Vita Operaque [Ex Libro Dialogorum Sancti Gregorii Magni Excerpta] / Prolegomena

In the year of the Lord 543. Saint Father Benedict, head and protector of all the monks of the West.

PROLEGOMENA.

The Life of Saint Benedict

(Excerpted from the second book of the Dialogues of Saint Gregory the Great)

In the year of the Lord 543. Saint Father Benedict, head and protector of all the monks of the West.

PROLEGOMENA.

The Life of Saint Benedict

(Excerpted from the second book of the Dialogues of Saint Gregory the Great)

There was a man of venerable life, blessed both by grace and by name, who from the very time of his boyhood bore a senile heart. For passing through his years with the manners of an elder, he gave his mind to no pleasure; but while he was still on this earth, and could have freely enjoyed things temporal, he already despised the world with its flower as though it were dry. Born of a freer stock from the province of Nursia, he had been handed over at Rome to the liberal studies of letters. But when he saw many in them going through the steep places of vices, he drew back the foot he had, as it were, set at the very entrance of the world, lest if he touched anything of their knowledge, he too should afterward go wholly headlong into a monstrous precipice. And so, despising the studies of letters, leaving his home and his father's goods, desiring to please God alone, he sought the habit of a holy manner of life. He therefore withdrew, knowingly ignorant and wisely unlearned.

I did not learn all his deeds, but I have come to know the few things I relate from the account of four of his disciples: namely Constantine, a man of great reverence, who succeeded him in the governance of the monastery; Valentinian also, who for many years presided over the Lateran monastery; Simplicius, who after him was the third to rule his congregation; and Honoratus, who even now is in charge of the cell in which he had formerly lived.

CHAPTER ONE

Concerning the Repair of a Broken Sieve

And so, when he had already abandoned his literary studies and had resolved to withdraw into the wilderness, his nurse, who loved him very dearly, followed him alone. And when he had come to the place which is called Enfide, and while many honorable men detained him there by their affection, and they were staying in the church of the blessed apostle Peter, the aforesaid nurse of his asked the neighboring women to lend her a sieve for cleaning wheat. This was left carelessly upon a table and by chance fell and was broken, so that it was found split into two parts. When his nurse soon returned and found it so, she began to weep most bitterly, because the vessel she had received on loan was broken.

But Benedict, a religious and pious boy, when he saw his nurse weeping, was moved with compassion for her grief, and taking with him both parts of the broken vessel, gave himself to prayer with tears. Rising from prayer, he found the vessel beside him so whole that no trace of a break could be found in it. Then, gently consoling his nurse, he returned to her the vessel whole, which he had carried away broken. This matter was recognized by all in that place and held in such great admiration that the inhabitants of that place hung this very vessel at the entrance of the church, so that all present and future might know from what perfection of conduct the boy Benedict had begun the grace of his way of life. It was there before the eyes of all for many years, and remained hanging above the doors of the church even into these times of the Lombards. But Benedict, desiring more to endure the evils of the world than its praises, and more to be wearied with labors for God than to be extolled by the favors of this life, secretly fled his nurse and sought the seclusion of a desert place whose name is Sublacus, which, distant about forty miles from the city of Rome, sends forth cold and clear waters. That abundance of water is gathered there in a broad lake and finally is channeled into a river. As he was going there in flight, a certain Roman monk by name found him on the way and asked where he was heading.

When he had learned of his desire, he both kept the secret and gave him assistance, handing over to him the habit of a holy manner of life and ministering to him as far as he was permitted. But the man of God, arriving at that same place, gave himself over to a very narrow cave, and for three years, except for the monk Romanus, remained unknown to men; this Romanus, of course, lived not far away in a monastery under the rule of the father Adeodatus. But piously he stole away the hours from the eyes of his own father, and the bread that he could steal away for himself to eat, on certain days he brought to Benedict. Yet there was no path to that same cave from the cell of Romanus, because a lofty cliff rose up above it; but from that same cliff Romanus was accustomed to lower bread tied to a very long rope; on this rope he also inserted a small bell, so that at the sound of the bell the man of God might know when Romanus was offering him bread, which going out he would receive. But the ancient enemy, envying the charity of the one and the refreshment of the other, when one day he saw the bread being lowered, threw a stone and broke the bell. Romanus, however, did not cease to minister in fitting ways.

But when God Almighty now wished both that the Roman [world] rest from its labor and that Benedict's life be shown to men as an example, so that the lamp placed upon the lampstand might shine forth and give light to all who are in the house of God, the Lord deigned to appear in a vision to a certain presbyter who was staying some distance away and who had prepared a meal for himself for the Paschal festival, saying: You prepare delicacies for yourself, and my servant is being tormented by hunger in that place. He rose at once, and on that very Paschal solemnity, with the food he had prepared for himself, he set out for the place, and he sought the man of God through steep mountains, through hollow valleys, through dug-out places of the earth, and found him lying hidden in a cave. And when prayer had been made and they had sat down blessing the Lord Almighty, after sweet conversation about the life [of the spirit], the presbyter who had come said: Rise, let us take food, for today is Pascha. The man of God answered him, saying: I know that it is Pascha, because I have been worthy to see you. For being placed far from men, he did not know that the Paschal solemnity was on that same day. But the venerable presbyter again asserted, saying: Truly today is the Paschal day of the Lord's Resurrection; it is not at all fitting for you to abstain, since I too have been sent for this, that we may together take the gifts of God Almighty. Therefore, blessing the Lord, they took food. And so, when the meal and the conversation were finished, the presbyter withdrew to the church.

At that same time, shepherds also found him hiding in this cave. When they saw him clothed in skins among the thickets, they thought he was some kind of beast; but recognizing him as a servant of God, many of them were changed from a beastly mind to the grace of piety. And so his name became known to all through the neighboring places, and it came about that from that time onward he began to be visited by many, who, while they brought food for his body, carried back from his mouth nourishment of life in their own breast.

CHAPTER II.

On the temptation of the flesh overcome.

One day, moreover, when he was alone, the tempter was present. For a small black bird, which is commonly called a blackbird, began to flutter around his face and importunately press upon his countenance, so that it could be caught by hand if the holy man had wished to take it; but when the sign of the cross was made, the bird withdrew. Yet so great a temptation of the flesh followed when that bird departed as the holy man had never experienced. For he had once seen a certain woman, whom the malignant spirit brought back before the eyes of his mind; and with such fire did he kindle the soul of the servant of God at the sight of her that the flame of love was scarcely contained within his breast, and he was now even deliberating to abandon the desert, overcome by pleasure.

But suddenly, looked upon by supernal grace, he came back to himself, and seeing that nettles and briars grew thickly together in the dense thickets nearby, he stripped off his garment and threw himself naked among those sharp thorns and the burning nettles; and there, rolling about for a long time, he came out with his whole body wounded by them, and by the wounds inflicted on his body he drew out the wound of his mind from his body, because he turned pleasure into pain. And when he burned well with pain outwardly, he extinguished what was burning unlawfully within. Thus he conquered sin, because he changed the fire. From that time, indeed, as he himself later told his disciples, the temptation of pleasure was so subdued in him that he felt nothing of the kind in himself at all. Afterwards many began to leave the world and hasten to his teaching. For, being free from the vice of temptation, he was now rightly made a teacher of virtues. Hence it is also commanded through Moses (Num. 8 ff.) that the Levites should minister from twenty-five years old and above, but from the fiftieth year let them be guardians of the vessels. Peter: Now indeed some understanding of the testimony just cited shines through to me, but nevertheless I ask that this be explained more fully. Gregory: It is clear, Peter, that in youth the temptation of the flesh burns, but from the fiftieth year the heat of the body grows cold; and the sacred vessels are the minds of the faithful.

When the elect are still in temptation, they must needs be subject and serve, and be wearied with attentions and labors; but when the calm age of the mind has come and the heat of temptation has receded, they are keepers of the vessels, because they become teachers of souls. Peter: I confess, what you say pleases me; but since you have unlocked the enclosures of the testimony brought forth, I ask that you run through those things which have been begun concerning the life of the just man.

CHAPTER III.

Concerning the glass vessel broken by the sign of the cross.

Gregory. When temptation therefore receded, the man of God, as if the thorns had been uprooted and the earth cultivated, gave fruit more abundantly from the crop of virtues. And so by the renown of his exceptional manner of life his name was held famous. Now not far away was a monastery whose father had died, and the whole congregation from it came to the same venerable Benedict and with great entreaties asked that he should preside over them. He put them off for a long time by refusing, and foretold that he could not suit the customs of them and of their brothers; but at length, overcome by their entreaties, he gave assent. And when in that same monastery he kept the guard of the regular life, and it was permitted to no one, as before, through illicit acts to turn aside to the right or left from the path of conversation; I. Hist. c.: they send back Augustine, who might obtain from Blessed Gregory that they should not have to undertake so dangerous a pilgrimage. In the privilege of Pope Adeodatus granted to the monastery of Saint Martin of Tours: with suppliant voice he prayed that the privilege...

We ought to grant him this, that is, we would grant it, Tom. I of the Councils of Gaul, p. (??)07. In a similar manner are read in Book XXIII of the Morals, formerly chapter 6, now 11, no. 21, and they are cited by Paterius in the book on Numbers. The brothers who had been received, raging insanely, first compelled themselves to accuse themselves, because they had demanded that this man be set over them: whose crookedness, namely, was offended by the norm of his uprightness. And when they saw that unlawful things were not permitted to them under him, and grieved that they were leaving behind their accustomed ways, and it was hard that in their old mind they were compelled to meditate on new things—just as the life of the good is always burdensome to depraved habits—some attempted to deal with his death, who, having entered into counsel, mixed poison with wine. And when the glass vessel in which that pestilential drink was held had been offered, according to the custom of the monastery, to the Father as he reclined, to be blessed, Benedict stretched out his hand and made the sign of the cross, and by that same sign shattered the vessel, which was held at a distance: and so it was broken, as if in that vessel of death he had given a stone in place of the cross. The man of God understood at once that the drink of death had had what the sign of life could not bear: and immediately he rose, and with a placid countenance and a tranquil mind he addressed the brothers who had been summoned, saying: May almighty God have mercy on you, brothers; why did you wish to do these things to me? Did I not tell you beforehand that I was known to you, that it would by no means be fitting between your ways and mine?

Go, and according to your own customs seek a father for yourselves, for hereafter you cannot have me. And then he returned to the place of his beloved solitude, and alone he dwelt with himself in the eyes of the heavenly spectator.

Peter: I understand plainly, father, what this is: "He dwelt with himself."

Gregory: If the holy man had wished to keep under his authority for a long time those who conspired unanimously against him and were far unlike his own manner of life, perhaps he would have exceeded the use and measure of his own strength and tranquility, and would have turned the eye of his mind away from the light of contemplation. And while, wearied daily by their incorrigibility, he cared less for his own concerns, he might perhaps have abandoned himself and not found them. For as often as through the movement of thought we are drawn too far outside ourselves, we both are ourselves and are not with ourselves, because, seeing ourselves least of all, we wander through other things. Or do we say that he was with himself, who went into a far country, spent the portion he had received, and joined himself to one of the citizens of that region, etc.? And almost at the end of the chapter: Why then should the holy man stand to be guarded, who saw all men unanimously persecuting him? But perhaps not all were aware of the poison infused in the wine. He clung to the citizens, he fed the pigs, which he also saw eating husks, and he hungered; yet when he afterward began to think of the good things he had lost, it is written of him: Returning to himself, he said: How many hired servants in my father's house abound with bread (Luke 15:17)!

If, then, he was with himself, how did he return to himself? I would say, therefore, that this venerable man dwelt with himself, because, always circumspect in his own keeping, always seeing himself before the eyes of the Creator, always examining himself, he did not let the eye of his mind wander outside himself.

Peter: What then of what is written about the apostle Peter, when he had been led out of prison by the angel? "And coming to himself, he said: Now I know truly that the Lord sent his angel, and delivered me from the hand of Herod, and from all the expectation of the people of the Jews" (Acts 12:11).

Gregory: In two ways, Peter, are we led outside ourselves: either through the lapse of thought we fall back beneath ourselves, or through the grace of contemplation we are lifted up above ourselves. So he who fed the pigs fell beneath himself through the wandering and uncleanness of his mind; but he whom the angel released, and whose mind he carried into ecstasy, was indeed outside himself, but above himself. Both, then, returned to themselves: the one when he gathered himself from the error of his deed back to his heart, and the other when he returned from the height of contemplation to that which he had been in common understanding before. The venerable Benedict, therefore, dwelt with himself in that solitude, insofar as he kept himself within the cloister of his thought; for as often as the ardor of contemplation carried him on high, he without doubt left himself beneath himself.

Peter: What you say pleases me; but I ask you to answer whether he ought to have deserted the brothers whom he had once undertaken to care for.

Gregory: As I, Peter, judge, the wicked are to be borne with equanimity where they are gathered together, where some good people are found who may be helped. For where the fruit from good people is entirely lacking, the labor spent on the wicked sometimes becomes superfluous; especially if from nearby there are causes at hand that can bear better fruit for God. And so, for the sake of keeping whom would that holy man have stood his ground, when he saw all men unanimously persecuting him? And it is often considered in the mind of the perfect (which must not be passed over in silence), that when they consider their labor to be without fruit, they migrate to another place for labor with fruit. Hence that distinguished preacher also, who desires to be dissolved and to be with Christ, for whom to live is Christ and to die is gain (Phil 1:23), who not only himself sought out the contests of sufferings, but also inflamed others to endure them—having suffered persecution at Damascus, in order that he might escape, he sought a wall, a rope, and a basket (Acts 9), and wished to be let down secretly. Do we say that Paul feared death, which he himself testifies that he seeks out of love for Jesus (2 Cor 11:22)? But when he perceived that in the same place there was less fruit for him and heavy labor, he preserved himself for labor elsewhere with fruit. For a strong warrior of God did not wish to be held within the cloister; he sought the field of contest.

Hence also the venerable Benedict, if you willingly listen, you will quickly recognize that he did not desert as many unteachable men as he raised from the death of the soul in other places.

Peter: That it is so, as you teach, both manifest reason and the fitting testimony brought forward declare. But I ask that you return to the order of the narrative concerning the life of so great a Father.

Gregory: When the holy man had long grown strong in virtues and signs in that solitude, many were gathered to the service of Almighty God by him in the same place, so that there, with the help of Almighty Jesus Christ the Lord, he built twelve monasteries, in which, with Fathers appointed, he assigned twelve monks each; but he kept a few with himself, whom he judged were still to be more fittingly instructed in his presence. Then also the nobles and religious of the city of Rome began to flock to him and to give him their sons to be nurtured for Almighty God. Then too Equitius handed over Maurus, his offspring of good hope, and the patrician Tertullus handed over Placidus; of these, Maurus, the younger, since he excelled in good morals, began to be the assistant of the master; but Placidus was still of boyish years.

CHAPTER IV.

Concerning a monk of wandering mind, brought back to salvation.

In one of the monasteries, moreover, which he had built round about, there was a certain monk who could not stand at prayer, but as soon as the brothers had bowed themselves to the study of prayer, he himself went out of doors, and with a wandering mind occupied himself with certain earthly and transitory things. And when he had been admonished rather often by his abbot, he was brought to the man of God, who himself also sharply rebuked his folly, and he returned to the monastery. For scarcely two days did he hold to the man of God's admonition; for on the third day, having returned to his own habit, he began to wander about at the time of prayer. And when this had been reported to the servant of God by the same father of the monastery whom he had appointed, he said: I will come, and I will heal him by myself. And when the man of God had come to the same monastery, and the appointed hour had come, and the psalmody was finished and the brothers had given themselves to prayer, he saw that a certain little black boy was dragging that same monk, who could not remain in prayer, out by the fringe of his garment. Then to the same father of the monastery, by name Pompeianus, and to Maurus, the servant of God, he said in secret: Do you not see who it is that drags this monk outside? And they answered and said: No. To whom he said: Let us pray that you also may see whom this monk follows. And when prayer had been made for two days, the monk Maurus saw; but Pompeianus, the father of the same monastery, could not see. On another day, therefore.

When the prayer was finished, the man of God came out of the oratory and found the monk standing outside, whom he struck with a rod because of the blindness of his heart. From that day onward he endured no further persuasion from the now-blackened boy, but remained immovable in his zeal for prayer; and so the ancient enemy did not dare to lord it over his thoughts, as if he himself had been struck by the blow.

CHAPTER V.

Concerning the water brought forth from the rock at the summit of the mountain by the prayer of the man of God.

Now from the monasteries which he had built in that same place, three were situated up among the rocks of the mountain, and it was very laborious for the brothers always to descend to the lake so that they might draw water, especially because on the sloping side of the mountain there was a grave danger for those descending in fear. Then the brothers, gathered from those same three monasteries, came to Benedict, the servant of God, saying: It is laborious for us to descend daily all the way to the lake because of the water, and for this reason it is necessary that the monasteries be moved from that place. He dismissed them, consoling them gently, and on that same night with a little boy named Placidus, of whom I made mention above, he ascended the rock of that mountain, and there he prayed for a long time. And when the prayer was finished, he placed three stones in that same place as a sign, and returned to his monastery with all there knowing nothing of it.

And when on another day the aforesaid brothers had come to him because of the need for water, he said: Go, and hollow out a little that rock in which you will find three stones placed one upon another; for almighty God is able even on that mountain peak to produce water, so that he may deign to take away from you the labor of so great a journey. And going, they found the rock of the mountain which Benedict had foretold already sweating. And when they had made a hollow place in it, it was immediately filled with water, which flowed so abundantly that even now it pours forth copiously and is channeled from that mountain peak down to the lower parts.

CHAPTER VI.

Concerning the iron that returned from the depths of the water to its handle.

At another time also a certain Goth, poor in spirit, came to conversion; and Benedict, the man of God, received him most willingly. But on a certain day he ordered a tool to be given to him, which, resembling a sickle, is called a falcastrum, so that he might cut away the briars from a certain place, in order that a garden might be made there. Now that place itself, which the Goth had undertaken to clear, lay upon the very bank of the lake. And when the same Goth with the utmost effort of all his strength was cutting down the density of the briars, the iron sprang from the handle and fell into the lake, where of course the depth of the waters was so great that there was no longer any hope of recovering the tool. And so, having lost the iron, the Goth ran trembling to the monk Maurus: he announced the loss he had caused, and did penance for his guilt.

That Maurus the monk also soon took care to judge for Benedict the servant of God. Therefore the man of the Lord, Benedict, hearing these things, came to the lake; he took the handle of the goad in his hand and threw it into the lake; and immediately the iron came back from the depths and entered the handle. He at once returned the iron tool to the Goth, saying: Behold, work, and do not be sad.

CHAPTER VII.

Concerning Maurus his disciple, who walked upon the waters.

On a certain day, moreover, while the same venerable Benedict was staying in his cell, the aforesaid Placidus, a boy and monk of the holy man, went out to draw water from the lake; and as he carelessly lowered the vessel he had held into the water, he too followed by falling in. The wave at once seized him and drew him almost a bowshot's distance from the land into the water. But the man of God, situated within the cell, immediately perceived this and called Maurus in haste, saying: Brother Maurus, run, because that boy who went to draw water has fallen into the lake, and already the wave is drawing him farther away. A wondrous thing, and unheard of after the apostle Peter. For when the blessing had been sought and received, Maurus, hastening at the command of his father, went; and all the way to the place where the boy was being carried by the wave, thinking that he was walking on land, he ran upon the water, and seized him by the hair, and returned also with swift course.

As soon as he touched the ground, coming to himself he looked back, and recognized that he had run over the waters, and marveling he trembled at the deed, which he had not presumed could happen. Returning therefore to the Father, he reported what had been done. But the venerable man Benedict began to attribute this not to his own merits but to that one's obedience. And on the contrary Maurus said it was done solely by his command, and that he had no part in that power, which he had exercised without knowing it. But into this friendly contention of mutual humility came as arbiter the boy who had been rescued; for he said: When I was being drawn out of the water, I saw the abbot's cloak over my head, and I perceived that he himself was leading me out of the waters.

Peter: Very great are the things you tell, and they will profit many for edification; but the more I drink of the miracles of the good man, the more I thirst.

CHAPTER VIII.

Concerning the bread infected with poison, cast far away by a raven.

Gregory. When already those same places far and wide were growing warm with love for the Lord our God, Jesus Christ, many were leaving the secular life and subduing the neck of their heart under the gentle yoke of the Redeemer, as it is the custom of the wicked to envy in others the good of virtue that they themselves do not desire to have, a neighboring priest, Florentius by name, the grandfather of this Florentius our subdeacon, struck by the malice of the ancient enemy, began to rival the holy man's endeavors and to disparage his manner of life, and to restrain whomever he could from visiting him. And when he already saw that he could not oppose his advances, and that the reputation of his manner of life was growing, and that many were being unceasingly called to a better state of life by the very proclamation of his reputation, inflamed more and more by the torches of envy, he became worse, because he desired to have the praise of that manner of life, but did not wish to have a praiseworthy life. Blinded by the darkness of this same envy, he was brought to such a point that he sent to the servant of almighty God a bread infected with poison, as though for a blessing. The man of God received it with thanksgiving, but the plague that lurked in the bread did not lie hidden from him. At the hour of his refreshment, a raven had been accustomed to come from a neighboring wood and to receive bread from his hand.

When he had come in the usual manner, the man of God threw before the crow the bread that the priest had sent, and commanded it, saying: In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, take up this bread, and cast it in such a place where it can be found by no man. Then the crow, with open beak and spread wings, began to run about around that same bread, to caw, as if plainly saying that it wished to obey, and yet could not fulfill the commands. The man of the Lord commanded it again and again, saying: Take it up, take it up without fear, and cast it there where it cannot be found. After delaying a long while, the crow at last bit it, lifted it, and withdrew. But after the space of three hours, having cast away the bread, it returned, and from the hand of the man of God it received the ration it was accustomed to. But the venerable Father, seeing the priest's mind burning against his life, grieved more for him than for himself. Yet the aforesaid Florentius, because he could not kill the master's body, kindled himself to extinguish the souls of the disciples: so that in the entrance of the cell in which Benedict was, he sent seven naked girls before their eyes, who, holding each other's hands before them and playing for a long while, inflamed their minds to the perversity of lust.

Seeing this from his cell, and fearing for the still rather young disciples who had fallen, and reflecting that it was being done for the sake of persecuting him alone, the holy man gave place to envy, and having appointed superiors and joined brothers, he set in order all the oratories he had built, and taking a few monks with him, he changed his place of dwelling. And as soon as the man of God had humbly avoided his hatred, almighty God struck him terribly. For when the aforesaid priest, standing in an upper room, learned that Benedict had departed and exulted, while the whole structure of the house remained immovably firm, that very upper room in which he stood fell, and crushing the enemy of Benedict, destroyed him. The man of God's disciple, named Maurus, immediately thought this should be reported to the venerable father Benedict, who was still scarcely ten miles away from that place, saying: Turn back, for the priest who was persecuting you is dead. Hearing this, the man of God Benedict gave himself over to heavy lamentations, either because the enemy had fallen, or because the disciple had rejoiced over the enemy's death. From this it came about that he also imposed penance on that same disciple, because by reporting such things he had presumed to rejoice over the enemy's destruction.

Peter, the things you say are marvelous and greatly to be wondered at. For in the water brought forth from the rock I see Moses (Num. 20); in the iron that returned from the depths of the water, Elisha (2 Kings 6:7); in the walking upon the water, Peter (Matt. 14:29); in the obedience of the raven, Elijah (1 Kings 17:6); and in mourning the death of an enemy, I see David (2 Sam. 1:11; 18:33). As I weigh it, this man was filled with the spirit of all the righteous.

Gregory: Peter, the man of God Benedict had the spirit of the one God who through the grace of the redemption he granted filled the hearts of all the elect, of whom John says: He was the true light which enlightens every man coming into this world (John 1:9). Of whom again it is written: Of his fullness we have all received (ibid., 16). For the holy men of God were able to have virtues from the Lord, but not also to hand them on to others. But he gave signs of power to his subjects who promised that he would give a sign of Jonah to his enemies (Matt. 12:39): so that he deigned to die before the proud and to rise again before the humble, so that both might see what they despised, and these what, venerating, they ought to have loved. From which mystery it came about that while the proud in time of health used to bask in the sun's grace. Hence it is called by the sun in Greek. They look upon the contempt of death, the humble on the other hand received glory of power against death.

Peter: I ask you, after these things, make known to me to which places the holy man migrated, or whether he afterward showed any miracles in them.

Gregory: When the holy man moved to other places, he did not change his enemy. For afterward he endured battles all the more severe, in proportion as he found the very master of malice openly fighting against him. For the fortress called Cassinum is situated on the slope of a high mountain; that mountain, indeed, with its spreading fold receives this same fortress, but rising three thousand feet into the air, it stretches its summit, as it were, toward the sky. There was formerly a most ancient shrine, in which, according to the ancient custom of the gentiles, Apollo was worshiped by the foolish rustic populace. And all around, groves had grown up for the worship of demons, in which even at that time the insane multitude of the faithless toiled at sacrilegious sacrifices. Thither, therefore, the man of God came, and he shattered the idol, overturned the altar, set fire to the groves, and in the very temple of Apollo, or rather at the oracle of the blessed Martin, and where the altar of the same Apollo had been, he built an oracle of Saint John, and he called the multitude dwelling all around to the faith by continuous preaching. But the ancient enemy, not bearing these things in silence, thrust himself upon the eyes of the same Father not secretly or through a dream, but in open vision, and with great cries complained that he was suffering violence, so that even the brothers heard his voices, although they could not at all perceive his image.

For, as the venerable Father used to tell his disciples, that same ancient and most foul enemy, all inflamed, appeared to his bodily eyes, and seemed to rage against him with flaming mouth and eyes. Moreover, all could hear what he said, for first he called him by name. And when the man of God did not answer him in the least, he immediately burst forth into insults against him. For when he cried out, saying, "Benedict, Benedict," and saw that he in no way answered him, he straightway added, "Cursed one, not blessed one, what have you to do with me? Why do you persecute me?" But now we must consider the new contests of the ancient enemy against the servant of God, contests which he brought against him willingly indeed, but by which he furnished occasions of victory against his will.

CHAPTER IX.

Concerning the enormous stone lifted up through the prayer of the man of God.

On a certain day, while the brothers were building the dwellings of that same cell, a stone lay in the midst which they had decided to raise for the building. And when two or three could not move it, more were joined to them, but it remained so immovable as if it were held fast in the earth by its roots, so that it might be plainly understood that the ancient enemy himself was sitting upon it, whom the hands of so many men could not move. When difficulty therefore arose, a message was sent to the man of God that he should come and by praying drive away the enemy, so that they could lift the stone. He came at once, and making a prayer gave a blessing, and the stone was lifted with such speed as if it had previously had no weight at all.

CHAPTER X.

Concerning the phantom fire in the kitchen.

Then it pleased the man of God that they should dig the earth in that same place. While they were digging deeper, the brothers found there a bronze idol. When by chance it had been thrown into the kitchen for a time, fire suddenly seemed to come forth, and it showed itself in the eyes of all the monks as though the whole building of that kitchen were being consumed. And when, by throwing water and making a din as if extinguishing the fire, they raised a commotion, the man of God, roused by that same tumult, came. He, considering that the fire was in the eyes of the brothers but not in his own, immediately bowed his head in prayer, and recalling the brothers who were being deluded by a phantom illusion, he warned them to sign their eyes, so that they might both perceive that the sound building of the kitchen was standing, and not see the flames that the ancient enemy had feigned.

CHAPTER XI.

Concerning the little monk crushed by the collapse of a wall, and healed by his prayer.

Again, while the brothers were building a wall a little higher, as the situation required, the man of God was staying within the enclosure of his cell in the pursuit of prayer. The ancient enemy appeared to him in mockery and told him to go to the brothers who were laboring. The man of God indicated this to the brothers as quickly as possible through a messenger, saying: Brothers, be on your guard, because at this hour the evil spirit is coming to you. The one who carried the message had scarcely finished speaking when the evil spirit overturned the same wall that was being built, and crushing a little boy, a monk, the son of a certain court official, in the collapse... All were saddened and severely afflicted, not by the loss of the wall but by the injury to their brother, and they hastened to report it quickly to the venerable Father Benedict with deep mourning. Then the same Father Benedict ordered the mangled boy to be brought to him. They carried him only on a blanket... because the fallen stones of the wall had crushed not only his limbs but even his bones. And the man of God immediately ordered him to be laid down in his cell on the mat, which is commonly called a rush mat, where he was accustomed to pray, and when the brothers had been sent outside, he closed the cell; and he applied himself to prayer more earnestly than usual. A wondrous thing: in that same hour he sent him back safe and sound, and as strong as before, to the same labor, so that he too might finish the wall with the brothers—the wall concerning whose death the ancient enemy had believed he was mocking Benedict.

CHAPTER XII.

Concerning the monks who ate outside their cell.

But amid these things the man of God began to flourish also in the spirit of prophecy, to foretell things to come, and to announce absent things to those present. For it was the custom of the cell that, whenever the brothers went out for some reply, they should by no means take food or drink outside the cell. And while this was carefully observed according to the rule, on a certain day the brothers went out for a reply and were compelled to delay until a later hour. They knew that they were to stay near a certain religious woman, and having entered her dwelling they took food. And when they had returned rather late to the cell, they asked the Father's blessing according to custom. He at once questioned them, saying: Where did you eat? They answered: Nowhere. And he said to them: Why do you lie so? Did you not enter the dwelling of that woman? Did you not receive these and those foods? Did you not drink so many cups? And when the venerable Father told them both the woman's lodging and the kinds of food and the number of drinks, recognizing all that they had done, they fell trembling at his feet and confessed that they had done wrong. But he at once pardoned the fault, considering that in his absence they would do so no more, since they knew that he was present with them in spirit.

CHAPTER XIII.

Concerning the brother of the monk Valentinian, whom the man of God knew to have eaten on the way.

The brother also of his monk Valentinian, whose memory I made above, was a layman, but a religious man. In order to receive the prayer of the servant of God and to see his own brother, he had been accustomed each year to come fasting from his own place to his cell. Therefore on a certain day, while he was making his journey to the monastery, another traveler joined himself to him, who was carrying food to be taken on the journey. And when the hour had already grown rather late, he said: Come, brother, let us take food, lest we grow weary on the way. To whom he replied: Far be it, brother, that I should do this, because I have always been accustomed to come fasting to the venerable Father Benedict. Having received this answer, for a time his fellow traveler was silent. But when after this they had covered a little space of the journey, he again urged that they should eat. He who had determined to arrive fasting was unwilling to consent. Indeed, he who had invited him to eat fell silent, and for a little while consented to continue still fasting with him. And when they were making the journey longer, and the rather late hour was wearying them as they walked, they found on the way a meadow and a spring, and whatever things could seem delightful for refreshing the body. Then the fellow traveler said: Behold water, behold a meadow, behold a pleasant place, in which we can refresh ourselves and rest a little, so that we may afterward be able to complete our journey safely.

When, therefore, both these words flattered his ears and the places his eyes, persuaded by the third warning, he consented and ate; but at the evening hour he arrived at the cell. Presented, moreover, to the venerable father Benedict, he asked that prayer be given to him; but at once the holy man reproached him for what he had done on the way, saying: What is this, brother, that the malignant enemy, who spoke to you through your fellow traveler, could not persuade you once, could not persuade you twice, but persuaded you the third time, and overcame you to do what he wished? Then he, recognizing the guilt of his weak mind, prostrate at his feet, began all the more to weep and blush for his fault, the more he knew that he had sinned even in absence before the eyes of father Benedict.

Peter: I see in the heart of the holy man the spirit of Elisha (2 Kings 5), who was present to his absent disciple.

CHAPTER XIV.

Concerning the deception of King Totila detected.

Gregory. It is necessary, Peter, that for the present you keep silent, so that you may learn still greater things. For in the times of the Goths, when Totila their king had heard that the holy man possessed the spirit of prophecy, going to his monastery, he stopped a little farther off and announced that he was coming to him. And when a message had at once been sent to him from the monastery that he should come, he, as was characteristic of his treacherous mind, attempted to find out whether the man of God had the spirit of prophecy. Now there was a certain one of his sword-bearers named Riggo, to whom he gave his own shoes and whom he caused to be dressed in royal garments, and whom he ordered to go to the man of God as if in his own person. In his retinue he sent three who were accustomed to cleave to himself before the others as companions—namely, Vult, Ruderic, and Blidin—so that, pretending before the eyes of the servant of God that he was King Totila himself, they might walk about at his sides; and he also provided him with other attendants and sword-bearers, so that both from these attendants and from the purple garments he might be thought to be the king. And when this same Riggo, adorned with the garments and accompanied by a crowd of attendants, had entered the monastery, the man of God was sitting at a distance. Seeing him coming, when he could already be heard by him, he cried out, saying: Put down, son, put down what you are wearing: it is not yours. And Riggo at once fell to the ground, and because he had presumed to mock so great a man, he was terrified; and all who were coming with him to the man of God were laid low on the ground.

But they rose and did not presume to approach him at all, but returned to their king and reported in trembling with what swiftness they had been caught.

CHAPTER XV.

Of the prophecy made to the same King Totila and to the bishop of the city of Canusium.

Then Totila himself came in person to the man of God; and when he saw him sitting far off, he did not dare to approach, but cast himself to the ground. And when the man of God said to him twice or three times, "Rise," he did not dare to raise himself from the ground before him; so Benedict, the servant of Christ Jesus, deigned to go himself to the prostrate king, lifted him from the ground, rebuked him for his deeds, and in a few words foretold all that was to come upon him, saying: "You do many evil things, you have done many evil things; now at last restrain yourself from iniquity. Indeed, you will enter Rome, you will cross the sea, you will reign nine years, in the tenth you will die." Hearing these things, the king was greatly terrified, asked for his prayers, and departed; and from that time he was less cruel. And not long after he went to Rome and proceeded to Sicily; but in the tenth year of his reign, by the judgment of almighty God, he lost both his kingdom and his life. Moreover, the bishop of the church of Canusium had been accustomed to come to the same servant of God, whom the man of God loved greatly for the merit of his life. And so, while he was conversing with him about the entry of King Totila and the destruction of the city of Rome, he said: "By this king this city will be destroyed, so that it will no longer be inhabited.

To whom the man of God replied: Rome will not be destroyed by the nations, but worn down by flashing storms, whirlwinds, and earthquakes, it will wither away in itself. The mysteries of this prophecy have already become clearer to us than light, who see in this city walls dissolved, houses overthrown, churches destroyed by the whirlwind, and we see its buildings worn out by long old age, because with ruins multiplying they are laid low. Although his disciple Honoratus, by whose account I have learned this, maintains that he by no means heard it from his own mouth; but he testifies that because he said this, it was told to him by the brothers. Totila, having set out, turned aside to the Campanians and Samnites. Casinum, moreover, near to Campania, is situated among the Samnites.

CHAPTER XVI.

Of the cleric freed for a time from a demon.

At that same time, a certain cleric of the church of Aquinum was vexed by a demon, who had been sent by the venerable man Constantius, bishop of the same church, through many places of the martyrs, so that he might be healed. But the holy martyrs of God were unwilling to grant him the gift of healing, so that they might show how great was the grace in Benedict. And so he was led to Benedict, the servant of almighty God: who, pouring out prayers to Jesus Christ the Lord, straightway drove the ancient enemy out of the possessed man.

To him, once healed, he gave this command: Go, and from now on do not eat meat; and never presume to approach the sacred order; for on whatever day you presume to violate the sacred order, you will at once be handed over again to the devil's jurisdiction. So the cleric departed healed, and as a recent punishment is wont to terrify the mind, he kept for a time what the man of God had commanded. But when after many years all his seniors had departed from this light, and he saw his juniors set over him in the sacred orders, he set aside the words of the man of God as if forgotten after a long time, and approached the sacred order; and immediately the devil, whom he had left, seized him, and did not cease to torment him until he shook out his soul.

Peter: This man of God, as I see, penetrated even the secrets of the Divinity, since he perceived that this cleric was for this reason handed over to the devil, that he might not dare to approach the sacred order.

Gregory: Why should he not know the secrets of the Divinity, who kept the precepts of the Divinity, since it is written: He who cleaves to the Lord is one spirit with him (1 Cor 6:17)?

Peter: If he who adheres to the Lord becomes one spirit with the Lord, why is it that the same distinguished preacher says again: Who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor (Rom. 11:34)? For it seems very unfitting that he should be ignorant of his mind with whom he has been made one. Gregory: Holy men, insofar as they are one with God—for in the book of the Sacraments it is read: Here begins the order for blessing the sacred orders; to which title is subjoined: The major grades are given before the Gospel, but the minor after the Communion, etc. Then follows: The ordination of the doorkeeper, and so on concerning the other minor orders. After these come the ordinations of the deacon, the priest, and the bishop—do not ignore the mind of the Lord. For the same apostle also says: For who among men knows the things that are of a man, except the spirit of the man which is in him? So also the things that are of God no one has known, except the Spirit of God (1 Cor. 2:11). He, in order to show that he knew the things that are of God, added: But we have not received the spirit of this world, but the Spirit who is from God (ibid., 12). Hence he says again: What the eye has not seen, nor the ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for those who love him; but to us God has revealed them through his Spirit (ibid., 9).

Peter: If, then, the things of God had been revealed to that same apostle through the Spirit of God, how is it that, concerning the very matter I proposed, he prefaced it by saying: O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How incomprehensible are his judgments, and how unsearchable his ways (Rom. 11:33)! But again, as I say these things, another question arises for me. For the prophet David speaks to the Lord, saying: With my lips I have declared all the judgments of your mouth (Ps. 118:13). And since it is less to know than also to declare, what is it that Paul asserts that God's judgments are incomprehensible, while David testifies that he not only knew all these things but even declared them with his lips?

Gregory: To both of these I have already answered you above briefly, saying that holy men, insofar as they are one with the Lord, do not lack knowledge of the Lord's mind. For all who devoutly follow the Lord are also with God by devotion, and yet, still weighed down by the burden of corruptible flesh, they are not with God. Therefore, insofar as they are joined to him, they know God's hidden judgments; insofar as they are separated from him, they do not know them. For because they do not yet perfectly penetrate his secrets, they testify that his judgments are incomprehensible; but because they cleave to him in mind, and by cleaving—whether through the sacred utterances of Scripture or through hidden revelations, insofar as they receive them—they recognize and know these things, they also declare them. Therefore the judgments that God keeps silent they do not know; those that God speaks they know.

Hence also the prophet David, when he had said, "In my lips I have pronounced all the judgments" (Ps. 118:13), immediately added, "of thy mouth," as if to say plainly: Those judgments I was able to know and to pronounce which I knew you had spoken. For those things which you yourself do not speak, you hide beyond doubt from our knowledge. The prophetic and apostolic sentence therefore agrees: because the judgments of God are both incomprehensible, and yet those things which have been brought forth from his mouth are pronounced by human lips; since both the things brought forth by God can be known by men, and the hidden things cannot. Peter: In the objection to my little question the cause of the Reason has become clear. But I ask you, if there are still any things concerning this man's virtues, add them.

CHAPTER XVII.

Concerning the destruction of the man of God's monastery, foretold by him.

Gregory: A certain noble man named Theoprobus had been converted by the admonition of the same father Benedict, who by the merit of his life had great confidence of familiarity with him. When one day he had entered his cell, he found him weeping most bitterly. And when he stood by for a long time, and saw that his tears were not ending, and yet he was not weeping in prayer as the man of God was accustomed, but in grief, he asked what might be the cause of such great mourning. To whom the man of God immediately replied: All this monastery which I have built, and all the things which I have prepared for the brothers, have been handed over to the nations by the judgment of almighty God.

Yet I could scarcely obtain that souls were granted to me from this place. Theoprobus heard his voice then, but we see it, who know that his monastery was recently destroyed by the Lombard people. For at night, while the brothers were at rest, the Lombards recently entered there; and though they plundered everything, they could not hold a single man there. But almighty God fulfilled what he had promised to his faithful servant Benedict: that if he handed over possessions to the nations, he would guard the souls. In this matter I see that Benedict took the place of Paul (Acts 27), whose ship, while it suffered the loss of all things, he himself received in consolation the lives of all who accompanied him.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Concerning the hidden flask, and how it was known by the man of God through the spirit.

At another time also, our Exhilaratus, whom you know was himself converted, had been sent by his master to bring to the man of God at the monastery two wooden vessels full of wine, which are commonly called flasks; he brought one, but hid the other along the way as he went. But the man of the Lord, to whom things done in his absence could not be hidden, received the one with thanksgiving, and warned the boy as he was leaving, saying: See, son, that you do not drink from that flask which you have hidden, but tilt it carefully, and you will find what it has inside. He, greatly confused, went out from the man of God. And having returned, wishing still to test what he had heard, when he had tilted the flask, a serpent immediately came out of it.

Then the aforementioned boy Exhilaratus, terrified by what he found in the wine, was afraid of the evil he had done.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of the receiving of napkins, made known to the same man.

Not far from the monastery there was a village in which no small multitude of people had been converted to faith in God from the worship of idols by Benedict's exhortation. There were also certain nuns there, and frequently, to exhort souls, Benedict, servant of God, took care to send his brethren thither. One day, indeed, he sent one according to custom; but the monk who had been sent, after the admonition had been given, was asked by the nuns and received napkins, and hid them in his bosom. As soon as he had returned, the man of God began to rebuke him with the most vehement bitterness, saying: How has iniquity entered into your bosom? But he was astonished, and, forgetful of what he had done, did not know why he was being rebuked. To whom he said: Was I not present there when you received the napkins from the handmaids of God, and put them into your bosom? He at once threw himself at his feet, repented that he had acted foolishly, and cast away the napkins which he had hidden in his bosom.

CHAPTER XX.

Of the proud thought of a monk made known to the man of God.

On a certain day also, when the venerable Father was about to receive bodily nourishment at the evening hour, a monk of his, who was the son of a certain defender, was holding a lamp before him at the table. And while the man of God was eating, he himself, standing by in the service of the lamp, began through the spirit of pride silently to turn over in his mind and to say in thought: Who is this to whom I stand attending as he eats, holding the lamp, rendering service? Who am I, that I should serve him? To whom the man of God, turning at once, began vehemently to rebuke him, saying: Sign your heart, brother, what is it that you are saying? Sign your heart. And having at once summoned the brethren, he ordered the lamp to be taken from his hands, and commanded him indeed to withdraw from the ministry and to sit quietly by himself at that same hour. He, being asked by the brethren what he had in his heart, recounted in order with how great a spirit of pride he had swollen, and what words against the man of God he was silently saying in thought. Then it became clearly plain to all that nothing could lie hidden from the venerable Benedict, into whose ears the words even of silent thought had sounded.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of the two hundred measures of flour found before the cell of the man of God in a time of famine.

At another time also, in that same region of Campania, a famine had come upon the people, and great scarcity of provisions was pressing everyone hard. And now in Benedict's monastery the grain had failed, and nearly all the loaves had been consumed, so that no more than five could be found for the brethren at the hour of refreshment. And when the venerable Father saw them saddened, he sought to correct their faint-heartedness with a modest rebuke, and again to lift them up with a promise, saying: Why is your spirit saddened by the lack of bread? Today indeed there is less, but on the morrow you shall have abundantly. On the following day, moreover, two hundred measures of flour were found in sacks before the doors of the cell, which the almighty God had sent by bearers, and it remains unknown to this very day by whom. When the brethren saw this, giving thanks to the Lord, they learned that even in want they must no longer doubt concerning abundance.

Peter. Tell me, I ask you: should it not be believed that this servant of God was always able to have the spirit of prophecy present with him? Or did the spirit of prophecy fill his mind only at intervals of time?

Gregory. The spirit of prophecy, Peter, does not always illuminate the minds of the prophets, because just as it is written of the Holy Spirit: "He breathes where he wills" (John 3:8), so it must be understood that he also breathes when he wills. For this is the reason that Nathan (2 Samuel 7:3), when asked by the king whether he could build the temple, first consented and afterward forbade it. This is the reason that Elisha, when he saw the woman weeping and did not know the cause, said to the servant who was pushing her away: "Let her alone, for her soul is in bitterness, and the Lord has hidden it from me and has not shown it to me" (2 Kings 4:27). Which almighty God disposes by the dispensation of his great mercy: because while he sometimes gives the spirit of prophecy and sometimes withdraws it, he both raises the minds of the prophets to the heights and keeps them in humility; so that both those who receive the spirit may find what they are before God, and again those who do not have the spirit of prophecy may recognize what they are in themselves.

Peter. Great reason cries out that this is so, as you assert. But, I ask, concerning the venerable Father Benedict, set forth whatever still comes to mind.

CHAPTER XXII.

Concerning the building of the monastery of Tarracina arranged by a vision.

Gregory. At another time also he had been asked by a certain faithful man that he should send his disciples and build a monastery on his estate near the city of Tarracina. He, consenting to the one asking, appointed brothers and set a Father over them, and arranged who should be second to him. As they were going, he promised them, saying: Go, and on that day I will come and show you in what place you ought to build the oratory, in what place the refectory of the brothers, in what place the reception of guests, or whatever things are necessary. Having received the blessing, they set out at once, and greatly awaiting the appointed day, they prepared all things which seemed necessary for those who could come with so great a Father. But on the very night on which the promised day was dawning, to that servant of God whom he had appointed as Father there, and to his provost, the man of the Lord appeared in dreams, and carefully designated the several places where they ought to build each thing. And when both had risen from sleep, they reported to each other what they had seen. Yet not giving full faith to that vision, they waited for the man of God, just as he had sent word that he would come.

And when the man of God had not come at the appointed day, they returned to him in sorrow, saying: We waited, Father, for you to come as you had promised, and to show us where we ought to build each thing, and you did not come. And he said to them: Why, brothers, why do you say these things? Did I not come, as I promised? And when they said to him: When did you come? he answered: Did I not appear to both of you while you were sleeping, and designate each place? Go, and just as you heard in the vision, so build the whole dwelling of the monastery. Hearing these things, they marveled greatly, returned to the aforesaid estate, and built all the dwellings just as they had learned from the revelation.

Peter. I would like to be taught by what order it could have happened that he went so far, gave an answer to those sleeping, which they themselves heard and recognized through a vision.

Gregory. Why is it that you doubt, Peter, in examining the order of the deed? It is plainly evident that the spirit is of a more mobile nature than the body. And certainly we know, with Scripture as witness, that the prophet, lifted up from Judea, was suddenly set down with a meal in Chaldea, and by that meal refreshed the prophet, and suddenly found himself again in Judea.

If, then, Habakkuk could go bodily so great a distance in a moment and carry food, what wonder is it if Father Benedict obtained that he might go in spirit and declare to the spirits of the resting brethren what was necessary, so that just as the former went bodily to bodily food, so the latter might go spiritually to the instruction of the spiritual life?

Peter: The utterance of your speech has, I confess, wiped away the doubt of my mind; but I would like to know, in ordinary speech, what kind of man this was. Perhaps we are said to see through a vision, not to hear. But a little later it is read below that they heard through a vision.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Concerning the nuns who after death, through his offering, were restored to the communion of the Church.

Gregory: Scarcely, Peter, was his ordinary speech itself devoid of the weight of power, because for one whose heart had raised itself on high, words did not fall from his mouth in vain. But if ever he said anything not now in decision, but in threat, his speech had such power as if he had brought it forth not doubtfully and hesitantly, but already by sentence.

For not far from his monastery two nuns of nobler birth were living in their own place; a certain religious man used to provide them service for the needs of external life. But as nobility of birth is wont to produce ignobility of mind in some, so that they despise themselves less in this world the more they remember that they were once something more than others, the aforesaid nuns had not yet perfectly restrained their tongue under the bridle of their habit, and they often provoked that same religious man, who provided service for their external necessities, to anger with reckless words. When he had long endured these things, he went to the man of God and recounted how many insults of words he suffered. But the man of God, hearing these things about them, straightway sent word to them, saying: Correct your tongue; for if you do not amend it, I excommunicate you. He did not, to be sure, bring that sentence of excommunication upon them by pronouncing it, but by threatening. But they, changed in nothing from their former ways, died within a few days and were buried in the church. And when the solemnities of the Masses were being celebrated in that same church, and the deacon according to custom was crying out: Let anyone who does not communicate depart from the place, their nurse, who was accustomed to offer the oblation to the Lord on their behalf, saw them go forth from their tombs and leave the church.

When he had seen this rather often—that at the voice of the deacon calling they went outside, and could not remain within the church—he recalled to mind what the man of God had commanded those women while they were still alive. For he had said that he would deprive them of communion unless they corrected their ways and words. Then it was reported to the servant of God with deep grief, and he immediately gave an offering with his own hand, saying: "Go and have this offering offered to the Lord on their behalf, and they will no longer be excommunicated." And when the offering had been sacrificed on their behalf, and it had been announced by the deacon according to custom that those not in communion should leave the church, those women were no longer seen to leave the church. From this it was shown beyond doubt that, since they did not depart at all from among those deprived of communion, they had received communion from the Lord through the servant of the Lord.

Peter: It is very wondrous that so venerable and holy a man, while still living in this corruptible flesh, could loose souls already placed in that invisible judgment.

Gregory: Was he, Peter, not still in this flesh who heard, "Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound also in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed also in heaven"? Those who now hold the place of holy governance by faith and morals occupy his role in binding and loosing. But so that a man from the earth might prevail in such great matters, the Creator of heaven and earth came from heaven to earth, and so that flesh might even judge concerning spirits, he deigned to grant this to it, God made flesh for men: because our weakness rose up beyond itself from the very source where the strength of God was made weak beneath itself.

Peter: The reasoning of his words agrees harmoniously with the power of his signs.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Concerning the boy monk whom the earth cast out after burial.

Gregory: On a certain day, also, when one of his young monks, loving his parents more than he ought and making his way to their dwelling, had left the monastery without a blessing, on that same day, as soon as he reached them, he died. And when he had been buried, on the next day his body was found cast out, and they took care to commit it to burial again. But on the following day they found it once more cast outside and unburied, just as before. Then running swiftly to the feet of Father Benedict, they begged with great weeping that he deign to grant him his favor.

At once the man of God gave them with his own hand the communion of the Lord's body, saying: Go, and place this body of the Lord upon his breast with great reverence, and so deliver him to burial. When this had been done, the earth received his body and did not cast it forth again. Do you perceive, Peter, of what merit this man was before Jesus Christ the Lord, that the earth should cast forth even his body, which had no part in the grace of Benedict?

Peter: I perceive it clearly, and I am greatly astonished.

CHAPTER XXV.

Concerning the monk who, departing from the monastery, found a dragon on the way.

Gregory: Now a certain monk of his had given his mind to fickleness and was unwilling to remain in the monastery. And when the man of God continually rebuked him and frequently admonished him, but he by no means consented to remain in the community, and pressed him with importunate prayers to be released, one day the same venerable Father, wearied by the excess of his persistence, in anger ordered him to depart. As soon as he had left the monastery, he found a dragon standing against him with open mouth on the way. And when the dragon that had appeared wished to devour him, he began, trembling and quaking, to cry out in a loud voice, saying: Run, run, for this dragon wishes to devour me. But the brothers, running up, saw no dragon at all, yet they brought the trembling and quaking monk back to the monastery.

He immediately promised that he would never withdraw from the monastery, and from that very hour he remained in his promise, since he had seen the dragon standing against him at the prayers of the holy man, which before he had followed without seeing.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Concerning a boy cured of the elephantine disease.

But neither do I think this should be passed over in silence, which I learned from the illustrious man Antonius as he was telling it, who said that the son of his father had been seized by the elephantine disease, so that already, with his hair falling out, his skin swelled, and he could not conceal the growing pus. He was sent by that same father of his to the man of God and was restored to his former health with all speed.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Concerning solidi miraculously repaid to a debtor.

Nor should I be silent about that which his disciple named Peregrinus used to tell: that on a certain day a certain faithful man, compelled by the necessity of a debt, believed that there would be one remedy for him, if he went to the man of God and indicated the necessity of the debt that pressed upon him. And so he came to the monastery, found the servant of almighty God, and disclosed that he was being grievously afflicted by his creditor for twelve solidi. To him the venerable Father responded that he by no means had twelve solidi, but nevertheless, consoling his poverty with gentle speech, he said: Go, and return after two days, because today there is lacking what I ought to give you. But during those two days he was occupied in prayer according to his custom.

And when on the third day the man who was afflicted by the necessity of his debt returned, suddenly thirteen solidi were found upon the monastery's granary, which was full of grain. The man of God ordered them to be brought and given to the afflicted petitioner, saying that he should repay twelve and keep one for his own expenses.

But now let me return to those things which I learned from the reports of his disciples mentioned at the beginning of this book. A certain man was suffering from the most grievous envy of his adversary, whose hatred broke out to such a degree that he gave him poison in his drink without his knowledge. Although it could not take away his life, it nevertheless changed the color of his skin, so that a spreading mottling over his body seemed to imitate the manner of leprosy. But when he was brought to the man of God, he recovered his former health quite quickly, for as soon as he touched him, he put to flight all the mottling of his skin.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Concerning the glass flask thrown upon the rocks and not broken.

At that time also, when a scarcity of food was grievously afflicting Campania, the man of God had distributed all things to the various needy of his monastery, so that almost nothing remained in the storeroom except a little oil in a glass vessel. Then a certain subdeacon named Agapitus arrived, earnestly requesting that a small amount of oil be given to him. But the man of the Lord, who had resolved to give all things on earth so as to keep all things in heaven, ordered that very little that remained of the oil to be given to the one asking. The monk, however, who kept the storeroom, indeed heard the words of the one commanding, but delayed to carry them out. And when after a little while he inquired whether what he had ordered had been given, the monk replied that he had by no means given it, because if he were to bestow it on him, nothing at all would remain for the brothers. Then, angered, he ordered others to throw that very glass vessel, in which a little oil appeared to have remained, out through the window, so that nothing might remain in the cell through disobedience. And it was done. But beneath that same window there lay open a huge precipice, rough with masses of rocks. And so the glass vessel, having been thrown, came upon the rocks, but it remained so unharmed as if it had not been thrown at all, so that it could neither be broken nor the oil spilled. The man of the Lord ordered it to be lifted up, and, just as it was intact, gave it to the one asking. Then, having gathered the brothers, he rebuked the disobedient monk for his faithlessness and pride in the presence of all.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Concerning the empty cask filled with oil.

When this rebuke was finished, he gave himself to prayer together with the same brothers. Now in the place where he was praying with the brothers, there was a cask empty of oil and covered. And while the holy man persisted in prayer, its lid began to be lifted up as the oil rose. When it was moved and lifted up, the oil that had risen, passing over the mouth of the cask, flooded the floor of the place where it lay. When Benedict, the servant of God, saw this, he at once completed his prayer, and the oil ceased to flow onto the floor. Then he admonished the distrustful and disobedient brother more fully, that he might learn to have faith and humility. And that same brother, wholesomely corrected, blushed for shame: because the venerable Father was showing by miracles the power of almighty God, which he had intimated by his admonition; nor was it now possible for anyone to doubt his promises, since in one and the same moment, in place of a nearly empty glass vessel, he had restored a cask full of oil.

CHAPTER XXX.

Concerning a monk freed from a demon.

On a certain day, while he was proceeding to the oratory of blessed John, which is situated on the very summit of the mountain, the ancient enemy met him in the guise of a muleteer, carrying a horn and a goad. When he had asked him, saying: "Where are you going, carrying that?" he answered: "Behold, I am going to the brothers to give them a potion." And so the venerable Father Benedict went on to prayer; when it was completed, he returned quickly. But the wicked spirit found one of the senior monks drawing water, and entered into him at once, threw him to the ground, and tormented him most violently. When the man of God, returning from prayer, saw him being tormented so cruelly, he gave him only a slap, and immediately drove out the wicked spirit from him, so that it did not dare to return to him thereafter.

Peter. I should like to know whether he obtained these so great miracles always by the power of prayer, or whether he sometimes performed them also by the mere nod of his will.

Gregory. Those who adhere to God with a devoted mind, when the necessity of circumstances demands it, are accustomed to display signs in either way, so that they perform marvelous things sometimes by prayer, sometimes by power. For since John says: "He gave them power to become sons of God" (John 1:12)—those who are sons of God by power, what wonder is it if they are able to perform signs by power? For that they display miracles in both ways, Peter testifies (Acts 9), who raised the dead Tabitha by praying, but delivered Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5) to death by rebuking them for lying. For he is not read to have prayed in their destruction, but only to have rebuked the fault they had committed. It is established, therefore, that sometimes they display these things by power, sometimes truly by petition, since he both took life from the former by rebuking and restored it to the latter by praying. For I now recount two deeds also of the faithful servant of God Benedict, in which it may clearly and openly appear that he was able to do one thing by power received from God, and another by prayer.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Concerning the countryman bound and released by the mere sight of the man of God.

There was a certain Goth named Zalla, so called from the perfidy of the Arian heresy, who in the times of Totila their king burned with the ardor of most savage cruelty against the religious men of the catholic Church; so that whoever of the clergy or monks came into his presence would by no means depart alive from his hands. But on a certain day, inflamed with the heat of his avarice and greedy for the plunder of goods, while he was afflicting a certain countryman with cruel torments and tearing him with various punishments, the countryman, overcome by the pains, declared that he had commended his property to Benedict, the servant of God, so that while this was believed by his torturer, his cruelty being for a time suspended, he might snatch a few hours of life. Then the same Zalla ceased to afflict the countryman with torments, but binding his arms with strong thongs, he began to drive him before his horse, so that he might show who this Benedict was who had received his property. And the countryman, with his arms bound, going before, led him to the monastery of the holy man, and found him sitting alone before the entrance of his cell and reading. But to Zalla, who followed and raged, the countryman said: Behold, this is the Benedict of whom I told you, Father. And when with fervid spirit and the madness of a perverse mind he had looked upon him, thinking that he would act with that terror to which he was accustomed, he began to cry out with a loud voice, saying: Rise, rise, and give back the property of this countryman which you have received.

At his voice the man of God immediately lifted his eyes from the reading, and having looked at him, presently also turned his attention to the countryman who was being held bound; and when he had lowered his eyes to his arms, in a wondrous manner the thongs bound about his arms began to unroll themselves with such speed that they could not have been undone so swiftly by any haste of men. And when the man who had come bound had suddenly begun to stand free, Zalla, trembling at the force of such power, fell to the ground, and bowing the neck of his rigid cruelty at his feet, commended himself to his prayers. But the holy man did not rise at all from his reading, but having called the brothers, he ordered that he be taken inside, so that he might receive the blessing. When he had been brought back to him, he admonished him that he ought to rest from the madness of such great cruelty. He, broken, withdrew, and presumed to seek nothing further from the countryman, whom the man of the Lord had loosed not by touching but by looking at him. Behold, Peter, this is what I said: that those who serve Almighty God more intimately can sometimes even perform wonders from power. For he who, sitting, repressed the ferocity of the terrible Goth, and dissolved with his eyes the thongs and knots of the binding that had bound the innocent man's arms, by the very swiftness of the miracle shows that he had received from power to have what he did. Again, therefore, I will add what and how great a miracle he wished to obtain by praying.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Concerning a dead man raised

On a certain day he had gone out with the brothers to the work of the field. But a certain countryman, carrying the body of his deceased son in his arms, burning with the grief of bereavement, came to the monastery. He sought Father Benedict. When it had been said to him that the same Father was staying in the field with the brothers, he immediately threw the body of his dead son before the gate of the monastery, and, disturbed by grief, hastened at a run to find the venerable Father. But at that same hour the man of God was already returning with the brothers from the work of the field. As soon as the bereaved countryman caught sight of him, he began to cry out: Give me back my son, give me back my son. But the man of God stopped at this cry, saying: Did I take your son from you? He answered him: He is dead; come, raise him. When the servant of God heard this at once, he was greatly saddened, saying: Depart, brothers, depart; these things are not ours, but the holy apostles'. Why do you wish to lay burdens on us which we cannot bear? But he, whom excessive grief compelled, persisted in his petition, swearing that he would not depart unless he raised his son. The servant of God at once asked him, saying: Where is he? He answered him: Behold, his body lies at the gate of the monastery.

When the man of God had arrived there with the brothers, he bent his knees and leaned over the little body of the child, and raising himself up, he stretched out his palms to heaven, saying: Lord, do not look upon my sins, but upon the faith of this man, who asks that his son be raised again, and restore to this little body the soul which you have taken away. He had scarcely finished the words of his prayer when, as the soul returned, the whole little body of the boy trembled so greatly that, before the eyes of all who were present, it appeared by its quaking, wondrously throbbing, to palpitate. At once he took him by the hand and gave him back to his father alive and unharmed. It is clear, Peter, that he did not have this miracle in his own power, since he asked for it while prostrate, so that he might be able to bring it about.

Peter: It is plainly evident that all things are as you assert, since you prove by events the words you have set forth. But I ask you to tell me whether the holy men can do all things that they will, and obtain all things that they desire to attain.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Concerning the miracle of his sister Scholastica.

Gregory. Who, Peter, in this life will be more exalted than Paul, who three times asked the Lord concerning the sting of his flesh (II Cor. xii), and yet could not obtain what he wished? For this reason it is necessary that I tell you about the venerable father Benedict, because there was something he wished but was unable to accomplish. For his sister, by name Scholastica, dedicated to the almighty Lord from the very time of her infancy, had been accustomed to come to him once a year. To her the man of God would descend not far outside the gate, on a property of the monastery. But on a certain day she came according to custom, and her venerable brother descended to her with his disciples; and spending that day in the praises of God and in sacred conversations, when the darkness of night was already pressing on, they took food together. And while they were still sitting at the table and the hour was being drawn out longer amid the sacred conversations, that holy woman, his sister, asked him, saying: I beg you, do not leave me this night, so that we may speak until morning of the joys of the heavenly life. To whom he replied: What is this you say, sister? I cannot by any means stay outside my cell. But so great was the serenity of the sky that no cloud appeared in the air. The holy woman, however, when she had heard the words of her brother refusing, placed her hands, with fingers interlocked, upon the table, and bowing her head in her hands, she turned to ask the almighty Lord.

And when he lifted his head from the table, such a mighty flash of lightning and thunder, and such a downpour of rain burst forth, that neither the venerable Benedict nor the brothers who were with him could move a foot beyond the threshold of the place where they sat. For the nun, bowing her head into her hands, had poured forth rivers of tears onto the table, by which she drew the clear sky into rain. Nor did that downpour follow her prayer much later, but there was such a correspondence between the prayer and the downpour that he was lifting his head from the table already with the thunder, so that it was one and the same moment both to lift his head and to let down the rain. Then the man of God, seeing amid the flashes and thunders and the downpour of mighty rain that he could not return to the monastery, began to complain, grieved, saying: May almighty God spare you, sister; what is this that you have done? And she answered him: Behold, I asked you, and you were unwilling to hear me; I asked my Lord, and he heard me. Now therefore, if you can, go out, and leaving me, withdraw to the monastery. But he, unable to go out beyond the roof, who had been unwilling to remain of his own will, stayed in the place against his will. And so it came about that they spent the whole night in vigil, and satisfied themselves with the holy conversations of the spiritual life in mutual exchange.

For this reason I said that he had wished for something but had by no means been able to accomplish it, because if we consider the mind of that venerable man, there is no doubt that he wished that same serenity in which he had come down to remain; but against what he wished, by the power of almighty God a miracle was found in the woman's breast. Nor is it surprising that the woman, who desired to see her brother, prevailed more than he did at that same time, since indeed, according to the voice of John, God is love (1 John 4:16), by a very just judgment she prevailed more who loved more.

Peter: I confess, what you say pleases me greatly.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

How the soul of his sister was seen to have departed from the body.

Gregory: And when on the following day that same venerable woman had withdrawn to her own cell, the man of God returned to the monastery. And behold, after three days, as he stood in his cell, raising his eyes into the air, he saw the soul of his sister departing from her body, and in the likeness of a dove penetrating the hidden places of heaven. Rejoicing in such great glory of hers, he gave thanks to almighty God in hymns and praises, and announced her death to the brothers. He also immediately sent them to bring her body to the monastery and to place it in the tomb which he himself had prepared for himself. This having been done, it came about that those whose mind had always been one in God were not separated even in burial by the grave.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Concerning the world gathered before his eyes, and concerning the soul of Germanus, bishop of the city of Capua.

At another time also Servandus the deacon and abbot of that monastery which had been built in the parts of Campania by Liberius, once a patrician, had come to him for the sake of a visit, according to custom. For he used to frequent his monastery, so that, since that man too was flowing with the doctrine of heavenly grace, they might pour into each other the sweet words of life, and might taste the pleasant food of the heavenly fatherland—since they could not yet do so by perfectly rejoicing—at least by sighing. And when the hour of rest was already urging them on, the venerable Benedict placed himself in the upper parts of a tower, and Servandus the deacon in its lower parts; in which place, namely, a passageway connected the lower parts with the upper by a continuous ascent. But in front of that same tower there was a more spacious dwelling place in which the disciples of both were resting. And when the man of God, Benedict, while the brothers were still resting, pressing on in vigils, had anticipated the times of nocturnal prayer, standing at the window and entreating almighty God, suddenly, looking out in the deep hour of the night, he saw a light poured out from above that had put to flight all the darkness of the night, and it shone with such splendor that that light, which had radiated amid the darkness, surpassed the day. But a thing very wondrous followed in this contemplation: because, as he himself afterwards narrated, the whole world also, as if gathered together under a single ray of the sun, was brought before his eyes.

And this venerable Father, while he fixed the intent gaze of his eyes upon this splendor of flashing light, saw the soul of Germanus, bishop of Capua, being carried into heaven by angels in a sphere of fire. Then, wishing to summon a witness to so great a miracle, he called Servandus the deacon twice and three times by his name, with great loudness of shouting. And when that man had been disturbed by the unusual shouting of so great a man, he climbed up, looked, and saw a small part of the light that was already passing. To him, marveling so greatly at this miracle, the man of God recounted in order the things that had been done, and immediately sent word to Cassinum castrum to the religious man Theoprobus that he should send someone to the city of Capua during that same night, and should learn and report what was being done concerning Germanus the bishop. And it was done, and the one who had been sent found the most reverend man Germanus the bishop already dead, and inquiring carefully he learned that his death had taken place at the very moment when the man of the Lord had perceived his ascent.

Peter: This is a very great marvel, and exceedingly astonishing. But as for what was said, that before his eyes the whole world was brought together as if gathered under a single ray of the sun, just as I have never experienced it, so I do not know how to conjecture by what order it can happen that the whole world is seen by one man.

Gregory: Hold firmly, Peter, to what I say: that souls see, every creature is narrow compared with the Creator. For however little a soul has looked upon the light of the Creator, everything that has been created becomes brief to it, because by that very light of intimate vision the bosom of the mind is opened wide, and it is so expanded in God that it rises above the world; indeed the soul of the one who sees becomes even above itself. And when it is caught up above itself in the light of God, it is enlarged in its inner depths; and while, exalted, it looks upon itself as beneath itself, it understands how brief is that which it could not comprehend when brought low. Therefore the man of God, who, gazing upon the sphere of fire, also saw the angels returning to heaven, could without doubt perceive these things only in the light of God. Why then is it wonderful if he saw the world gathered together before him, who, raised up in the light of the mind, was outside the world? But that the world is said to have been gathered together before his eyes does not mean that heaven and earth were contracted, but that the mind of the one seeing was enlarged, which, caught up in God, was able to see without difficulty everything that is below God.

In that light, therefore, which shone for the outward eyes, there was an inner light in the mind, which, when it had caught up the soul of the one who saw to higher things, showed him how august all lower things are.

Peter: It seems to me that I did not understand you to good purpose when you spoke, since from my slowness your exposition grew so much. But since you have poured these things clearly into my senses, I ask that you return to the order of the narrative.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

That he wrote a rule for monks.

Gregory: It pleases me, Peter, to tell still many things about this venerable Father; but I purposely pass over certain of them, because I hasten on to unfold the deeds of others. But I would not have this hidden from you, that the man of God, amid so many miracles by which he shone in the world, also shone no little in the word of teaching. For he wrote a rule for monks, outstanding in discernment, splendid in speech. If anyone wishes to know his manners and life more precisely, he can find in that same institution of the rule all the acts of his teaching, because the holy man could in no way teach otherwise than he lived.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Concerning the prophecy of his departure announced to the brethren.

In that same year, indeed, in which he was to depart from this life, he announced the day of his most holy death to certain disciples who were living with him and to certain others who were far away: to those present he enjoined that they should keep what they had heard in silence; to those absent he indicated what sign, or of what kind, would be given them when his soul should leave the body. Six days before his departure, moreover, he ordered his tomb to be opened. Straightway seized by fevers, he began to be worn down by a sharp burning. And as the sickness grew worse day by day, on the sixth day he had himself carried by the disciples into the oratory, and there he fortified his departure with the reception of the Lord's body and blood; and, supporting his feeble limbs in the hands of the disciples, he stood with his hands raised to heaven, and breathed forth his last spirit amid the words of prayer. On that very day, indeed, a revelation of one and the same vision appeared to two brethren concerning him, one dwelling in his cell and the other stationed farther away. For they saw that a road strewn with cloths and gleaming with countless lamps stretched in a straight course toward the east from his cell all the way to heaven. And a man of venerable attire, radiant, standing above, asked them whose was the road that they beheld. But they professed that they did not know. And he said to them: This is the road by which Benedict, beloved of the Lord, ascends to heaven.

Accordingly, then, the death of the holy man, just as the disciples who were present saw it, so those who were absent learned it from the sign that had been foretold to them. He was buried, moreover, in the oratory of blessed John the Baptist, which he himself built after the altar of Apollo had been destroyed. And in that same cave in which he had previously dwelt at Sublacus, he now even to this day, if the faith of those who ask should require it, shines forth with miracles.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Concerning the insane woman healed in his cave.

For recently there was done a thing which I relate; because a certain woman, deprived of her mind, when she had utterly lost her reason, wandered day and night through mountains and valleys, woods and fields; and there she rested only where weariness had forced her to rest. On a certain day, moreover, while she was wandering about too far, she came to the cave of the blessed man Benedict, and entering it unknowingly, she stayed there. But when morning had come, she went out with her mind so healed, as if no insanity of the head had ever held her; and for the whole time of her life she remained in that same health which she had received.

Petr. What are we to say of the fact that we commonly perceive this even in the very shrines of the martyrs, that they do not show as many benefits through their bodies as through their relics, and that they perform greater signs there where they do not lie in person?

Gregory. Where the holy martyrs lie in their own bodies, it is not doubtful, Peter, that they are able to demonstrate many signs, as indeed they do, and they show countless miracles to those who seek with a pure mind. But because it can be doubted by weak minds whether they are present there to hear, where it is certain that they are not in their bodies, it is necessary that they show greater signs there, where a weak mind can doubt their presence. But those whose mind is fixed in God have all the more merit of faith, the more they know that they are not there in the body, and yet are not absent from hearing. Hence Truth itself, to increase the faith of the disciples, said: If I do not go away, the Paraclete will not come to you (John 16:7). For since it is certain that the Spirit, the Paraclete, always proceeds from the Father and the Son, why does the Son say that he will depart so that he may come, who never departs from the Son?

But because the disciples, seeing the Lord in the flesh, were always thirsting to behold him with bodily eyes, it is rightly said to them: Unless I go away, the Paraclete will not come; as if it were said plainly: If I do not withdraw my body, I do not show what the love of the Spirit is; and unless you cease to behold me bodily, you will never learn to love me spiritually.

Petr. What you say pleases me.

Gregor. Now we must pause a little from speaking, so that, if we intend to narrate the miracles of others, we may in the meantime restore our powers of speech through silence.