candle, greatly venerated by E. Worsley, in a “Discourse of Miracles
wrought in the Roman Catholic Church, or, a full refutation of Dr.
Stillingfleet’s unjust Exceptions against Miracles,” octavo, 1676. At p.
64, he says, “that the _miraculous wax candle_, yet seen at Arras, the
chief city of Artois, may give the reader entertainment, being most
certain, _and never doubted of by any_. In 1105, that is, much above 720
years ago, (of so great antiquity the candle is,) a merciless plague
reigned in Arras. The whole city, ever devout to the Mother of God,
experienced her, in this their necessity, to be a true mother of mercy;
the manner was thus: The Virgin Mary appeared to two men, and enjoined
them to tell the bishop of Arras, that on the next Saturday towards
morning she would appear in the great church, and put into his hands a
wax candle burning; from whence drops of wax should fall into a vessel
of water prepared by the bishop. She said, moreover, that all the
diseased that drank of this water, should forthwith be cured. _This
truly promised, truly happened._ Our blessed Lady appeared all
beautiful, having in her hands a wax candle burning, which diffused
light over the whole church; this she presented to the bishop; he
blessing it with the sign of the cross, set it in the urn of water; when
drops of wax plentifully fell down into the vessel. The diseased drank
of it; all were cured; the contagion ceased; and the candle to this day,
preserved with great veneration, spends itself, yet loses nothing; and
therefore remains still of the same length and greatness it did 720
years ago. A vast quantity of wax, made up of the many drops which fall
into the water upon those festival days, when the candle burns, may be
justly called a standing indeficient miracle.”
This candle story, though gravely related by a catholic writer, as “not
doubted of by any,” and as therefore not to be doubted, miraculously
failed in convincing the protestant Stillingfleet, that “miracles
wrought in the Roman catholic church,” ought to be believed.
MONKS AND FRIARS.—SAINTS AND HERMITS.
The early monks attracted the notice of the people by the rigid exercise
of their devotions. The greater part of them passed their time in
deserted places, in divine contemplation, and in the acquisition of
useful knowledge; in consequence of which, they began to be venerated
and considered as heavenly-minded men, approaching to the perfection of
angels; but in the course of time, and on this very account, their
reclusion, and the regard in which they were held, soon induced
multitudes to betake themselves to the same courses of life, though not
with the same views; as being more profitable than the remuneration
resulting from their own homely and industrious avocations. The numbers
that embraced this profession became at length so overwhelming and
intolerant, that factions burst out amongst them, to which the spirit of
the people soon became subject, and to cause grievous disturbances
thereby, both to church and state. Many of the wandering hordes, under
the denomination of monks, are represented by Gregory Nazianzen, as
crews of ruffians and banditti, rather than as sober-minded men,
professing a scrupulous morality, with a view to the amelioration of
society and the welfare of mankind in general. They were cruel,
rapacious, insinuating, cunning, and not unfrequently malignant in the
extreme, indulging in the vilest propensities that shock and disgust
human nature; and if we may believe their contemporaries, no species of
vice was unknown to, or left unpractised by them.
The first dawn of monkish influence and power in the western world, was
ushered in by St. Jerome, who, though represented as a very pious and
good man, but having some passions the world had not yet gratified, grew
wroth with and retired into the east, where he turned monk; and, as if
to be revenged of the ungrateful world, he openly professed, that it
were hardly possible to receive salvation in it without adopting the
same course as he had done, that was, to become a monk. And although
thus far monkery had its way paved in the west by the resolutions of
Jerome, it was many years after his death, before any order of monkhood
was instituted in that quarter.
Benedict, who lived about an hundred years after St. Jerome, being
reckoned the father of the order in the western parts, and although it
does not appear that he formed any order of monks, with the three vows,
yet since the oldest monkish order in the Roman church is called by his
name, we shall give first a short sketch of him and his order; leaving
the reader to take, as well in this instance as in those that follow, as
much for granted as he can well swallow, without danger of being choked.
Of the birth, parentage, and education of the _Blessed_ Benedict, all we
can state is, that his holiness drew his first pious and miraculous
breath in Rome, about the year 480; and that having, whilst a boy,
become weary of a wicked world, he retired to the Desert of Sabulea in
Italy, where he was kindly received and hospitably entertained by a
monk, whose name was Roman, who lived retired from man, in the cleft of
an immense high rock, of difficult and hazardous access. The generous
and christianlike Roman supplied his young guest with a portion of all
he begged, borrowed, or stole, or could possibly spare out of his own
all devouring paunch. But it would appear, that getting tired of his
protegé, whose appetite, perhaps, might be too great a drawback upon his
fortuitous resources, or whether in the midst of an accidental and
unexpected _blow out_ that he met with, somewhere or other, on an
Easter-eve, he forgot to supply his guest in the cranny with his usual
fare; be this as it may, all protecting Providence, that “feeds the
young ravens,” and who “tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,” was not on
this occasion unmindful of young Benedict; for it turned out that a
certain priest, whose name we are not favoured with, and who it appears
had been on a similar foraging expedition as Roman, against Eastertide,
was hailed by a voice from heaven, and bid “_not to take so much care of
his own gut, but to carry that he had provided to the place where
Benedict was_.” The priest obeyed; gave Benedict the contents of his
market basket, and also told him that it was Easter-day, an event that
was unknown to him previous to this unexpected visit. Having, however,
been subsequently forced out of his den to procure food, for it does not
appear that either Roman or the priest ever returned, some shepherds
discovered him crawling among the bushes covered with “beasts’ hair;” at
which they became so terrified, that taking him for some savage monster,
they were about to depart, when they had a glimpse of his _physog_,
which certainly formed an encouraging contrast when compared with the
preter human developement of his body; the result was, the shepherds
took courage and approached him; and having, as the story goes, been
much edified with his discourse, they informed the neighbourhood of the
affair, which was the means of young Benedict being well supplied with
every thing he stood in need of; in return for which, they were as well
repaid with godly exhortations. But the devil, who, no doubt, is always
on the _que vive_ when any of his opponents are getting a-head of him,
was resolved to put young ’Dict’s chastity to the test, appeared to him
in the shape of a blackbird, and approached so near to his mouth that
_’dict_ might, had he thought proper, have grabbed him; but, instead of
availing himself of this opportunity to crush old Beelzebub, he
heroically suffered him to escape, although he, the devil, left behind
him “so terrible a dishonest carnal temptation,” that Benedict never
before nor after this time, felt such queer and indescribable
sensations; in short, he was in such a quandary, that he hesitated and
doubted whether it would not be better for him to return once more to
the world, the flesh, sin and the devil; yet, having recovered himself a
little from the paroxysm with which the devil had contrived to possess
him, he threw off his clothes and rolled among thorns. But whereas
Benedict, for sundry causes and reasons moving him thereunto, did keep a
raven, which said raven the aforesaid Benedict did constantly every day
feed with his own hand, which raven, Benedict, whether from similarity
of appetite or other latent and peculiar passion, always addressed by
the familiar and consanguineous appellation of brother; on this
occasion, having offered him a part of the poisoned loaf, the sagacious
raven rejected it with indignation, and commenced flying and croaking
about his master, pointing out to him, in the most _ravenous_ manner,
the evil intended him. Alarmed at such conduct, Benedict said, Brother,
I did not offer you this loaf that you should eat it, but that you might
carry it and hide it somewhere, that it may never do any hurt. This was
done, the raven disposed of the poisoned loaf, returned, and had his
dinner as usual[80].
Notwithstanding this disappointment, Florentino did not cease to
persecute Benedict. He got together, for this purpose, a number of
common strumpets, whom he sent to dance naked before the holy Friar;
this ordinance, to the great joy of Florentino, they correctly performed
to the letter, which compelled Benedict to leave the place, lest
peradventure he might be tempted _di novo_ to sin against the flesh, as
he was in the wilderness, by the Devil in the shape of a blackbird. But
that joy was not of long duration, for soon after Florentino’s house
fell down upon him and killed him. When Benedict heard of his death, he
was exceedingly troubled, not because he died during his wicked courses,
but _because he had, he said, lost an enemy, who, if he had lived, would
have increased his merits much_. After this great loss, Benedict was
informed, that Apollo still had a temple on the mountain of Callino, and
was worshipped in it with sacrifices; he accordingly mustered together
some of his brethren, and went and pulled it down to the ground, set
fire to all the groves that surrounded it, and having built a monastery
on the same spot, he converted the whole country round to christianity.
The Devil, as may easily be supposed, got very angry with Benedict for
having deprived him of that mountain, called out Benedict, Benedict, for
the purpose of speaking to him, but Benedict, it appears, did not
vouchsafe to answer him; in consequence of which, the Devil left him,
ejaculating, as he fled away, Maledict, Maledict, what hast thou to do
with me? Why do you persecute me so much? And, in the height of his
diabolical passion and despair, threw down a wall that was building,
which unfortunately fell upon a boy and killed him; but Benedict, to be
revenged of the Devil, soon brought him to life again. Brother Plaudo
had been drowned, if brother Mauro had not been sent by Benedict to draw
him out of the water. There was a great fuss made to know who was the
author of that miracle; Benedict conferring the merit on Mauro, and
Mauro, equally courteous and condescending, attributing it to Benedict.
The order styled the Benedictine, was not only the oldest but the
richest in the Roman church. The costume was black, in compliment, no
doubt, to the Raven, who had the honour of being Benedict’s first
brother; and the leather belt which they wore, was believed to possess
so much virtue, that it was kissed kneeling by all who visited them, if
they wished to be well received.
The second order of monks, and which, similar to the others, arose out
of the relaxations of the Benedictines, was that of _Cluny_ in France,
instituted about the year 900, by Abbot Odo.
This order differed very little from the Benedictine. When Odo was a boy
he was much delighted with Virgil: “he was cured of that dangerous
appetite by a vessel, which was very curious, being shewn to him, but
which was within full of deadly serpents; and lest Odo should, by his
great fondness for Virgil, have been hindered from applying that vision
right, the application was made by a voice from Heaven; and which Odo
having heard, he flung away his Virgil and all his serpents with it. And
having been after that much devoted to St. Martin, though he met with no
serpents in his way, as he went by night to St. Martin’s church to pray
to him, he met with herds of foxes, which so pestered him, that he
scarcely knew what to do; this plague continued until a kind wolf came,
and did offer Odo his assistance, and of which Odo having accepted, that
wolf, when he travelled, was such a guard to him, and when he was within
doors such a porter, that the foxes never molested him any more.”
The third order of monks in the Roman church was the Camalduman in
Italy, instituted by Romualdus about the year 970. He was born at
Ravenna, and had been sentenced to live 40 days in a monastery, for
having been concerned in a duel, in which his father, who was a duke,
had killed his adversary; and it was from this circumstance that he was
miraculously converted into a monk, an honour which he had previously
frequently refused, at the solicitation of a brother of the order with
whom he had contracted an acquaintance. The monk at length asked whether
he would consent to be one of them, if _St. Apolonar appeared to him_,
to which he replied he would. It was therefore contrived that St.
Apolonar, or his representative, should actually appear; and in order to
receive this visit, his friend, the monk and himself, spent the night in
prayer before an altar. Just as the cock crowed, St. Apolonar emerged
from under the identical altar, where, no doubt, his proxy had
previously been concealed, “clothed with light and having a golden
censor in his hand: he went about in his pontificalibus, and incensed
all the altars in the church, and after he had done that, went back by
the same way that he came. And though it is not said that Apolonar did
speak a word to Romualdus of turning monk, he did nevertheless, upon
that vision, take the habit upon him; and not having learnt to read and
sing his psalter, he was taught it by a monk whose name was Marinus, and
who switched him so severely on the left-side of his head, that his left
ear lost its hearing; and which was borne with that cheerfulness, that
he spoke to Marinus to switch him on the other side of the head, when he
deserved to be corrected.”
Never was monk so kicked and cuffed about, persecuted and tormented by
the Devil, as poor Romualdus. At first the Devil knocked such a dust at
the door of his cell whenever he went to bed, that he could not get a
wink of sleep for the noise. Being at length so much exhausted for want
of a nap, he began, notwithstanding the horrid noise, to snooze a
little, when the Devil turned himself into some heavy body and laid so
heavy upon his thighs and legs, that he severely bruised them, and broke
some of the bones. And though monk Romualdus often made his tormentor
slink out of his cell, ashamed of his evil doings, he would,
nevertheless, not cease to molest him. So frequently, in fact, was he
visited by Armadeus, and so numerous were their conflicts, that a
brother monk could not approach the cell of Romualdus without being
mistaken for the Devil by him: and believing this to be the case, he
would cry out as loud as his lungs would permit—“_Accursed, what
would’st thou have? Bold dog, I forbid thee to come here; thou poisonous
serpent, that was thrown down from Heaven, I do forbid thee!_” These
were the weapons with which this miraculously converted monk had always
ready to meet the Devil whenever he made his appearance. One evening,
however, as he was muttering over his _Completus_, a whole squadron of
Devils rushed in upon him, knocked him down, kicked him for falling, and
inflicted several very severe wounds upon his precious body; and
although he was weary and faint with loss of blood, he continued saying
all the while his _Completus_ till he completed, when by a short prayer
he dispersed the whole battalion.
After this great and glorious victory, the Devil would never grapple
with him again; but would, sometimes, in the shape of a Raven, a
Bustard, an Ethiopian, or some savage beast, stand at a distance, loll
out his tongue, and make wry faces at him. And although Romualdus was a
bit of a duellist, as we have already shewn, would challenge and dare
the Devil to come up to the mark, his devilship was too good a judge to
venture near him; and finding at length that he was no match for
Romualdus, he stirred up divers monks to persecute him, which, in fact,
they did with great fury, but with as ill success as he who prompted
them.
The fourth order of monks is that of the _Valle Umbrosa_, instituted by
one Gilbert, from whom his fraternity assumed the name of Gilbertines.
The reader will at once know enough of this Mr. Gilbert when we inform
him, at once, that he was the pupil of Romualdus, and that he was called
to be a monk by a crucifix, which, when he was in the act of worshipping
it, nodded its head and smiled at him.
The fifth order is the Carthusian, instituted towards the end of the
eleventh century; it is governed by institutions of its own making, and
is the strictest order in the Roman church. This monastery was generally
the last refuge of the discontented, rather than the retreat of
unfeigned piety and devotion, who threw themselves into this solitary
state of life, to which they fettered themselves, by indissoluble vows,
for the remainder of their days. They were allowed enough of good bread
and wine, and although they abstained from flesh, and every thing that
had touched it, they had a plentiful supply of good fish and fruit.
This inhuman order was instituted by one Bruno, a German, but who was a
canon of the church of Rheims; of whom the reader will learn enough,
when we inform him that he was driven to this determination by a
Parisian doctor, with whom he had been intimately acquainted, and of
whose piety as well as learning, he entertained a very high opinion, and
who for three days following after his death, when he was on the point
of being committed to the grave, sate up, and loudly declared, _that by
the just judgment of God_ he was damned; which, as soon as he had
pronounced, he lay down again.[81]
There is another story that the bishop of Grenoble, the night before
_Bruno_ and his six companions came to him, in quest of a solitary place
to live in, had a vision, in which he saw Christ come down from Heaven,
and in a desert place of his diocese, called the Chartreuse, built a
palace. He likewise beheld seven stars of the colour of gold, which
having joined themselves together, they made a crown, which by degrees
raised itself from the earth, and ascended up into heaven. The bishop at
first sight knew Bruno and his companions to be the seven stars he had
seen; and in consequence of this recognition, he bestowed upon them all
the lands called the Chartreuse. In order, also, that Bruno should be as
little remiss in his duty and gratitude, he erected the monastery as
conformable to the vision of the bishop as means and materials would
allow.
The sixth order of monks in the Roman church is the Cistertian, said to
have been instituted by Abbot Robert; but whether it was so or
otherwise, Bernard has always been named as the founder.
Bernard was born in France in the 12th century; and to do him justice,
he seems to have had the best natural parts, and the most learning of
any of the monastic founders; and had it not been for the tragical fraud
he adopted to promote a very unfortunate _cruzado_, and the other frauds
he used in favour of the Pope, to whom he adhered during the time of a
schism, his sincerity and piety might have been judged equal to his
other talents.
His mother, during the time she was pregnant with him, dreamed she had a
white dog in her womb, which in all probability was the reason the
Cistertian monks dressed in white, in the same manner as Benedict’s
raven might have suggested the colour to the vestments of the
Benedictines.
During his infancy Bernard was much troubled with head-ach; and an old
woman having been sent for to cure him, he would not suffer her to come
near him, from the belief that she made use of charms. One
Christmas-day, when he was at church, during his boyhood, he prayed that
the very hour in which Christ was born might be revealed to him; and
when that hour came, he saw a new-born infant. What a pity it is that
Bernard, who has written so much, did not record that hour, the day, the
month, and the year, about which chronologers are still so much divided.
During a hard frosty night, Bernard was seized with a violent paroxysm
of satyriasis, or strong carnal inclination: he precipitated himself
into a pond of water, and remained there until he was almost frozen to
death.
On another occasion, during the time he was preaching to a very numerous
congregation, who were listening to him, a temptation of vain glory
invaded him, and he heard a voice within him saying, _see, how all the
people do attend unto your words_. He was just going to leave off
preaching to mortify this temptation, but perceiving it was the Devil
who had addressed him, for the purpose of interrupting his sermon, he
turned about his head to the tempter, and thus coolly spoke to him—_As I
did not begin this sermon for thee, so neither will I end it for thee_,
and so went on preaching as before. He was always very sickly, and not
only rejoiced that he was so himself, but he judged it fit that all
monks ought to be so: for which reason he built _Claraval_, and all his
other monasteries, in low damp places.
Bernard laboured hard to bring all his monks to an uninterrupted
attention to their devotions; and having one day, as he was riding, been
told by a peasant, “_that he found that to be an easy thing_;” he
promised him the mule he rode upon, if he would but say the Lord’s
prayer without any distraction of thought. The peasant began the prayer,
but before he got half through it, he confessed that “it came into his
mind, whether with the mule he was to have the saddle and bridle also.”
Being at Pavia, a woman possessed of a devil was brought before him; but
before Bernard had time to utter a word to the woman, the devil cried
out, “do you think that such an onion and leek carrier as this, is able
to throw me out of possession?” Upon which Bernard ordered the woman to
be carried to St. Sirus’ church, in which, though Sirus had previously
dispossessed all that had ever come before him, he would not do it at
this time, that Bernard might have the honour of it himself. The devil,
however, set them both at defiance, and in a scoffing manner told them,
that neither little _Siry_ nor little _Barny_ should turn him out. But
the devil was mistaken for once in his life; little _Barny_, as he
styled him, soon served an ejectment upon him. To another woman in the
same city, on whom the devil had lain in a very dishonest manner, he
gave a stick, with which she so belaboured him, that he never troubled
her any more.
After Bernard had persuaded the kings of England and France to submit to
the Pope; but not being able to prevail upon the Duke of Aquitaine, he
went one day to him with the sacrament in his hand, when the Duke threw
himself down at his feet; on which Bernard gave him a lusty kick, and
bade him rise and acknowledge the true Pope. The Duke rose immediately,
and being thus kicked into it, made his submission, and acknowledged the
_Vicegerent_ of Heaven.
The seventh order of monks is the Cælestine, instituted by Petrus
Moronus, who having afterwards become Pope, took the name of Cælestine.
This poor monk was persuaded by Cardinal Cagestan, who took the name of
Boniface the 8th, to abdicate the Roman chair, that he might spend his
whole time in devotion. But his successor, Boniface, fearing that were
he at liberty in his monastery, it might come into his head to return to
the pontifical chair, kept him a close prisoner as long as he lived.
The eighth order of monks is the Williamite, called also the order of
_Montes Virginis_, and of _Montis Oliveti_, instituted by one William, a
noble Italian, which at one time possessed 47 monasteries. There were
_Hermits_ who were likewise called Williamites, from William, Duke of
Aquitaine, but they were amalgamated with the mendicant order of the
monks of St. Austin.
The ninth order was the Sylvestern. There was also another instituted by
the nobles of Milan, called the _Humiliate_, who having quarrelled with
Cardinal Borromeus, Archbishop of Milan, dissolved the order and seized
all their revenues, which were immense.
All the preceding orders, besides the Carthusians, were all under the
Benedictine rule, whose monks were both the oldest and richest
pertaining to the Roman church, in which the monastic rules are four in
number—namely, the rule of St. Bazil, St. Austin, and St. Benedict.
The order of monks under St. Austin’s rule, as it was called, were the
canons regular, the _Premonstratenses_; the _Dominicans_; the
_Hieronomites_, in various shapes; the _Servites_; the _Jesuits_; the
_Crucigeri_; the _Boni Jesu_; the _Trinitarians_; the _Eremites of St.
Augustin_; the _Theatines_; the _Pautestæ_; the _military orders of St.
John of Jerusalem_, of _St. James of Compostella_, of the _Teutonick
order_, of _St. Lazarus_, and of _St. Mauritius_.