Fuga sæculi. Or The holy hatred of the world Conteyning the liues of 17. holy confessours of Christ, selected out of sundry authors. Written in Italian by the R. Fa. Iohn-Peter Maffæus of the Society of Iesus. And translated into English by H.H.

THE LIFE OF S. ANSELME ARCH∣BISHOP OF CANTERBVRY.

Written by Edinerus a Monke of Canter∣bury, vvho liued in his tyme.

What the condition of S. Anselms Parents was. The presage of his future life. His good inclinations, and first vocation to Reli∣gion. Chap. I.

WE being to vnfold the Life and manners of S. Anselme Archbishop of Canterbury, a most no∣ble Citty of England; will first touch some things of his Parents. His Father then was one Gondolfus, who being borne in Lombardy of Ita∣ly, and comming to liue in the Citty of Augu∣sta Pratoria, now called Aust, in the confines of Piemont, tooke to wife a gentlewoman, whose name was Ermen∣berga. These two consorts, for riches & nobility were equall, but in manners and disposition far vnlike. Because the husband, being giuen to his pleasures, was held to be no good husband for his fa∣mily.

While the wife on the contrary, being serious in the gouern∣ment of the house, and a wise dispenceresse of his goods, gaue al∣wayes forth, a most excellent odour of her life vnto her last, lea∣uing Gondolfus aliue; who seeing himselfe vnloosedfrom the bands of Matrimony, being now growne of great yeares, became a Mon∣ke, and dyed in his Monastery.

Of this couple S. Anselme was borne, of whome, as through a certayne presage of his future sanctity, it is reported, in his tender yeares, hauing heard his Mother say, that aboue in Heauen, was but one God only, who ruled and maynteyned the whole Vni∣uerse, he thought with a childish imagination, that the Heauens were shored vp, and susteyned by the mountaynes, & that from the tops of them, one might reach to the royall pallace of that great Monarke: and as he often had this thought, it happened one night, that he seemed, to mount vp by one of those tops to the forsayd pal∣lace, and beholds at the foote therof, certaine seruants of the King reaping of corne with much slouth and negligence: Whereat be∣ing scandalized, he determined to accuse them to the Lord himself. Whereupon, ascending to the top, and being admitted to the Pal∣lace, he found the King, with the onely attendance of one Squire and no more, hauing sent away the rest of his family to reape, it be∣ing then haruest tyme. The child then entring into the hall, & be∣ing called by the King, approches neere him, and sits him downe at his feete. After which, being pleasantly demanded by him, who he was, and from whence, and wherefore he came: he answered to all without difficulty. And immediately heerupon he caused a loafe of most pure bread to be giuen him, which S. Anselme eating in the King his sight, felt meruaylous comfort. Being afterwards a∣wakened in the morning, and reducing this vision to memory, the innocent child held it to be a certayne truth, & no fantastical thing; & verily belieued, he had been in Paradise indeed, and had tasted of the bread of our Lord, and so publikely affirmed to his companiōs.

He went after increasing in yeares, and vertue so, as for his good behauiour, he was beloued of all. Being sent to Schoole, as he was of an excellent wit, in a very short tyme, he profited excee∣dingly in learning: & for his choosing of a state of life, he was not yet entred into the 15. yeare of his age, when he began to thinke in what manner he might best obserue the diuine precepts, & saue his soule: and after a long discourse thereupon with himselfe, he came

at last to resolue, there was nothing more apt for the purpose, then to become a Monke, & to consecrate himselfe foreuer to the diuine Seruice. With this determination, he went his wayes to a certayne Abbot, intreating him to admit him into Religion. But that Pre∣late for feare of Gondolfus, durst not receyue him. And yet was not the good youth a whit coole therwith in his purpose: but ra∣ther besought God, he might fall into some grieuous malady, to the end the Abbot by meanes thereof, being moued to pitty, might ad∣mit him at last.

The prayers of S. Anselme, were more efficacious with God thē with men. Being suddenly sicke then of a dangerous infirmity, he besought the Abbot anew, he would daigne to accomplish his desi∣res, and not suffer him to dye in the world. But he fearing yet the offence aforesayd, was still very stiff in the negatiue: and that not without the diuine Will, since the chast youth was destined to the help of other nations, and for other enterprises of greater glory of Christ, as we shall see anon. He recouered then his perfect health, & for that tyme withall renewed the good purposes; but afterwards what with the heate and feruour of youth, and the riches and com∣modityes of home, suffering himselfe to be carryed away with plea∣sures, and company keeping; he came wholy, as it were to loose, not only his Vocation, and spirit he had, but euen also the study of letters, wherein he had been so diligent before. One thing only for awhile, deteyned him somewhat, from complying too much with his senses therein, the respect of his deere Mother, whome he lo∣and reuerenced much. But after she was passed from this lyfe, be∣ing then meerly without any tye at all to hold him too, that frayle barke was carryed away into the waues and streames of the world.

S. Anselme being tyred with the bitter vsage of his Father. goes into Nor∣mandy to S. Lanfranke, and becomes his Scholler. Chap. 2.

IN his manner went S. Anselme, with the greater part of mortalls into manifest perdition; when the heauenly Father beholding him with the eyes of clemency, to vnty him from the world, per∣mitted his Father to be so fraught with hatred, and auersion from him, as that equally the good and bad, or rather more the good acti∣ons of S. Anselme, them the bad, displeased him: nor was there any meanes left to pacify him, with all the humility and satisfaction the

yong man could yield vnto him. Insomuch, as seing euery day, the old man to be more bitter to him, and intollerable then other; for feare of some great inconuenience, he determined to leaue his Country, Parents, and friends, as well to deliuer himselfe of so great tribulations and troubles, as to apply himselfe anew, more seriously to learning. Putting himself then in order, and laying his fardell on an Asse, he went towards Burgundy, with onely a certaine Clerke his familiar friend in his company: and passing ouer Mont∣senese, being not much accustomed to the labours of the body, he felt himselfe, so weary of the way, and of climbing vp the hill, and so afflicted withall, as not hauing other sustenance, he began to eate the very snow, insteed of food. Whereat the Clerke being moued to compassion, did presently looke into his sachell to see if there were somwhat there to eate: when besides all expectatiō, he found therein a white and sauoury loase of bread, which not in a dreame now as before, but really in effect gaue to S. Anselme lyfe, so as he arriued in few dayes to the place designed, very safe and sound, where partly in Burgundy it selfe, and partly also in France, for about the space of three yeares, he attended to his studyes.

There liued in those dayes in the Monastery of Benedictins at Bec, in the country of Normandy, one Lanfranke an Italian by nation, of the Citty of Pauia, a man so famous for knowledg & goodnes, as many youths from diuers parts of the world, repayred to him that were desirous of sound and perfect doctrine. Now S. Anselme being moued with the noyse and rumour of such a one; became so enfla∣med with desire of knowing Lanfranke by sight, and to conuerse with him, as he doubted not a whit, to go himself in hast into that prouince. And was in truth nothing deceyued of his expectation, finding in that Father, so rare gifts of wisedome, as he tooke it for no small happynes to haue him for Mayster, and to be admitted into particular familiarity with him.

With this occasion the feruent louer of liberall arts, without sparing eyther day or night employed himselfe with singular indu∣stry, to enrich his breast with sundry knowledges of high & extra∣ordinary things, in giuing eare to the doctour, in turning of books, in gathering notes, in framing Epitomes, in rehearsing of thinges heard, and expounding others. In which occupations, while he suffers much paynes and many incommodityes (as it happens) now of cold, and now of heate, now of hunger, and then of sleep; it

came agayne into his mind, that if he were a Monke, as heertofore he had desire to be, he should not suffer more troubles and paynes, nor do more pennance then now he did, while in a religious state besides, he should not loose the merit of so great labours; whereas in the life he then led, it was more vncertayne what fruite at last, he were like to gather thence. Wherefore in ruminating this, new purposes began to awake in his mynd of seruing God, and wholy renouncing secular designes.

Truly, it is well knowne that, that fier was as yet very feeble, and the flames ascended but impure, and full of smoake: whereu∣pon, consulting with himselfe of the Monastery, he was to re∣tyre vnto, he sayd within himselfe: If I enter into that of Cluny, it is somewhat too strayte, and I shall not be able to endure it: If in that of Bec, I shall not there be esteemed awhit, since the emi∣nency of Lanfranke will doubtles obscure my name, and qualityes: Insomuch, as not onely I shall be able to help but few, but shall come also in a certayne manner to loose the tyme and paynes, I haue taken in studyes. It were conuenient therefore, I should seeke a place, where I might both help others, and giue forth some wor∣thy demonstration of my selfe. In these considerations, S. Anselme was remayning for some dayes: but then afterwards making his re∣flexion thereupon, through diuine grace he was soone aware how they spang from an euill spirit, and from a hart but ill mortifyed, & too much affected to the world. So, as reprehending himselfe for it: And doth this forsooth (sayth he) seeme Monachisme vnto thee, so to wish to be preferred before others, and to be more honoured & reputed then others? No truly: go to then, lay downe thy pride and become a Monke in a Conuent, where, as reason would, for the loue of God, thou beest the last, and the vilest, and most despi∣sed of all. And where may this be trow you, but surely in the Con∣uent of Bec? Since there is one to be found, who for his high wise∣dome and reputation purchased, is so sufficient for all, as there shall be no need of me at all. Heere then shall be my rest, heere my re∣pose, heere God alone shall be my scope, heere his loue shall be my thought, heere the blessed and continuall memory of him, shallbe my happy entertaynement, and pleasant satiety.

Gondolfus Father of S. Anselme dyes, and leaues him his heyre. He con∣sults with S. Lanfranke, and the Archbishop of Roan what course of life to take, and afterward is made Prior of Bec in Normandy. Chap. 3.

A Midst these deliberations S. Anselme was aduertised, that by the last will and testament of Gondolfus his Father, he was be∣come the heyre and Successour of all his substance. This newes puts his wits on the racke, not so, as to put himselfe from the will of ser∣uing his diuine Maiesty, but only made him to doubt, whether it were not, to the greater glory of God, to remayne in the world, & in the workes of Charity himselfe to dispence his goods to the poore. It would sometymes likewise come to his mynd, that to be vnknowne, and to giue himselfe wholy to contemplation, it were expedient to hide himselfe, and to liue in the desart. In this perple∣xity, it seemed good to him, not to make any firme resolution ther∣in, without the sound and mature counsayle of some vnderstanding and faythfull person, remembring the Scripture which sayth: Om∣nia fac cum consilio, & post factum non poenitebis. Wherefore he went to S. Lanfranke and simply declared vnto him what passed in his mynd, he craued to be setled and established by him, in what were best to be done to the greater seruice of God. S. Lanfrancke was not willing to be iudge in the matter, nor himselfe to passe the sentence alone, but exhorted S. Anselme, to remit the whole, vnto the Venerable Maurilius, Archbishop of Roan, vnder whose obedience, at that tyme, the Benedictines of those countryes gouerned.

S. Anselme replyed not a word heerunto, and being guided by Lanfrancke they both went their wayes immediately towards the Archbishop: And so great was the deuotion and credit, which the good youth gaue to his Mayster, as that passing through a great wood, betwixt Bec and the sayd Citty of Roan, if Lanfrancke would but haue sayd the word, that he would doubtles haue obeyed him therein. Being come to the Prelate Maurilius, they both togeather proposed the occasion of their iourney vnto him, & the difficulty which S. Anselme felt, in choosing a state of life. Whereto without delay, the Archbishop answered, that surely the Monasticall Professi∣on was the better, and most secure of all. To this answere, gaue S. Anselme very humbly his consent, and layng all care aside, hauing dispēsed his patrimony, as best seemed vnto him; he became Monke

in the same Monastery where S. Lanfrank was Prior; whose Abbot was called Herlwin, a person of good yeares, and of much esteeme, as well for his rare vertues, as also for hauing built and founded that Monastery at his owne cost, & charges.

S. Anselme being entred into this Academy of Christian Philo∣sophy, and heauenly exercises, on the 27. yeare of his age, endea∣uours with great iudgment and attention to imitate (as we also read of S. Antony) all the qualityes, which he discouered to be more no∣ble and perfect in euery one; through obseruation whereof, and with diuine assistance, walking apace from vertue to vertue, he be∣came within the terme of three yeares, a most cleere mirrour of Re∣ligion. So as S. Lanfranke being assumpted to the gouernment of Ca∣dom, S. Anselme was immediately substituted to him in the Priory of Bec: which dignity hindred him not awhit, from his won∣ted meditations, but rather continually recollecting himselfe, so much the more, he raysed himselfe to the vnderstanding of most high mysteries, and solued such Theologicall questions, as till that tyme had neuer beene treated before: wherein he was not so much assisted with intense speculation, as with purity of hart, and right intention which he had to expound the purity of diuine scripture, to the common benefit of all, and to defend the verityes of the Ca∣tholike fayth agaynst the malignant.

But among other knots that straytned him most, and held him in suspence, one was, In what manner the Prophets had seene at once both things past, and to come, as they had been present with them; and in what manner, with so much firmnes and resolution, they haue been able to preach and write them. In which passage while one night he was plunged before the houre of Mattins: be∣hold from his bed with his eyes towards the dormitory, and temple he cleerely sees through the wals themselues, the Sacristans and the other Officers, about the Aultar and Quire, to prepare the bookes, to light the candles, and lastly one of them to take the rope, and to ring the bell, and at the pulse, all the Monkes to rise from their beds, to go to the Office. At which reuelation, merueyling not a litle, he came to comprehend, how easy a thing it was to God, to shew the Prophets in spirit the things most remote and distant from them, since to him it was affoarded so to behold them with the eyes of the body, there being so much distance of place, and so ma∣ny impediments and obstacles betweene. In this manner came S.

Anselme to be cleered of the doubt, which tormented him so much.

But that which more imports, there was affoarded him from heauen, a discretion of spirits, so iudicious and subtile withall, as he easily diued, and penetrated into the customes and inclinations of ech sort of persons; and arriued sometymes so far, as to know the most hidden secrets of harts, and to discouer moreouer with ex∣traordinary light, the very origens, and seeds, and proceedings of all vertues and vices; and finally to demonstrate with most cleere precepts and examples, in what manner to purchase the one, and eschew the other. To this so great liberality of God, corresponded he with all due thankefullnes and promptnes to serue him, & with the exact custody of himselfe from all that, which might any waies make him vnworthy and vncapable of so high fauours. In fasting he had now got such an habit, that how long so euer he differred his repasts, he neyther felt hunger in expecting, nor tooke any de∣light in the meate he eate: And yet did he feed as other men do, as knowing he could not otherwise susteyne himselfe, but did it spa∣ringly, and so without sensuality, as he not only abhorred al dain∣tyes and delicacyes, and gusts of the palate, but seemed (as we sayd) as if in him, the sense of tasting had quite been lost and extinct.

As for sleep, his holy occupations, and continuall labours gaue him but a very small tyme, answering and assisting euery one, that made their recourse to him for counsayle and direction. In which things the diuine man would be spending, not only the houres of the day, but euen those of the night also: and by night besides, he would attend, partly to amend, and correct bookes, which were dangerously marred, and corrupted; partly in meditating the life of his Redeemer, and contemplating the eternall Beatitude, through desire whereof, he would shed whole fluds of teares, as likewise he would do for his own defects, and through compassion of the sins of his neighbour, togeather with the miseryes of this lyfe, and the eternall losse of soules; insomuch as many nights he would often passe ouer without any sleep at all: and if perhaps he but chanced to shut his eyes, it would be but euen a litle before the houre of mat∣tins, when how affectuous he would be in prayers, & vnited with the diuine goodnes, the prayers which he made at the instance of his friends and deuotes, set downe in writing, declare sufficiently.

S. Anselme was enuyed much for his promotion to the the Priory, especially by one Osborne a Monke, who was afterwards reconciled to him; and dying appeares S. Anselme, and reuealed his estate vnto him. Chap. 4.

AMong all the vertues, and prayses, which are recounted of the holy man, to me none seeme more worthy of consolation, & imitation then the dexterity, & charity which he vsed in the go∣uernment and instruction of his subiects. To which purpose, we are to vnderstād thus much, that assoone as he ascended to the Priorship, he wanted no few enuyers and persecutours; to whome it seemed an intollerable thing, and very vnworthy, to be subiected so, to the obedience of one, that might well be called a Nouice. Agaynst the peruersnes, & malice of these, S. Anselme opposed himselfe with all offices of benignity, that might be, and particularly vnto one, very yong of yeares. by name Osborne. This man being endowed with a rare wit, and of great hability, imploying his talents ill, and abhorring the interiour discipline & seruice; had cōceiued an auer∣sion & hateful rancour against the holy Pastor, & stuck not to exer∣cise the same, both openly & closely when occasion serued. Which malignity of his, though S. Anselme for himselfe, not much regar∣ded: yet was he sory so noble a Subiect, of whome otherwise so much fruite might well be expected, should, through diabolicall operation, be so lewdly seduced, and as it were, vtterly lost.

Now then to reduce him into the righ way, first he sought by all meanes possible, to gayne his good will, and to win him to be confident. For which end he began to make exceeding much of him, to dissemble with his errours, to graunt him whatsoeuer was possible, without the manifest domage of the Order, and finally to omit nothing that might any wayes seeme to tame, and relent that so fierce and vnbridled wit of his. The youth tooke complacence at such deportements of S. Anselme towards him, and by little and litle being mollifyed and vanquished with so much humanity; be∣gan to be affected to him, and to take his fatherly aduises in good part, and euen voluntarily to compose himselfe to all modesty and grauity. Which the wise Rectour perceyuing, he proceeded to fa∣uour him more then euer, to preuent his necessityes, not to suffer him to want any thing; and withall to prayse that emprouement and fruite which he noted in him, and sweetly to exhort, & pray

him withal, continually to passe from good to better. From hence he went vntying him by litle and litle, from his accustomed leui∣tyes, and very dexterously reuoked agayne those former indulgen∣ces which heertofore he affoarded him, and by all meanes endea∣uoured to reduce him to reason and religious maturity.

When as afterwards he saw himselfe to be fully possessed of him, continually restreyning him more and more, he fayled not to cut of quite that childishnes, which seemed as yet to remayne in him: and if he had noted him to relapse at any tyme into errours, he would chastize him, not only with words, but with pennances also. Which new seuerity, was supported by Osborne, with admira∣ble patience, being now assured and most secure of the fatherly bo∣wels of S. Anselme, and of the amorous affect whence it seemed to proceed. In summe, with holsome and fit remedyes, that youth, who seemed so incorrigible before, came now to be amended and reformed in such manner, as looke what disquietnes and scandall he had giuen before, he now gaue as great example, and edification to all: When as thus cured in his soule, through diuine disposition he fell grieuously sicke.

Then did the good Pastour, shew no lesse diligence, in helping the exteriour man, then before he had vsed towards the interiour: so as he serued him in person, in supplying him his meate & drinke with his owne hands, & with extreme sollicitude, prouiding him of all things necessary, to rid that subiect of his infirmity, of whom now a good while since, he had promised to himselfe, great mat∣ters for the diuine seruice, and the good of Religion. But this pious industry of the Seruant of Christ, had not the desired end; since it pleased the diuine Maiesty, to cut of the threed of Osborns mortal life. Whereat S. Anselme grieuing with most tender affect (as much as Christian vertue suffered) in the houre of his passage, deerly intrea∣ted him, that if it were possible, after his death, he would giue him some tydings of him. The dying man did promise as much, and so expired.

The body, according to the vse being socked, clothed, & then layd forth on a beer, was carryed into the Church; while the Mon∣kes sate singing of the wonted psalmes about the same. S. Anselme in the meane tyme to make his prayer more attentiue and feruent, retyred himselfe into a place somewhat a part from the others: heer while with teares, and sighs he begs of our Lord, the saluation of

that soule, being oppressed with sorrow & heauynes and his eyes now shut, he fell into a slumber: and in that repose, beholds in spi∣rit certayne venerable persons, dressed vp in white garments, to be entred in the chamber of the deceased, and there to sit downe to iudge him. But not knowing, what sentence they had passed vpon him, & expecting with great anxiety to vnderstand the successe of that iudgmēt; behold Osborn appeares on a sudden, in face not vnlike to one that returns to himselfe againe, after a traunce, or fit of fain∣ting. Whereat S. Anselme sayd presently to him: What is the matter sonne? How it is with thee now? The other answered: The an∣cient Serpent hath risen vp thrice agaynst mee, and thrice hath it fallen vpon his owne head, & the Bear-heards of God haue deliue∣red mee: after which words S. Anselme opened his eyes, and Osborn vanished.

This answere the dead man gaue, and S. Anselme himselfe, af∣terwards interpreted the same in this manner: That thrice the an∣cient Serpent arose agaynst Osborne; because first, he accused him of sinnes committed after Baptisme, before he had been offered vp by his Parents into the Monastery: secondly for those, which he had committed after his entry into the Monastery, and before the ma∣king of his vowes: in the third place, for those whereinto he had incurred after his vowes, euen to his death. But thrice agayne, was the accuser defeated; because the errours of the world, had been cā∣celled in vertue of the Fayth, and oblation of his Parents, when they presented him deuoutly to the diuine seruice: those of the No∣uiciate, were remitted him in the new consecration of himselfe by meanes of his vowes. The faults which he had committed after the vowes, were pardoned him somwhat neere to his passage, by mea∣nes of confession and pennance: So as the diuell, finding all his quarrels frustrate, being wholy confounded, was quite defeated, since all the instigations and subtilityes he had vsed to make that soule to fall into sinne, had redounded to his owne more grieuous torment, and greater damnation.

As for the Bear-heards of God, they are (said he) good Angels: for that, as they tame the beares, so do these restrayne the malignant spirits, from the cruelty and impetuosity, wherewith they vse to rush on, to the destruction of soules. After all these things, to shew himselfe a true friend, and father of his Osborne, no lesse after his death then before, he sayd euery day a Masse for him, though the whole

yeare following. And if sometymes, he were hindred from cele∣brating at all, he would seeke for some other, to supply the same, promising to do as much for that Priest, when he was requested. Besides which, he did send letters into diuers parts to procure suf∣rages and sacrifices for the same intention, and thereby obtayned a great number of them. Whence it followed, that not onely the deceased party felt (as is verily belieued) eyther opportune refresh∣ment, or accidentall ioy: but euen also the liuing tooke excellent example of so burning and continuall charity of S. Anselme; yea e∣uen his very enemyes tempered themselues, who before could not looke on him with a good eye; & at last ouercom & touched with the perpetuall tenour of such goodnes, tooke so great an affection to the holy man, as from murmurers and emulous, they became fol∣lowers and proclaymers of his rare vertues. Although indeed to bring things to those termes, a certaine strange accident of no small moment, happened to one of those enemies of the blessed Pastour, that immediately followes.

A certayne ancient Monke, and great Enemy of S. Anselme, at his death, was tormented with a dreadfull vision, which S. Anselme driueth away with the signe of the Crosse. And how he gaue himselfe to the trayning vp of Youth. Chap. 5.

THere was one very ancient in Religion, who with implaca∣ble disdayne neuer ceased to bite and molest the good Father, and by no meanes could neuer endure him, much lesse reuerence & acknowledge him in the place of Christ. Now then, through the iust iudgment of God it happened this miserable wretch fell sicke to death; and one night while all the Monkes were in bed, he began to giue forth very dreadfull cryes, & to seeke as it were, to shun the sight of some horrible figures; became very pale of visage, and full of trembling and great anxiety, and would withall be turning his head on this side, and that side, to hide himselfe. At these noyses, his neyghbours being now awakened, came suddenly in hast to aske what he ayled. You behold mee (sayd he) afflicted and distressed thus within the pawes of two most rauenous wolues, which are now euen ready to strangle me, and demaund you of mee, what I ayle? One of them that was present hearing this, by name Ricolfus, who was the Secretary of Conuent, without delay went running

to S. Anselme, who at that tyme was correcting of a booke, and pre∣sently informed what passed with the sicke man.

At which newes, the venerable Prior being touched with his accustomed clemency, bad Ricolfus returne backe to the sickman: and he in the meane tyme recollecting himselfe a litle, ouertooke him in the Infirmary, and lifting vp his hand, made the signe of the Crosse vpon him, saying: In nomine Patris, & Filij & Spiritus Sancti. With which signe, the Wretch was suddenly quiet, and being som∣what cheerfull in face, with most in ward affect of the hart, began to giue thankes to the diuine Goodnes: and added withall, that so∣ueraygne signe he had seene to come forth of his mouth, as a fiery lance, which being brandished agaynst those wolues, had so terri∣fied them, as made them suddenly to fly away.

Then S. Anselme, sweetly approching to him, dealt with him seriously of matters concerning the saluation of his soule, & brought him to a great compunction, and true confession of all his offences committed agaynst God: and after he had giuen him the absoluti∣on, told him playnely, he should render vp his spirit, about nine of the clocke: and so indeed it fellout, to the great astonishment of all. From hence forward, S. Anselme with a great deale more ease, began to administer the office: in which, as one that sought to pro∣mote to perfection all those, whome he had vnder his charge; so with particular application, he laboured especially in the help of youth, and alledged this reason for it: That euen as wax, when it is too hard, or too soft, takes not very well the impression vpon it, but if it be well tempered between the hard and soft, it most fayth∣fully receyues the print of the Seale; so iust, do we see it to happen in the age of a man.

Take you one who from his infancy to his old age, hath been alwayes bred vp in the vanityes of the world, and begin to deale with him then of spirituall conceipts, of contemplation, of celesti∣all things, and of such other like discourses, and you shall find him to be not able to conceyue hardly, much lesse to put your aduices in practice, and due execution. Nor is it any wonder, since the wax is hardned, nor hath he spent his yeares in such practises, & hath al∣wayes had other obiects, and other designes. On the contrary side, take me a child, both tender of yeares, and of conscience, and who cannot as yet discerne the euill from the good, the very same shall happen with this, as with the other, the wax is too soft, and liquid

for it, it admits no characters, or images. Betwixt these two then, the youth stands in the midst, as temperatly composed of stiff and tender. Do thou endeauour, to instruct such a one, and thou shalt imprint in his mind, what thou wilt. Which thing I noting (sayd S. Anselme) do employ my selfe with the more assiduity and follici∣tude, in trayning vp of youth, and do labour from their soules to extirpate all the rootes of vices, and to plant the vertues in place of them: that being purged in this manner and well tempered, they may come to represent more to the lyfe, the true image of a perfect man. And these were the principall motiues of S. Anselme, for the education of youth.

S. Anselme sueth to the Archbishop of Roan, to be discharged of his Office, but is denyed. Togeather with a Vision of Ricolfus concerning him. Chap. 6.

IN the meane tyme, occupations and affaires continually increa∣sing, and sorely oppressing the Man o•…•… God; he held himselfe to be so much disquieted and distracted therewith from interiour exer∣cises of the mynd (which happened not so to him at the beginning) as he went for counsaile a new to the aforesayd Archbishop of Ro•…•… before whome, he vnfolded the occasion of his comming, and bit∣terly bewayling his peace and tranquillity lost thereby, be sought him, that he might be disburdned with all expedition of the charge. Whereto the Archbishop, being a person of much iudgement and sanctity withall, thus answered: Do not, my deerest sonne, make instance to forgo the charge, not do thou seeke to subtract thy selfe from helping others, to attend to thy selfe only: for I tell thee, in good sooth, that I haue heard heertofore of many, and seen some al∣so, who hauing vnder the coulour of their proper quietnes, abon∣doned the pastorall cure, & by that occasion being fallen into 〈◊〉〈◊〉, haue likely gone from euill to worse. Which to the ed the same may not fall vpon thee likewise (which God forbid) I com∣maund thee in vertue of holy Obedience, to reteine to thee still the Prelacy which thou hast, nor to suffer thy selfe to be induced any wayes to depose the same, vnlesse the Abbot do enioyne thee to it. And if thou shalt be called heerafter to any greater charge, that thou do not refuse by any meanes to accept therof: Because I know very well, thou art not like to stay any long tyme, in that where∣thou

art, but shalt shortly be aduanced to a higher degree.

To these words sayd S. Anselme: Then woe to me poore mi∣serable wretch: I am ready to faynt with the present burden, and yet when another more weighty shall be layd vpon me, I may not refuse the same! These sighes of S. Anselme, moued not the wise Archbishop a whit, but rather with the same seuerity, he rehearsed to him agayne the same precept, which he had giuen him. In this wise the Seruant of Christ, perceyuing himself to be quite excluded from that which he wished, fayled not at last to conforme his own to the diuine will: and returning home, with new feruour & new purposes gaue wholy himselfe to cherish & increase the more solide vertues in his Monkes. To which effect, knowing very well of what importance was the vnion and communication togeather of the subiects, with the Superiour; he pursued with all the meanes, that well he might, to procure to himselfe the loue of ech one, and that particularly with shewing of true compassion and tendernes to the sick, and indisposed; so as he stucke not to enter often into the Infirmary himselfe, and there not only with sweet countenance and gracious words to comfort the afflicted; but euen also (as we sayd of Osborne) to serue them, and prepare them their dyet & food with his owne hands, and with diligence to find out the state of ech one, and that which most would be gust-full, and pleasing to them.

Through which dealing of his, the bitternes and detractions not only ceased, if there were any yet left, but there followed a thing, which may truly be called, the very health of religion; to wit, a confidence, and a certaine coniunction of the members with the head, and that so strayt, and so great withall, as there was not any, who not suddenly to manifest his secrets, and ech passion, & thought which he had in his breast to the good Priour, as a child would do to his sweetest Mother. With which security, and sweet familiarity would S. Anselme be curing of the inward wounds, and remedying the temptations of his Monkes, and that with so much more ease, as their consciences were made more manifest and pal∣pable to him. So as by this meanes, S. Anselme came continually to be held in greater grace and reuerence with all men.

And this good conceypt of theirs, increased so much the more, through a certayne meruayle, which newly happened to the a∣boue named Ricolfus. This man, while he went one night through

the Cloyster, obseruing the houre of rising of the Monkes to Mat∣tins, in passing by good hap before the Chapter-doore, peeped in with his eyes, and beheld S. Anselme in prayer, enuironed round as with a flaming circle of fire. Ricolfus was astonished at the sight, & after he had a litle thought with himselfe what it should be, he re∣solued to hye him to the Fathers celll, when seeing no body there, he returned to the Chapter agayne, and found there the Priour as before, but without the sayd flame, yet most assured the while, of that which at first he beheld so cleerly.

S. Anselme in a case of necessity miraculously procures a fish from the Riuer neere by: And with the spirit of Prophesy foretels an accident to come. To∣geather with the Bookes which he wrote.

ON a certayne day, S. Anselme being sent vnto, by a principall Lord of Normandy, to come and deale with him about certaine affayres, he refused not to go; and hauing discoursed with him, till the Euening, he was not inuited at all by the Prince, to lodge there that night, though the Monastery of Bec, were farre from thence. Which the Man of God perceyuing, without speaking a word ther∣of to any, tooke his leaue, and departed thence, not knowing where to lodge. In the meane time, meeting with one of the Mon∣kes, of his owne Order, he asked him, Whither he went, and were they might harbour and retire themselues that night? The o∣ther answered: Father, we haue a house indeed, not far frō hence, but there is no refection to be had for you, and your company, saue only bread and cheese.

Then sayd S. Anselme, with a cheerfull countenance: Doubt you not good brother; go thy wayes then before, and cast a net into the riuer there, and thou shalt presently find fish inough for vs all. So did the Monke without any doubt a whit, and calling in hast, a fisherman to him, bad him to throw in his net. Now was it indeed neyther tyme, nor place for such a draught, and therefore the fisher∣man laughed at such a bidden thing, and tooke himselfe to be mockt at by the Monke. But at last, being thereunto cōstrayned, as it were though his prayers and persuasions, he resolued to obey; and be∣hold agaynst all hope, came forth of the water a Trout of an vn∣couth bignes, with another litle fish also: So as that fish was more then inough for S. Anselme, and his company.

That other accident differed not much from this which hap∣pened to him in another house of a deere friend of his, called Walter Tuel, who being sory for want of fish, and with words of courtesy excusing himselfe, for not hauing prouision worthy of such a ghest; S. Anselme smiled, and replyed: There is now a Sturgeon brought in vnto you, and do you complayne for want of delicacies? As yet Walter verily belieued he had but iested with him, and would by no meanes giue any credit to it, when behold, two of his men came & entred into the house with a Sturgeō, the greatest they had seene a long tyme, being found (as they sayd) by the Stepheards vpon the bankes of the riuer of Alteia. Whence, though in a base and ma∣teriall subiect, yet may it well be gathered, that S. Anselme, amongst other gifts of heauen, had likewise the spirit of Prophesy.

About the same tyme, he composed three very subtile Treati∣ses: one of the Truth, another of Freewill, the third of the Fall of the Deuill. By which treatises, may well appeare, wherein he had tru∣ly fixed his mind, though by such considerations and labours, he neuer subtracted himselfe from the care & consolation of his Mon∣kes. He wrote also another booke, which he entituled, The Gram∣marian, wherein he introduceth a Scholer to dispute with him; he also in that booke goes soluing of many Logicall difficulties. He an∣nexed thereto a litle Tract, which he called, by the Greeke terme, Monologion; for that speaking with himselfe alone, without medling with quoting of the holy Scripture, with meere reasons he proues There is a God, and that by no meanes it can be otherwise.

After this, it came into his mynd, whether with one short ar∣gument only, that same might not be solidly proued, which is so belieued and preached of God, to wit, that he is Eternall, Incom∣mutable, Omnipotent, Incomprehensible, whole in euery pla∣ce, iust, pious, mercifull, true, or rather Truth it selfe, Goodnes, Iustice, and some other attributes, and how all these things are one thing in him. This same proposition now did affoard himso much to do, as partly it tooke away his meate, and sleep; and partly also (for which he felt the greater griefe) held him exceedingly in sus∣pence, and greatly distracted him in his Psalmody, and in the other diuine Offices: and by how much more violence he vsed thereun∣to, so much the more was he troubled with the foresayd question; vntill such tyme as waking one night, it pleased the diuine Mercy to illumine his vnderstanding, and to giue him the knowledge of

what he desired, with so much clarity, as he felt therewith a great iubiley of hart, and a wonder full sweetnes and consolation of mynd. And supposing he might help others therewith (as he was far from all enuy, or basenes of mynd) he went suddenly about to put the thing in tables of wax (according to the vse of those tymes) and then gaue them in keeping, with great charge, to one of the Monkes.

Some dayes being now passed ouer, he demaunded the same of the party himselfe, and suddenly they were sought for in the self same place where they had been layd, but could not be found. Wherupon good diligēce was vsed to learne out if any of the house had taken them away, but yet could neuer come to haue the least inckling of thē. S. Anselme went about then againe to make others of the same matter, and with especiall recommendation gaue them in charge to another of his Monkes. He hides them in the secretest part of his owne bed: and the next day, beyond all suspition, finds them all to pieces on the ground, and the wax, with the characters, scattered heere & there. He gathers them vp as they were, & brings them to S. Anselme, who endeauours the best he could to set the pie∣ces together and fits them at last with much ado, so as they might be read, and so kept them close vnited togeather. And to the end the same might happen no more, he causes them to be transcribed in parchment: and from thence, he drew afterwards a Volume, though litle in bulke, yet great and very admirable in conceipts & speculations, and called it Prosologion, wherein he discoursed ey∣ther with God, or with himselfe. Which litle Worke, being writ∣ten against, by a learned man, S. Anselme seemed to reioyce the•…•…, and to yield thankes to the Censour, but made notwithstanding his Apology for it, and sent it backe to the sayd friend, beseeching him, or any other whosoeuer, that should once go about to taxe the afor∣sayd doctrine, not to publish the reprehension without likewise annexing the defence.

A most pious, and Excellent Epistle of S. Anselme, to a certaine Launce-Knight, who was newly entred into the Monastery of Cluny. Chap. 8.

VVIth all these occupations, as well of gouernment, as also of more grauer studies, the Seruant of God neglected not to write also sundry letters of edification: Of one of which, we

will heere insert a chapter, about the subiect of mutation of place, to the end yt may appeare, how much the same was impugned by this holy man, when it is not done through Obedience, or for some important occasion. He wrote then among other things, some aduises to a certaine Launce-knight, who was newly entred into the Conuent of Cluny, of the tenour following.

Thou art now entred, my dearest, into the lists and warfare of Christ, in which yt behoues thee, not only to resist the open bat∣tayles of the Enemy, but to beware likewise of the subtile traynes, which lye hid vnder the shew of a goood spirit. Because many ty∣mes, when the wicked aduersary cannot come to ouerthrow a No∣uice, with obiects of manifest sinne, he seekes to ruine and murder him with the poyson of false, but probable and apparent reasons: and so being not able to induce him to the harted of Religion, and the Institute which he hath made choyce of, at least he endea∣uours to make the conuersation, and dwelling tedious to him where he abides for the present: and though in some manner, he permit to reteyne yet the Monasticall life; notwithstanding he cea∣seth not by a thousand wayes, to make the simple and foolish to i∣magine, that he knew not what he did, when he tooke then abit in such a place, or vnder such Superiours, or els in such a community, and this to the end, that making the wretch by these meanes, vn∣gratefull for the benefit of his Vocation, through the iust iudgment of God, he may not only not go forward, but euen also haue much ado to hold his vocation, and to conserue himselfe in his good pur∣poses. Because the mynd being once distracted into melancholy thoughts, eyther of changing the residence, or if this cannot be, at least of reprehending and blaming the foresayd causes of his deter∣mination, he hath no power to recollect himselfe, nor to aspire to that terme of vertue, whereto he ought to extend himselfe with all his forces. The cause is, for that the foundation being once vn∣gratefull to him, he knowes not how to erect any frame of building thereon. Whence it followers, that euen as a yong tree, being often •…•…ansplanted, or disquieted and shaken with many encounters, can not take any deep roote, nor commodiously suck in the moysture and nourishment of the earth, to giue forth the desired fruit in tyme: so the vnhappy Monke, if he seeme to remoue himselfe, now heer now there of his owne meere appetite, and not though any dispo∣sition of Superiours, or els euen remayning still where he is, per∣mits

himselfe to fall into tediousnes and disgust; he can neuer come to be well grounded in diuine loue, & consequently being dry and languishing in euery action of religion, he shall finally re∣maine very poore and despoyled of the fruites of good workes: & he seeing himselfe withall, to proceed from euill to worse (yf so he note the same) shall lay all wayes the fault thereof on others, and by this meanes abhorre euery day, more and more, euen those with whom he liueth and conuerseth.

For which cause, whosoeuer will bee a good Religious man indeed, yt behoues him, that looke into what Monastery he hath been first admitted, and dedicated to the diuine Seruice (if in that place be no manifest daunger to offend the diuine goodnes) with all study and attention he endeauour to establish himselfe there, and there to found himselfe in true Charity, and to beware by any meanes from iudging the manners of the place, whether they be publique or priuate, profitable or vnprofitable, so that openly they stand not against the precepts of God. But rather, reioycing for ha∣uing found where to abide in the seruice of Christ, that he put away from himselfe all manner of suggestion, to remoue else whi∣ther; but with the greatest quiet that may bee, he seeke to attend vnto pious and deuout exercises. And yf peraduenture, yt may seeme to him, that he hath reguard to greater matters, & of more euident profit, then such as are practized in that Conuent there; let him thinke, that perhaps he is deceaued, in preferring things that are equall, before all others; or els in presuming, or promising too much of himselfe: and yf he cannot be brought to leaue of that opi∣nion, at least let him belieue, he hath not deserued what he desires.

And if further he note he were deceaued; let him giue many thankes to the diuine clemency, in defending & setting himself free from such an errour, and for that he hath not suffered him, without gayne, or perhaps rather with losse, in prouing another habitation, and some other manner of gouernement, to fall into the blame of leuity, or lack of wit; or els, by imbracing of things too hard, in a very short tyme to become wearied, and fall into the former state, if not a worse. But if he truely desireth a thing more perfect indeed, and more conformable to him, let him make accompt, that for his sinnes, he hath not deserued the same; and let him patiently, suffer the diuine iudgment therein, which neuer denyes any one any thing, vniustly. And in summe, let him shun the offences of

the diuine Maiesty, through murmur or muttering, but take in good part, and endure all with a sweet and holy peace, least per∣seuering otherwise, he come to exasperat the iust Iudge, and so re∣maine excluded from that which as yet he hath not receiued, and loose perhapps, what he holds already, or els to possesse it with∣out any profit at all. But howsoeuer he do feele vpon himselfe, ey∣ther the mercy or iudgment of God, in any case let him cheereful∣ly giue him thanks, and in all, and through all, acknowledge that infinite benignity of his. And since he hath the grace to retire him∣selfe, into the Port (whatsoeuer) from the perilous stormes and tempests of the world, let him now auoyd to open in the Port it selfe any entry to the impetuous winds of impatience, and muta∣bility; that the Soule abiding in the Lee, or harbour of constancy and meekenes, may remayne firme and intentiue ioyntly, and wholy to the sollicitude of feare, and the gust of diuine Loue; the one of which through caution conserues the hart, the other with sweetnes, euen perfects the Mynd.

I am not ignorant, how this matter would require more com∣modity of writing, or of discourse by word of mouth, to giue you to vnderstand with what subtiltyes in this matter of temptation, the ancient Serpent is wont to make the ignorant Monke to fall into his s•…•… on the contrary, with what reasons and aduises, the wise Religious may dissolue and defeate his malicious perswa∣sions. But for that I haue exceeded the breuity already, which an Epistle requires, and that whatsoeuer I haue sayd, or can otherwise say, consistes wholy to conserue this repose, and tranquillity of the Soule; it shall suffice me for this tyme, to haue proposed for your good what succinctly I haue don already. Nor would I haue you for this to imagin, that I hold you for vnquiet or malcontent: but forasmuch, as Don Orsion obliged me to giue you some aduertise∣ments, I know not how to affoard you a better and more holsome one, then for a man to stand on his guard, in this kind of tempta∣tion, which I know is secretly wont to enter into some Nouices, and quite to ouerthrow them. So as (my friend, and most belo∣ued Brother) behold how your deerest freind doth counsaye, ad∣monish, and pray you, with the whole bowells of his hart, that with all the forces of your mind, you attend to the foresaid quiet of the hart, without which, it is impossible to discerne the snare of the treacherous Enemy, nor yet to penetrate with the eyes of the

vnderstanding, the most strait and narrow way of vertue. To which tranquility, may no Religious, euer arriue without con∣stancy and meeknes, which meekenes is the inseparable compa∣nion of patience: nor lesse shall he euer attayne thereto, yf he re∣solue not, to obserue and reuerence all the orders, and institutes of his Monastery not repugning to the diuine Law, though he see not the foundation of them, nor the reason why they were in∣troduced, and prescribed. Farewell, and the blessed God direct & guide you in all your actions with perseuerance; so as, in the habit of iustice, you may one day appeare in his sight, and fully be sa∣tisfyed, when he shall manifest his glory.

A pretty Dialogue, betweene S. Anselme, and another Abbot, concerning the trayning vp of youth. Chap. 9.

THe like instructiōs gaue the diuine man in writing according to the occurrēces that happened. Nor were those same lesse re∣plenished with heauenly wisedome, which in diuers occasions, as we haue touched aboue, he deliuered by word of mouth: Whereof likewise for fuller satisfaction of the Reader, we will not spare to set downe some one example. It was the cōmon custome in those tymes, for Noblemen, as it were throughout all 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ndome, to put their children of tender age into the Cōuents or Monkes, partly to consecrate them perpetually vnto Religion; and partly al∣so to take them forth agayne, being piously trayned vp, for the be∣nefit of the common wealth. Now it chanced that a certayne Ab∣bot, in great opinion of Sanctity, discoursing with S. Anselme, of Monasticall gouernement, among other things, came to speake of these youths, to which purpose, he vsed these words: Tell me I pray, good Father, what we shall do with them, they are so per∣uerse and incorrigible; we neuer cease day and night from beating them, and yet still they grow worse and worse. Whereat S. Anselme, making a shew of some wonder, answered. You neuer leaue bea∣ting them: and when heerafter they come to be elder, what proue they then to be? Euen dolts, sayd the other, and very beasts. Then S. Anselme: O how well then, do you bestow the paynes to make beasts of men. And what can we do withall, replyed the Abbot? We seeke by all meanes to constreyn them to their profit, & it boots nothing. Do you forme them, or one, replyed S. Anselme?

Do but tell me a little Father Abbot: If you set but a plant in your garden, and bind it vp presently on euery side, so as it can not extend the branches any way: if you go after a yeare to take away the binder from it, how shall you find it? Certaynely with the boughes crooked, intricate, and inuolued. And who then should be in fault thereof, but your selfe, who so immoderatly restrayned the same? Iust so succeeds it with your pupils. They are planted by the oblation of their friends in the Garden of the holy Church to grow vp, and to giue forth good fruits to God. But you, with ter∣rours, menaces, and stripes, do euen so strayten them, as that the poore wretches haue not a iot of liberty. So as being indiscreetly wrung and opprest, they produce and cherish in themselues, but ill discourses, which in manner of wreathed thornes, so grow & setle in them, as there is after no remedy to be found, or prop to sustaine and hold them vp, & to make them grow out straight agayne. And for that, they find no sparke of loue or pitty in you, nor any ten∣dernes or sweetnes towards them, they cannot frame any good cō∣ceipt of you, but do rather verily persuade themselues, that all your doings spring from hatred and malignity in you. And hence very miserably proceeds it, that the more they grow in body, so much the more increase they in auersion and iealousies, being alwayes inclined and ready to fall into all sorts of vices; and as in none they find any signes of true charity, so can they not reguard any one, but with an eye a skew, and quite awry.

But for the loue of God, I would feigne haue you tell me, what is the cause you are so strange & harsh vnto them? For are they not I pray, men, and of the same nature that you are? And would you, if you were in their place, thinke it well to be dealt with, in this wise? but be it, as you say, that you haue no other intentiō with you in such your rigours, but only to make them good. Did you euer in your life, behold a Gold smyth to frame with blowes and beatings only, any goodly figure of some masse of gold or siluer? I belieue not. What then? For to shape it with his instruments, now beates he it, and presseth it gently, and then with a discreet relieue, ray∣ses he it vp, and frames it as he list. So, if you will seeme to intro∣duce any good forme of manners into youth, it behooues you to∣geather with the depressions of pennance to vse some indulgences and helps withall of a fatherly tendernes and loue. To this point, the Abbot. What indulgences, (sayd he) what helps? We continu∣ally

labour to constreyne them to vertue. And S. Anselme: It is well: and so euen bread, and other solid food, are good and holsome to such as are able to disgest the same. But do you try a while to giue it to a sucking child, and you shall see it rather to be choaked, then sed therewith. Wherefore I need not tell it you, it is so cleere. But this I do affirme, that as sickly and strong bodies, haue their diffe∣rence and proportionable food: so the weake and more feeble sou∣les, require a food which is agreable to them, in measure and qua∣lity. The strong and able are fed, and delighted with the solid and substantiall food, that is, with Patience in tribulations, with breaking of the appetite, with exhibiting the left cheeke to him that strikes them on the right, praying for ones enemyes, with lo∣uing their persecutours, and with other the like. But that Soule, which is feeble as yet, in the diuine seruice, had need of tender milke, that is, to be intreated with sweetnes, with mercy, with a cheerefull countenance, with patience full of charity, & with such like carriages. If you would but accommodate your selfe in this manner with your feeble, and able ones, with the grace of God, what in you lyes, you would gayne all. With these words, the Ab∣bot, being finally conuinced and touched withall, began to sigh, and said: We surely, Father, haue erred all this while from the right way, and to vs hath the Sunne of discretion, as yet not risen. Heer∣vpon being prostrate on the ground, he confessed he had hitherto done ill; and with crauing pardon for what was passed, promised to amend heerafter.

Another Dialogue betweene S. Anselme, and a certayne Procuratour of a Mo∣nastery. Chap. 10.

VPon a tyme, there came to the holy man, a Procuratour of the same Order, who bewayled (as it happens now and then) his hard misfortune; for that being touched heertofore by heauenly in∣spiration, he had left the world to serue God, and now through o∣bedience, was constrayned agayne to leaue God, to attend vnto the world. For as much, as the care of conseruing of rents, of following suites, of reuiewing of accompts, and of other such like secu∣lar affayres, did leaue him no tymeat all to recollect the powers & facultyes of his Soule, for contemplation of celestiall things; but put him rather in continuall danger of offending the diuine Maie∣sty,

in diuers manners. To which complaint, S. Anselme answe∣red, with the comparison following: The whole lyfe of man, may be well likened to a water Mill, seated on a swift riuer. Let there be then many millers belonging to this mill, some so negligēt, as to let the meale fall into the water; others, to retayne part, and part a∣gayne to let passe away; and some also, that gather vp all, and lay it vp, according as it is fit. Of this number, it is manifest, that he who hath reserued nothing, shall find but litle, he that hath held & saued all, shall be able to maynteyne himselfe more plentifully.

This Mill, as we sayd, may well be vnderstood this present life: the Meale represents the actions of men. Because, that euen as when the Mill workes, it goes allwayes round, and is euer continually wheeling about in it selfe; so likewise, human actions for the most, returne vnto their stations. As for example: Men plough, men sow, men reape, men grind, they make bread, they eate. Behold the Mill hath fetched a compasse. What then, doth it now stand still? No truly, because it returnes agayne to the foresaid tilling, sowing, reaping, grinding, making of bread, and nourishing with∣all. These things are exercised euery yeare: and like a Mill fetch agayne the same compasse, and turne about. Let vs now take one, that doth all his workes for terren ends, and who in them hath no regard but to transitory things: this man, truly grinds and works indeed; but all the meale, which should be the fruite of his la∣bours, through the course of secular desires, comes to be drowned, and caried quite away. This man, at the end of his life, when he shall turne back from the Mill to his howse, and that he would fayne feed on something, shall find nothing to eate, because the vehement streame hath caryed away the meale: Whence, wo to the wretch, for he is like to fast eternally.

Behold another, who looseth not the whole meale altogeather; because now he giues some almes, now hee goes deuoutly to vi∣sit Churches, and the sicke, and now he buries the dead, and so doth some other such like workes. But yet when this very person forbeares in nothing to giue himselfe to all sensuality, to be auēged of iniuries receiued, to take complacence in human prayses, and that he cannot rid himselfe quite of impure and disordinate af∣fects, the wretch looseth, ere he is aware, the greater part of the meale. And what shall become of him then in the other life, but euen to receiue rewards, according as he hath behaued himselfe?

Let vs now passe to the third quality of men; and let vs in∣gine it to be within religious. Suppose, when a Monke who hath made the Vow of Obedience, and what in him lyes, desires not to go forth of the Cloyster for any temporall busynes whatsoe•…•…, Such a one then, is enioyned by his Superiour to go abroad, to haue care of some possession of the Conuent; the good man excu∣seth himselfe, and prayes he may not be forced therevnto. And yet the Abbot still perseuers, and vrges his going thither. So as the sub∣iect, being not able to resist, doth what he is commaunded. Behold he comes to the Mill, and needs must he grinde. There arise com∣plaints heere and there, with murmurs and contentions. Heere now the prudent Monke is to looke well to his meale, and to re∣ceiue it warily into his sack, and not to let it fall into the Curren•…•… and how this? Let him do nothing out of vanity: Let him not be drawne to any manner of iniustice, for any gayne whatsoeuer. Let him execute Obedience in such manner, as he stifly defend with good reason all the Ecclesiasticall goods; but withall not seeke to increase them by vnlawfull wayes. If he walke in this manner, though he be sometymes enforced not to heare Masse, to breake silence, and other such like obseruances; Yet the vertue of holy Obedience, consummates all these defects, and with his sa•…•… both whole & sound, he conserues all his meale, whence after he shall haue plenty inough to feed on for all eternity: because such a one walkes not according to his Selfe-Will, but answearable to that of his Superiours, by meanes whereof, as the Apostle sayth, he comes to escape damnation.

Being now come to this passage, the Procuratour demaunded anew: & what then should we thinke of that Religious man, who offers himselfe voluntarily to such businesses, or rather practiseth them, with complements and flatteries? Wherto S. Anselme said, such question was not to the purpose of Religious men. To which the other replying, that he allwayes vnderstood it with condition, to wit, that the Monke so desirous of such occupations, should not af∣ter execute any thing without leaue of his Prelate; When S. An∣selme answered: This leaue hath deceiued many such: because that in the matter, which we now treate of, there are two things wholy opposite, Obedience and Disobediēce: between these two contra∣ryes, this leaue stands in the midst. He then, without being con∣streyned by Obedience to go forth of the Monastery, will yet ne∣uertheles

goe forth, and by this meanes subtract himselfe from the •…•…igour of the rule; though he do it with the full consent of the Su∣periour, & so seeme to iustify the act, by the licence obteyned; he •…•…emaines yet lyable to the sinne of disordinate and vnlawfull will and desire. Because that after one hath once left the world in per∣son, he ought not to returne to it agayne, with desire: but yet while he would not performe it without the permission of his Superiour, the Obedience whereto he tyed himselfe, shall seeme •…•…ndeed to excuse the exteriour fact; but that Will, which he had of •…•…is owne, shall cost him deare, if he do not penance in tyme for the same. Which some not reguarding, do suffer themselues, as I said, oftentymes to be deceiued through their appetite, vnder the shew of this leaue, or licence.

S. Anselme had a vision in sleepe: His fame increased euery where: And through the importunity of the Abbot, was forced to take the whole Charge of the Monastery vpon him. Chap. 11.

IN this manner, went S. Anselme, as well with wordes, as with the pen, & that which more imports, with works, inciting all to the contempt of the world, and to the seruice of the eternall God. When through his many labours, being seized with a most grieuous infir∣mity, in excesse of mind, he came to haue a Vision, that inflamed him much more to the desire of the eternall beatitude. For that, there seemed a very swift and swelling torrent to be represented to him, whereinto descended all the ordure and filth of the World: Which troubled, stincking, and filthy waters, with a violent force went promiscuously carying away all things with them, which they met with on the way, with all sorts of persons, both men and women, rich and poore. S. Anselme being astonished at so foule a spectacle, demaunded of one the company, Of what those mise∣rable wretches liued, and whence they quenched their thirst? And being told they mainteyned themselues with that same water, wherewith they were more precipitously caried away. And how so, answered he? Is there any amongst them, that is not ashamed to swallow vp such filth? Whereto the other answered. Do not you seeme, Sir, to wonder heerat: This same, which you se heere, is the Torrent of the world, wherein sensuall men are so enwrapped, & caryed away: and by and by sayd: Wouldst thou feigne behold,

what is a true Monke indeed? Yea mary would I, answered S. •…•…∣selme. When he replyed. Then looke round about thee, and see the walls of a Cloyster, being all lyned ouer with the finest siluer, and the grasse in the midst thereof, all of Siluer indeed, but soft and de∣licate, and most pleasant to behold. Which hath likewise another condition with all, that if one resteth thereon, it will gently seeme to yeild vnder him, and then rising agayne, be rising in like manner. This place so delightfull to see to, seemed to please S. An∣selme beyond measure: When deliberating with himselfe, to choose the same for his owne habitation, the Guide began to aske him agayne, saying: Hola. Would you see now, what is true Patience•…•… And S. Anselme, shewing forth as well with wordes, as gestures, a most ardent desire thereof, the Vision vanished on a suden, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 returned to himselfe agayne. By such apparitions he was filled with new light, and with a new feruour of spirit.

In this meane tyme, the name of S. Anselme, ran not only through out all Normandy, but euen likewise through the Countryes of France and Flaunders, yea and passing ouer the Sea, extended it selfe throughout all England, so as from diuers parts many no∣ble and learned men, and Souldiours also had recourse to the di∣uine man, and dedicated themselues to the seruice of God vnder the custody of so great a Pastour: though he with great prudence tooke heed of perswading them, more to this, then to that Conuent, con∣tenting himselfe with drawing them onely in generall to a Re∣ligious state, least they entring in without any proper deliberation of theirs to some Monastery, and then finding themselues after∣wards, molested with molestations, temptations, and trauayles, might chance to murmur, and attribute their impatience and scan∣dall to his persuasions. Whereupon the Conuent of Bec, came short∣ly to be amplifyed, both in number of subiects, and in plenty of possessions.

And the Abbot Herlwin, being lastly arriued to extreme old age, and now become decrepit withall, discharged himselfe of all things (touching the gouernement) & layd thē on the shoulders of S. Anselme; expressely ordayning that he should be well prouided of horses, & of all other accoutrements for iourneys, whensoeuer his busines required the same, and all should be kept as proper for his person. But he being affrighted with the name of propriety, when he returned from his iourneyes, would giue vp the same in

common agayne; nor would he euer endure, that for his owne commodity, the others should seeme to suffer in any thing. And that no meruaile, since euen in the world it selfe, he was euer so amiable and courteous to all; as that when he saw his friends to want any thing, he would willingly supply them of his owne, ac∣cording to his ability. For euen at that tyme also, the very light of reason, had dictated to him, that all the riches of the world, were created by the Eternall Father, for the common vtility of men, and that in the law of nature, they belonged no more to one man then another. And much more, after he was offered vp to God in Re∣ligion, as a perpetuall Holocaust, stood he allwayes firme and constant in voluntary pouerty. Not wanted he occasions inough to exercise the same; in reguard, that besides the aforesaid priui∣ledges and particularities, which in vaine the Abbot Herlwin had enforced vpon him; there were brought now and then, no small summes of gold and siluer to spend, or keepe to himselfe for his owne commodity and pleasure, which yet the good religious man, would neuer yield to accept of, if they, were not presen∣ted to the Abbot himselfe, for the benefit and vse of the whole community. And if the Benefactour himselfe, as it would happen now and then, replyed, that he had as then no intention to bestow it on the Abbot, or Conuent; he would answere, that he had no need of such things, and that, in that nature, he would receiue no∣thing at all of any person liuing. With these proceedings of his, he did allwayes yield forth a most sweet odour of himselfe. Whēce he came to be inuited vnto diuers Abbyes, to make them spiri∣tuall exhortations, and to resolue their doubts, and to afford them his counsayle, as well in publique a•…•… in priuate affayres: Which the man of Christ would do, with exceeding edification, and good of Soules.

Abbot Herlwin being dead, Saint Anselme is chosen in his place. He is giuen much to Hospitality: And goes into England to visit S. Lanfranke, and King William.

IN the meane tyme, Herlwin dyed, and S. Anselme with the com∣mon consent of all the Conuent, was elected for Successour. But he knowing the danger of such manner of dignitye, for many daies opposed himselfe with excuses & reasons as efficacious as he could,

agaynst the sayd election. After which, perceyuing that he was not able to remoue the setled determination of the Monkes, lamenting and sending forth sighes, he cast himselfe at their feete, beseeching and coniuring them, through the bowels of the diuine mercy, to leaue of such a thought, and not to burden him with such wayght. But they on the contrary, being prostrate before S. Anselme, besought him to haue pitty on the Conuent, and to beware, that with such resistance he seemed not more to regard his proper commodity, thē the publike weale and vtility. This perseuerance of the Monkes, togeather with the memory of that which was expressely com∣maunded him, by the Archbishop of Roan, ouercame him at last: otherwise, there had been no meanes possible, to haue brought him to accept of the Prelacy.

Being then consecrated, without altering awhit the manner of his customes, and liuing; he now proceeded to promote with all diligence his subiects to the end of their vocation, and with great vigilancy prouided, that the least wrong in the world might not be offered to any one, by the Officers and Procuratours, in the causes of the Monastery. Moreouer in receiuing, and lodging of Ghests (to which worke of charity, the family of S. Benet hath euer applied it selfe with particular industry, and prayse) S. Anselme was among others most wondefull liberall, & where ability fayled, he supplyed the defect with a great pro•…•…ptnes of the will, and withall sere∣nity and cheeerfulnes of the countenance: and likewise, sometymes in case of necessity he would be taking from the refectory it selfe, the meate which was prepared for the Monkes, to set before stran∣gers; though ordinarily, as he was a most prudent exactour of ob∣seruance, so was he very accurate in procuring, that the Conuent should suffer no want: howbeit often tymes, things arriued to those termes, as there would seeme to be no prouision left for the day fol∣lowing. In which cases, the Dispensiers, the Cellarians, and other the Ministers of the Monastery running with all anxiety vnto the holy Abbot, he would answere them with a graue & serene coun∣tenance, that if they would but haue confidence in the diuine Goodnes, he would not suffer them to want any necessaryes, nor were they deceiued awhit of his promise.

Because, euen in that very instant, or shortly after, you mig•…•…t haue seen to come from England (where many of the possessions of their Conuent lay) some ship well freighted with all manner of

prouision; or els some extraordinary almes to arriue from some de∣uout person; or otherwise some wealthy m•…•…n to come, and enter into Religion amongst them, wherby in time what manner of wāt soeuer, or disorder in this kind, might be easily remedyed. And for∣asmuch, as the forsayd possessions in England, for the better manage of good gouernment, required somtymes the visits and presence of the Abbot himselfe; S. Anselme was fayne now and then to go •…•…hi∣ther, being thereunto moue•…•… moreouer with desire to go and visit his deere, and most venerable Father and Mayster S. Lanfranke, who for his most excellent vertues, from the Abbot of Cadom, was as∣su•…•…pted to the Archbishoprike of Canterbury. Comming then to En∣gland, he was receiued with much ioy and honour, not only in the sayd Citty of Canterbury, but in all other places wheresoeuer he pas∣sed. And he alwayes according to custome, shewed himselfe most sweet and affable to all, accommodating himselfe to the genius and fashions of euery one; so much, as he would many tymes say, that he who in euery thing, wherein God may not seeme to be offen∣ded, endeauours to consent to the will of another, comes to merit exceedingly with the diuine Goodnes: that as he accordes with o∣thers in the present life, so with him in the future, may God and all created things, seeme likewise to accord. But he that dispising the neighbours contentment, will attend but his owne gust only; shal deserue often, with the iust Iudge, that euen as in this world, he would not seeme to conforme himselfe to the will of any; so in the other, shall no man accommodate himselfe to his. Since euen it is sayd by our Sauiour himselfe, that euery one, shall receyue accor∣ding to the measure he hath proportioned to others.

The blessed S. Anselme now being moued with such like rea∣sons, as we haue sayd, did shun by all meanes to be troublesome & grieuous to any: howbeyt, now and then, he was constrayned therefore to remit somwhat of the monasticall seuerity & discipline that he vsed otherwise, reputing it to redound to the greater glo∣ry and seruice of God, to condescend rather a litle now and then, with holy equity, to such Soules as he was to help, then by standing too much vpon rigour, to estrange, and alienate them from his speach and conuersation. Whence it followed, through the great affection, that all seemed to beare him, they came at last with a very good will to receiue very holesome and spirituall aduertise∣ments from him: Which in truth haue neuer yet beene put in print,

nor alwayes giuen in the same manner, but proportionable to the qualityes and estate of the hearers.

To the Monkes, aboue all things he would giue to vnderstand they should not seeme to neglect the least faults and trangressions of the Institute. And was wont to confirme the same, with a simili∣tude of a Viuary, or Fish-trough, because that euen as when the ho∣les, or chinks are not kept well stopt within them, the water by and litle goes running forth, & the fish doth euen perish the while: So in religious houses, when there is no heed taken of lighter faults, by litle and litle, is spirit togeather with obseruance lost.

He taught the Clearkes, how they were to maintayne the profession which euen by name they made, of hauing God only for inheritance, portion & lot, and aduised them to stand allwayes vpon their guard, least through negligence or tepidity, insteed of possessing God, they come to inherite the Deuill. To the maryed in like sort, he would giue aduertisements, very full of prudence and sanctity.

And in this doctrine of his, the diuine man proceeded not after the manner of the Maisters, and deep Deuines of the world, who beleiue they cannot seeme to maintayne their degree and dignity if they do not still propose very high and sublime conceipts, and not so easy to be apprehended of the vulgar: But S. Anselme, quite contrary to such, by reducing the highest points to the capacity of the meaner vnderstandings, and vnfolding the obscure and intri∣cate passages, and declaring them by images and materiall exam∣ples (being a thing very proper to true and absolute Wisedome in∣deed) and confirming them moreouer with potent and manifest reasons; would seeme efficatiously to engrosse them in the breast and heart, so as euery one heard him with great cheerefullnes, and recurred to him in their doubts, with the greatest confidence that might be. Nor was there in England a personage at that tyme of importāce, that held it not a great misfortune to haue had no occa∣sion to heare, honour, and serue such a man. Yea euen King William himselfe, who had, conquered that Nation by force of armes, and was commonly held to be fierce and cruell, shewed himselfe to S. Anselme so human and benigne, as they were all astonished at him.

K. William the Conquerour being dead, his Sonne William Rufus succedes. And Lanfrancke the Arch-Bishop deceasing, S. Anselme is chosen in his place. Chap. 13.

FRom this tyme forwards, S. Anselme was much conuersant in England, and according to the occurrences that happened, he made frequent iourneys thither. And among other tymes that he went into those parts, one was, after the death of the said King William, to whom his Sonne succeeded of the same name, being a person very ill enclined, and who from a King became a Tyrant: and among other iniquityes of his, against all Iustice, he doubted not to pollute his impions hands, with the oppression of the Clergy and Religious, & with the vsurpation of the goods of the Church. Whereupon it seemed good to the Earle of Chester, and to other principall Lords of the kingdome, to giue him a Christian admo∣nishment by the meanes of one of so great authority, as S. Anselme was; and with that occasion to comfort themselues with his pre∣sence and discourses, whom they wished to be the Phisitian, and Gouernour of their soules.

S. Anselme then, being so earnestly inuited and intreated by this Man, and many others, with the greatest instance that might be; passed ouer agayne vnto Canterbury, where a litle before was de∣ceased S. Lanfrank the Arch-Bishop, and where the Clergy and people, were in great care and desire, to supply the vacancy of that Seate, with the election of some worthy and sufficient Prelate. So as now at the appearing of S. Anselme, began to arise a generall whisper in the whole Citty, that a new Arch-Bishop was come already, and how they ought not to thinke of any other then of him. Which the humble Seruant of Christ perceiuing, immediately departed from thence, nor could he be induced by the prayers or in∣treaties of any, so much as to celebrate there on the Feast thē appro∣ching of the Natiuity of the most blessed Virgin. From hence, according to the necessity of the Churches, and the request of the Peeres, he refused not to go to the Court, where met with much reuerence by all the Barons, & the King himselfe likewise, with cheerfull coun∣tenance, came to receiue him, euen to the gate of the Pallace; and after most deere kisses, and louing imbraces, taking him by the right hand, he conducted him into a roome thereby. Where sitting

downe, and some words of courtesy passing betweene them, S. An∣selme shewed his desire to haue priuate audience with him: so as the standers by, went immediatly forth, when he without touching a∣whit the matters appertayning to his Monastery, for which it was thought, he had principally come to Court, with Christian liber∣ty, be gan to discouer to the King, the sinister fame, that went of him; nor stuck he, to specify vnto him many particulars, that he might the more easily come to amend them.

The discourse being ended, he went his wayes, to seeke out the Earle of Chester, & was enforced to remayne there for some dayes. In the meane while, the King fell grieuously sicke, & fearing death was put in mynd by his followers, assoone as possible, to prouide for the principall Church of the Kingdome, being then without a Pastour, which was that of the aforesaid Canterbury. And now this counsayle seeming good to the King, he nominated the Abbot An∣selm, and no other, for the same administration. The which declara∣tion, was with admirable applause, receyued of all. The Abbot on∣ly, at the newes thereof, was strooke euen dead, as it were; but then gathering his forces to him agayne, he endeauours by all meanes possible to resist, but not being able to preuayle, agaynst the deli∣berate consent of the King, and of the whole Clergy, and people, he was snatched vp, and carryed into the Cathedrall Church, and placed in the Throne with much solémnity From thence, he was straight conducted to Winchester, and lodged in the suburbs of the Citty there: where while he remaynes in the company of Gondol∣fus Bishop of Rochester, and of a certayne principall Monke, by name Baldwin: behold one night was a great fire enkindled in the neigh∣bour-houses, which with fury went consuming whatsoeuer it met with in the way. It now approched to the house very neere vnto S. Anselmes Iune; when some familiar friends of the Hostesse or Mistres of the house, seeing so litle remedy agaynst the fire, began to carry away from thence the houshold-stuffe, into some safer place. But the woman, being full of fayth, forbad the same; very confidently affirming, there was no such cause of feare, while she had the Arch∣bishop S. Anselme in her house. At which so generous words of hers, Baldwin being moued, intreated the holy Father, not to deny his succour to the deuout Matron: but he, with accustomed modesty & humility, answered: what should I helpe her? & wherein I pray! Go you but forth then, the other replyed, and make the signe of the

holy Crosse agaynst the fire: and who knowes, whether the diuine Clemency may not happily extinguish it by that meanes? When S. Anselme replyed agayne. What say you, by my meanes? You know not what you say. And yet neuertheles, for feare of the imminent danger, he went forth with the others; and in the sight of those furious flames, was constrayned by the Bishop of Rochester, and Bal∣dwin, to oppose the holsome signe of the Crosse there to. A strange thing, he had no sooner lifted vp his hand, but (as likewise it is read of S. Martin) that flaming and impetuous floud of fire, retiring into it selfe, made a stop in its course: and the flames being extin∣guished on a sudden, left the buildings halfe burnt, so farre as it had gone.

S. Anselme endeauours to put off the charge imposed vpon him, but in vayne. He after falls in disgrace with the King and is banished the Court. With a miracle that happened. Chap. 14.

AFter all these things, S. Anselme did seeke very dexterously to put off from his shoulders, that new burthen of the Archbi∣shoprique: and to that end had differred till then, the acceptation thereof, and his full consent thereunto. But so great were the moti∣ues, and coniurations made of persons of ech quality; togeather with the scruple of Obedience thereunto added, which was imposed vpon him heertofore by the Archbishop of Roan, as that in fine a cō∣sent was violently extorted from him. And so was the blessed Man, with great ioy and solemnity, consecrated by all the Bishops of En∣gland, in the Metropolis of Canterbury. This consecration of his, was celebrated vpon the 4. of December, on the feast of the glorious S. Barbara: when loe, the Natiuity of our Sauiour comming shortly after, S. Anselme went his wayes to the King, to giue him the accustomed salutation of the good New yeare: of whome he was first well in∣treated; but afterwards, partly out of malice, and the meere insta∣bility of the Kings owne disposition, and partly by the worke and instigation of wicked Courtiers and flatterers, the state of mas∣ters was quite changed: and the Kings mynd began with a sudden mutation to shew it selfe much aliened from the Archbishop: while to the foresayd occasions, was likewise added another of no small moment, which was, that K. William hoping for some great pre∣sent from him at his first entrance, found himselfe to be quite decei∣ued

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of his expectation; since S. Anselme, was not willing at all to aggrieue his subiects with any exactions & loanes, to satisfy the dis∣ordinate appetites of the King.

So that perceyuing him now to be angry with him, he depar∣ted from Court, and retyred himselfe to a certayne Village of his called Bregge, to finish, and dedicate there a Church for that parish, which by the death of S. Lanfranke his Predecessour was yet imper∣fect. In which ceremony, succeeded a notable accident: which was, that a certayne Clerke, but ill disposed, comming from London, vnder shew of assisting at the sacred office, had thrust himsele into that troupe: where casting his eye on the vessell of holy Oyle, but ill lookt to as it seemed; he began to lay his sacrilegious hāds ther∣on, and so with silence went secretly his wayes, towards his home agayne. He was now gone a pretty way, as he thought, when cō∣trary to his opinion, he found himselfe still in the same assembly, & in the selfe same place from whence he had fled; whereat wonde∣ring not a litle, he puts himselfe on the way againe: & behold with in a while, finds himselfe still in the Church of Bregge: and so went turning his backe to it agayne and agayne, vntill such tyme as the people being aware of those erring and wandering steps of his, cast their eyes on the Clerke; and at the same instant were the Deacons aduised, that the vessell of Chrisme was not to be found, for which there arising a great cry, vpon good aduise, and discreet coniecture, the foresayd Clerke was immediately apprehended, and the vessell being found about him vnder his cloake, with menaces and ra∣ting, he was brought to S. Anselme, who being moued with com∣passion towards the wretch, with cheerfull countenance reprehen∣ded him Fatherly for it, and ordayned, he should be let go forth∣with without punishment; and immediately the Man went dire∣ctly home to his house.

This Dedication being finished, S. Anselme was very suddenly recalled agayne to the Court, of purpose, to giue his benediction to the King before he crossed the seas. He went then presently thi∣ther: and for that, the wind in those dayes was very contrary vnto him, he thought it his duty in the meane tyme, with all care and diligence, to admonish K. William agayne, of the great disorders & many abuses introduced into the kingdome, and to exhort him to relieue the afflicted Churches, and to help to reforme the same. He did it then in the best manner he could: but the King, being now

troubled already, and wholy vncapable of good counsayle, not only slighted the man of God, with the Fatherly correction he gaue him: but euen also, with great disdayne and contempt did banish him his presence. Whereupon, some wicked and insolent men present, tooke new courage, and boldnes agayne to offer wrongs and iniuries to Ecclesiasticall persons and their goods, bearing but li•…•…le respect to the dignity and merits of S. Anselme himselfe: who being much more seen and expert in the knowledge of spirits, then in the manage of temporall affayres, partly suffered himselfe to be deceyued, not being able to persuade himselfe, that any one for trā∣sitory things, would willingly loose the eternall; and partly also, was enforced to yield, hauing (as we sayd) the King for aduersary, and his grieuous enemy.

So as now being wholy anxious, he neuer ceased to bemoane himselfe for the quiet and peace of a religious state; nor found he any comfort, but when he could now & then, retire himselfe from company, into Cloysters. Nor would he neither within the Bishop∣rique, nor yet without, euer liue without the company & assistance of some vertuous and approued Monkes, to his exceeding gust, and to the great edification of as many as knew him. Besides which, he fayled not to steale some tyme for meere contemplation, and to re∣medy the troubles of the Catholique Church, by meanes of his most learned writings. Among which, is that worke of his, most worthi∣ly renowned, which he wrote in the midst of so great afflictions vpon the subiect of the Incarnation of the Eternall Word: wherewith, the errour of the Greeks, remayned discouered and conuinced, be∣ing so audacious, as to deny the Procession of the holy Ghost from the second person of the Blessed Trinity.

Not only thus in his Cell, and studies, but euen likewise at ta∣ble, when they had giuen ouer reading, as a most excellent Deuine, he would solue very intricate knots, & expoūd difficult passages of the sacred Scripture. He likewise feared so much euery offence, how light soeuer; as he often affirmed, with sincerity, that if he had on the one side, the horrour of sinne before his eyes, and the paynes of Hell on the other, with the necessity of being drenched or engul∣ted in this, or that; he would doubtles make choyce, rather of the infernall paynes, then of the offence of God; and sooner accept of Hell, as pure and innocent, then the heauenly mansion being polluted with sinne.

What occasions S. Anselme would vsually take of spiritual Conceyts. How K. William returnes from beyond Seas: and S. Anselme goes to Rome. Chap. 15.

THe Seruant of Christ, was wont with the gift which he had of knowledge, to gather spirituall & fruitfull conceipts from the things which daily occurred: as once certaine Seruants of his, had a course at a Hare, who after she had diuers wayes, very nimbly tryed to escape from them, by secret instinct, came at last to squat euen vnder S. Anselmes horse, who suddenly thereupon made a stop, so as the dogs, not daring to set vpon her, stood aloofe, baying at her, expecting her starting agayne. At which sight, the company laughing, and making much sport, S. Anselme fell a weeping: You laugh my Maysters (sayd he) but this poore little beast heere laughs not at all, or finds any sport. Her enemies encompasse her round about, and she with the agonies of death, recurres to vs for succour. The same indeed succeeds very often to the reasonable soule of man, which no sooner yssues from the body, but the hunters (ma∣lignant spirits) pursuing her as long as she liueth in flesh, by the di∣uers turnings, & crooked pathes of vices and iniquityes, euen to the article of death, do then cruelly stand ready to snatch her away, and to cast her headlong to eternall perdition, laughing & making great sport thereat; whiles the poore wretch lyes depriued and despoyled of all helps. And after these words, S. Anselme spurd on his horse, and commaunded them not to molest the poore creature; when by & by hauing escaped the dāger, she skippes againe into the meadowes & woodes from whence she had fled.

Another day, the holy Father seeing a boy in the stretes, hol∣ding in his hand, a certaine little Bird, fast tyed by the feete with a long thrid, taking much pleasure to let the thrid go and come now and then, and in the midst of its flight to pull it backe on a sudden agayne, and let it fall often to the ground. Whereat S. Anselme tooke compassion on the poore creature, and much desired to see the bird at liberty; when behold on a sudden the thrid brake, and the bird flew away, and the boy cryed. S. Anselme reioyced the while, & cal∣ling to his companions: haue you (sayd he) taken heed to the sport of the litle Boy heere? Whereto the others answering yea, he then replyed: And now such manner of sport for all the world, the an∣cient aduersary makes euery day with many sinners; he holds them

so entangled in his snares, and playing at his pleasure, precipitates them now into this, and then into that vice. As for example, some be giuen to auarice, or els carnallity, or to some other such like mi∣series: To these will it happen now and then, that being touched with pennance and compunction, they make reflexion vpon the e∣uill life which formerly they haue lead, for which they are moued to teares, & for that time make good purposes to amend themselues. And now it seemes verily to them, they are loose already, & at full liberty: but yet with the thrid, or lyne of euill custome, in the ve∣ry loose and iumpe, as it were of their flying away, they are sudden∣ly pulled backe agayne by the Deuill, and made to fall as before in∣to the same sinnes. And this thing happens very often, nor do they euer come to get forth of so abominable a seruitude, till with some great violence of theirs, & with the efficacious help of diuine grace, the same lyne comes once to be broken asunder. With such holy do∣cuments as these, the holy man, dayly excited himselfe, and others, to the custody of the hart, and purchase of vertues.

But to returne from whence we haue digressed. King William, after he had vnworthily banished from his presence the venerable man, so that S. Anselme, seeing now all things to passe continually from ill to worse, without hope of any present remedy, through the occasion of obieyning his Episcopall Pall, resolued to go to Rome, & to recurre vnto the Pope for help and counsaile, who in those daies was Vrban the second; for this end he went to demaund licence of the King, and after many repulses, affronts, and iniuries receyued at his hands; did finally obteine it, with condition neuer to put foote into England more. Heerupon, with great feeling and teares, taking his leaue, first of the Monkes, and then of the Clergy, and people, he went to Douer, and there embarqued himselfe for France: but in the midst of his course, behold a contrary wind arose, in such sort as the mariners began to protest, that vnles he would needs be drowned, of necessity they must be fayne to turne backe agayne from whence they came. This newes, did much afflict the good Archbishop, en∣forcing him to say with sighs: Since then, it pleaseth the Almighty God of his iust iudgments to send me againe backe to my passed mi∣series, rather then to let me go whither I had intended to arriue, let his diuine Maiesty do with me what he thinkes best, & gouerne and dispose of euery thing, according to his good pleasure. With these words growing tēder, his eyes were all bathed in teares; when

through diuine Clemency, the wind suddenly began to come about so as with a prosperous gale the ship arriued in France at a place cal∣led Whitsand: where they landing, was discouered another wonder, to wit, a leake in the barke of two foote broad, which through the merits of the holy man, amidst so great a tempest, and storme, had receaued no water.

As soone as it was known in Court, that S. Anselme was now on the other side, King William with impious boldnes, caused his possessions and goods to be seized vpon in his name: he cut of all the Acts & decrees by him made in the same Dioc•…•…sse, & with strā∣ge iniuries & wrongs stuck not to molest, and euen sucke out of the Church, for himselfe and his hungry flatterers, as much bloud, as he could. In the meane tyme, the Seruant of Christ being arriued at Ly∣ons, there rested himselfe a while, & from thence passed safe to Rome, being euery where receyued of al, with much honour & reuerence; and especially of the Pope himselfe, causing chambers to be proui∣ded him in his owne Pallace; and admitting him to audience, and kissing of the feet tooke him vp, and deerely imbraced him; & in the presence of all the Prelates, spake so much good of him, as the hum∣ble man being confounded thereat, had not the hart to lift vp his eyes from the ground, much lesse to endure such māner of discourse. Wherefore with good opportunity he declared the state of the En∣glish Churches, and particularly that of Canterbury; when the Pope with gracious words promised, to take the businesse to hart, & pro∣uide for the same in due tyme.

S. Anselme being at Capua, miraculously causes water to spring vp in asto∣ny soyle. And goeth with the Pope vnto the Councell of Bari, and thence to another. Chap. 16.

IN the meane tyme, by reason it was then Summer, it seemed good to the Pope, that S. Anselme, being a person of so tender cō∣plexion as he was, should retire himselfe from that ayre, into a vil∣lage of the Benedictin Monks, called Schiana, not far from C•…•…pua. This village, was seated on the top of a high and pleasant hill, but de∣fectiue of water: in somuch, as they could get none at all, but at one Well only, which was there by, on the ridge of that hill, & this also but at certaine houres of the day, it remaining afterwards dry, in so much as the Guardian of the place with the inhabitants thereabout did suffer very much. Now the said Guardian cōceiued a great hope

that though the sanctity of S. Anselme some remedy would be easily obtained from Heauē for so great a difficulty. And therupon he de∣termined to dig a well in his owne house, howbeit the place being craggy and stony of its own nature, was very vnapt for the purpose: but yet before he would put hand to the worke, he prayed the Man of God to affoard his benediction to the enterprize, & to be the first to open the Earth with his holy hands. Whose request S. Anselme did not resuse, but for his Hosts consolation went in person to the pla∣ce designed, & making his prayer for a happy successe, with a pick∣axe strooke the earth three tymes, and then gaue place to others, to finish the worke. When it was not long, ere there sprung vp a most limpid and excellent water from the stony soyle, which being en∣closed within a pit of a small depth, there followed after a perpe∣tuall aboūdance from thence, inough to supply, not onely the ne∣cessityes of all those parts thereabout; but euen likewise to cure the diseases and infirmities of many, who had faithfully recourse to that succour: which thing, being once diuulged, gaue no small credit of more then human power to the B. Anselme, and from that tyme for∣wards it was worthily called, The Bishop of Canterburies Well.

Heere now remayned the Seruant of God, a pretty while, re∣collecting himselfe, and greatly attentiue to diuine contemplation and serious studies, to his most extraordinary delight; as seeming to him in a certayne manner, he was now returned to his won∣ted monasticall life againe: where (among other things) he finished a Booke intituled: Cur Deus homo, which heertofore he had begun in England. In those dayes was Capua besieged by Roger Duke of Pu∣glia; who moued with the fame and neighbour-hood of S. Anselme, sent to inuite & pray him to vouchsafe to come vnto him. The ho∣ly Man went presently, and with his presence, humility, and cha∣rity, so edifyed the Duke, and gayned so the minds of the whole ar∣my vnto him, that whersoeuer he shewed himself, he was blessed & glorifyed of euery one: in so much as many Saracens, being moued with his good example, & the good entertainement he gaue them, were euen ready to be conuerted to the holy Fayth: and had beene so indeed, if through diabolicall suggestion, they had not been hin∣dred, by a Count of Sicily, who at the instance of Duke Roger, had trained, and conducted them to that Seruice.

After this, came likewise Pope Vrban himselfe vnto the campe, and the siege being ended, S. Anselme very earnestly besought him,

he would please to discharge him of the dignity, & Pontificall cu•…•…e, and to affoard him the fauour to let him retire againe to his ancient quiet and religious liberty: but all was in vayne, while the Pope esteemed him more worthy of a higher degree. And a litle after con∣ducted him with him to the Councell of Bari, where S. Anselme by word of mouth, conformable to the doctrine he had written alrea∣dy, left the Greekish pride, and perfidiousnes much abased, & con∣founded, not without the vniuersall approbation of the Fathers, & most cleere confirmation of the Catholique Fayth. From thence, he returned to Rome with the Pope, who calling another Councell, in that Citty vpon the ensuing Feasts of Easter, S. Anselme was there also, & illustrated not a litle, the sayd assembly with his presence and authority, where with the consent of all the Prelates, and par∣ticular consolation of S. Anselme, was thundred forth the sentence of Excommunication, as well agaynst the Laity, that presumed to giue the Inuestitures of Bishoprikes, as agaynst the Ecclesiasti∣ques themselues, and others, who receiued them at their hands, or durst consecrate any persons by such wayes, intruded into those dignities. The Councell being ended, S. Anselme hauing obtayned good leaue, departed for Lyons, with resolution to remaine there with the Archbishop Hugo, his most intimate friend, hauing now quite lost all hope of euer returning into England agayne, whiles K. William liued.

Newes commeth to S. Anselme, how K. William was sl•…•…yne, & King Hen∣ry had succeeded. He returnes welcome into England: where after some troubles passed ouer, he dyes blessedly in his Sea of Cāterbury. Chap. 17.

SAint Anselme being arriued now, at Lyons, while he attended to his wonted exercises of vertue, and assisting the Archbishop, & that Diocesse; behold two Monks from England with tydings, that K. William vpon the second of August, being a hunting, was shot through the hart with an arrow, and had presently giuen vp the ghost. Whereat S. Anselme was very sory, & most bitterly lamenting affirmed, he would willingly haue giuen vp his owne life, to haue deliuered his King from so sudden, and dreadfull an end. And a litle after, arriued diuers Posts to S. Anselme, with letters from K. Henry his Successour and the Nobility of England, both Ecclesiasticall, and Se∣cular, intreating him to returne backe againe with all possible di∣ligence, for that the whole Kingdome expected him, with excee∣ding

desire, and that all publique businesses were differred, and put off vntill his comming.

Whereupon S. Anselme without delay, tooke his iourney towards Normandy, and crossing the Seas, the first thing he did, he declared to the new King, in plaine termes, what had lately been determined in the sacred Coūcel of Rome in the matter of inuestitures of Bishops. Whereat K. Henry being greatly troubled made instance to S. Anselme that for reuocation of such a decree, he would returne agayne vnto the Pope, called Paschalis, being newly elected in place of Vrban thē deceased: to which request S. Anselme made answere playnly, that it was not to be sued for, or possibly procured by any meanes; & yet notwithstanding K Henry vrging him, that at least for his satisfactiō he would leade with him, another Embassadour thither, whome for that purpose he determined to send to his Holynes, S. Anselme o∣beyed, and being receiued by the Pope, and the whole Court with great honour, his companion the Kings Embassadour after he had laboured in vayne for that which his Lord pretended, returned into England without effect, and S. Anselme remained in France. for that he heard K. Henry was exceedingly displeased for the ill successe of his affayres in the Court of Rome, and had impioussy seized vpon the Archbishoprike of Canterbury, & despoiled S. Anselme of all his goods.

Howbeit after a while the same K. Henry, being touched with the feare of God, and true pennance, restored S. Anselme into the pos∣session of the sayd Church, and very honorably receiued him againe into peace & grace. Which conuersion of his, how gratefull it was to the diuine M•…•…iesty, did soone appeare by a glorious victory, which he got agaynst his Brother Duke Robert, with other persona∣ges, who had reuolted from him; through which victory K. Henry did remaine absolute Lord of Normandy. And in signe of gratitude, caused a Parlament to be called at London, in which, to the extraor∣dinary consolation of S. Anselme there present, and of all good men, he renounced the custome of his Predecessours, concerning the In∣uestiture of Churches, leauing the free disposition therof to the Pope and his Delegats, shewing him selfe heerin particularly, to be a true and obedient child of the holy Apostolique Sea.

Now S. Anselme, waxing dayly more, and more grieued with old age, and diuers infirmityes, especially of the stomacke, came to such weakenes, as that not being able to celebrate Masse, made him∣selfe to he carryed euery day to the Church to heare the same, and in

short tyme the malady increased so much, as it cleerely appeared, there was litle hope of his life. His benediction then was required by the Bishop of Rochester, for all that were present, as also for the King and Queene themselues, with their children, and the whole Kingdome besides: and he hauing giuen it, with much deuotion most sweetly bowed downe his head, and one of his familiars, ta∣king the Text of the Ghospell, began to recite the Passion of our Lord, and comming to those wordes: Vos estis, qui permansistis me∣cum in tentationibus meis, & ego dispono vobis, sicut disposuit mihi Pater meus, regnum, vt edatis & bibatis super mensam meam, in regno meo; the good Archbishop, began to fetch his breath more thicke then ordinary. Whereupon the standers by, being aware of the approach of his last houre, after the due rites, and Sacraments applyed, taking him in their armes, they layd him downe, according to the manner of those tymes, vpon a Cilice, and Ashes; where he rendred his blessed soule to the Creatour, vpon Wednesday in Holy weeke, in the morning being the 21. day of Aprill, in the yeare 1109. or as o∣thers would haue it 1080. and the 13. of his Bishopricke, and the 76. of his age.

Being afterwards sockt, and reuested with his Pontificall or∣naments, he was decently layd forth in the Church, and buryed with most solemne Exequies, and with the sorrow that behoued, for the losse of such, and so great a Prelate. Many other, and great miracles, besides those that we haue touched, are recounted of him, the which notwithstanding altogether with me, make him not so venerable & worthy of eternall prayse, as two only Qualities which he had, among others, in an excellent degree; to wit, his Discretion, and Assability with all. Most noble vertues without doubt, and such (as we haue sayd) that he aboue all other gifts, should be adorned withall, who desires to haue open, and manifest to him, the Soules and consciences of his subiects, and would seeke by due meanes, to lead them to some good point of Perfection, and Sanctity.

FINIS.