“In the same monastery,” says Caesarius, “was a nun named Elizabeth, who was oftentimes haunted by the devil. One day she saw him in the dorter, and since she knew him, she boxed his ears. Then said he: ‘Wherefore dost thou strike me so hardly?’ and she replied: ‘Because thou dost often disturb me,’ to which the devil replied: ‘Yesterday I disturbed thy sister the chantress far more, but she did not hit me.’ Now she had been much agitated all day, from which it may be gathered that anger, rancour, impatience, and other vices of the sort are often sent by the devil. On another occasion when the same Elizabeth, very late for matins (owing, as afterwards appeared, to the machinations of the devil), was hurrying along to the belfry, bearing a lighted candle in her hand, just as she was about to enter the door of the chapel, she saw the devil in the shape of a man, dressed in a hooded tunic, standing in front of her. Thinking that some man had got in, she recoiled in alarm and fell down the dorter stairs, so that for some days she lay ill of the sudden fright as well as of the fall.... And when she was asked the cause of her fall and her scream and had expounded this vision, she added: ‘If I had known that it was the devil and not a man, I would have given him a good cuff.’ By that time, however, she had girded her loins with strength and strengthened her arm against the devil”[1802].
Not all the visions seen by these nuns of whom Caesarius writes were evil visions. He has several tales to tell of appearances of the Virgin Mary and of the saints. Besides the well-known story of Sister Beatrice and of the nun whose ears were boxed by the Virgin, the most charming Mary-miracle related by Caesarius tells of a nun who genuflected with such fervour to the blessed Mother that she strained her leg; and as she lay asleep in the infirmary, she saw before her the Virgin, bearing a pyx of ointment in her hand; and the Virgin anointed her knee with it, till the sweet odour brought the sisters running to find out the cause; but the nun held her peace and bade them leave her. Sleeping again, she found herself once more in the company of the Virgin, who led her into the orchard, and
placing her hand beneath the nun’s chin, said to her, “Now do thou kneel down upon thy knee”; and when she had done so our Lady added: “Henceforth do thou bow thy knee thus, modestly and in a disciplined manner,” showing her how. And she added: “Every day thou shouldst say to me the sequence ‘Ave Dei Genitrix,’ and at each verse thou shouldst bow thy knee. For I take great delight therein.” And the nun, waking, looked upon her knee, to see whether aught had been accomplished in the vision, and in great surprise she saw that it was whole[1803].
Another pretty story tells how, when a certain sister was reading her psalter before a wooden statue of the Virgin and child, “the little boy suddenly came to her and as though he would know what she was reading, peeped into her book and went back again”[1804].
Sometimes it is not the Virgin or her Son but a patron saint who appears to a nun who holds him in veneration. Caesarius tells the following tale of a nun who specially venerated St John the Baptist:
More than all the saints she took delight in him. Nor did it suffice her to think upon him, to honour him with prayers and devotions, to declare his prerogatives to her sisters, but in order to perpetuate his memory she made verses concerning his annunciation and nativity and the joy of his parents. For she was learned and sought therefore to describe in verse anything which she had read concerning his sanctity. Moreover she exhorted and besought all secular persons with whom she spoke to call their children John or Zacharias, if they were boys, Elizabeth if they were girls. Now when she was about to die John a monk of the Cloister came to visit her, and knowing her affection towards St John, said: “My aunt, when you are dead, which mass would you have me say first for your soul, the mass for the dead or of St John the Baptist?” To which she without any hesitation replied: “Of St John, of St John!” And when she was at the point of death, having compassion upon the sister who was tending her, she said: “Go upstairs, sister, and rest for a little.” When the sister had done so and was resting in a light sleep, she heard in her slumber a voice saying, “Why liest thou here? St John the Baptist is below with Sister Hildegunde”—for that was her name. Roused by this voice the sister, not waiting to put on her clothes, came down in her shift and found the nun already dead; and round her was so sweet a perfume that the sister doubted not that St John had been there, to accompany the soul of his beloved to the angelic host[1805].
Some of Caesarius’ anecdotes show an amusing rivalry, if not among the company of heaven, at least among their votaries on earth. Two delightful stories may be quoted to show how deep-rooted is the competitive instinct, which, baulked in one direction by the prohibition of property, showed itself in hot disputes as to the rival merits of patron saints:
There were and I think still are, in Fraulautern in the diocese of Trèves, two nuns, of whom one took special delight in St John the Baptist and the other in St John the Evangelist. Whenever they met, they contended together concerning which was the greater, so that the mistress was scarce able to restrain them. The one declared the privileges of her beloved in the presence of all, the other set up against them the very real prerogatives of hers.
One night, however, before matins St John the Baptist appeared to his worshipper in her sleep and set forth a list of the virtues of the other St John, declaring that the latter was far greater than he, and bidding her the next morning call her sister before the mistress and seek her pardon for having so often annoyed her because of him. That morning after matins, however, St John the Evangelist also visited his champion in her sleep and after retailing all St John the Baptist’s claims to superiority, assured her that the latter was far greater and gave her a similar order to ask pardon of her sister:
“On the morrow,” says Caesarius, “they came separately to the mistress and revealed what they had seen. Then together prostrating themselves and asking pardon of each other as they had been bidden, they were reconciled by the mediation of their spiritual mother, who warned them that henceforth they should not contend about the merits of the saints, which are known to God alone”[1806].