Arnulf the Monk
Acta Sanctorum, June 30
Source text: Public Domain. English translation/apparatus/encoding: CC BY-NC 4.0, Wroot Press.
https://actasanctorum.org/june/day-30/arnulf-the-monk.html
----------------------------------------

CONCERNING BL. ARNULF THE MONK,
OF THE CISTERCIAN ORDER, OF VILLERS IN BRABANT.

A.D. 1228.

PRELIMINARY COMMENTARY.

On his life, written in two books by a contemporary and intimate immediately after his death; and on the veneration of his body.

Arnulf, Lay-brother of the Cistercian Order at Villers in Belgium (B.)

BY D. P.

Villers, a noble monastery of the Cistercian Order
in Gallo-Brabant,
at the second mile from the town of Gembloux,
upon the spring of the river Thyle,
is reported to have had its beginning from
Godfrey III Duke of Brabant in the year
1146, [Villers, founded in the year 1146, under whose eighth Abbot Charles,] Monks being sent from Clairvaux by St. Bernard
himself under the Abbot Laurence, of whom we treated
among the Passed-over on May 17. From him the eighth
is numbered Charles, of the Counts of Seine, from Himmerod
summoned, and famous for the fame of sanctity himself also,
but elected in the year 1197, as Jongelinck writes.
In his time, toward the end of the year 1201, to conversion
came Bl. Arnulf, at Brussels, the royal city
of Brabant, born of parents of middling [rank]; to whom however
the surname "A Cornibout," adds Molanus among
the Births of the Saints of Belgium, [he there took the habit, Arnulf,] in the Eulogy of him on this day, taken chiefly from the narration of Jerome
Moor, and other men of Villers: although in that age,
among commoners rare; among Religious, even
the most noble, there was absolutely no use of surnames taken from
one's stock.

[2] He lived there, or rather in the Granges of the monastery,
called Sart and Nova-curia, [and died in the year 1228] among the Lay Brothers,
whom monastic usage names Conversi; not indeed
that to manual work there he might attend, but that more freely
by macerating his body through penances utterly stupendous, and feeding
his spirit with divine contemplations
he might have leisure, under three successors of Charles, Conrad,
Walther, William. But under the last of these he ended his life,
in the year of the Lord 1228, on the day before
the Kalends of July, on Friday about the sixth hour,
twenty-six years and six months being completed in the Cistercian Order.
For his tomb, [His tomb and epitaph.] once honored by frequent miracles,
this kind of Epitaph composed we found,
in the manuscript after the Life:

In this tomb rests a man, in simplicity a dove;
Who in virtue a Lion; in jubilations is likened to the Lark;
Who a Turtle-dove in groaning, in look, and is likened in flight;
Equal to the Eagle; a Salamander, because he lived in a new fire.
Do you wish briefly the praises of the just at the end to prove?
Now he sings thence LA, SOL, who once wept in UT, RE.

That is, with a most joyful song he jubilates, [after the elevation of the Body,] who once with a most mournful
strain lamented, the metaphor being taken from the musical notes,
by which the highest and lowest tone is expressed.

[3] How long that tomb held the sacred body,
is unknown to us; [then translated into a shrine of the Blessed,] but I would believe this to have been
the second, given to him in the church itself, after in the common
cemetery with the rest somewhat buried he had reposed.
For the people of Villers think, by the testimony of Molanus, that he
was once offered to the Roman Pontiff to be canonized,
but that the general Chapter of the Order
prevented it, lest by the multitude the Saint should become cheapened.
Then after the high altar, with the other Relics of the same monastery,
for many years was stored
that same body, I persuade myself, just as about the body of Bl. Juliana
of Cornillon Henriquez wrote, reported before her
Life on April 5 at no. 19: and so about him, and about
the others there placed it must be held, what about all
together in the aforesaid place wrote the same Henriquez, namely,
that on account of the internal commotions of these provinces,
[to the Chapel of St. Bernard about the year 1600.] he was not with that honor which he deserved [held];
until, the state of affairs being gradually mitigated,
and in a more settled time, Robert Henrion,
Prelate of this house, to a more becoming place
the Blessed's body to translate decreed. Which also indeed
was done, and the sacred body with the other Saints'
Relics into St. Father Bernard's Chapel, which with jasper
and marble he had ordered to be adorned, he translated; and in
it a shrine of black marble skillfully polished
he caused to be made, and in it the Saints' bones to be placed.
Robert the Abbot presided from the year 1587 to
the year 1620, in the said Chapel of St. Bernard buried
also himself. But the Chapel on the left occurs to those entering
the church of Villers.

[4] Besides this honor of the most ornate chapel, to all
thus common, [The title of Blessed in the Martyrologies.] that to each individually nothing more
is rendered of those things, which we can presume once
were done, when each had their own monuments and place.
To Bl. Arnulf properly pertains, what Francis
Moschus, to be praised below, as an eyewitness,
thus writes before the Life published by him: "This blessed Man's
bones, by the zeal of the very Reverend Lord, the Lord
Robert Henrion, [Description of the chapel itself.] most worthy Archimandrite of Villers,
were translated from the place of his first burial
into a certain Chapel of the temple of that
Monastery, and there reverently and honorifically
laid. The Chapel itself in length and breadth
almost equal, of about twenty feet more or less.
The tomb of the blessed Man of black marble bright
and skillfully polished, at the margins hollowed, with triple
structure or series. At the head there stand three
columns of jasper, with capitals of marble placed on top,
the side of the chapel being closed by eight gratings of
brass, with in the middle a square column of marble
added, whose surface within, with roses
and little flowers excellently sculpted, gilded is seen.
A work, by Hercules, exceedingly artful, and
magnificent, and at huge expense. Above for
Psalm 150. For a crowning-piece are the insignia of the said
Abbot, which of flames and stars consist,
with the added motto, 'Each [is] eternal.' Before the altar
of the chapel, in the very pavement, in tessellated work,
and beautifully variegated, is seen in four parts the history
of the Prodigal Son. The first part contains the effigy
of the youth, receiving his hereditary portion from his father;
II, dissipating it with harlots;
III, feeding on husks and acorns; IV, returning
to his father, and acknowledging his fault."

[5] The appellation of Blessed remains, both by usage itself, and by certain
Fasti of the monastery confirmed; for instance those of Wion,
Menard, Bucelinus, and Chalemot; whom there preceded,
besides Molanus, the Carthusians of Cologne in the Additions
to Usuard of the year 1516, with these words: "In
the monastery of Villers of the Cistercian Order, of blessed
memory Arnold, Lay-brother and Confessor."
A manuscript of the Church of St. Gudula at Brussels, similarly by a certain Canon
there augmented, expresses the name better,
when it reads thus: "In Brabant the passing of Br. Arnulf
of Brussels, Lay-brother of the monastery of Villers,
where the wonderful deeds of his sanctity are had."
The author of the manuscript Florarium [The Life composed soon after his death] "At the monastery of Villers,
the Deposition of the venerable Arnulf, man of God,
of Brussels by nation; who after a wonderful life,
comprised in two little books, dying; appeared
after his death to a certain devout person in
the form of a boy, with a garment partly snow-white, partly purple
clothed around: by the boy-like form he signified,
that he had lived humbly and innocently; by the
snow-white color, that he had led a clean life; by the
purple indeed, that by a long-lasting effusion of blood
his body he had afflicted. He died in the year of salvation 1228."

[6] [by Goswin the Cantor of Villers.] That vision and apparition is taken from the aforesaid
Life's book 2, in the penultimate number: and many of this kind
more and other miracles no doubt there would be read,
unless very soon after Arnulf's death that Life had been written;
which both from elsewhere clearly enough, and most clearly is understood
from the same book 2, number 59, where it is said;
how the holy man, in the year 1226 foretold, that
within the coming decade, very many wars and many
tribulations in the Church would be stirred up; but in the next
year there began to be heard rumors, that Frederick
against the Lord Pope and the Church to rise up
would try. Then adds the Author; "Let
therefore the prudent Reader attend … how many and how great things afterward
happened: how many and how great perhaps thereafter
within the aforesaid decade horrible evils may
happen." By which words it is signified that a good
part of that decade still survived, when the Life
was written: or rather, when, first in the year from the death
written, one or another year after, the same again was written;
and among other things presently to be indicated, also that prediction
was added, in the third year from his death.

[7] The author the people of Villers in Molanus name,
Goswin of Bossut, Cantor of the monastery.
A manuscript of Aubert Le Mire bears this title: "The Life of the servant
of God Br. Arnulf, Lay-brother of Villers, by the Author
Dom Goswin, Cantor of that same place":
which title also is in the manuscript of Val-Dieu, with which
Le Mire's Codex accurately collated our Heribert,
from everywhere material for this our Work collecting; and
also with the manuscript of the very monastery of Villers, where with a fuller
title the same Life is written, "published by a man of pious memory,
religious, Dom Goswin, [from his own and others' secret knowledge,] once
Monk and Cantor of that same place, in two books
written." But that he was familiar with the Man of God himself,
both in various other places can be understood, and from
the end of the first book; where giving the reason of his knowledge, as to
his enormous penances; "from his mouth we heard,"
he says, "and that it is true we believe, he asserting it." He premises
however, besides those whom in the course of the work he names,
that very many things he had from a certain most intimate
Monk of his, Walther; by whose importunate insistence
overcome Arnulf, to him many of his secrets noted;
and that also certain secular persons
of the aforesaid Religion, and certain of the Brothers of the House
of Villers, some of the blessed Man's secrets, which from
his mouth they had heard, to him narrated. Furthermore worthy of note
it is, that all three aforesaid manuscripts word for word
so agree up to book 2's number 30, that
by no means worth the trouble was it, of Rosweide, in making
the collation, even the most minute things observing, to praise
the diligence; but it must only be noted, [once and again augmented in the 3 manuscripts.] that from there
the whole Writing by almost a fourth part, both of words
and also of sentences, is held augmented;
whence I have certainly persuaded myself, that the Author himself, as above
I hinted, his Writing renewed, another copy
being written out, and in writing all those things added,
which with these signs [ ] I have enclosed. But that all was written,
while the decade was still running before the schism predicted by Arnulf
in the year 1226, appears from no. 59 of book 2.

[8] Angelo Manrique, in the Cistercian Annals
at the year 1228, ch. 5, [Another was published by Francis Moschus,] briefly touches on
Arnulf's Life, and at no. 10 thus speaks: "The same
Saint's Life in this our century, with others
is said to have published Francis Moschus, at Arras
in the year 1600; but who from various papers it
collected, nor saw Goswin: whence far
different notes Aubert Le Mire in the Cistercian Chronicle,
where about the Saints of the monastery of Villers."
The same thus printed in octavo, as we say, together
with the Life of St. Simon of Aulne, to be honored on September 6,
we have in our Museum; [and he dedicated it to Abbot Robert,] where in the title professes
Moschus, of Nivelles, of the Armentarians,
that is of Armentières, in Flanders parish-priest,
and at St. Piaton at Seclin of the Melanthesians
to the Lord Robert Henrion aforesaid (to him whom we said
the Relics of the Blessed of Villers more becomingly composed)
peace and felicity having prayed; [with a brief eulogy of the Blessed,] he professes that from
Molanus's writings first known to him it was, that there had been
once in his monastery a certain marvelous man,
Arnulf, surnamed Cornibout, with illustrious
gifts from God adorned, of monastic discipline
most observant, in patience and humility resplendent,
in obedience second to none, in benignity
to be looked up to, to prayer most intent, in abstinence
singularly celebrated, in the contemplation of divine things
sublime and ecstatic, a most keen
chastiser of his ass, that is, of his body, to the rule
and state toward [his neighbor] very austere, finally with all
the pearls of virtues most adorned.

[9] His Life, says Moschus, addressing the Abbot,
with Molanus as indicator, diligently I sought, and having sought
I found, [but with the style of Goswin changed.] and by your benefit at last received;
and, lest I be ungrateful, to your Amplitude in print
I send it … The Author I would believe to have been Goswin,
because that Author praises Molanus.
Although, while once about this with you I treated, not even of Goswin's
name any trace was extant,
in those two manuscript books, of which to me a copy your Reverence made. But it can be, that some third
book bears the Author's name, from which were transcribed
those two which I saw: but the third by the injury
of the times perished, which however I persuade myself
was seen by Molanus many years ago. However
the matter may be, the Author himself was not of divine things
unskilled, nor in writing devoid of method.
The book not undiligently I unrolled, faults
several I removed, and where the Latinity seemed less
tolerable, the style somewhat I polished, from the history's
truth nowhere swerving. In the treatise on the blessed
man's penance, certain things are repeated, before in
his Life written: but to the lovers of piety not
will that repetition, as I trust, be unwelcome. You know
that Platonic [saying], "Twice and thrice the beautiful"
(Δὶς καὶ τρὶς τὸ καλόν). These things Moschus.
Writes also Manrique, that the same Life,
reduced to a compendium, [in comparison with which here is given the genuine.] John de Assignies
in French, Chrysostom Henriquez in Latin gave.
We the genuine work of Goswin, hitherto by no one published,
here in its own style publish.

LIFE
By the Author Goswin, Cantor of Villers, contemporary and intimate.
From three manuscripts collated among themselves by Rosweide.

Arnulf, Lay-brother of the Cistercian Order at Villers in Belgium (B.)

BHL Number: 0713

BY GOSWIN, CONTEMPORARY, FROM A MS.

PREFACE.

[1] Just as in the germs of herbs and trees,
which the earth produces, not one species,
nor one in all is the genus;
but each single one in the form of its own genus, [As in nature things are gradually perfected] and in
the quality of its own stock is begotten; but full beauty
not at once as they are produced do they receive, but by certain
and ordered increases are advanced, until
to the perfect quantity of their state, through the succeeding
increases to one another they come: so also the seeds
of the divine graces, and the plants of virtues,
not in every field of the human heart, [so men in grace,] all
this equally which they are to become are born; nor easily
is found at the outset maturity, and in the beginning
perfection. According to this similitude, no one
suddenly becomes highest; but in a diverse manner diverse [men]
gradually advance from virtue to virtue, according
as the grace of God shall smile upon them; [although sometimes otherwise it happens by privilege,] from whom is given
to them without merit, whence they tend to merit;
and from whom each obtains before any labor,
whence afterward he may receive a reward according
to his labor. [1 Cor. 12:4 & 7:7,] For "the divisions of graces are"
as the blessed Apostle says; "and each one his own
gift has from God, one thus, another indeed
thus." But although our omnipotent God, sometimes
in some of his servants works certain things
singularly marvelous and marvelously singular,
which in many others cannot be found;
not therefore does it become consequent, that the privileges of a few
make a common law.

[2] [as was done in Bl. Arnulf:] If so it is, nay because so it is, deservedly to be privileged
is the venerable conversation of Brother Arnulf,
our new Martyr: who so marvelously lived
in this mortal life, that scarcely today is found anyone,
who the austerity of his life, not to say in
all things to sustain, but not even to attempt would dare.
Who while still among men he lived, [whose certain secrets, by his intimate]
and the secrets of his conversation partly were known,
partly unknown; one of the Villers Monks,
Walther by name, who to him very familiar
was, many times more secretly asked him, that of the goods
of the Lord, with which the grace of the mother had enriched him,
to him some, for the cause of edification, he would intimate. He
indeed more often resisting, the same Monk said that he was greatly
saddened, and that from his importunity to desist
he would not, unless to him by him some things were intimated.
At last he, by the insistence of the one asking overcome, [and received from others.]
to the asker gave satisfaction, and to him many of his secrets
disclosed, which we from that Monk's mouth
snatching, to memory commended, that to writing
afterward we might hand them over. Certain also secular
persons, of approved religion, and certain of the Brothers
of the House of Villers, [the Author about to write,] some of the blessed
man's secrets, which from his mouth they had heard, to us narrated:
by whose testimony made credible to us
to declare his conversation.

[3] [he divides his work in two,] That therefore the lamp may be put upon the candlestick,
and may shine to the faithful who are in the Church
of God, the marvelous conversation of this Just one, as
by the aforesaid Monk, or by other witnesses
truthful to us it was recited, briefly to elucidate desiring,
the Holy Spirit we invoke as helper,
that by his grace our heart and our tongue
ruling, some things, both to those present and
to posterity, to profit, we may be able to write. And because
many are the afflictions, which that Blessed corporally
sustained: fitting to us it seemed, in
the first book of his Life, not only his corporal
afflictions, but also the instruments of the afflictions only
to note; that all may learn that he by a long
martyrdom was crowned. But in the second
book, the virtues and revelations or his other
deeds, with the Lord helping, we will describe.
This kind of division also Manrique found,
but a little otherwise partitioned the last chapters: for the prophecy
about the future schism, which in Le Mire's manuscript wanting
Rosweide from the Val-Dieu manuscript warned to be inserted
in the Chapter with us 20, indicates Manrique that in
his which he used manuscript it is found in Chapter 22, and the apparitions
after death he ascribes to Chapter 25, when our copy,
before the Val-Dieu supplements written, with Chapters
21 ends. The genuine therefore and first
Division and the ancient titles of the Chapters here receive,
that without detriment to antiquity it may be lawful for us in our manner
to form longer chapters, an indication being added of the number
under which each is to be found.

THE ANCIENT DIVISION.

Verses On his conversation and death.

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

Arnulf's conversion, his coming to Villers, and the first instruments of penance.

[4] [Born at Brussels,] There was in the Bishopric of Cambrai, in a certain town
of true Brabant, which Brussels
is called, a certain youth, Arnulf
by name, whom from middling parents to have drawn
his origin they report. [Eccl. 11:10,] He in the first flower of his adolescence,
by no means attending to what Solomon says,
"adolescence and pleasure are vain"; nor
even foreknowing, how great goods God in the future for him
was to do; the pledge, [confession being made,] by which he in baptism
had promised to renounce the devil and all
his pomps, by no means up to the end unblemished
kept; but light in manners and words, through
the tortuous paths of death began as an erratic wayfarer to go,
and as much as it pleased to the pleasures of his flesh
to serve. But when it pleased the Lord, who
him separated from the womb of his mother, [to devotion he gives himself,] to call
him through his grace; he sent him a spirit of saving
counsel, which the darkness of his heart might illumine,
and the wanderer to the way of truth might lead back. At whose
sweet whisper from the sleep of death awakened,
he went to the Priest, the Vicar of Christ; and the noxious
poison of his sins in Confession vomiting out,
he put off the old man with his deeds,
and put on the new, who according to God created
is in justice and the holiness of truth.

[5] Then with all industry separating himself from
the malevolent fellowship of seculars, [he chastises his drowsiness under a dripping.] he began to frequent
religious persons, and to good men himself familiar
to show; that by their exhortations and
holy prayers, the more freely to better things he might advance,
the more strongly the enticements of the flesh and the vanity
worldly he renounced. As often as
he could, the holy celebration of Masses
he attended; and on the Lord's nights and on the Saints'
festivities, the bells being rung for Matins,
unwearied to the church he flew. But if at any time
sleep more long-lasting had oppressed him,
so that at the sound of the bell by no means he rose;
and afterward however waking, Matins
now in part sung, later to the church
he came; then in a wondrous manner mourning and ashamed,
not before the eyes of men, but of God; the church
to enter, and the Lord himself to stand by he refused:
but he stood outside in that place, where from the roof of the church
the drippings of rain descended, dripping upon
the earth: but yet rarely it happened to him.

[6] And because it is written, "The furnace proves the potter's
vessels, and the temptation of tribulation chaste men";
at a certain time, by the instinct of the devil, he was
tempted, but proved. [Eccl. 27:6] For when a certain woman, [Solicited at night by a wanton little woman,]
in age a young girl, lascivious in manners, and
secularly living, saw him a youth in look
comely; by the snare of her own eyes captured,
she burned in concupiscence of him. But because
the foul love of her heart, the kindler of lustful
mingling, to him openly to bare she blushed,
because timorous and to a religious life given
she perceived him; she began to think, by what art she might allure
him to sin. And having got an opportunity,
on a certain night, when he in his bed himself
had placed to rest; under the darkness of night
having entered secretly the chamber, she came to his bed;
and beside him impudently placing herself, she began
him with wanton words to incite to sin.
Which he when he heard, at once from the bed leaping out he fled;
and so the wretched woman, [he takes flight at night,] frustrated of her hope
grieving herself to be, confounded withdrew. At that hour with so strong
he would have been into the gulf of sin, unless the Lord
the hand of his grace to him had reached out, who his servants
does not suffer to be tempted above what they can, but makes
with the temptation also a way out, that they may be able to sustain.
For his deliverance therefore thanksgivings
to the Lord glad rendering, he said: "I hope in you,
Lord my God, because as now through you from
this deadly fire I am freed, so thereafter
this kind of burning, you protecting, over me will not
have dominion."

Chapter II.

[7] Fighting therefore from then on the new athlete manfully,
he prepared his soul for temptations; [and he applies his mind to Religion,]
and in this state of Religion, for about two years fortifying [himself]:
as much as he could, himself from sins and vices
he guarded. But fearing lest, if perchance a relapse
he should suffer, his last things should become worse than his first,
he proposed to pass to the Cistercian Order:
and as if he had received an answer from the Holy
Spirit, that he would not see death, unless first
he were a Lay-brother of that same Order, and marvelously
beyond the rest he lived; two companions with him of his journey
without delay taking, namely the fear of the Lord
and the hope of pardon, he left kinsmen and acquaintances,
and departing bade farewell to the world, forever and ever.
Having gone out therefore the new little recruit of Christ
with Abraham, [In the 22nd year of his age at Villers he takes the habit of a Lay-brother] from his land and from his kindred,
that he might go into the land which God had shown
him; in the twenty-second year of his age, he came
to the monastery of Villers, where from the Lord
Charles, at that time Abbot, to be received he asked
and obtained; and so the secular habit being laid aside,
and the habit of the Order being assumed, to the Lay Brothers'
convent he was joined. But having been made a Novice, with all benevolence of heart and longanimity,
he awaited the anniversary day of his Profession.
On which while he professed to his
Abbot, a copious and in some way singular blessing of heavenly grace
from the highest Abbot he deserved to receive,
as in what follows will be declared.

[8] But when the year of his probation was not yet
in great part run out; [he is troubled by desire of greater rigor,] he began
salutarily to be saddened, because less labor and
affliction than he supposed, he reckoned himself to have found:
and with silent thoughts within himself, with himself
about himself he complained, saying: "To what came
I to this Order? Was it that in vain
my days I should consume? If outside I had remained in
the world, much more affliction corporally I could have
sustained, than here I sustain. There is another thing also
which torments me within; this namely,
that all things necessary to my body, both in food
and clothing, without my solicitude to me
are ministered, and indeed abundantly, more than my body
and stomach need. Lo, my time
I lose, and my days without the fruit of reward
pass by."

[9] When these and similar things in his mind he turned,
reckoning with himself, lest perchance the penitential afflictions of the Order
were concealed from him; he began to think and rethink,
what stricter, or what more penal he might
to his flesh superadd: and he found a certain torment,
which enough burdensome to his body would be.
For he made for himself secretly two little cords, [and binds his thighs with hair cords:] of hairs
twisted, which to him a horse's tail furnished, and bound around
with them tightly his thighs above the knees,
carrying them for many days, until
his flesh thereby vehemently was injured. But on a certain
day it happened to him, that from a certain failing
of body made as if lifeless, he fell to the ground.
Which seeing a certain Brother, and fearing
lest some singular affliction to his body he was inflicting;
after a little, when to himself he had returned,
addressing him apart, said to him: "Brother
Arnulf, beware, lest the common institutions of the Order
transgressing, of a life harsher to yourself not
licensed you assume the austerity or singularity: [which disclosing to his Confessor,]
because great thence of your body you might incur
detriment." At which word he confused
in himself, went to the Monk Confessor,
who at that time was Master of the Lay-brothers;
and confessed, that he had carried those little cords
without license. The Confessor indeed chiding him,
and enjoining him a penance, forbade, that anything
similar henceforth without license he should dare to attempt.

[10] [he is permitted to use another, knotted one;] He indeed made more constant by the chiding
of his Master, license being received made another little cord
longer, in which many he inserted knots,
that more quickly and more grievously the skin with the flesh it might cut,
and to himself greater this medicine might give pain,
and with it he girded himself around the middle of himself, binding
it strongly to his body, which likewise for days
many he is recorded to have carried. At last that little cord,
the skin transfixing, into his flesh so strongly
was immersed, that from his flesh putrefied
worms bubbled up, and that same flesh great
from itself a stench vomited. O truly happy boy,
about whom newly born so solicitous is the mother
grace, that not only she nourishes him with the sweetness of milk,
but also myrrhed wine offers him
to drink; [but this too he is forced to lay aside.] while she binds him in the cradle of his infancy
with the swaddling-band of so pricking a cord, and with a knife
so most sharp the carnal in him circumcises
wantonness. Fearing therefore the strong athlete, lest the stench,
which from the putrefaction of his flesh proceeded,
injury to his neighbors should generate; he took care that same
cord from his flesh wholly to withdraw, not from
above mentioned.

CHAPTER II.

The frequency and marvelous and bloody variety of Arnulf's scourgings.

Chapter III.

[11] From that time therefore, when the little cords he cast
from himself the strong warrior, so cruel
against his body he made a conspiracy, [With cruel rods his whole body he tortures,] that
whatever thereafter of new and penal instrument
to his thoughts occurred, whence his flesh
he might tear, to his flesh without doubt to
war it down he applied. A certain time therefore having passed,
the blows of rods considering, with rods
his hand he equips; and himself to the girdle, or even
his whole body, sometimes of his clothes stripping,
to his flesh, in whatever place the hand of the striker
reached, so grave a torment by scourging
he inflicted, that with many weals his flesh
showed itself furrowed. But when a sacrifice of this kind
to the Lord he often offered, [and snatched away by love,] with even mind the raging
blows of the rods he bore; showing himself a true
disciple of the Lord and his Master,
who his most holy flesh to scourges to be torn
offered. Under whose mastership advancing from
day to day in simplicity of heart, he learned from
him to be meek and humble of heart; he learned also
the art of arts, the art of love; which, as St. Bernard says,
headlong, vehement, flaming and impetuous
is; which besides itself another to think does not allow;
which confounds order, which dissembles custom, which
knows no measure: which all that of opportunity,
that of reason, that of modesty, that of counsel or judgment
seems to be, triumphs over in itself and
reduces into captivity.

[12] This love through all the marrow of his heart to engraft
in himself desiring the servant of Christ, [he uses holly, for scourges,] began himself
to despise, and of his body in some way
to forget; earthly things to despise, heavenly to desire,
and in the love of eternity to be suspended. Hence it is
that the blows of rods making little of, he began in
the woods holly to collect, namely the wood with ever-green
leaves prickly; making thence for himself
little bundles, and with their twigs privately he scourged himself
at all times, both of summer and of winter,
except on the Lord's days or the festivities of the Saints.
Let all therefore acknowledge, that wherever
the hand of the striker on his body found a place, [under his garment and in his bed.]
with so irremediable a discipline himself even
to the effusion of blood he was wont to strike, that
the prickly twigs, with which he scourged himself, it behoved
him to change frequently, and new to take;
because from frequent strikings, several
over his body were broken. It did not suffice
him that with blows his flesh he afflicted,
unless also new modes of afflictions he devised.
Sometimes indeed the pricking leaves of holly taking,
underneath to his flesh, in his bosom he placed [them]. Sometimes
also a heap of prickly twigs, in the manner
of a little bed to himself on the ground spreading, naked in
them he wallowed.

[13] On a certain day, when a certain Monk had come
to the grange, [Hence the one chiding him as bloodied] where that man of the Lord dwelt,
he asked the Brother stableman, named
Nicholas, where he might be. Who answering said,
that he was in purgatory. At which word when the Monk
marveled, and asked, of what kind was
that purgatory; the aforesaid Brother subjoined saying:
"Because he in his accustomed manner with purgatorial blows
his body was afflicting." Then the Monk, "How
gladly," he said, "would I converse with him, if that to me by him
were granted; but as I think, by such a business hindered,
outside to me now he would not come forth." "Nay,"
said he, "if your arrival to him becomes known, without
delay he will proceed." And at once knocking at the door of the cell,
he called out the man of God, announcing by name that a Monk
had come, who his holy and familiar
conversation longed for. Forthwith he his tunic
again wrapping around himself, and his hood resuming,
went out. But when the Monk saw his tunic,
with blood bloodied, with little rivers of blood
from his body recently scourged running down;
from the grief of his heart he wept, [he answers, that thus sins are killed:] so that the man of the Lord
the cause of his tears from him inquired.
Who answering said: "I am touched with grief of heart
within, attending to the marvelous martyrdom. And
why, dearest, do you kill yourself?" At which
word he, to the Monk jokingly satisfying, not
of himself, but of sins the killer to be
he answered. Nor is it a marvel. For most sharp and frequent
affliction of the flesh, often takes away from God's servants in part
no small the occasions of sinning.

[14] On another occasion again, when within his cell
himself in his accustomed manner he struck; a certain man stood outside beside
the wall, the blessed man not knowing it, that the manner of his scourging
he might explore; and that one thousand nine hundred
blows he had given to his flesh, those same blows numbering, [to another, who had numbered 1900 blows,]
he recognized, before from the scourging he ceased.
A marvelous thing! Who over these would not be astonished? O Friend
of omnipotent God, what is it that you do? Others
seek their own comforts, fostering their flesh; and
even the soldiers of this world fight, not against
themselves, but their enemies: you on the contrary against your flesh
fight, and like a furious soldier on it a new
war declare. We beseech you for Christ, have mercy
on your flesh, the poor and frail flesh, without which to live
you cannot. But if it you desire to afflict, [he says that thus the enemy must be treated,] consult
at least the nurse of virtues, discretion: from
her you will be able to be taught, how much you ought to the beast
of your flesh to impose. "By no means," said
he, "by no means to effect will be brought this kind
of persuasion, since my flesh is my enemy,
so much the more to be feared by me, the more
nearer to me it is. The beast of my flesh by goads
to be pricked and driven is necessary, lest it wax wanton and me drag
into the gulf of death: and therefore new still
wars against it to stir up I propose."

Chapter IV.

[15] Therefore the most strong soldier, persevering in his holy
purpose of assailing his flesh, [A rod, rough with the spines of a hedgehog,] that in
torments, applied or to be applied to his body, similar
he might be made to the lion, who at no one's approach is afraid;
found a certain kind of scourge, whose
blows not only unbearable today to many would seem,
but also the beholders with exceeding horror would shake.
For he made for himself a wooden rod gluing
to it the skin of a hedgehog, with many spines prickly;
and in the virtue of the holy cross wisely taught, seizing
it, [much blood he draws out,] he scourged himself, where his flesh thicker
was held, or wherever the hand of the striker found
striking himself, and torment to torment
adding, something greater he might do than the Martyrs
of old, who by others' hands were tortured.
And when with such goads his body he mercilessly
pierced, so great an abundance of blood from
the holes flowed out, that his hand on the surface
was stained. But as often as, both with rods, [and the inflicted wounds he renews,]
and with holly, or the rod, his flesh so furiously
he had struck; on the following day himself cured divinely
he found; except that certain blackness
spots from the weals and holes on his flesh
appeared. Sometimes also recently
scourged, naked he wallowed in nettles, so that
the pain which those biting nettles produced, [by wallowing among nettles.] sharper
to him and more intolerable, as he himself reported, above
all the pains, which before he had sustained, seemed.

[16] How shall we magnify you, servant of God
the high? who not only little cords, rods, and holly; but also a rod, and such a rod, devising,
chose. Where ever did you hear it done, that
anyone himself with such a rod has dared to strike?
It is the custom for schoolboys, that if any one of them
perchance happens, in the Latin of their conversations
to utter false grammar, his comrade
who hears this, with a wooden rod strikes the palm of his hand,
and that same rod to him to be kept leaves.
So perhaps, because once in the world
against the rule of Christ you had lived, and in your works
you had made, the holy fear of the Lord, I do not say
your hand, but many parts of your body, with the aforesaid
rod to strike often and most sharply compelled;
that deservedly you might offer to the Lord of majesty your blood,
who at the time of his passion gratefully
offered for you to God the Father his blood. And
whence at last so great audacity did you conceive, that your flesh
with the blows of so horrible a rod you cut to pieces,
moreover also with nettles burned? unless from the presumption
of fervent love, which from the depths of your heart through
the wounds of your flesh bubbled up? Undertake therefore now
from henceforth, as it shall please you, whatever instruments
of torments to your hands shall come;
since so great from the Lord of life and
spirit liberty you have obtained, that to all things contrary to your body
yourself insuperable you show; nor is it fitting
that henceforth your liberty by another's conscience be judged.

CHAPTER III.

On the hair-shirt, the hose, and the hair stockings, and the three chains, and the stone bed.

Chapter V.

Therefore with the aforesaid scourges furrowed and bloodied
our Arnulf, and remaining unconquered;
underneath to his flesh he put on a hair-shirt, [He uses hair-cloth garments, a thorax,] lest anything less
than Bl. Arnulf the Bishop of Metz in this part
he be said to have done; who, as in his Deeds is read,
with a hair-shirt was clothed. But if with a hair-shirt he was clothed, not
however hair-hose on his legs, and hair-stockings
on his feet is he described to have worn; whereas to our Martyr,
neither hose, nor stockings of this kind
are most certainly said to have been lacking. But as often as from
the grange where he dwelt, [breeches, and stockings.] on the Lord's nights, or
even on the Saints' festivities, to the monastery
on foot to go he wished; not however therefore did he omit,
but that stockings he carried on his feet, although in
walking his feet by their roughness not a little
were injured.

[18] But when with a hair-shirt sufficiently rough, which of finer
little cords of hairs was woven, first
to use he was wont; [Something more horrid, of hairs he weaves,] he began that hair-shirt's roughness
as if for nothing to hold, because to
wear in some way sweet and less pricking
it seemed to him: and moved with great indignation
against his flesh, he thought with sharper
injuries to exacerbate it. And when from such
thoughts to desist he was unwilling, lest the fervor
of his heart even a little should seem to grow tepid;
he took horse-hairs, and secretly from them coarse cords twisting,
bound together with bands, rough
exceedingly and to see horrible, for his body he made a garment.
With which when he was clothed, so rigid and insensible
around his body, so to speak, stood
that same garment, that by no means to either part
to bend himself, or downward to incline could he. Which
when the master of the grange had discovered, [which being taken away he resumes these,] a religious man
and of all good men a friend, Sygerus by name;
fearing lest the beast of that man's body under so great a burden
should fail, by a certain cunning the deceived [man] he beguiled,
and from him the unbearable torment took away: he
indeed grieving, that sweet to him was taken away the hair-shirt, from
that day and in the rest the same hair-shirts, which before
to use he had been wont, he used. Furthermore if anyone asks,
in what manner and how often, whether frequently or rarely, the hair-shirt, the hose,
and the stockings he used; let him acknowledge that this kind
of garments with so indissoluble a bond to his flesh
he coupled, that them almost at all times he used.
For it was not difficult for him to have at hand
these hair garments; since by a certain
religious man, who to him familiar was, the same woven
often to him were ministered.

[19] But thinking the unconquered soldier, what still
to his flesh, to heap up torment, he might apply;
three iron chains he acquired for himself, and in
the name of the Holy Trinity, to the aforesaid trinity, [and a triple chain to his body,] that
is, the hair-shirt, the hose, and the stockings, a trinity of chains
associating, the first chain through the middle of his shoulder-blades
and under his armpits, on each part across before
his breast, he wound around, and with it bound himself: the second
chain, from the back through the middle of his belly,
exhibited itself as a certain girdle: the third indeed,
placed around his loins, its office also fulfilled.
But these chains to his flesh, as it pleased,
either more strongly or more loosely he bound. John saw in
his Apocalypse a man girt about the breast
with a golden belt; but we with ocular faith something greater
beheld, a marvelous man strongly bound
about the breast with an iron chain, to repress
noxious thoughts, which from the heart arise; about
the belly with a second chain he was girded, that the concupiscence of the gullet
he might repress; the third about his loins, that the lust's
motions he might curb. This is the threefold cord
not linen, but iron; which the stronger,
the more difficult to break. With the aforesaid
chains therefore that the man of the Lord was girt, and that them for a long time
he carried, most certainly is recorded.

Chapter VI.

[20] After the triumphs of the preceding torments,
desiring still the soldier of Christ in the works
of his soldiery to renew the standards, and to change the marvels; [Often also with the skins of hedgehogs,]
he dared something great to attempt, which
among his other deeds with many praises is to be extolled.
For he sought for himself the skins of hedgehogs,
now more, now indeed fewer, according as
them to hand he could have; which so marvelously
he used, that their spines to his flesh without
hesitation applying, with many punctures
he pierced it. And lest his flesh of the aforesaid skins'
punctures longer should be defrauded, he asked the shepherds
of the sheep, that as often as hedgehogs, whether in the woods,
or in the thickets, or elsewhere they found, flaying
them, the skins to him as a gift they should bring: one also
of his intimates this kind of skins sometimes
procured for him. And although a certain we have not designated
number of skins; let them acknowledge nevertheless the present
and future, that eleven skins he had;
of which together bound, as if a certain garment of skin
making, six on his breast and on each side, five
indeed on his back fixed he carried; the hair-shirt over
putting on, and with a girdle it to his body binding, lest perchance
the skins from his flesh should be loosened. The same skins
for a long time he bore, which however at his pleasure,
according to place and time, either he laid aside or resumed.

[21] [the license for this being obtained by entreaty from his Abbots,] Some perhaps may marvel and say, that
much, and more than much indiscreet were
those Abbots, who suffered that man hedgehog
skins, to see and to touch horrible, to his body
to apply, and with the other instruments himself beyond measure
to afflict. To whom satisfying we answer,
that to this blessed man, who under four Abbots,
namely the Lord Charles, Conrad, Walter,
and William, strongly to the Lord did soldier service, those same
Abbots license of applying to his body torments
gave; but to him again sometimes
forbade, fearing lest under so many and so great martyrdoms
he should fail; but he, strong for all things asserting himself,
in season and out of season the license withdrawn from him
again from them extorted. For they saw
in him a privileged in some way grace
of enduring; nor could they him from themselves repel, and
contradict the words of the just; because he was strengthened
by God in the days of his contest, nor in any way
failed. If we should wish in order to turn over
the old and new Testament, we shall not be able to find
anyone, who either with holly rods, or prickly
hedgehog skins his body has martyred,
except this blessed man.

[22] By the relation of blessed Pope Gregory we have learned,
that the most holy father of monks Benedict,
hiding in a cave was found by shepherds,
with skins * clothed: to whom although to compare we do not
presume our martyr; we say nevertheless,
that his skins from the skins of that same blessed father far were
dissimilar. [those acknowledging in him a greater grace of God,] And certainly if the skins of each today
ought by many for clothing to be chosen; all (as
we think) would choose the skins of St. Benedict, and spurning
would anathematize the skins of Brother Arnulf.
And what marvel, if skins so terribly prickly
with even mind he sustained? who mindful of the Lord's passions,
his sins, the day of judgment, and the torments
of hell, before the eyes of his heart often had?
who, from when to the Order he came, by his own testimony,
his own will never fulfilled? who
all the affections of his heart to God turned? [than we read of other Saints.]
who in good things to be consummated proposing, to God gave
skin for skin, the skin of his wretched flesh for the glorious
skin of the resurrection? Besides it must be known,
that as often as, after spending in good works
and holy prayers the space of the daylight, himself
in his little bed to repose he gave, not without hair-shirt,
hose and stockings, and the aforesaid skins, this
to do he was wont.

Chapter VII.

[23] Because of his little bed mention has fallen, it must be known,
that [His bed of stones and staves,] he himself for himself a little bed, not flowery,
but horrid; not of straws, but of stones
flat and great, that in it he might repose, built:
and over those stones, certain hard staves
he placed; and so finally over the staves a woolen
sack-cloth, that his body's torment he might conceal, he spread.
And lest his head also anywhere of the participation of discomfort
should be defrauded, at the head of the bed a stone
great he placed, no pillow at all
under his head having, as the other Brothers
of his. [the bed's covering;] But of so great a bond a pact with his little bed
he had made, that scarcely all nights himself from
it to be distanced he suffered: but yet, that he once in
another bed on a certain night rested we have heard. When
that Monk, of whom above mention we made,
who to him familiar was, on a certain night was
in the grange, where he dwelt, and in a house adjoining
the dormitory of the Brothers, both together spoke;
the more familiarly the more secretly, conversations of
the goods of the Lord, or of the usefulness of souls, or of
their secrets to one another they conferred. But when
some part of the night talking they had passed, [yet once he lay more softly, urgently asked,]
and the man of the Lord that to repose to go he wished said;
the Monk said to him; "Dear Brother Arnulf,
remain here this night with me, if so it shall please you:
that, because I am alone, my solitude from
your fellowship to me more tolerable may be made." But
he, somewhat silent: "With willing," he said, "mind I will do
what you ask, but I think not that to many others in
this matter I would consent: for a long time has passed,
since in this grange so familiar a pittance of rest
to my body I have not granted, as this night to it I am about to give." To this the Monk
answered: "Dear Brother, I give you kindly license;
for I do not wish that any soul, of your
help needing, any detriment for my sake
should suffer." To whom he, "By no means," he said, "because the honor
and consolation, which for the cause of your petition
this night to my body I shall exhibit, with greater
torments afterward to it I will recompense."

[24] These things said, Compline being said, to the rest
of their beds both turned themselves. The Monk
when he wished him with cloaks and other garments to cover,
fearing, lest perchance by the excessive cold of winter he be injured;
he a little smiling, the garments wholly cast off,
moreover also when a pillow under his head he placed,
threw it away. The Monk indeed, because exceeding cold it was, [but without covering.]
as is premised, with many garments covering himself,
scarcely the cold escaped. But the man of the Lord, at the face of the cold
not trembling, his body, with a tunic only
and hair-shirt clothed, drew together, and in some way
balled up; and in the short covering of his cope himself
wrapping, a little sleep of rest he tasted;
and so rising from sleep, his prayers up to
the Brothers' vigils he prolonged. Let us consider now
the marvelous scrupulosity of the man of God, who in this
that for a small part only of one night upon
adorned; in this, I say, honor and consolation
to his body he asserted that he gave. From
these and similar things we can gather, that what
to others consolation is, to him desolation was; and what others
desolation to themselves assert, he his consolation
reckoned; fleeing what many desire,
and desiring what many flee.

NOTES




* Chapter 1.

CHAPTER IV.

His manner of food, sleep, clothing, full of harshness.

Chapter VIII.

[25] But when at a certain time he dwelt
with three or four Brothers, [Having obtained solitude Arnulf,] in a certain little dwelling,
which a rich man, Uppo by name,
to the Lord of Villers had freely conferred in possession;
delighted by that place's solitude, that more secretly
and more freely there he might afflict himself, a great
something beyond his custom to undertake he dared;
namely that with black and most rough bread, which
the dogs were wont to eat, and with pottages for two or
three days kept he should feed. But when that bread
to his will he could not have (which
however rarely happened) with black and coarse bread,
with which the household of the house fed, he
refreshed himself. And when those pottages long kept
greatly stank, [he feeds on dog's bread and stinking pottage,] so that the eater in some way more
to vomiting provoked, than the eater's stomach
refreshed; the marvelous man forcing himself,
to his stomach as if being indignant, said:
"Why at the food, which to you I offer, are you indignant? Hard
is it for you against the goad to kick: will or nill,
insipid you must taste foods, otherwise I will fight
against you, unless my blessing you receive."
So, so, by the mediating grace of Christ, the ministry
which to his belly he exhibited, so untiringly
he led into custom, [for a whole three years.] that for three years and
more on such foods he fed. And what marvel,
if to his bodily belly so unalterably injurious
he was, who the belly of his soul with the delicate banquets of paradise
copiously, according to the grace given to him, to fill
was wont? But with prudent counsel this he did,
because the madness of the belly is worse than all
evils, and all the soul's virtues by the vice of gluttony
are destroyed.

[26] But at other times, from the beginning of his conversion
and thereafter, [Before, on common food sparingly,] at all times the same foods,
with which the Brothers' Convent fed, he used;
so that measure in eating he kept,
and the rights of discretion did not lose. But yet sometimes
according to the time, now more now less,
his body in taking food he consulted, knowing
that without refreshment his body to subsist impossible
was. But for some years before his death,
no pittance at all, except
bread and pottages or fruits of trees, for food
to take he consented. [at the end of his life content with bread and pottage,] Nor is it a marvel. For he who
his body wholly had broken and subjected to servitude,
that he should not obey his body, but his body should obey
him; and who both in soul and body himself
to God wholly had given, just indeed it was, that with the food
of supernal grace, both in soul and body
he should be nourished; since it is written; "That not in
bread alone lives man, [unless once the Abbot sent him a pittance.] but in every word which
proceeds from the mouth of God." [Matt. 4:4] When however to him once by the Abbot
was sent a pittance, the rigor of his abstinence
he intermitted, and that same pittance with thanksgiving
ate; prepared always to obey,
if that to be done more often had happened.

[27] But he drank at all times fairly sparingly;
at the hours only in which he ate, for after food
either rarely or never to drink was he wont. [Outside the hour of refreshment greatly thirsting,] Sometimes
also greatly thirsting, an earthen vessel with water poured to his
mouth he brought, not that he might drink, but that the gullet's desire
he might irritate: and although his throat from the dryness
of thirst not a little was tortured; he strove however
the prudent man the inconvenience of thirst patiently to tolerate,
than the state of his voluntary liberty to change;
by the example of a certain Hermit, who when he hungered,
before his eyes a cucumber hung, that
in its sight by the avidity of eating he might be allured;
but yet to taste he was unwilling, lest of abstinence
the merit he be deprived. To be considered therefore by us
it is, [water to his mouth he brings only, he does not drink.] with how marvelous a work that man contrary to himself
was; who to his belly foods, which he abhorred,
violently thrust in; and to his throat, although vehemently
thirsting, a little drink of water to minister
scorned.

Chapter IX.

[28] But the manner of his labor we have learned to have been such.
At the first time of his conversion, [Held exempt from manual work,]
whatever of labor to him was enjoined, with even mind
he carried out, going out and returning at his Master's
command. This however must be known, that
never to hard whatever labors to attend
was he ordered, since he no or little outside
in the world an art had learned, in which afterward in
the Order, [that he might have leisure for prayer and penances,] as is the custom, to be involved he would be compelled. But in the process
of time, when now his hand he had put to
strong [things], and by the mediating grace of the Lord many things did
to human nature altogether repugnant, by the permission
of his Masters with so great liberty he was endowed,
that from almost all offices and occupations
absolved, either to the salutary leisures of divine contemplation
given, both in body and mind
he rested, or to devout prayers attended,
or even with blows his body chastised.

[29] [He interpolates the night with prayers, as more apt for them.] But of what kind his vigils and sleep
were, also briefly must be insinuated. When still
in his bed reposed; a little sleep being completed, awakened,
he was wont some prayers to ruminate;
so that by the importunate whisper of them a certain Brother's,
Balduin by name, who in the other bed beside
him slept, sometimes sleep he interrupted.
But afterward that Brother accosting
him; "Brother," he said, "Arnulf, what has it seemed to you,
that, others sleeping, you do not sleep; moreover also
the rest of sleep with your clamorous prayers from me you take away."
To this he, with a joke quite gracious enough,
answered: "Do not marvel over my vigils, Brother
mine, for you know, that our God in the daytime hours
more is occupied than at night; and therefore at night
I keep vigil giving leisure to him, that he may attend to the voice of prayer
of mine, and hear me." When these things
he said, indeed thus he said, because the Lord himself much
more frequently in the day time than at night, by many
prayers of many, tears and desires, whether
for the necessities of bodies, or for the salvation
of souls is appealed to; who however in disposing
all things, to no mutability at all is subject,
that in human manner by labor or occupation he be wearied;
but always quiet remaining, to all as
to one, and to one as to all attends;
and according to the good pleasure of his will, all things,
which by the compass of heaven and earth are contained,
guards and governs; nor of another's help has need,
who from eternity omnipotent is alone.

[30] [The marvelous manner of his sleep and vigils.] With how great zeal therefore, and with how great industry
the blessed man labored, to this that sleep he might overcome,
let us hear him about himself relating in this
manner; "I," he said, "when somewhat than usual
more robust to keep vigil I feel myself, impart
sleep to my eyes, and as much as it shall please me
I sleep. But when by the exaction of sleep I feel myself
disturbed, on the contrary sleep from my eyes violently
I shake off, that even that same sleep, as often as
I wish, I reduce into captivity."
Plainly so it was; and just as he said, so also
he did. But as much as without great detriment of his body
he could, in the night hours to prayers
and vigils he gave effort. But it seems perhaps strange
to some, how sleep with his eyes he could take, when in
garment he was clothed, full of worms,
with the skins of hedgehogs, by which vehemently
he was pricked. To whom it must be answered, that
by the compelling daily and long-lasting fatigue of his body,
easily into the sleep of rest he was loosed.
Why should he not easily fall asleep, who under such discomforts
the grace of sleeping, nay also of keeping vigil
beyond the strength of his body had? Hence
it is, that when in the monastery on the Lord's nights,
or also other festivities, vigils he attended,
either never or little he dozed; but keeping vigil
the intention of his devout heart to God diligently
he directed. But for some years before his death,
at the hour of those vigils, apart
outside the Convent of the Brothers he stood, and with so long-lasting
the beginning of the vigils up to the end, either never,
or little he sat.

Chapter X.

[31] To marvelous things marvelous things succeed; which stupor
to the hearers may strike. Let us hear therefore how
contrary a medicine to his body this new physician exhibited in the time of winter. [In winter content with a simple tunic,] When the rest
with two or three tunics, with sheepskins,
to repel the cold used; he on the
contrary with a single tunic, a tunic I say the older one
which he had, was clothed. Nor is it a marvel: for he who
within was warmed by the fire of the Holy Spirit,
without for nothing held the torments of cold.
But if perchance it had happened, that the winter chill
than usual harsher had bristled; while the rest their limbs
with much clothing fortified around, he refusing to stand
at the coals with Peter, and to warm himself, followed
manfully the Lord Christ to the passion;
nor in any way on account of the cold of sloth did he omit
his purpose, but that the earth of his body he plowed
with the plowshare of discipline; lest with the slothful afterward
to beg, [from the fire he abstains:] in the summer of the coming judgment, he be compelled.
And although greatly by the harshness of cold he was vexed,
so that outwardly in his face pale and bloodless
he appeared; never however the warming-room
he entered, that his body by the benefit of fire he might revive,
unless perchance for the cause of arriving Brothers,
who to him familiar were, that to do for him it had happened.
Sometimes also in winter after the Brothers' vigils,
when before dawn those same Brothers hemp
stripping, sat at the fire, and the man of the Lord
sat with them: not that his cold body he might warm,
but that with the rest a similar work he might do.

[32] But in the summer time, the sun to the heights of heaven
ascending, [in summer he multiplies his clothes,] and fiery over the earth diffusing
heats; when almost everyone with a single tunic, on account of
the summer's fervor, was clothed; he on the contrary
much more warmly clothed himself, that by greater heat
he might be afflicted. And so while these and many other discomforts of his body
he sustained; not however thereby so pusillanimous
he was made, that the rest and solace of the infirmary
he needed; since he himself carrying the Lord, by
the Lord was carried. Do what you do, work
what you work, servant of Christ: let it not be a care to you
if anyone deride and laugh at you, [a despiser of human judgment.] if anyone your marvelous
acts with the vice of hypocrisy [pretense] obscuring,
with viperous mouth bite and tear. Run
to your Christ, through glory and ignobility,
through infamy and good fame; nor by weariness
overcome, to whatever afflictions of the body bid farewell;
until happy perseverance you obtain,
because not worthy are the sufferings of this time
in comparison with the future glory.

CHAPTER V.

On the affliction, which he inflicted on himself through Lent, with an iron cuirass added.

Chapter XI.

[33] Let us hear besides what a marvelous to himself
this just man passion inflicted, and in
this passion how acceptable to God a sacrifice he offered. [Through Lent from Terce to Vespers,]
At a certain time, when the forty
sacred days of fasting were at hand, in which all the faithful
with greater than custom labors of penance
to afflict themselves, and more at length to prayer to attend
are wont; our athlete, lest less he should do than
he was wont to do, the accustomed to his body strove
to double the torment. From the beginning indeed of Lent,
up to the day of the Lord's Resurrection,
always on the ferial days, from morning
up to Terce to prayer he gave leisure. But after Terce,
his tunic, hair-shirt, and hose being cast off,
up to the evening Hour, naked altogether
he remained in the chamber; and (as is aforesaid)
with holly he struck himself, wound upon wound, in whatever
place of his body the hand of the striker had found
his flesh with many goads pierced, in many places
was bloodied. But on Saturdays, from morning up
to the sixth Hour, naked remaining, himself as
is said by scourging he martyred, because
on those same days, according to custom,
to the monastery for the cause of divine service he was wont to go.
In those days winter strong was, by whose colds,
as by sharpest arrows, all his limbs
pierced through, immovable he persevered;
although from the excessive harshness of winter, in the manner of one feverish,
wholly with trembling he was shaken, and his teeth
to one another were dashed.

[34] [the household secretly observing his wounds,] But he had one cell in the orchard
of the grange, where at his pleasure frequently shut up,
the aforesaid work, a holy work and worthy
of blessing, not only on these forty days,
but also at other times, with all alacrity of spirit
he fulfilled. And although that more secretly he did,
yet altogether to be concealed it could not, but that by the Brothers
of that place or by the household of the house the frequent
blows of his scourging were heard. It must be known
that as often as himself with scourges he struck,
mindful of his brothers and intimates, as if
to himself conversing, he said; "I must act
strongly, must act manfully; manfully, I say,
must act: because very necessary it is for my friends: [mindful individually of those dear to him,]
" and he added; "These blows and these, for those and for
those, I inflict on myself, in the name of the Lord." And then strongly
himself scourging, by name he commemorated
some of his brothers, now indeed some of his friends,
now indeed religious women beloved
to him in Christ, for whom either grace and remission
of sins, or relief in tribulations,
from the Lord to be transmitted he besought. But when
himself longer sometimes he scourged, his arms greatly
were wearied, and then him to repose a little
it behoved; then his strength being repaired to the begun [work]
he persisted, nor thus ever did he fail.

[35] How long with most strong cold will you suffer yourself
to be frozen, blessed Martyr of the Lord? [with marvelous perseverance] why
also with so long-lasting blows do you weary yourself?
The board now has been struck for None. We beseech therefore
you, rise quickly, and clothe yourself with your garments;
lest perchance by so indiscreet an affliction of cold and blows
an intolerable trouble of sickness you incur.
For you ought to know, that the Lord of majesty,
when he hung on the wood of the cross at the ninth Hour,
with the triumph of the consummated passion, his head being bowed,
gave up the spirit. "True it is," said he; "true it is
what I hear: but yet up to Vespers he hung
on the wood; and then from the wood being taken down, he was buried
in a tomb. Therefore I also from this cross
will not be taken down, until the board be struck for Vespers."
Hence it must be attended, with how holy and
with how strong an obstinacy against the comfort of his body
this man fought, who almost even up
to the breathing-out of the soul tortured, the fight
which he had begun did not leave. The board therefore being struck
for Vespers, on all days his garments
he resumed, and the due task of his service, according
to the Order's custom, to the Lord paying,
that his lacerated body he might refresh, to the table
with the Brothers he came.

Chapter XII.

[36] And why, dearest Brothers, so admirable
and unheard-of a penance of the just man above
mentioned do we marvel; since, from the beginning of his conversion
ever his penance grew,
while to marvelous things more marvelous succeeded?
For in the year preceding his happy death,
when now too long worn down he was by torments, nor
yet to spare himself proposed, but that to the last
some penal instrument to his flesh
he should apply; he thought to do certain things, whence greatly
he might be wearied. For he took for himself a cuirass
of iron, with dense scales chained together, which from
and it to the flesh he put on; that, when from the humor of the flesh rust
it contracted, more pricking and rougher
it might be felt. Then taking the skins of hedgehogs
on the cuirass he placed, so that the spines of them
through the holes of the scales to the flesh passed,
and it vehemently pricked. But if perchance
to the right side or left sometimes
himself to turn it had happened; then the aforesaid
spines, between the scales slanted, and more closely in the flesh
raging, a more penal than usual torment to him produced.
At last the hair-shirt being drawn over the skins, to his body,
by the bond of a girdle it he bound. But sometimes
at his pleasure the aforesaid work either
less or sharper he exercised.

[37] O truly a warrior renowned and victorious!
to whom it did not suffice, his body, now from days
many tamed, [marvelously he is tortured,] with a cuirass to clothe, and the cuirass's
iron hardness to feel, unless skins, to see and to touch
horrible, outwardly on the cuirass he placed. But he placed
also a hair-shirt, [and is wholly discolored.] that by the cuirass's weight
and rigor, by the spines' punctures and pain,
and by the hair-shirt's binding, as if by a tripled
martyrdom, days and nights, with trouble of body,
but with all benevolence and hilarity
of heart, he might pass. [Cant. 1:4] But from this that the cuirass
longer he bore, his flesh greatly blackened
is reported to have been; so that, according to what in the amatory
song the Bride says, he too deservedly to say
could; "Black I am, but beautiful, daughters of Jerusalem.
Black by the bitterness of the pressures, which by voluntary
liberty I sustain; but beautiful by the radiant
adornment of virtues, which by the Lord's helping
grace I possess." [Ib. 1:5,] And likewise, "Do not consider me
that I am dark, because the sun has discolored me," that is
Christ the Lord, my beloved, white and
ruddy: the sun indeed true, whose ardor of love
me with scourges and afflictions to be discolored made in
body; whose likewise love within colors me
in mind. Plainly so it was. Colored indeed he was
within in soul, by the illustration of heavenly grace;
discolored indeed in body, by the manifold affliction
of torments; but he will be recolored much more
gloriously in the universal and blessed resurrection of the bodies,
when all the assemblies of the Saints,
in distinct orders will shine like the sun in the kingdom
of their Father, when all the people of God
will be, and God himself with them will be their God.

[38] In the aforesaid afflictions therefore of the blessed man
there is proposed to many matter of corporal afflictions
to sustain; [He will have few imitators,] but few, as we think,
he will have as emulators; because it is familiar to
the sons of Adam, to seek their own comforts. Let them attend therefore
now all, all the pains of the body, which
he from the beginning of his conversion, up to his death,
endured; and in his holy conversation,
as in a certain most bright mirror, to see through
they will be able, how small are in comparison with his
sufferings, those things which they themselves for Christ the Lord suffer.
For from his mouth we heard, and that it is true
we believe, [whose penitential instruments,] he asserting it, that seven men
the corporal afflictions scarcely would sustain, of
which by the helping grace of the Lord he triumphed, always
remaining whole in body, nor the infirmary's
solace needing or rest; who at all times
in the refectory of the Holy Spirit, the food of heavenly grace
to taste was wont. For it is no marvel if
his own body he did not spare, but to the continual cross
handed it over; since he recalled; that God
the Father his own son did not spare, but for himself [the world]
to redeem handed him over. But that more and more
his manifold victories to the world I may declare, who
him before the rest of the recruits of these times
into the superlative grade of holy probity already have raised;
behold we offer all the instruments of his afflictions,
to all Religious of whatever they are
Order, that they may experience, how sweet it is and how
salutary, with so great and so long-lasting martyrdoms to be afflicted.
But behold, [to all they strike horror when they are seen.] all the abyss (so to speak) of a certain death abhorring, the aforesaid instruments,
which both in sight and in touch are horrible, because
they seem to have saw-like beaks, altogether
reject; and struck by fear, flee from them,
as from the face of a serpent. Since therefore there is no one,
who them inseparably to take up would dare, we to our martyr
safe and intact return them, since to many
unbearable they seem.

[39] At last now, having described in a simple style,
and made known, as much as with the Lord helping we could,
the corporal afflictions of this Blessed, with
his instruments, the Lord Savior in him
we magnify, who him in the new contest with privileged
grace strengthened, and with happy nevertheless crowned
perseverance. Now therefore, because to this
former little book an end the matter unfolded
demands, before to the virtues and revelations,
or his other deeds to be discoursed we come, a little
let us breathe.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

Arnulf's highest charity toward all.

[1] [Fervent with charity he is visited by many,] Since after the manifold storms of the sea,
and the long-lasting navigation,
our sailor now almost to the quiet station of the harbor
unharmed we have led; it remains, that those things
which about him the following matter offers to be reported,
into the midst we bring forth. That therefore from charity, which
of all the virtues holds the principate, we may take
our beginning; it must be said, how fervent the blessed man
in his heart possessed charity. For
when anyone by the suffrages of his prayers himself with
the Lord's clemency to be helped sought; he, with the bowels
of mercy overflowing, most ready himself to
help his necessity showed, saying;
"Gladly I will pray for you:" and (as we ourselves with our ears
heard) sometimes to the pledge of his prayers
he added a certain word, worthy
of memory: "I," he said, "greater [things] will give than I promise." [whom with pious admonitions he instructs, sometimes even inspecting consciences:]
Plainly so it was. For that no one from himself he might
repel, but with long liberality the alms of his prayers
in the bosom of any afflicted,
who of spiritual suffrage stood in need, he might hide;
with all the efforts both of mind and of body to their
affairs, now with tearful prayers, now with the afflictions
of scourging, ready he came to aid.
So great indeed the innocence of his mind and the sincerity of his manners
was, that in the manner of a little child among his brothers
living, to no one at all did he detract, to no one occasion
of scandal did he give; but of all his neighbors,
even of those who derided him,
the peace irreprehensibly he kept. He exhibited
therefore to all charity, knowing that as much as
each soul shall have been broad in the love of its neighbor,
so much high it will be in the knowledge of God. He knew
nevertheless, that as without a way no one comes
whither he tends; so without charity, which is called the way,
men cannot walk, but err. For charity
is the sweet and salutary bond of minds,
without which the rich man is poor; and with which the poor man
is rich; through which with all goods the blessed man
abounded.

[2] But the fame of his sanctity and of his ardent charity
so far around itself diffused, that
very many from diverse places, even some Knights,
who in the neighborhood of the grange dwelt, to him for the cause
of seeing him came, and to his prayers themselves
commended. To whom he certain things, which to them were to come,
foretold; which they afterward
in themselves experienced. For sometimes he interrupted
his sweet with his God colloquies for the cause of guests,
who to see him flowed together; and just as
Bl. Benedict commands in his Rule,
that there be read before a guest the divine law for edification,
so our scholar to guests, both
familiar to him and strangers, read sometimes
also the books of the consciences of certain persons, [and by the same spirit for friends] with the pen
of the devil with foul letters written and corrupted,
with the bright eye of his mind inspecting; urging him
charity, not seeking the things which are its own, as far as possible
to him it was, the deadly from them writing, with the chisel
of holy exhortation or devout prayer,
to erase he took care. And although he himself, with many adorned
virtues, marvelous things did; yet altogether
in himself he had trampled vainglory; so
that wholly in his heart there was not where might enter
vanity, where wholly had occupied charity. Is not
fire charity? It is indeed most ardent.
Hence it is that from that fire, with which burned his heart,
drops of blood ruddy, in the likeness
of fire, as certain sparks, from his body
frequently leaped out.

[3] And what in him so excellently did very many venerate
and embrace, [he makes rigid penances.] except the dear rarity,
namely the rare charity of God and of neighbor?
Deservedly indeed. For not from corporal affliction
charity, but from charity his corporal proceeded
affliction: and therefore easily it can be weighed,
that although much greater than he tolerated, he had endured
torments of body, they to him without charity could not profit
to salvation; as says the blessed Apostle:
"If I shall deliver my body so that I burn, but charity
I have not, nothing to me it profits." [1 Cor. 13:3] And
that evidently we may acknowledge, how large was his
charity; let us recall those marvelous and horrible
passions of his body, [He greatly compassionates the poor and sinners,] which on all the days of Lent
charitably and especially, for his Brothers and
his friends, men and women religious, he sustained;
so that for the salvation of all of them himself wholly
to the Lord in sacrifice he offered. But with so great
compassion of mind to relieve the indigence of the poor he was moved,
that to their calamities himself
another Martin, unless by the laws of the Order he were restrained,
he would have exhibited. With so great piety nevertheless
of those sinning he grieved over the errors, that not without
trouble of heart, those into the gulf of vices
precipitated to hear he could. Whence also he said, that he wished
himself for money to be sold, and given into the power of the Saracens,
or even his members piece by piece to be cut,
only that to the necessities of the poor to the full it might be succored;
and that sinners, the darkness of ignorance and infidelity being left,
to the true light, namely Christ
the Lord, might be converted.

Chapter II.

[4] But if anyone shall wish to reprehend his words,
namely that sometimes about himself certain things as if boastingly
he uttered, which the rays of his luminous
conversation with a certain cloud of hypocrisy to blacken
might seem; we, of the simple intention of his heart
presuming, him as a man
of God, simple and innocent, excused
hold. In the following chapter therefore a marvelous
something, which to his charity pertains, must be told.
At a certain time, when in the grange, whose
name is Sart, he dwelt; this office was imposed
on him, that with an attendant joined to him, [Carrying as many sacks empty as] as often as
need was, the crops placed in sacks to the monastery
he should cart; and again in the same sacks
loaves, which to the Brothers of the grange on certain days through the week
might suffice, he should bring back. It happened
that he on a certain day, with the cart with crops
laden, to the monastery had come; and when
before the mill, the sacks of crops being emptied,
his cart he had unloaded; with that same cart to
the nearest grange, which Nova-curia is called,
he set out. Where when the business, for which thither
he was going, he had completed; also two pigs, which
by his Prelate licensed, to give to the poor he had proposed,
in two sacks enclosing, the mouths of the sacks
he tied, and them in the cart being placed to the monastery
he returned.

[5] [the enclosed pigs, to be given to the poor,] And when now to the gate of the monastery he was approaching,
those same pigs, as restless animals,
importunately grunted; fearing the man of God, lest perchance
anyone by this kind of occasion into suspicion should fall;
to the brute animals, as if using reason,
he spoke, saying: "Hear, pigs; hear
my words. If it displeases in the eyes of the Lord, that not,
as I have proposed, into the uses of the poor you I spend,
have license of grunting, as also you do; but if
it is pleasing and acceptable to my God, that through
me of your flesh the greedy hunger of the poor be refreshed;
I command you in the name of our God Jesus
Christ, that wholly from this importunate grunting
you cease." A marvelous thing! At once those pigs, which
long and much within the sacks had cried out, the commander's
adjuration and command obeying, to grunt
ceased. Then the man of God, the pigs being silent,
the monastery entered, and to the bakery
he proceeded; where his sacks with loaves he filled.
Which when it had been done, and those same sacks upon
the pigs were thrown, [he forbids them to grunt, even weighed down with the burden thrown on,] who in the two sacks enclosed
were held; in a marvelous manner, as if dead they were,
to be incited to grunting by no means could they; since
our omnipotent God, who at the prayers of his servant
them in some way made to be mute, not
except by his permission, the natural to them grunting
restored. The cart therefore with loaves laden on
his way he set out: and when now far removed
he was from the wall of the monastery, to his pigs license
of grunting, as before they were wont, by a word
he restored. Who at once, with their accustomed restlessness a cry
emitting, until to the grange it was come,
to grunt and with cries to rage did not cease:
and those same pigs, as he had proposed,
to the poor he gave.

Chapter III.

[6] Now to his humility and patience let us bend
the pen, that it may become known to all, [He excels in humility] how
humble and how patient that Blessed was. With a simple
and uniform honesty of manners outwardly
adorned, with liberal affability, honeyed piety,
and spiritual alacrity, to each one according to
his manner himself conforming, himself to all
gracious and amiable he showed. Small indeed
he was in his own eyes, that he might be great in the eyes
of the Lord: knowing, that he who to himself is vile, before
God is great: and he who to himself displeases, to God
pleases. [and in patience.] So much therefore he was before God more precious,
the more before his own eyes more despised. Deservedly indeed:
since humility is the virtue, by which a man by truest
knowledge of himself to himself becomes vile. But if anyone
him for any matter with a reproachful word had struck,
by no means by it could he be exacerbated: because
humility, which is the greatest virtue of the Saints,
within the secret place of his mind unshaken and
unblemished keeping; it by the exterior habit of his body,
patiently humble, and humbly patient.

[7] For if to marvel we should wish, to marvel we suffice not,
how that man, among so many and so great afflictions of his body,
as if in a certain hell
placed, humility and patience to have, and in
an example to declare to the world could; when many
up to today, not to say under strong afflictions of bodies,
but under slight occupations, on a light occasion,
their humility and patience to lose
seem. But omnipotent God, who
the first beginnings of the conversation of his servant by the privilege of his grace
to sublimate began; he afterward that same
grace so powerfully in him strengthened, that
humility and patience more and more in him both
within and without was augmented: whence also many
gave of his holy conversation testimony,
that never had anyone seen him
angry or moved. For how easily
to indignation could he be moved, or to wrath
provoked, who the God of peace and love,
within the flowery chamber of his heart, always as inhabitant
had admitted. That therefore openly to all it may become known, that humble and patient he was, of his patience
and humility a brief we subjoin example.

[8] When the monastery of Villers was presided over by a certain Abbot,
[By the Abbot's license distributing 42 loaves,] a friend of all good men; the man of the Lord
more secretly asked from that same Abbot, that loaves, in number
forty-two, it might be lawful for him to give to the needy.
The Abbot indeed, as a merciful man, who with the straits
of the poor from the marrow compassionated, with
all benevolence his petition granted. He
indeed, as more secretly he could, the aforesaid loaves
to the needy distributed. But because nothing is hidden
which sometimes is not revealed, he was accused with
the Abbot, that loaves many he had given to the poor.
Summoned by the Abbot before the Brothers
about a deed of this kind; that licensed he had done it,
for a double cause to make public he was unwilling; namely on account of
the scandal of the Brothers to be avoided, and lest afterward
the large license of the pious Abbot should be defrauded; but
as if guilty and a transgressor of the order, all to the Abbot
he promised amendment. Then the Abbot, lest to many
an occasion of scandal be given, if this deed unpunished
were left; to the monastery's gate the man
of God to be ejected commanded. But ejected, the cell
which is between the two gates, for a dwelling he had:
where in the sight of all confusion voluntarily
sustaining, [and thence accused he accepts a penance.] with the same countenance and the same mind joyful
in thanksgiving for eleven days
he persevered, with a joke quite gracious the gladness of his heart
demonstrating, and saying: "O how happy am
I; how well with me it goes, because with
Bl. Peter a doorkeeper I am made!"

[9] For as long as there he tarried, great
discomfort of cold having endured, great frequently
from the Lord consolation he obtained.
On a certain night, when he was alone, and his heart to
God directed; suddenly a heaped-up, so to speak, [Having received from the Mother of God the little Jesus into his arms]
measure of the Lord's grace from above he received.
And lo the Virgin Mary standing by him, her son
whom in her arms she carried, offered him to embrace.
Then he, whose soul vehemently melted
was within, scarcely the infusion of grace, with which imbued
he felt himself, to bear able, dancing
and with hands clapping, as if drunk, began from
Virgin Mother to say; "Take from me, Lady,
your son, I beseech, take him; because
the grace of that same your son, which now I have, suffices
me." Then with great jubilation of heart exclaiming;
"O you," he said, "all who God love,
come hither, if God to have you desire." And he added,
often crying; "God is here: God is
here: Come, come, come hither all, that God
you may find." But the attendant of the Monk doorkeeper, [for 11 days he exults with marvelous jubilation.] and
certain others, who not yet to bed had gone, at the same
hour, namely after the twilight of night, hearing
him in this manner vociferating and jubilating,
from grief of heart and emptying of head, that to him this had happened
they thought. But he, who his heart had fixed
in the heavens, and all, which to him could be inflicted,
confusion wholly had trampled, so to
say, with the foot of humility; not much about judgments
cared human. At last after eleven days,
in gladness and exultation, to the Brothers' Convent
he was restored. But the admirable savor of heavenly grace,
which on the aforesaid night from heaven he had drawn,
so abundantly through all the marrow of his soul
itself diffused; that afterward almost for forty
days, as often as he ate or drank, all the foods'
and drinks' savors, to his mouth's palate insipid were rendered.
That same likewise at other times, many
times to him to have happened, there is no doubt.

CHAPTER II.

Arnulf's obedience, prayer, devotion toward the Mother of God.

Chapter IV.

[10] Since those things which to his charity, humility,
and patience pertain, [Ready to obedience,]
already are premised; also about his obedience something
briefly must be subjoined: because, as says Bl.
Gregory, obedience alone is, which the other virtues
into the mind inserts, and inserted keeps. This the
just man, from the first beginnings of his conversion up to
the day of his happy in Christ falling-asleep, so manfully
held, that without reprehension among his Brothers
he lived, and both to his masters and to his equals
obedience, to all things most ready, he rendered. But if
ever it had happened, that from all outside
affairs disoccupied, in the chamber of contemplation,
praying to himself and his God he gave leisure; and meanwhile him
for some cause one of the Brothers called; as if
the voice of the Lord calling he heard, at once outside
he leaped, and, so to say, [cheerfully he obeys those interrupting,] God for the sake of God
he left; preferring to interrupt his prayer, and
to fulfill the precept of obedience, than to his own
will to satisfy. For the obedient man cheerfully
and confidently prays; because, as through Bl. Augustine
it is said, better is one prayer of the obedient, than
ten thousand of the contemning. Obedience therefore
is the mother of all virtues: obedience is the finder
of the kingdom of heaven; obedience is heaven opening,
and man from the earth raising: obedience
is the co-dweller of the Angels; obedience of all the Saints
is food. From this the Saints are weaned,
and through this to perfection they came.
Obedience therefore the prayer of the blessed man
directed to heaven, which never without obedience
would have come to heaven; as also a stone into the height
sent, to heaven does not attain.

[11] And now since of prayer mention has been made,
the manner also of his prayer in a few [words] to explain
worthy we judge. [he is permitted at pleasure to have leisure for prayer,] At the first also of his conversion's
time, for some years, not so much was he permitted
to the rest of contemplation and prayer to give leisure,
as perhaps he would have wished. But in the process of time,
when he dwelt in the grange, which once from an oak
wood, Quercetum was called, where for many years
he dwelt; by the license of his masters,
who at his holy studies smiled, permitted it was
to him, that almost from all outside cares free he might dwell
with himself, with the sabbath of his body having a delicate sabbath of his mind,
tasting and seeing that
sweet is the Lord. At all times therefore,
both of summer and of winter, from morning up to the hour
of Terce, to prayer he gave leisure; so great having obtained of praying
grace, that for a very long time to heavenly things intent,
the unconquered from prayer spirit he did not relax. For he had repelled
from himself laziness and sloth, which the grace
and assiduity of praying impede; mindful
of the Lord Savior, who to no work so frequently
and continually attended, as to prayer; so much that often
he passed the night in prayer; who also, the passion being at hand,
made in agony, more at length prayed. For just as
the soldiers of this world, without arms to go out to war
are not wont; so our soldier to the spiritual battle
to proceed without prayer was not wont.

[12] Dwelling in the grange, by prayer he was strengthened;
him going to the monastery or elsewhere, [to which he added tears for sinners] prayer accompanied;
him returning thence, prayer again followed;
and through most pure prayer all things useful to him
by the Lord were granted, and all without doubt
noxious from him were put to flight. For nothing else
was to him sweet, except to cleave to God, and to put in the Lord
God his hope. And when for some, who
by the weight of sins were pressed, or by grave temptation
or any other tribulation were straitened,
the Lord more attentively he prayed; he could not himself
contain, but that wholly into tears he dissolved. Sometimes
also, when in prayer placed, he poured out
like water his heart, before the sight
of the Lord his God, and with ardent desire to the heights
was raised; from the treasures of the highest goodness, with
gladness of heart, abundant he brought back tears of devotion.
For the virtue of his prayers, not only
to the living, [and to the dead,] but also to the dead to have profited we believe;
because some of his Brothers, namely Monks
and Lay-brothers, who already from this
world had migrated, to him after death returning
appeared to him, and by the suffrages of his prayers,
tears, and corporal afflictions,
themselves with the merciful Lord to be helped sought.

[13] When therefore that marvelous man daily at the Hour
of Terce an end to his prayers put, [and his long beating of himself.] to the ground
his whole body to let down he was wont;
thence rising, and deeply to the Lord inclining himself,
in this manner license, so to say, of withdrawing from
him he received. But as often as it was a day of dinner,
from Terce up to Sext, with his right hand armed with holly
(as in the preceding little book of his penance
it is described) up to a copious effusion of blood,
with most atrocious blows with his body
he played; and amid the blows fifty
times the Lord's Prayer, namely the office of the Mass,
which however to discharge through the week
he was not bound, most devoutly he discharged. But
when it was a day of fasting; from Terce up to None,
and in Lent up to the evening Hour,
the aforesaid office diligently he fulfilled.
And now, because not his corporal affliction,
which above sufficiently is made known, but the manner of his prayer
to describe we have undertaken, fittingly
we can assert, that all his holy
conversation in the eyes of the Lord, for prayer was reputed.

Chapter V.

[14] When in the first years of his conversion
the man of venerable life had begun to heavenly
meditations to attend, and his heart to God to direct; [Most devoted to Bl. V. Mary,]
he began also of the blessed Virgin Mother a devout lover
to be, the most pious attentively to venerate, and to salute
frequently her most worthy of all praise; that the more
fully he might obtain the Mother's grace, the more easily through
the Mother he might obtain the Son's mercy. He strove
also, daily with diligent meditation to revolve
the seven joys, in which the most blessed Virgin while still
in this world she was held, especially rejoiced.
First therefore she rejoiced, when the Angel her
saluting, when she had said, "Be it to me according to your word,"
of the Holy Spirit she conceived the Son
of God. Secondly she rejoiced in the words of grace, [she contemplates the joyful mysteries of her life,] with which
addressed her Elizabeth, when had saluted
her the most blessed Virgin. Thirdly she rejoiced, when
she bore without pain the Savior of the ages, a virgin
before the birth, a virgin in the birth, and a virgin after
the birth. Fourthly she rejoiced, when she saw the three
Magi, from the borders of the East with a star as guide having gone out,
the house in which with Joseph she dwelt entering,
before Jesus humbly falling down, and the mystical
kinds of gifts to him offering. Fifthly she rejoiced,
when to that same her son, on the day of his oblation to
the temple, she saw joyfully run Simeon
the just, embrace between his arms the desired one,
give thanks and congratulate the new boy, whom
he proclaimed to be the light for the illumination of the nations;
when also she heard Anna the widow, confessing
to the Lord, and speaking of him to all
who awaited the redemption of Israel. Sixthly she rejoiced,
when she saw that same her son risen
from the dead, whom a little before with many provoked
injuries, hanging tearful she had seen
on the gibbet of the cross. Seventhly she rejoiced, when
on the fortieth after the resurrection day, raised
in the clouds and the heights of the heavens, by heavenly power
penetrating, with a happy gaze of her eyes, and ineffable desire of charity she followed.

[15] These aforesaid seven joys the man of the Lord
daily to memory, [which she holding pleasing, she bids him also meditate on her joys in heaven,] for the veneration of the glorious
Virgin, was wont to recall; and in their
sweet recollection greatly delighted. But wishing
the most blessed Virgin the devotion of her servant
with her more sublime and more happy joys to heap up;
she appeared to him on a certain day, in the infirmary
standing, saying to him: "Why, my Beloved, daily
so much do you meditate those joys, in which in this world
I was happily gladdened? Recall also those,
in which now and ever incomparably I enjoy in
the heavens." And she taught him, and said: "First
I rejoice for this, that when I was assumed into heaven,
above what I had hoped or known, nay
above what can be said or estimated, greater for me
the fullness excels every kind of glory
of all the Saints and Angels. Secondly
I rejoice for this, that, as the day from the sun, so all
the heavenly Court, by my beatitude more abundantly illustrated,
is gladdened. Thirdly I rejoice, for this that
all the citizens of that court, obeying me, me
as the mother of their King venerate. Fourthly
I rejoice, for this that of the highest Majesty and
mine, one is the will; and in all things whatsoever
shall please my will, the highest and individual
Trinity with most benign and most ready favor consents.
Fifthly I rejoice, for this that according to
the judgment of my will, to those serving me, in
this world and in the future it is repaid. Sixthly I rejoice,
for this that above the choirs of Angels exalted,
by a certain special prerogative, nearest I am
to the holy Trinity, and the joyful of all the Saints
society I obtain. Seventhly I rejoice, for this
that wholly secure I am, because my glory never
will decrease, never will fail."

[16] When these things to her servant graciously she had disclosed,
the most clement Virgin, [and thereafter with him most familiarly she deals.] bidding him farewell, from his eyes
vanished. But he, by the holy of his lady and consoler
admonitions strengthened, thereafter
to serve her more devout was made. Moreover
it must be known, that frequently to her faithful servant
the Mother of mercy visibly appeared, and
herself to him with so great benignity familiar showed, that
as often as he some business had, so often it
the most pious Virgin to her Son carried, until
at last to him, awaiting, and, so to say, with the mouth
of his heart gaping, from her son a morsel of heavenly grace,
together with the effect of his petitions, she brought back.

NOTES.

chooses the lesser number; that this matter too under Abbot William
may have been done, and the more excellent it is, the nearer to the death of the holy man
it was.

b As being
dwelling in a grange, where there was not the abundance of a Priest, and whence
on Lord's days only and feasts one came to the monastery, for the cause of hearing Mass;
during which it seems to have been the custom among the Lay-brothers, that fifty times
they recited the Lord's Prayer.


CHAPTER III.

The vision of heavenly glory offered to Arnulf, and thence more frequent laughter and jubilation. The wiles of the demon overcome.

Chapter VI.

[17] When once the man of God was praying, and the present
life, full of various calamities, wholly
to his heart turned to disgust; [To one aspiring to heavenly glory] he began
of all exterior things to forget, desiring ardently
to be present in the choirs of the heavenly Saints; and now if
it could be done, face to face the blessed of his Creator
vision to enjoy. Meanwhile the grace of the Lord
more fully him within illustrating, suddenly his soul,
in admiration of the supernal beauty suspended,
with so great a fire of love kindled, with so vehement
it was shaken, and into a certain supermundane
excess of mind it was raised. And when with so
copious a dew of heavenly grace he was bathed, there appeared
to him the Lord Jesus Christ; who him beholding
with most serene countenance, said to him; "What do you ask of me,
and what do you wish that I do for you, my son?" He recognizing,
that he was the Lord Savior, answered
saying: "My Lord, you know." And the Lord to him:
"Does it suffice you," he said, "that for you flesh
graciously I put on, for you I sustained reproaches, [that Christ shows it,]
spittings, blows, scourges, a crown of thorns, nails;
and that I might sustain greater confusion, on
the gibbet of the cross naked I hung? on which death
overcoming, by death to be overcome I permitted myself, reckoned
with the wicked, and to death innocently adjudged?
Do these suffice you?" He answered; "By no means,
my Lord." But when this he said, not
therefore indeed he said it, that he might deny the passion of the Lord
to him and to the whole world to suffice for redemption;
but he demonstrated, that with most ardent heart
he panted for the most blessed vision of the holy Trinity,
subjoining and saying; "You know, my Lord,
what I desire."

[18] [And the choirs of the Saints,] Then the Lord, with the luminous rays of his grace
marvelously his heart illustrating; "Look," he said,
"upward, that you may contemplate the marvels which to you
I am about to show." Which at once upward his eyes
lifting, opened were to him the heavens; and, as much as to men
still in this mortality remaining
it is given to behold, he saw all the choirs of all the Saints,
of Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles,
Martyrs, Confessors, Virgins and
Monks, moreover also the choirs of Angels;
of all of which the Orders, with inestimable brightness
shining, clearly and distinctly he beheld. Of all these
indeed the glory he marveled at: [and the glorious Mother,] but
no rest for his spirit in all these could he
find. But the Lord of them said to him:
"Do these all suffice you, my son? or still
to more sublime things to hasten do you desire?" And when he
answered and said, by no means to him it sufficed;
the Lord again said to him: "Lift your eyes, and
contemplate my glorious Mother, whom
to you I will show." Who at once his eyes upward directing,
saw the mirror of the whole heavenly Court, the singular
Queen, by name and merits venerable
Mary, above the choirs of Angels exalted;
of whose beauty's magnitude, of whose glory's
fullness no thought at all or understanding
is able to attain. And when in the consideration
of her glory in a marvelous manner clinging and astonished he was rendered,
not however total rest for his spirit
in her admirable glory to have found himself it seemed.

[19] [and at last the Holy Trinity,] Again the Lord spoke to him saying: "Do they suffice
you all that you have seen? or still much
more sublime do you desire to behold?" And when he, in all
which to him had been shown, those things which he desired
by no means to have found himself said; the Lord, recognizing
his holy obstinacy, and the vehement of his heart
desire, again said to him; "Fly up still
much more sublimely, my son, and according to the measure,
by which graciously to you I mete my grace,
the marvelous of my majesty highness, and the ineffable
delights of my glory contemplate." Who at once,
as it seemed to him; in the inscrutable abyss of the divine light
immersed, as much as by the Master of all things
he was taught, he saw marvelously; marvelously,
I say, he saw, as it was permitted to see, three
in persons, and one in substance: he saw
the ineffable treasures of his glory, in which to dwell,
which to enjoy and be satiated, all which in
eternity to contemplate and possess, eternal life
is. There stable consolation, there true rest,
there everlasting joy found our contemplator;
and what he had desired, he obtained; [From this vision restored to himself, Arnulf,]
so that deservedly he could say: "My beloved is mine and
I his." [Cant. 1:16 & 3:4.] And again: "I have found whom loves my soul,
I will hold him nor let him go." And what marvel,
if this new scholar, a man indeed simple,
by grace instructed, in the school of the highest divinity
learned, what the wise of this world by their wisdom
could not find? Whence when
afterward a certain Master Theologian proposed
to him some questions about the blessed Trinity; he, who
was one of the simple, with whom had conversed
the Wisdom of God, freely and absolutely, the same
Master bearing testimony, the proposed
questions unraveled. But now let us return to those things which
are premised.

[20] When therefore the man of God so great marvels had seen,
again the Lord of glory spoke to him, [he exults with marvelous joy,] saying:
"Behold, my son, you have seen my glory, you have seen
and rejoiced. I tell you; that if all the leaves
of all the trees, and all the drops of the waters
of the sea, men were, and to my kingdom with
all my Saints who with me are to reign,
ought to attain; I tell you, that both for you,
and for all would suffice the marvelous abundance of my glory,
which you have seen." When these things had said the Lord
Jesus, from the eyes of his servant he disappeared, and at once that blessed
vision was consummated. From the heights therefore returning
the studious lover of heavenly life, as from a heavy
sleep awakening, the joy of mind from the workshops
of joys with him brought back: and from that day in the future
to the supernal assemblies of the Saints and the delights
of the glory of his God, by a certain sweet recollection of mind,
often to return he was wont. For some
estimated, from the occasion of the preceding
revelations, that he had taken the matter of jubilation
and laughter, which into a custom he had led;
but whether it was so or not, certain we have not.

Chapter VII.

[21] When on a certain chief festivity had come
to the monastery the man of God, it happened, him
at the hour of vigils to stand apart outside the choir, [even to laughter and dancing] beside
the convent of psalming Monks. And when
the devotion of his heart, which there from the infusion
of heavenly grace he had conceived, to conceal he could not,
but that with some gesture of his body it he showed; looking
over against beside him stood, saw him gently
laughing, his head moving, and even with one foot
often dancing. From then (as from that same
Walter's mouth we heard) began the laughter of jubilation
in him to grow, when before either no
or little of laughter and dancing sign in him could be detected.
First therefore all these
hearing, let them marvel, and consider, how marvelous
of conversation that man was; who with the grief
which in corporal affliction he sustained, also
the joy of heart, which through the laughter of the mouth outwardly appeared,
within to nourish and conserve he could.
And what marvel, if of a marvelous man, through the marvelous
God marvelous things doing, new in some way
and marvelous things be said.

[22] Sometimes, while with thorny scourges, as above
is said, his flesh by scourging he lacerated;
great within in his heart he conceived joy,
by whose magnitude so strongly outwardly
he was dissolved into laughter, that the scourge from his hand throwing,
with a certain spiritual playfulness, he clapped
his hands, and with his feet danced; so that deservedly to him that
could be adapted, which in the Canticle of love the Bride
says: "Daughters of Jerusalem, announce to my Beloved, that with love I languish." [Cant. 2:5] [even before others,] But as often as from the fullness
of his interior joy, outwardly into laughter he was dissolved, so often
his face, appearing all fiery, in some way
to laugh seemed. Often also, from the vehemence
of laughter, so much shaken corporally
he was wearied, that his bowels within to be cut asunder to him
seemed. And when in the conversations of those conversing
in the Chapter he was present, if perchance it happened mention
to be made of the passion of the Lord, of sins,
of transitory things, of the torments of hell, or
of similar things; then his heart, as if by a certain weight
of mourning was pressed down; so that sometimes deep
from the bottom of his breast he drew sighs. But if
of the canticle of love, of the jubilation of the heart, of the vision
of the blessed Trinity, of the glory of the Saints, of
the Cherubim and Seraphim, or of similar things the preacher
more at length anything had discoursed; then his soul,
by the virtue of the words and the sweetness, as with marrow
and fatness was filled; so that the conceived
within joy, through outward laughter to bring forth
he was compelled. Sometimes also the laughter of his jubilations
so strongly in him increased, that
from each Chapter, namely of the Monks and
of the Lay-brothers, outside to leap he was compelled: and having entered
the church, with festive there for so long jubilation he danced,
until the wine with which he had been inebriated, little by little
was digested.

[23] [and this for seven years] But it must be known, that wherever he was,
whether with his Brothers in the grange, or outside
among religious persons; if it happened him
to hear anything, whence greatly to rejoice he was compelled,
nor then either could he himself from vehement laughter
contain. Sometimes also, against his will
so marvelously laughing, his laughter grievously
he bore, especially before seculars, who knew not
what signified so vehement his laughter.
There were some, who the spirit, by which he was ruled,
not having; his jubilatory laughter
in an evil [sense] interpreted. But let such see,
whether their conscience in this part to save
they could, or not. Would that those who at one laughing laughed,
and the innocent held in contempt,
so great an abundance of tears in
the peace of their heart had had, as that blessed one had of spiritual
laughter abundance in the horrible affliction of his body.
Of his jubilations therefore and of his laughter, with which
(as they say) for seven years and more by the Lord
in some way he was fed, those things which are premised
to have said let it suffice; that the rest which remain to be said
we may pursue.

Chapter VIII.

[24] In the summer time, when the Brothers of the grange,
imitating the rule of the Monks, after dinner
reposed in their beds, on Lord's days and festivities
of the Saints; the man of the Lord sought for himself
some retreat, where while his prayers more secretly
to the Lord he poured out, and amid the delights of holy
love within in his spirit sweetly slept,
to sleep outwardly in body he refused. It happened
that a certain Brother for this matter reprehended
him before the Master of the Lay-brothers.
Who at once commanded him, that, the others at that hour sleeping, [Bidden thereafter to sleep longer,]
he too should sleep; lest if perchance he kept vigil,
the Brothers, who compassionated his body,
wearied with great torments, it grievously should bear.
He obeyed the precept of his Master, as to all
ready and obedient he was. But when after dinner
he had entered the dormitory, and his shoes
he drew off, that in his little bed himself he should place;
suddenly stood by him a demon, who laughing and deriding
him, into these words broke forth: "Brother, come now
what is it, that you do? where is now your holy religion,
and where are your vigils, which at this hour to observe
you were wont? Surely your fervor for nothing must be reckoned,
who your members to grow torpid allowing,
to persevere in the work which you began you neglect. Rise
therefore quickly, and to vigils and prayers
attend, as just now you did." And when the blessed man
the demon to him standing by perceived, his words
seductive contemning, who him against the precept
of his master to keeping vigil was provoking;
with indignation he said: "Withdraw from me, wretch; withdraw
from me: [the demon urging the accustomed vigils he spurns,] for now, will or nill, I will sleep, that you be confounded
and by my sleep be tortured." And when this
he had said, the ancient enemy into flight was turned.

[25] Again on a certain day, while within his cell
the man of God alone was, and according to his custom
with a scourge himself wore down; the demon, in a form
which similar to a little man seemed, to him appearing,
that of his penitential disciplines himself to be saddened
and tortured he might show, the scourge, with which he
struck himself, with a certain force from his hand
struck out. But the man of the Lord, the demon
him to be recognizing, [another time having wrestled with him,] at once with the sign of the Cross himself fortified;
and with arms outstretched him seizing, helped
by the Angel of great counsel, wrestled with the angel
of evil counsel, until at last him to the ground he prostrated,
and with his fist the malign one to strike began.
And when he raging, and in some way muttering,
said; "Alas! alas! Brother, you hurt
me;" the man of God constantly answered: "Why, O most wicked,
from your hurting should I abstain, if to me you to hurt
were granted?" At which word the malign enemy,
not bearing his constancy, with many blows struck,
scarcely at last from his hands, mourning and
confounded, escaped.

[26] Again on a certain day, when the blessed man, returning
from the monastery, [well beaten he dismisses him;] the attendant with the cart preceding,
in which loaves to the Brothers of the grange were carried,
alone from afar followed; lo suddenly,
at the exit of a certain wood, three women from
that wood having gone out, and to him over against to meet coming,
the way through which to him passage was occupied beforehand.
And when a little to him they approached;
he stopping, one of them, the rest being silent,
thus to him spoke: "Come, Brother, come hither,
and choose of us three one, who more pleasing to your eyes
seems, and at your pleasure mingle
with her." These things heard, the servant of the Lord recognized
through the spirit, [solicited under a womanly appearance,] three to be demons, who him under
the appearance of three women to seduce tried. And
having recourse to the known protection of the sign of the Cross,
his hope in the Lord he put; nor did he tremble with fear,
where many perhaps would have trembled, or even
to the diabolical persuasion would have consented: but at once returning
to the wood, and circling over against, he left
to them the way, and the attendant with the cart swiftly
followed. But those little women, whom outwardly
the diabolical craft had assimilated, to the wood's
hiding-places leaping back, did not appear.

[27] At another time, when in the monastery vigils were kept,
and the aforesaid man of the Lord in the choir with
the rest of the Brothers stood; [or in another way troublesome with the Cross he puts to flight.] again a demon, in the appearance
of a little boy, of soot blacker, to him impudently stood by.
But forthwith as saw him the contemplative man,
whose interior eyes, by the splendor of heavenly grace
had been illustrated; perceiving that a demon
it was, he signed his forehead, and breathed out into
his face; and so from his face him to flee compelled.
Moreover when with other ways the same enemy to that same
servant of God sometimes hostile was, the most strong
Athlete, not yielding to him, but striking him with the staff
of the Lord's Cross, in the virtue of prayer always
put to flight from himself the shape-shifter, for nothing reckoning
the snares of his ambushes.

CHAPTER IV.

Endowed with a prophetic spirit, Arnulf obtains various graces for those consulting him.

Chapter IX.

[28] A certain Monk of the Cistercian Order,
loving and faithful, [To a pious Brother he foretells the day,] once in the Monastery
of Villers as a guest dwelt. He by a chance occurring
fell into a grave infirmity, which rupture is called,
and by such discomfort greatly was straitened;
on account of which for many days him in the infirmary
to be detained we saw. And when he was ignorant, [on which he would be cured of the hernia,] what
to this infirmity cure he could apply;
at last the prayers of Brother Arnulf he sought, with
whom great in Christ familiarity he had obtained.
Then he, who to the necessities of his neighbors
from the soul came to aid, for the Monk beloved to him
the Lord more attentively prayed, and was heard:
for the day and hour, on which he should be cured, he intimated
to him, and so according to the word of the man of God
he was cured.

[29] [and about to obtain the desired favor of God,] But afterward that same Monk,
once asked him, that to him he would send God;
as is the custom for some to say, when
the prayers of others they seek, saying: "Send me
God." But the man of God, as liberal and benevolent
he was to all, asked him, on what day
he wished in this matter for him to help. Then he, "On the festivity,"
he said, "of Bl. Lucia the Virgin." Who at once,
what from him he asked to be done, to do himself promised. But afterward
when on the festivity of the aforesaid Virgin
that same Monk was riding with another Monk,
visiting him [once his abbot,] within
the grace of God, were broken the cataracts of the head
of his, and from his eyes so great an inundation of tears
burst forth, that the force of them, even if he had wished,
to hold he could not. But when he lagged behind,
and the sweet pittance, which the Lord to him had sent,
with a certain spiritual avidity tasted;
the Monk who preceded, called him by his
name, admonishing him, that as quickly as possible he should hasten.
He indeed, with a deaf, as is wont to be said, ear, the voice of the speaker
heard. But when after an hour, of that river
the force, which his soul had gladdened, had passed,
he followed the one preceding. By whom asked,
why he had made delay; he the matter, as it was, manifesting;
"Brother," he said, "Arnulf promised me,
that on this day the grace of the Lord I should have:
which also was done." [In a like manner to certain
Nuns of Robertmont the grace of the Lord he foretold
to be about to come: and just as he had foretold,
so to have happened by certain report we have learned.]

Chapter X.

[30] In what manner, by the counsel of that same blessed man,
built, in few [words] must be explained. [For the Countess of Champagne, greatly afflicted,] When a most powerful
and noble Lord, Erald de Rammery,
the venerable Countess of Champagne, [Blanche
by name,] by war violently oppressed,
so that the castles being besieged, her land
with plunderings and burnings he devastated; for he pretended
the County of all Champagne by hereditary right
to belong to him, [on the part of the daughter of Henry of Champagne,
King of Jerusalem, whom in the overseas
parts he had taken in marriage]. Whence the very Nobles
of Champagne, both on account of that Knight's
consanguinity, and on account of his wife's affinity,
some secretly, some openly, the Countess
deserting, to him adhered. Over these things therefore
with a mind too anxious the Matron, noble by lineage,
[but far nobler, by the honest conversation of her manners,
of almost all human both help destitute
and counsel;] his suffrage [with her whole heart] began
to implore, [asked to pray,] who his [those placed in tribulation]
knows to succor; [and herself moreover to the holy
prayers of good men she strove to commend.] And summoning
[familiar to her,] Gerard by name, she asked
him saying; "Do you know, my beloved, any
holy man, who by his prayers [in my tribulation]
to me to succor is able?" "I know, Lady, mine," said he, "in the monastery of Villers, [which
is in Brabant], a lay Brother [of venerable
conversation], Arnulf by name; who is able,
as I believe, to you in this necessity by his to
the Lord prayers to give suffrage." Which heard
she, greatly rejoicing, for her business directed
Br. Gerard to the man of God, [license being asked
and received from the Abbot of Robertmont.]

[31] But when he had come to his beloved
Arnulf, [he foretells [the matter] will be relieved,] he saluted him on the part of the Countess
[of Champagne]: then the business, [for which thither
he had come], to him he intimated: and said to him: "It
behoves me, dear Brother, to set out for Liège: but you
to prayer attend; that when to you returned
I shall be, I may hear from you, what to the Lady Countess
about this I should report." He set out therefore;
but the man of the Lord, for the enjoined business,
wholly to prayer himself gave: and while more insistently
he prayed, a marvelous he saw vision; namely a hen
white, with chicks of the same color, who
her as a mother followed, [and under her wings
were cherished.] Which seen, when he was ignorant, what
this might be; he asked from the Lord, the signification of this vision
to him to be revealed. And forthwith [from heaven]
it was revealed to him, that the Countess a monastery of Nuns
ought to build: [because he understood,
by the hen with chicks, to be signified an Abbess
with her Nuns.] After some days returned
Br. Gerard to the man of God, [a convent of the Cistercian Order being founded] that of the business
to him committed a response from him he might receive. The man
of the Lord, [according to what to him had been revealed,
put the word in his mouth, saying:] "Return,
my beloved, [in peace] to the Lady Countess,
who sent you; [and saluting her again
in my name,] suggest to her on my part,
that if a monastery of Nuns of the Order
Cistercian to found she shall wish, at once [as the will
in her heart she shall have conceived,] all the quarrel, which between
her and her calumniator is carried on, by the intervening
concord will be lulled to rest."

[32] Which when the Monk had heard, glad he was made;
[and so Argentea-cella is founded.] and bidding farewell to [his dearest] Arnulf,
he returned to the [venerable] Countess; and to her
all things, which from the man of God he had heard, recounted.
Which heard she rejoiced with great joy: and
[she who never the will of building a monastery
had had, as if divinely a counsel of this kind
she had received,] at once on the same day began to treat,
how and where a new she could found monastery.
And that there might be fulfilled the word, which had said
the man of God, not long after the contumacy of the powerful man,
with which against the Countess he swelled, to
[peace and] concord was recalled. [At last
therefore the monastery being built, with its offices,
Matron, having gathered there, both from the Bishopric of Liège
and from other places, a convent of Virgins,
who regularly according to the Cistercian Order
should be instituted; that very place, where up to today
flourishes and is fervent Religion, with revenues and possessions
in which she abounded, copiously endowing she enlarged.]

Chapter XI.

[33] There was a certain Recluse, not far from the monastery
of Villers dwelling, very religious, [Divinely he understands,] [and
therefore to very many gracious and amiable,] who to the man
of God Arnulf greatly in Christ beloved, him
called her Father [most dear.] She
frequently] to her coming, and before the window of her recluse-cell
sitting, with salutary words often
strove to admonish, that, from sins [and vices]
himself guarding, the fellowship of seculars he should decline,
and the Lord God [in sincerity of life] to serve
he should strive. He, [as he was a youth of benevolent disposition,]
visiting within him the grace, began to the Recluse's
admonitions to give consent, so that daily
running back to her, from her mouth words of holy
consolation he heard. But the Recluse seeing, that
her new in Christ son, [his days in some way
losing,] to study with his companions neglected;
admonished him, that thereafter more rarely to her
coming, more frequently than usual to the schools he should run back.
He indeed, tenderly loving her in Christ, to her words
to consent was unwilling; but very often to her running back,
while in her school, the way of life he learned,
indeed to lose time he did not think. Which
seeing the Recluse [with great indignation] was angry
against him, and indiscreetly a vow vowed to the Lord,
that for a month to him she would not speak. Which recognizing
the Cleric, was consternated in mind greatly,
so that almost he fell into desperation, that
he should renounce the good doctrine, which from his mistress [and
mother] he had received; but lest similar he be made
to a dog, who returns to his vomit, forcing himself,
[and the bridle (as is wont to be said) with his teeth seizing, [refused to instruct him,]
he persisted in the way of life which he had entered,]
and complained to the governor of all
the Lord, of his mistress and mother, that him,
in some way as if desperate, without consolation
she had left: and, lest he give her occasion of transgressing
her vow, for a whole month
before her recluse-cell he came, and to speak to her did not presume.

[34] Meanwhile the Recluse is seized by a fever
[most strong, so that the sound of her teeth, [seized by a fever.] against one another
dashing, far was heard.] All things
also, which between her and the Cleric had happened,
through the spirit were revealed to the man of God Arnulf: who
not long after coming to her [found her with fever
laboring: and her saluted, as if ignorant
of her fever,] said to her: "How are you, dearest?"
Who answered: "By a fever I am straitened exceedingly." "Deservedly,"
said he, "by a fever you are straitened, because that Cleric,
[whom in Christ you had begotten, and newly begotten
in the cradle of his infancy, as if with the milk of consolation
you ought to have nourished,] as if a stranger unwisely
from you you have repelled. Know therefore, that God
our just [and merciful,] for this offense
[with a scourge too hard you to punish, that is] his grace
from you to withdraw had proposed: [and he bids her resume the pious work.] which I from heaven
recognizing, with even mind the detriment of your soul
to sustain I could not; and I prayed the Lord
my God, that to you propitious he might be, and
[by no means with a spiritual, but rather with a corporal scourge]
this offense in you he might expiate: and did
my God what I asked of him, and sent you
this strong fever, [than which perhaps stronger there cannot
be.] Then also, when grievously I bore that of heavenly
food you were deprived, [again] I turned myself to beseeching
for you of all goods the Giver,
that with the eye of his clemency you regarding, by no means
you [in this infirmity] fasting he might dismiss; but
so great an affluence of his grace to you from above to send
he might deign, as ever [in all your life]
you have had. Wherefore, [in the name of the Lord,]
tell me, whether the matter so is,
or not." [Which heard, the handmaid of Christ was astonished
at the words of grace, which proceeded from his mouth;
and said, that all things so to her had happened, just as
the blessed man had spoken. He therefore comforting
his beloved in Christ and bidding farewell
to her, to the grange returned. By the Lord through
his servant was done this, and it is marvelous
in our eyes.]

Chapter XII.

[35] A certain religious Priest, by name Gerard,
once at Nivelles dwelt at St. Sixtus, [Asked to pray for a sick woman,]
[there in the church the office of Chaplain performing;]
and dwelt with him his mother, Cecilia
by name; who after some time by an infirmity
seized, in bed lay. But her son
Gerard, with filial affection his mother's infirmity
compassionating, went to the man of God Arnulf, [to whom
greatly familiar he was,] that his mother sick
to his prayers he might commend. And when he had come
to him, [among the many which to one another
they had conversations,] the Priest said to him:
"I beseech you, Brother in Christ most dear, that for
my mother, [who with infirmity labors,] God
more attentively you beseech." And he added: "Also I ask from
you, that you foretell me the day, on which my mother
is to die." To this he jokingly answered:
[Why is it necessary, [he asserts she will die at a certain time:] that from me such things you require? What
to me about such things? An idle matter is, which you ask.
Then the Priest; "By no means," he said: but,
if I have found grace in your eyes, hear in
this my prayer: for this I wish to extort from
you."] Then the merciful man, lest his beloved
he should sadden, for his mother the Lord besought;
and returned from prayer, said to him, that his mother,
within twenty days after the Nativity of the Lord,
would die; and it was around the feast of St. Remigius,
when these future things he foretold.

[36] Then the Priest, [bidding farewell to him,] to his mother
returned; [how a certain one exploded this,] and in her infirmity carefully
to her, [and as much as he could] he ministered: but on the day
seventeenth [after the Nativity of the Lord,] when
the woman, [the disease worsening, more than usual] to be weakened
had begun; her son Gerard [of pious memory]
Master Guido of Nivelles, and nine other
Priests called, that all at the anointing
of his mother might be present. [Anointed therefore was
the woman, those Priests standing by and praying
for her.] But before she was anointed,
one of the Priests who had come, called
Gerard apart: and much from Brother Arnulf
detracting; "Lord," he said, "Gerard, why
to the verbosity of Br. Arnulf so easily do you believe, [who
your mother within these twenty days foretold
to die?] Which Gerard hearing, grievously bore;
and chiding him, said, that Br. Arnulf
was a man of virtue [acceptable to God in his works.]
These heard, when not yet he from his detraction
ceased, [stretching out with his hand the cope with which
he was clothed;] "Behold," he said, "I will permit this cope
by fire to be burned, if, according to Br. Arnulf's
word, [as he indicates was made known to him,] your mother to die shall happen." Deceived
is he, since on the following day, which was the eighteenth
before the twentieth, the woman died,
and on the nineteenth day was buried. But Gerard returned
to the man of God Arnulf, his mother
to be dead reported, [and to give suffrage
to her soul, with prayers him he bent.] To whom at once the man
of God answered: "As to you about your mother I foretold,
so it happened; but yet the Priest's cope not yet
is burned; [for still he has it.]"

[37] Which heard Gerard was astonished, and bidding farewell
to his beloved Arnulf, returned to Nivelles;
and reported to the aforesaid Priest the reproach
of Br. Arnulf, who about his cope, not yet burned,
him reprehended. Which he hearing, [and the blasphemer he converts.]
[because twice he found himself to have lied,] vehemently
blushed, and thereafter from the man of God to detract
did not presume: and touched with grief of heart within,
[that so great a man he had detracted from;] "Lord
Gerard," he said, "let us go to the man of God:
for I desire to speak to him, and himself to see." Which
agreeing they set out both together; and came
to the grange, where he dwelt, [which
above Quercetum to be called we said;] and at their pleasure
to him they spoke. But the man
of God speaking in the ears of both, of those things which [either
to God or] to the salvation of souls pertain, the aforesaid Priest [who with a cold perhaps thither had come
heart,] even to tears almost was compuncted:
and when he had taken Br. Arnulf apart,
[alone with him alone speaking,] and by his consolatory words
in Christ much was strengthened, and
pardon being asked from him, for the detraction [injurious,]
which against him with a maledictory tongue he had hurled,
the grace of the Lord he to have found in him professed;
[and so rejoicing, with his companion Gerard,
to his own [home] returned.]

NOTES OF D. P.

a From
the Val-Dieu manuscript many things in these chapters Rosweide supplied, which here and
thereafter, as already before also was done, in brackets [] enclosed you will see.

which true to be cannot. As being one who far older than Louis, already years
thirteen a widow had been, when he came into the world, of his brothers
the second-born, and his first-born brother, before puberty having died,
successor in the kingdom. Blanche therefore was the daughter of Sancho the Wise,
and sister of Sancho the Strong, Kings of Navarre, given in matrimony
to Theobaldus, after the death of her brother Henry King of Jerusalem, Count
of Champagne;
from whom, having died in the year 1201, a posthumous son she had; who, heir of his paternal name
and County, in the year 1234, on his mother's part, his uncle Sancho
in the kingdom of Navarre succeeded.


the first Abbess Agnes of Liège, in the fourth year of her rule, of Christ
1226 having died, from our Arnulf's probable suggestion elected: about
whom the man of Cantimpré, book 2, ch. 46, says, that, of no Grammar's
laws cultivated, the books of Theology and of Augustine himself on the Trinity, with singular intelligence expounded: under
whom the number of Religious women is said to have increased to 90, besides 10 Lay-sisters
and 20 Clerics, subject to the Abbess, of whom 12 were Priests.


CHAPTER V.

Arnulf knows the secrets of hearts, and knows the graces granted to others, or predicts those to be granted.

Chapter XIII.

[38] There was a certain Priest [secular, who] in manners
honest enough the life indeed of the good outwardly to emulate
seemed; [To a hypocrite Priest he tells his hidden sins,] but in all things
the glory [or little glory] of men affecting, and
into the mire of carnal enticement himself plunging, in the eyes
of God, [all things beholding,] a hypocrite was reputed.
To him by a certain religious woman it was persuaded, that
to Br. Arnulf he should go, and his familiarity,
[who for religion famous was held, and prayers
likewise] for himself acquire. He did what
the woman had said, going to the man of God; and kindly
[by him, who was kind to all,] received
he was. When therefore, for the cause of seeing him,
[and also on account of his prayers] himself to have come he said;
the man of God answered: [Can to you either
my or another's profit prayer, since in that
state, in which now you are, to live you do not fear.
At which word he a little in mind disturbed;
"What is it," said he, "whence the state of my life reprehensible
is judged?" To this the man of God answered:
[Why the manners of your simulatory life,
in which hitherto many you have deceived, do you seek to cloak?]
To me nothing of your wretched conversation can you
hide." Then the blessed man at the nod
and will of the said Priest, his detestable
works, [and which to say is unlawful by him perpetrated,
the whole nevertheless state of his conscience
in malign and impure thoughts] expressly
he himself hearing explained; and to prove
of those things, which he had said, the truth, gave him
of Nivelles, or any other religious and upright in Christ
man you can have, that your wretched
life by confessing to them you make public; all
these things which to you individually I have set forth, you keep silent,
lest through the publication of these among them the opinion of your fame
be blackened, [and into their ears some
light things, your manner cloaking, you whisper.]"

[39] Which heard the Priest, when, accusing
him his conscience, any subterfuge in
the face of the man of God he did not find; [and he persuades [him] to migrate elsewhere.] touched with grief of heart
within, and outwardly in his face with redness suffused,
true to be all things, which the servant of Christ had uttered,
most certainly asserted. But the man of the Lord,
comforting him in the Lord, suggested to him, that thereafter
his excesses with all caution he should correct,
and from the villa in which he dwelt, in corporal
presence himself withdraw. He therefore, bidding farewell to the man
of God, confounded departed; and from that place, where to dwell
he was wont, to another place migrating, to the aforesaid
servant of Christ thereafter to return he blushed.
[Let them blush, the simulators and lustful Priests,
who under the clothing of sheep are ravening wolves,
who defiled with the filth of lust, beside the son
of the Virgin place the idol of Venus; who, while
in the celebration of Mass the sacred words with unclean mouth
they utter, into the face of the Savior they spit; and when
into the unclean mouth the most holy flesh they place,
him as if to the mud of the streets they cast. Wretched plainly
and pitiable, who have made a covenant
with death, and with hell have made a pact.
Let them therefore come to their senses who such are, and
return to their Savior the Lord Jesus,
dissembling their sins on account of penance.
Let them have recourse, while it is permitted, to the merciful one,
that in an opportune time they may obtain
his mercy.]

Chapter XIV.

[40] There was a certain Novice in the monastery of Villers,
who within the year of his probation in the furnace
of tribulation placed, could say with the Psalmist, [A Novice afflicted with a twofold infirmity he frees:]
"Tribulation and grief I found": with two
[and unbearable] infirmities
greatly he was afflicted, of which one was a pain
of the head, almost continuous, and so strong that
the censure of silence scarcely could he keep, [and up to
the hour of eating the decorum to sustain;] but the other
infirmity foul and dishonest, whose quality
[for the sake of honesty] not to be published [but to be cloaked]
we have judged. [Ps. 114:3] And when he under the twofold pain
was cut down, so to say, wound upon
wound, and of recovering health he despaired,
[because no remedy he found, which to his infirmities
he might apply;] at last license being received,
to the servant of Christ his discomfort more secretly
he intimated. Whose straits [the man of much
piety] from the marrow compassionating, [and praying for
him,] a response of this kind gave him, saying; "Go
in peace, and be comforted in the Lord: with the double
infirmity, with which you hitherto beset have complained
you have been, [from this day in the rest,] know that you by no means
will be straitened." He recovered therefore [the aforesaid
Novice] from his infirmities, and giving thanks
to omnipotent God and his servant, [and a sudden
and unhoped-for recovering soundness;]
the anniversary of his profession day with joy
awaited.

[41] [likewise a Monk from a grave temptation,] In a like manner, when a certain Monk [of the same
monastery] by a most grievous temptation was urged,
he went to the man of God, the temptation by which
he was troubled, to him to show, and his prayer's aid
to ask; and received from him a response, that he in
the near [future] wholly would be freed. On the same day therefore,
the blessed man praying, [and as another Moses
lifting his hand on high,] put to flight was that spiritual
Amalek, who our Israel attacked,
so that peace to him stable was restored, nor
further by the hostile [temptation], [which up to that day endured
he had been,] was he wearied. Another Monk
of the same monastery, wishing about the defect
of his heart and the poverty of his soul to consult the man
of God, came to him, the hardness of his heart, especially
on Lord's days, himself to feel complaining. To whom
the man of God answered: "Why, Brother, a hard heart
on Lord's days you to have allege, [and another's hidden grace he knows.] when on three
in the week days with the [honeyed] of heavenly grace
food in some measure you are fed?" Which
when he denied, the man of God subjoined, saying;
"Do not hide yourself from me; since, as I said, so
it is." Then he, [thinking and rethinking, whether so
it was; who perhaps the grace of the Lord, from the humility
of his heart, on three per week days
in himself had not noticed; plainly] true to be, what from
the mouth of the servant of God he had heard, perceived.

[42] [On the vigil of the Assumption of Bl. M.] It happened in the same monastery a certain
[worthy of report], which, to the edification
of the hearers, into the midst we will bring forth. On the Assumption
of the most blessed Virgin Mary, when at the beginning
of the vigils [that jubilatory song,
namely] the Invitatory, "Hail Mary," and the Psalm
"Come let us exult," solemnly by the Monks was sung;
and he himself singing, began the affection of his heart,
[according as by grace he was drawn,] upward
to direct; and before the glorious of the Lord Savior
and his blessed Mother's sight, himself as if
[in presence or] corporally to present.
And when so within in his soul from heaven
he was comforted, [he sees a Monk devoutly psalming,] of the Lord's mercy trusting,
himself in the heavenly [places] by the Lord, not for his merits,
but according to the ineffable goodness of him, he hoped
to be crowned. But as often as
the Invitatory was repeated, so often, [he with joy
singing, and in the heights to the King and Queen
humbly assisting,] the holy of his mind devotion
[renewed] was augmented. Meanwhile the man of the Lord
Arnulf, who was in the church, saw the Lord
Savior and his venerable Mother,
beside that Monk standing: who him
[with a certain most beautiful belt girding around, on the right
and left taken up, singing and laughing,]
on high lifted from the earth. And when
the blessed man by praying continued to behold him so departing,
and said; "My Brother, my Brother, still
certainly I will see you;" he, [by the blessed of the King and Queen
hands] upward carried to the stars, by him
further to be seen could not.

[43] But the Monk on the same day of the Assumption,
[license being received, [by Christ and the Mother of God into heaven to be carried;]] spoke to the man of God; when
however he was ignorant, that he about himself [the night past]
the man of God, [as sometimes he was wont,]
was dissolved into laughter, so that the Monk marveled,
why [as if without cause] he laughed. Then the blessed
man said to him, that the night past, when the Vigils
were kept, he had seen one of the Monks, by
the Virgin mother and her Son in the choir visited,
and by their holy hands as if to the heavenly things carried.
Which he hearing, when the Monk's name,
and the hour [at which in this manner upward carried
he was,] to him to be revealed he sought; the man of the Lord the asker
at once to hear was unwilling: at the last however,
the asker's importunity satisfying, that Monk
himself it was, and during the singing
of the Invitatory that to him had happened, he declared. But the Monk,
[who to presume by no means could have,
that to him such a thing should happen, about
this kind of benefit to himself from heaven conferred did not exalt himself,
but in] his spirit before the eyes of the Lord
humbled. [This vision therefore, which our contemplator
spiritually saw as if corporally it had happened, to him corporally was manifested.]

[44] [We therefore, who the holy of the Lord service
have professed, [which the Author turns into] by the example of this Monk, when
we stand to psalm, by psalming to understand let us strive
what we utter, that in human manner, not
as if by the voice of birds we sing. For both blackbirds, and
parrots, and crows, and birds of this kind often
by men are taught to sound what they know not:
but knowingly to sing, to the nature of man by the divine
will is granted: which also the Psalmist commends,
saying; "I will psalm and I will understand." [Ps. 100:1] How
pleasing to God a psalmody do we think, in
which the voice indeed presents the appearance of one praying, but the mind
is without fruit? For those who the form of psalming to us
handed down, [for the instruction of those psalming.] this admonished,
that we serve the Lord in fear, that we psalm
wisely; and so we stand to psalm, that our mind
agree with our voice. Let us keep therefore
with all custody our heart, on the divine praises insisting;
lest when with the body we are in the choir, in mind
outside we wander: because, according to the Philosopher,
nowhere is he who is everywhere. The first therefore argument
of a composed mind is, to be able to settle
and fixed to remain: for of a sick mind is this
tossing, to run about and by the variety of places to be disquieted.
Therefore, in body dwelling on earth,
in mind with the Lord in heaven let us dwell; that
where our treasure is, there may be also our heart.]

Chapter XVI.

[45] A certain religious woman, [Mistress of the Hospital,
which is beside the greater church of Bl. Mary
at Paris, Theophania by name, [By a Parisian Religious woman,]] having heard the fame
of the marvelous conversation of the man of God, desired to see
[his face,] and his desired conversation to obtain:
but yet, the long interval of lands standing in the way, she was frustrated
in this part, of her heart's desire. And because mouth to mouth, [eye to eye
to see the holy man, and at the same time] to him to speak
she could not; she summoned a certain Cleric,
[by nation] a Brabanter, there studying, whom
[the vicar of her conscience] she sent to the aforesaid
servant of Christ, graciously saluting him
by his mouth, and charging him that a copious
gift of heavenly grace for her from the Lord to be imparted
he should beseech. Which when from the mouth of the messenger had heard the man
magnificent, [saluted through an intermediary,] holding pleasing what to him a devout and
faithful matron had charged, [with that his gracious,
which toward all to use he was wont, manner of alacrity,
from joy to have laughed, and] a response of this kind to the messenger
to have given is reported: "Return, my friend,
to the religious Lady, who sent you to me; and
first to her from my heart and from my mouth bring back of salvation
eternal the fullness; then subjoining,
announce to her from me, that on that day; [on the day, I say,
that] which to her I designate, so great from heaven from the Lord
she will obtain of grace an affluence, as in
all her life she is not to have. [Then the man of the Lord
designated to him the day, on which this should be done; [he reports it to her]]
and added saying; Unless by the obstacle of her negligence
be obstructed the aqueduct, through which
the rivulet of grace ought to flow into her heart, in no
way can be frustrated the measure of grace, with which up
to a superflowing heap to fill her heart
I have foretold."

[46] These heard the Cleric returned to Paris;
and from the mouth of the man of God saluting the devout woman, [on what day she would be divinely consoled:]
to her all things which from his mouth he had heard in order
recounted. Glad was she in those things which were said
to her, and the promised to her unto the heap of supernal grace
benediction, with immense desire and without
hesitation, awaited. [After a little therefore
dawned that festive day, the day of the gladness of her heart.]
And it came to pass, she praying on that day, suddenly
and unexpectedly rushed into her the Spirit of the Lord, [the Spirit
vehement and strong,] by whose powerful virtue
were shaken all her bowels; and as flows
wax from the face of fire, so wholly melted was the soul
of her, and transfused into the embraces of her Beloved; so
that when within with the honey-flowing of divine sweetness savor
she was fed, herself in some way as if into a certain
paradise of delights translated to have been she marveled.
But when, [after the alienation of her inebriation,]
to herself she had returned; she began [joyful
and praising, like another Queen of Sheba, in
praise of our Solomon] to break forth, saying; "True
is the word, [which done she proceeds to the man of God she is more devoutly affected] which I heard [in that land about
the virtues of the holy man, and I did not believe those narrating
to me; until I, having experienced the power of his merits,
with ocular faith now have seen and proved, that the middle
part of the admirable his life and virtues to me
was not announced. For greater is his holy
religion, than the rumor which I heard.]" At last
therefore the handmaid of Christ, both through that Cleric
[whom we have mentioned,] and through many others,
saluting and re-saluting in the Lord the man of God, thanks
to him repaid for his prayers' suffrage;
[announcing to all and commending the merits and
virtues of him, praising and magnifying in him the Lord
Savior, who him enriched with so copious
the things which are premised, were true, or not; either
absent let him charge [a messenger], or present let him ask the venerable
woman, who up to this day in the city
of Paris is surviving, and from her he will be able the matter
done to know the truth.]

NOTES


b About
the Hospitals of Paris treats James du Breul, book 4 of the Antiquities
of Paris, from p. 950 to 1005, but of this no mention, unless under another perhaps
name.

CHAPTER VI.

Many other things, by Arnulf prophetically known, or even predicted for the edification of his neighbors.

Chapter XVII.

[47] There was another religious woman, with an indissoluble
bond of holy love to the man of God bound,
so that to them with one another there was one heart and one soul.
[To a pious woman he indicates graces revealed to him, made to her by God,] To this aforesaid handmaid of Christ on the sixth feria [Friday]
before Easter, [when the most sacred of the Lord's
passion memory recalls the whole Church,]
conferred grace, of which the manner and order
the blessed man through revelation knew. And summoning
one of the Monks, the faithful of his heart
confidant, he indicated to him what kind [or how great]
on the said day the Lord to that woman good things had done.
And adding; "Behold," he said, "I send you: go to her,
and all which from me you have heard, repeat in
order [in her ears.]" Setting out the Monk
came to her; and on the part of the man of God who sent
him, into these words broke forth, saying: "These things
says the man of God Arnulf, [on the day of the Preparation [Good Friday],] [and these he charges to you through
me:] When this year on the sixth feria before Easter, [which
day is special for adoring the Cross,] you heard in
church the Passion of the Lord [by the Priest recited,]
as you yourself know; could not your heart
with any compassion be softened; but when had been made
the hour, in which the Lord on the cross hung; that same
hour from heaven to you was manifested: and then altogether
to contain yourself you could not, but that your whole heart
into abundant tears with little rivers was dissolved.

[48] At the same hour it seemed to you to see
the Lord's side by a lance pierced, [the torments of Christ suffering being seen,] and that same lance
his heart to penetrate; and that also blood
from his hands and feet flowed out, and a crown
of thorns on his head was placed. But when
so most bitter of the Lord and your Savior pain
you attended, it seemed to you, that with St. Andrew
you should undergo of the cross the torment, and to die
with him. Then when the pious Lord attended
and saw, you his most faithful friend to wish with
him to die, [in the most benign manner of his piety] he spoke
to you, saying: "Come after me, sweet daughter."
Then at once upward looking, you saw heaven
open, and you looked into the most high Majesty
[with the most bright] eyes of your mind: and lo,
suddenly it seemed to you, you to that same supreme Majesty,
in the form of a crowned King, [and the glory of one rising again.] to stand by; whose
blessed voice in this manner you heard: "Have
in you peace, my daughter, and now remove from you the matter
of grief, since I am cured from the pains
of the cross." These heard so great you conceived jubilation
[in the laughter of exultation,] that at the same hour wholly
unmindful you were made of the Lord's passion; since
so strongly [and so perfectly] had absorbed
your heart into itself the grace and glory of the supreme Majesty,
that to you it seemed, that the Lord of himself
made for you a certain mirror, because the mirror
of the world you had crushed under your feet: wherefore
his sweetest whisper afterward in this
manner you heard: "Behold, my sweet daughter, I show
you my blessed face, and I wish that in my heart
you fall asleep, and that your heart acknowledge that in
the delights of my glory you will live forever. [When therefore
in so great an excess of mind raised you had been, it seemed
to you, that the Lord Christ with raised hand
right you blessed, and said to you;]" "Hold
and observe firmly my peace, daughter, since
made is in peace my place." "Behold, on the part
of your beloved Arnulf," said the Monk, "I have reported
to you, my sister, what and how great of the Lord grace
on the aforesaid day in you you experienced. [Now therefore
to prove of my narration the truth this
have as a sign, that the grace, which on the most sacred
that day so affluently from heaven you conceived, from that
in which the Lord of majesty hung on the gibbet of the cross,
up to the twilight of night in your soul
persevered.]" Which when had heard the devout woman,
filled she was with stupor and admiration; and blessed
the Lord Savior, who so copious a grace's
gift to his servant to bestow deigned.

Chapter XVIII.

[49] Two Clerics, [in age youths,] came
to the man of God, [Asked by 2 Clerics, about their conscience,] asking from him that he should say
to them, if anything there was within their conscience,
which reprehension worthy might be judged. To this
he; "Now," he said, "nothing I will answer you: go
to the nearest villa to speak to the Recluse, [who there dwells;]
and when you have returned to me, know
me to you about to answer." At once they, [having
the sign which he had said,] departed. But meanwhile
the blessed man prayed God more attentively, that to him something
about their state he might reveal, and was heard. On the same
therefore day toward evening, when they had returned;
one of them speaking to him apart, asked him,
saying: "Good Brother, what is that sin in
me, whence more reprehensible to be judged I am?"
Who answered him: "I tell you that in the present week
by confessing you vomited out a sin of this kind,
about which me you ask, [with this token, that
of this sin the penance not yet by work to fulfill you have begun.]" Which when had heard he, seeing that
caught he was, was astonished, and in this word
truthful to be the man of God asserted.

[50] [he admonishes one about the unfulfilled penance,] After this came also the other, to hear desiring
he too, what testimony about himself the marvelous man
would bear. But it was night. And said to him the man
of God: "My Brother, because it is pleasing to you,
that the state of your life by some manner of words I express;
I tell you, according to what your conscience
knows, that you somewhat outwardly with manners
honest religion simulate; but your heart restless
and wandering, with vain often [and enticing]
thoughts is defiled. [Sometimes also
to the little gatherings of religious women your corporally
you exhibit presence, [the other about a wanton conversation,] not that by their admonitions
you may beware for yourself of the snares of sins, and the life
of the good imitate; but that with the gracious gesture, which
in laughter and jokes to them outwardly familiarly you show,
either some of them to sin you allure, or at least
by look and thought a detriment of your soul
you suffer.] Know therefore foreknowing, that if outside
in the world you remain, made as a horse unbridled,
into the deep pit of sins you will be cast.
Go therefore and confess your sins, because
very to you necessary it is."

[51] [who both compunct become Religious,] Which heard, he, when to deny he could not,
those things which by the man of God were said, in mind confused
he was, and still much more outwardly [shamed
he would have been, because the man of God his eyes
on him had fixed] unless the darkness of night in this part
an obstacle to him had afforded. Comforting therefore
them the merciful man, and to the life of good men
to emulate, with salutary words corroborating, he dismissed
them in peace. But they, bidding farewell to him, departed;
and that to the monastic soldiery they might devote themselves,
to the Cistercian Order both together themselves transferred.
[If anyone perchance should marvel, why both here
and elsewhere the names of the persons, whom to our narration
we insert, in silence we pass over; let him acknowledge
without doubt this therefore to be done, lest, if they were published;
since as yet surviving
they are, perhaps with their own praises they be extolled, or even
on occasion of vituperation by shame be confounded.]

Chapter XIX.

[52] A certain woman, [Aleydis called,] dwelling
beside the grange of the house of Villers, [a girl offered to him, to be freed from a demon's nocturnal vexation, he foretells,] which Nova-curia
is called, a daughter had, [Clementia by name,]
whom a malign spirit, in nocturnal especially
hours infesting, to her sleep and bodily
rest altogether took away: [for it seemed to her,
that as if a cat under her clothes to her flesh creeping,
and upward up to her throat climbing, herself
with claws to lacerate, and with mouth biting, to suffocate
should [intend].] But the mother, grievously bearing the pitiable
of her daughter affliction, took that same [daughter]
with herself, and to the aforesaid grange set out,
because thither to have come the man of God she had known.
And causing him to be summoned to the gate,
and likewise the Master of the grange, [Gumbert
by name, from whose mouth the knowledge of this matter we learned,]
she recounted before them her daughter's discomfort;
beseeching earnestly the servant of the Lord, that
to her daughter, by his merits and prayers, to succor he would deign.
At once the blessed man, calling apart Br.
[Gumbert,] whispered into his ear all things,
which by the girl were to be done to obtain a cure;
charging her through that same [Brother], that in all
purity of heart she should confess her sins, and herself
in good simplicity keep, until on the day of the Purification
of the blessed Virgin Mary, from the hand of the Priest
in the Mass the Eucharist in hope of her salvation
she should receive: and he subjoined, asserting, that after the life-giving
reception of the Sacrament, no thereafter
infestation of the devil she would feel.

[53] [But it was around the feast of the Epiphany of the Lord,
when these things were done and said. [which on the said day was done.] Announced
therefore Br. Gumbert to the girl all in order,
which from the mouth of the man of God he had heard.] Which
when had heard she, glad was very, and all which
in the charge she had received, by work fulfilled, [awaiting
the promise in gladness and exultation of her heart.]
And when had dawned the day of the Purification of the blessed
Mother of the Lord, she went to the church, that
the sacred solemnities of the Mass she might attend. And when, the read
Gospel and offered according to custom the Candles, the Priest
the Canon had run through; and the "Agnus Dei" being said,
and the Peace being received, she the Body of the Lord from the hand
of that same Priest had received; comforted in
the Lord, according to her faith, from that day and
in the rest, perfectly from the mockery of the demon freed
she was. [But her mother, returned to Br. Gumbert,
joyful and praising, said to him: Dear
Master, render thanksgivings to omnipotent God and
his faithful servant, who by his merits and prayers
to my daughter a cure entire
from heaven obtained.]

Chapter XX.

[54] A certain Knight in many abounding [revenues
and] riches, [One thinking about founding a monastery;] thought a new [of his
things] to found monastery of women, who according
to the Cistercian Order in regular discipline
should be informed. Which while often in mind
he turned, where and how his thought by work
to fulfill he could; he began suddenly, from the oblique
dissuasion of certain persons, the purpose of his heart
to impede a certain doubtfulness, lest the good which
in heart he had conceived he should bring to effect. And when
in this manner the matter was in suspense, [to no one
anything thereof having spoken,] he came to the monastery
of Villers, counsel about this matter from the Lord
William the Abbot to seek. To whom when he had spoken,
he proceeded to the grange, that to the man of God
he might speak, and him also about this matter consult.
Whom when the man of God kindly had received, [he confirms him in his purpose, hitherto secret,]
and never one the other had seen; at once turned
to him that same man of God; "You," he said, "are
the Lord Aegidius [Bertold,] who about the building of a new
monastery to consult have come. Why a work,
worthy of heavenly blessing, [a work plainly with laudable
memory to be proclaimed,] do you make of nothing?
Be comforted in the Lord [and in the power of his virtue;]
and a monastery of Nuns, just as within,
in your heart first by will you conceived, so
by work outwardly fulfill: for I tell you, pleasing it is to the most blessed
Virgin Mother, and her will it is, that
you cause." Which hearing the Knight, and in his thought
by the man of God caught himself to be perceiving,
vehemently was astonished, [nothing at all having
which to him in reply he might answer.] At last by him
greatly comforted in Christ, [and so Vallis-Rosarum is built.] to his own [home] returned
he was: and, [lest perchance those, to whom this to know
were given, should mock him, saying; That this Knight
proposed in heart a monastery to build,
but outwardly by work was unwilling to consummate it,] the grace
heavenly his heart strengthening, a new he founded monastery
of the Cistercian Order, whose Vallis-rosarum [Valley of Roses]
the name is, where he caused to be gathered from another monastery
Nuns, who devout by days and
nights to the Lord should exhibit service.

[55] [Of two seeking the Monastic [life], one to be a partaker of his vow he foretells.] Two young men [lay,] of whom one was called
Lambert, the other Godfrey, coming
to the man of God, said to him, that they a will had conceived,
that [the world they should renounce, and] Villers
should enter the monastery, to the Lay Brothers'
convent to be associated, [asking, themselves by his prayers'
suffrages from the Lord to be strengthened.] To whom the man
of God answering, said: "You indeed, Lambert,
will not obtain what you desire, that among the Lay-brothers
of Villers you be reckoned; but you, Godfrey,
of long petition wearied by your insistence, long you will await
[and re-await,] but at last into a Lay-brother
of Villers you will be received." Which afterward of the matter
proved the outcome. For Lambert, [who to
is called, with his two brothers to set out
wished; that, because there with them received
he was, with them there in the garments of the Order he should be clothed,]
by death prevented, of his hope was frustrated:
[because neither in the Ripatorium, nor in the Villers
monastery a Lay-brother did he profess.] But Godfrey
[of the man of God's promise not distrusting,
both by his own prayers and others',] frequently to the Lord
Abbot William's knees falling, at last
of his petition obtained the effect, and in the House
which he had chosen, was received. He is [the blacksmith,
who up to today in the workshop nearest the monastery,
with the Brothers of the same art, dwells.]

[56] [There was a certain woman, who with a long-lasting
languor had been sick, a daughter having in life and manners
religious, who to her mother laboring with infirmity carefully
as much as she could ministered. A certain Monk,
[Consulted about a sick woman,] the girl's anxiety and fatigue compassionating,
and desiring her laborious solicitude,
which to her mother she exhibited, quickly to be finished, came to the aforesaid
man of God, and asked from him about the day of the death
of the aforesaid woman to be certified. To whom the man of the Lord,
prayer being premised answering; "Let it not be,
" he said, "to you a care, my Brother, for this kind
of business me to interpellate; [he reveals the cause of the disease that would last,] since necessary is to that same
woman that purgatorial languor, because
that of riches, unlawfully acquired it is established her to have been brought up.
" When this said the blessed man,
he knew not who was the girl and her mother: for the matter
that was revealed to him through revelation. Which when
had heard the Monk, was astonished: and returned from the man
of God, began diligently to inquire about the word which
he had heard: and learned that same woman with riches,
which from filthy had come gain, from her infant years
with all wantonness to have been nourished.

[57] It happened on a certain day, the memorable man
to come to the house of a certain woman, [and to another after a cured eye,]
Elisabeth by name, who timorous and faithful a daughter
had religious, on whose account the blessed man thither
had turned aside. And when to one another they conversed,
began that same woman, who indeed in age was
of her eye, with which she was troubled, she could be cured, or
not: for the pupil of her eye a white film in
great part had clouded. To whom he; "You will be cured,"
he said, "at last, O woman; with difficulty
however." Then she, because she knew him a man to be
of virtue and of holy conversation, added still
him to ask, in how many years surviving she would be in
this life. [the term of her life.] But he, not fully about this matter disclosing
to her the truth, when on the next day he had been carried back
from the grange, which near was, foretold,
her two for entire years in this life to remain
surviving, and within half afterward a year,
the term of this mortal life she would have.
Which so to have happened, the daughter of the aforesaid woman reporting,
we have learned.]

[58] A certain girl [religious,] Gertrude by name,
(so to say) in God enclosing, also a recluse-cell
of body outwardly to have desired:
but because poor she was, whence it to be built
she might cause she had not. And when on this account salutarily
she was saddened, she spoke to the man of God, and the will
which in mind she had conceived to him intimated;
[but in the proposed business, herself of all altogether help
destitute to be asserted.] Whom the man of God blandly consoling, no for this matter solicitude
to bear admonished, foretelling most certainly and asserting,
that in the process of time, without her expenses,
word, and for many days the promise awaited.
And when for the long-lasting expectation as if a certain
weariness of mind she sustained, now to the faithful
word of her promiser, now to the Lord's aid
diligently she had recourse. After at last days
many, the man of much charity and piety, to whom the desire
of the poor girl had become known, her business
to certain most rich persons brought; and
and brought back: from which, that the word of the man
of God might be fulfilled, a recluse-cell for her to be built he caused.
She obtained therefore the girl her vow, and up
to this day in the Bishopric of Cambrai
dwelling, from worldly tumults by a double, of heart and
of body recluse-cell is hidden; where the ineffable
delights of paradise foretasting, and amid of holy
love the arms sweetly resting, with joy
and exultation of heart the happy of her passing day
she awaits.

[59] [In the year 1226 he prophesies the schism,] [It must not also in silence be passed over,
what about the future state of time the holy man predicted.
In the year of the Lord one thousand two hundred
twenty-six, when as yet no mention was made
of that horrible schism, which arose
in the Church, nay against the Church, under the Emperor
Frederick; began the aforesaid man of God without
hesitation to certain persons openly to announce,
that within the coming decade very many wars and
many tribulations in the Church would be stirred up. But in the next
year, which was the second-to-last before his death,
began sinister rumors from the parts
overseas to be heard, namely that Frederick,
against the Lord Pope and the Church of the Lord, [to be stirred up the tenth year after by the Emperor Frederick.]
to rise up would try. What than this evil more cruel?
And who could report or write without grief of heart,
of how great evils the cause this
detestable schism was? Let therefore attend the prudent
reader, and think, and rethink the provident conjecturer
again, how many and how great things afterward happened;
how many and how great perhaps thereafter within the aforesaid
decade horrible evils may happen,
if after the prophetic word of the man of God,
so sudden and unhoped-for, from her protector
and his partisans, has suffered the Church tribulation.]

[60] [There are also many other things, according to the estimation
of certain persons, [and many other things here omitted.] which about this blessed man could
be related. But to our notice not yet
have they come. There are nevertheless also certain other things,
which although to our notice have come,
yet for the cause of brevity, passing over them, to insert
in our narration we have refused, the readers in this
part consulting, lest what to them might produce the heaped abundance a weariness.
For to whom for the information of his life
few things do not suffice, neither many perhaps would suffice.
We beseech therefore those, who the blessed
man with special before the rest familiarity loved,
that by no means grievously they bear, that some things,
which about him still to be written could,
in silence we have passed over: because, as says Severus Sulpicius
about his Martin, we believed it sufficient for the example
of the hearers, if only the more excellent things were noted.]
Thus far therefore the holy man's virtues and
revelations, and his other deeds or sayings, of praise
worthy, as we could having pursued, to his happy
passing to be described our hand to put we propose.

NOTES.

c Let no one
hence infer, Christ being already on the cross dead, the Crown of thorns to have been
imposed. Once he bore it in the house of Pilate, afterward the purple being laid aside, his own
clothes being put on (which, unless the crown also being removed, to be done could not)
never the same he resumed, whatever the painters modern feign, against
all ancient images of the Crucified.

the Nethe river, one from Mechelen mile, founded he teaches by Aegidius
Bertold, in the year 1227, a notable to this day Abbey of Nuns. There
about that Berthold's family, through Belgium most illustrious, many things he
and other writers Brabantine [say].


CHAPTER VII.

Arnulf's death; a Rhythmic Encomium and an Epitaph.

[61] When approached the time of his precious
death or falling-asleep in Christ,
he fell into a sickness, [Seized by a disease,] [which physicians a fever
call, because a certain heat through all the limbs
is diffused of the sick.] At once however he cast from
himself the instruments of his martyrdom, because the goad of his infirmity
which him vehemently straitened, other to his body
torments to be applied did not permit.
Never also in all his life, [nor even
in the days of this infirmity, [and thence, as was revealed, about to die,]] his God
to interpellate did he wish, that to him either the day
or time of his passing to reveal he would deign. But it was revealed
about a matter of this kind to a certain great
name Recluse, who around the festivity of Bl.
John the Baptist him from this world to migrate
foretold, [before that same with the aforesaid infirmity
he was seized.] For in this infirmity
so copious of grace droppings from heaven flowed down
into his heart, [and so vehemently with divine love's
wine his soul was inebriated,] that outwardly of his infirmity
wholly he forgot, with all of mind
panting desire to him, whom ardently in life
his he had loved. [little by little he fails,] And although from the fervor of the divine
love, no of heart or head [or of limbs]
pain himself to feel, he professed; growing
however the sickness, and from day to day him
more strongly than usual urging, began much the vigor
of his body to slacken. And when from the long duration
of fasting [and the infirmity's weight] greatly
he was weakened; as if more robust he were in body, to the Brothers
to him for solace appointed, [and to Monks
familiar to him,] sometimes to him coming,
cheerfully also up to the day of his death he spoke.
[But he caused sometimes to be brought to him the life-giving
of the Lord Body; [more often he communicates,] and from the hand of the Priest
it receiving, meanwhile in his soul, by the saving
virtue of the Sacrament, greatly he was comforted.]

[62] On a certain day, when one of the Monks the infirmary
had entered, to visit him; and had said
to him, that a Recluse, one of his familiar
[friends], [whom he designated by name,] grieved
and was anxious, because she feared, lest him
from that infirmity the way of all flesh to enter
should happen; he, as if indignant; "Far be it,"
he said, "far be this: for here longer to tarry I do not wish,
but to my God to go I desire." Why should he not to
his God to go desire, [who his God ferventy
had served, who his God's commandments had kept,]
who for the love of his God himself and all earthly things
had despised, who from the eternal delights of paradise
so long to be deferred sighed? [for the more
the eternal he knew, the more to act in this
exile's misery he grieved.]

[63] When again on a certain day another Monk,
in medicinal skill of the art instructed, [he exults at the announcement of death,] sat by him
and to one another they conversed; the man of the Lord, as
is the custom for the sick, to inquire began from him,
whether [from the infirmity by which he was held] to recover
he could, or not. The Monk however, lest the truth
to have kept silent afterward he be convicted, if
the quality of his infirmity according to his petition
to him he did not intimate, according to what from the veins'
pulse and the disease's quality to foreknow
he could, him not to escape, but to die foretold.
At which response at once the blessed man, from
joy of heart, his arms thrown around his neck, embraced
him; so that that same Monk before
the sitting-around sick was with shame suffused,
[ignorant that by such an embrace
was signified.] And smiling the man of God, said to him:
"Amen I say to you, my beloved, that never in
all my life, with such great love my heart dilated
has been to you, just as today; because
by a word of this kind, [a word, I say, not
desolatory, but greatly] consolatory, you have gladdened
my soul."

[64] [and it [his soul] placidly departs.] But when from day to day his passing
approached; on a certain day when he had risen from his bed,
and stood upon his feet, standing beside him
him supporting, of bodily strength began suddenly
to be destitute. And lo the magnificent man, at the same
hour, between the hands of the aforesaid Brother, his knees bent to the ground
and his head inclined, with a triple, at three of pauses
intervals, gently emitted breath, happily
migrated from the body: [and a hair-shirt being spread on the ground,
his venerable body upon it was placed:]
and the board of the dead being struck at once for him,
ran together the Convent of the Monks, who with solemn, with
God and his Saints, [The Body, carried into the church,] so departing pursued him
suffrage. And when his body, [washed
and placed in a bier] into the church had been carried,
the Monks around his body Psalms chanting,
night came on. [his hairs and teeth are taken away.] And when on that night
according to custom, Vigils by the Brothers around
the dead were kept; certain good thieves a part
of the hairs of his head, and seven nevertheless
teeth from his mouth snatching, for themselves, as if
for a token of his sanctity, kept. And when
had dawned the other day, which was the Octave of St. John
the Baptist, the Mass according to custom celebrated for him,
his holy body venerably to burial was given,
the Monks singing with high-sounding voices
the Antiphon; "Most clement God," [so that
very many of the bystanders even to tears were compuncted.]

[65] [He appears, as a boy, in a white and red garment.] But after his glorious death, the same
blessed man, to a certain handmaid of Christ in the form of a boy,
and with a garment partly snowy, partly purple
clothed, appeared. Whom when she asked,
who he was; he answered; "I am Br.
Arnulf, servant of Christ." Then she: "Why in the form
of a boy and a two-colored garment do you appear to me?" Who
said: "By this that a boyish I present face, to understand
you I wish, me among men living,
as a boy to have been [humble;] by the snowy
indeed of my garment color, me a clean
life to have led [and cleanness to have loved;] by the purple
indeed, the long-lasting, with effusion of blood,
of my body affliction acknowledge." These said
[from the face of the handmaid of Christ the blessed man] disappeared.
[But she the vision which she had seen to a certain Monk
of Villers manifested.]

[66] But again appeared the said man of the Lord
to a certain unlettered man, [He says he prays for a friend,] [but inwardly by the mastership
of the Paraclete Spirit instructed, whose name
is John; a man marvelously contemplative, to whom up to today
many are made revelations by the Lord;] and to him
which from the Lord as a reward he had received,
intimated: and adding; "Go," he said, "to James
the Priest, beloved and familiar to me
in Christ, and announce to him from me, that according to
what to him once I had promised, daily for
his salvation the Lord of Majesty to beseech I do not cease,
that from him mercy saving he may obtain."
He came therefore to the aforesaid Priest, announcing
to him the great and marvelous of the blessed
man's soul glorification, and the rest which from that same
blessed man he had known through revelation. But what but on the occasion of one thorny skin, which
the blessed man in his life bore, after his death
happened, briefly must be reported.

[67] On a certain day when the venerable Prioress of the
Thornbush place, [The iliac pains are put to flight,] Lucia by name, and two Nuns
with her, to the gate of the monastery of Villers had come;
the business being completed, for which thither they had come;
to the nearest of the monastery villa, which Villare
is called, proceeding; in a certain house, with
two there religious women they passed the night.
And it came to pass when they were there, it happened a girl
the servant, with a most grievous of the iliac passion bitterness
to be tortured, so that in the manner of one giving birth to cry out she was compelled.
Which seeing the aforesaid Nuns,
they had compassion on her, [by the touch of his thorny hair-shirt.] and said to one another; "Behold
we have here with us a particle of the thorny skin
of a hedgehog, which the man of the Lord Arnulf bore: let us apply
it to the place of pain, and let us try, whether
to rage cease the most sharp of the girl pains, or not."
Which when they had done, lo suddenly and unexpectedly,
they marveling, the pain all, with which the girl was tortured,
through the Lord's grace began to be annihilated.
But what is it necessary, that thereafter from the Lord through
his servant miracles to be done we should expect, when his whole
life in this world miraculous was, and his death
nevertheless, as we believe, in the sight of the Lord
precious.]

[68] In the year therefore of the incarnate Word one thousand two hundred
twenty-eight, [So died Arnulf in the year 1228, June 30.] [the man of the Lord Arnulf,
on account of the unusual martyrdom of his penance,
which to his body in manifold ways he inflicted, deservedly
of virtues and merits titles adorned,] on the day before
the Kalends of July, on the day namely of the commemoration
of blessed Paul the Apostle, on the sixth feria [Friday] about the hour
sixth, in which the Lord of majesty on the cross hung,
twenty-six years in the Cistercian Order
and about six months being completed, migrated from
this life, nay from this death to life, [from exile
to the homeland, where peace true is, which surpasses
all sense; peace upon peace, unfailing
exultation:] to which by his mercy his servant
he led, and us also at some time may he lead,
[preventing us in the blessing of sweetness] Jesus
Christ our Lord, [who came into this
world, that we may have life and more abundantly
may have it:] to whom is with the Father and the Holy Spirit
glory, honor, and dominion, through all ages
of ages. Amen.

VERSES
On his Conversation and death.

Arnulf, Lay-brother of the Cistercian Order at Villers in Belgium (B.)

A noble guest going forth from the body of death,
Into the homeland returned, to the joys of his first lot:
Who fervent in spirit, while he endured hard things, strong,
Of the fraternal cohort deserved to bear the standard.

His life was bright with the lamp of merits;
Which to himself honeyed, to most seems bitter:
Who, a devout man, to the Lord was a dear victim,
While to Christ wholly he was offered on the altar of the cross.

Praise to you, highest God, because our Martyr the contests
Endured unwonted, that to him new rewards you give.
The instruments of the cross, which he endured, astonishing
To human minds, by no one I think are to be borne.

And deservedly: since the new passion terrifies all,
Whom with oil, King Christ, with yours he does not find anointed.
Many with the divine are anointed with chrism, but
Anyone for so great miracles I see slow [unfit].

There are also contestants strong, but stronger this one
Persisted in Christ: because grace greater in this one.
To this one therefore the Martyr's crown is owed by right,
Whose to good-pleasure with the mind was the flesh prone.

Come now, let us lament the one taken from us, beloved
To the world, person; not because without end a crown
He takes, sublime, from Christ, but because in the depths
After himself us wretches he left, the most strong hero.

You too, who to the Saint owe mindful love,
Lament the just one from you too quickly withdrawn;
Lament the devout one, to you in each [thing] known;
Lament after his course the runner, lament again,
Lament with a tear, that the iron file of death
This one filed away, and the filed one the earth devoured.

But he who in flesh fell, this [flesh] by death's scythe cutting,
Lives now in soul better, than he had lived before.

ENCOMIASTIC EPITAPH OF BLESSED ARNULF,
By the Author Francis Moschus.

Arnulf, Lay-brother of the Cistercian Order at Villers in Belgium (B.)

Arnulf under this polished marble
Takes his sleep, secure awaiting the day,
On which by the trumpet's clangor he will be roused,
About to take the crown of eternal glory.

An ascetic he stood out illustrious in virtues,
Of Christ bearing branded on his flesh the stigmata;
Manners upright, continual prayers, a voice gentler;
Shone a faith plainly orthodox, a sure hope,
And of God fervent charity and of neighbor.

To all serene, courteous, and affable;
To himself severe, to his body indulging nothing.
No day saw him moved, nor with harsh
Words speaking or threatening:
For Christ had to him with honeyed sweetness
And unction his spirit filled.

With rods his flesh frequently most dire
He tamed, even to an abundance of gore.
Nay a little bed of horrid holly he had spread,
Sleep putting to flight, his body ruling, to God singing.

"Why to your (a Colleague said someone)
Friend, death do you bring to your wretched little body?"
"Sin," he said, "not the body I extinguish with scourges."
While thus pleasures severe he renounces,
Conquered is the flesh with the demon and the world.
Rejoices in his trophy the victorious Athlete.

God enriches with the highest gift his client,
And with the prophetic blesses his mind with spirit,
The arcane granting to obtain heavenly.
And now of the blessed and everlasting gift
Of life to enjoy it is given to the proven soldier;
Where of golden peace he obtains the fruits,
And of light pure, which darkness knows not.

Arnulf, us from the citadel languid help,
Who by the mass of crimes overwhelmed are submerged;
That from of evils the bonds vindicated,
One God and triune we may enjoy perpetually.
