited to the events and to the present occasion. Nor were they silent, for the confirmation of their discourse, about what had happened to them on the way — how great was the grace of the Lord that had attended them in all things, and with what miracles He had made His beloved Confessor known. And lest any of them should doubt that Saint Adalardus had been brought back, they had the relics of the same Saint brought forth from the sacristy where they had previously been placed. The body of Saint Adelardus is displayed. These they displayed in the sight of the assembled people — relics more radiant than old ivory, as one might fittingly believe, and delightful to behold for their rarity — and presented them to the view of all who stood by. It is replaced in its former casket. After the presence of the Saint had removed from them every cloud of doubt, they honorably replaced him in that same casket which had been brought back shortly before with joy.

[34] When this was duly done, they placed Saint Adalardus — blooming with the lily of chastity before God — beside Saint Gentianus, who flourishes in the house of God with the rose of martyrdom. It is placed beside Saint Gentianus. Happy the hall that is supported by such pillars! Happy the church that is illuminated by such lamps! To pass over the others by whose presence the same church happily flourishes, by these guardians she is protected against the blasts of winds and the bolts of storms. For with these shining, the darknesses of shadows and the clouds of sorrows are driven from her. Let us, therefore, honor these; let us venerate them on earth, so that they may deign to be mindful of us in heaven.

DISCOVERY OF THE HEAD OF SAINT VEDASTUS AND OTHER RELICS AT ARRAS.

Year 1014.

Vedastus (S.), Discovery of the head, at Arras in Belgium

[1] In the year 1014, on the fourth day before the Nones of January, says Ferreolus Locrius in the Belgian Chronicle, the discovery of relics took place at the church of Arras. Concerning this discovery Baldricus writes in the Chronicle of Cambrai and Arras, book 2, chapter 13: There indeed (at Arras, in the church of Saint Mary), beside the altar of the God-bearer Mary, which Blessed Vedastus had consecrated in his day, in the second year of Bishop Gerard, many and very precious relics of Saints were discovered, Miracles wrought at the discovered relics. for the illumination of which divine clemency wrought diverse miracles over the course of about three years. For lepers were cleansed, cripples were restored to human use, and many, cured of diverse diseases, were granted health.

[2] The same Baldricus, in book 3, chapter 4, writes concerning the same discovery of relics as follows: At that time also, in the monastery of Saint Mary of Arras, beside the altar, it happened that precious relics of many Saints were found. To make known their merits, Great crowds flock to them. divine clemency working signs and wonders of diverse kinds, an immense multitude gathered from not only the neighboring but also the far-distant regions for nearly two full years.

[3] George Coluenerius confesses in his Notes that he was unable to ascertain from the church of Arras what or of what kind the relics were. What those relics were. But Locrius says: "The manuscript records of the church of Arras add that among the other items were an arm of Saint Vedastus together with his head, and certain members of his body, etc." Concerning Saint Vedastus, see more on February 6, and concerning the feast of the relics of the church of Arras, in another place.