Curiosities of Christian History Prior to the Reformation

by James Paterson

THE MONKS OF LUCCA AND THEIR DEMON PREACHER (A.D. 1320).

In the fourteenth century the Franciscan monks of Lucca found that, however industrious they were in begging, the inhabitants had gradually ceased to contribute alms to the money-box, and they were on the point of starvation. The richest man of the place drove them from his gate and called them idle vagabonds, who wanted to live at their neighbours’ expense. The courage of the friars drooped; they saw their tables laid out daily for dinner, but not a morsel of bread. They thought of selling the silver vessels or leaving the locality. The abbot felt or feigned patience, courage, and resignation, and counselled them to trust in the Lord; but in their inmost hearts they all felt despair, and the devil triumphed at their approaching ruin. At this desperate juncture the Archangel Michael descended and caught an emissary of the devil as he was gloating over his prey, and condemned that emissary to do service to the monks, in spite of his evil nature. The devil gnashed his teeth and swore he would do nothing for the brood of St. Francis, his arch-foe. But Michael told the fiend that he had nothing to do but obey. So the fiend, sorely against his will, assumed the guise of a friar of higher degree, got into conversation with the abbot, and hearing of the drooping fortunes of the house, said he would compel the public to serve them and restore their comfort. The abbot looked again and again at this mysterious friend, whose bearing and confident airs made a profound impression, and asked his name, which the visitor said was “Obligatus.” So Obligatus entered the monastery, set to work, harangued the people in byways and comers, and his extraordinary eloquence soon worked an immediate change in the situation. The people were spellbound, and poured their contributions into the alms-boxes. The fame of the unwilling preacher filled all the country round, so that the monastery flourished and became too small, and then he prevailed on the people to build a second house. A rich man of the place fell sick unto death and sent for the eloquent friar, but at last he died impenitent; and this event greatly rejoiced the disguised saint, for Obligatus felt the devil within him so strong that he broke out into raptures. The secret of the demon friar was then disclosed. He tore off his friar’s habit, declared that his truce with St. Francis was ended, that he had done his work, and Francis had conquered. The friar then vanished disgusted and enraged, and was never more heard of. But the monastery flourished ever after.

THOMAS À KEMPIS AND THE BROTHERS OF COMMON LIFE (A.D. 1450).

Thomas à Kempis, the author of the “Imitatio Christi,” an inspired handbook of all that is best in monkish life, was born in 1380 at Kempen, in the diocese of Cologne. At the age of thirteen he went and joined the Brothers of Common Life, a small company or cloister founded by Gerard Groot and Florentius at Deventer, and seven years later he entered the convent of St. Agnes at Zwolle, where he filled several offices, and died in 1471, aged ninety. His book was first printed in 1471, and soon became the delight of all the best monks, as truly representing their higher life. Father Lamennais said of this book that “there is something celestial in its simplicity. One would almost imagine it was written by one of those pure spirits who have seen God face to face, who had come expressly to explain His ways and to reveal His secrets. One is profoundly moved at this aspect of that soft light which nourishes the soul and fortifies and animates without troubling it.” Mr. Kettlewell also well says, “It shows how the life of a Christian in ordinary circumstances may be made lovely by the cultivation of the spiritual life; how a lowly life may become sublime and heavenly.” In appearance Thomas had a broad forehead and thoughtful face and bright eyes. The Brothers of Common Life were employed not only in writing out Scripture, which was to them a great means of support, but in manual labour of a homely kind. Thomas in his studious hours contrived to extract the sweetness out of all the best writings of those who lived before him. Thomas’s idea of a cloister is quoted by Mr. Kettlewell, his biographer, and gives this charming picture: “A well-founded cloister, separated from the tumult of the world, adorned with many brethren and with sacred books, is acceptable to God and to His saints. Such a place, it is piously believed, is pleasing to all that love God and take a delight in hearing the things of God; because the cloister is the castle of the Supreme King, and the palace of the Celestial Emperor, prepared for the dwelling of religious persons where they may faithfully serve God. For this is none other, as we read and sing, than the house of God in which to pray, the court of God to offer praise, the choir of God to sing unto Him, the altar of God whereon to celebrate, the gate of God whereby to enter heaven, the ladder of God to rise above the clouds. As a noble city is preserved with walls and gates and bars, so also is the monastery of the religious with many devout brethren, with sacred books, and with learned men. It is decorated with gems and precious stones to the praise of God and to the honour of all his saints, who now rejoice in heaven with Him, because they followed in the footsteps of His passion on earth.”

ST. PETER OF ALCANTARA, THE SELF-CONCENTRATED MONK (A.D. 1530).

At Estremadura, in Spain, St. Peter, a law student and son of the governor, born in 1499, early embraced the religious life, and was eager to crucify the flesh with its affections. He never lifted his eyes from the ground, and could not tell whether his cell had a ceiling or bare rafters. He had charge of the refectory for six months, and allowed his brethren to go without apples and pomegranates because he would not lift his eyes to see whether there were any ripe for table. He did not know by sight one of the friars who had lived for years with him in the same house. He lay in a small cell not long enough to stretch his body in at full length. He wore only one garment, and that was a serge habit made like a short cloak with tight leggings. When it was torn he carefully removed the tattered portion underneath, lest he should be in the enjoyment of the double cloth. One day he was visited by a stranger, and Peter had been washing his only garment, and while it was drying in the sun he was of course not presentable to company. In his devotions he roared and howled so loudly that strangers thought he was insane, though the devout described him as only struggling manfully with the devil. To hear one of these performances was said to be far more impressive than any sermon of his contemporaries. One hot day, going to visit a nobleman, he dismounted from his ass and fell asleep, and the ass took the opportunity of trespassing and eating up the vegetables in a poor woman’s garden. On seeing the mischief done, she tugged at Peter’s cloak, which caused him to fall over and cut his head on a stone. The nobleman coming up at this point, was about to slay the woman for this rudeness, but Peter interceded for her, and begged his lordship rather to pay for the damage done by the ass, and this was done. Peter lived for forty-seven years in a perpetual penance, and was highly esteemed for the spirit he showed in so trampling the world under his feet. He had the look of a gnarled root of oak, rugged and eccentric, yet when he opened his mouth he was most affable and showed an excellent understanding. He died preaching to and admonishing the friars.

THE ECSTATIC VISIONS OF ST. THERESA (A.D. 1550).

St. Theresa astounded all her contemporaries with her numerous visions and high-flown devotional works. She was thought in her youth to be too much given to gossip; and when grown up, her confessors were told so many wonderful things that they plainly assured her these were mere delusions of the devil. She thus related one of these visions: “One day, when our Lord was communing with me, I gazed at His great beauty, and the sweetness with which He uttered His words with His most lovely and Divine mouth, sometimes also with sternness. I had a great desire to observe the colour of His eyes, and their shape and size, that I might give a description of them; but I have never been able to behold them, nor have I succeeded in gaining my point, as the vision has usually faded. And though sometimes I see He looks at me with compassion, yet the sight is so overpowering that the soul is not able to endure it, but remains in so high a rapture that, in order to enjoy Him the more completely, this beautiful apparition disappears altogether. When I am in trouble, He has shown me His wounds as He hung on the cross or was in the garden. One day, as I was holding the cross in my hand which was at the end of my rosary, He took it into His hand, and when He returned it to me it consisted of four great stones incomparably more precious than diamonds,” etc., etc. St. Theresa founded no less than sixteen convents in Spain, and she died at the age of sixty-seven, in 1582, in an ecstasy such as she had so often had during her lifetime; and the nuns who attended on her said they saw our Lord waiting at the foot of her bed with saints to carry her to realms of bliss. She had joined with her nuns in the penitential psalms and litany, and she then lay in a trance for her last fourteen hours in the posture in which the blessed Magdalene is commonly drawn by painters, holding a crucifix firmly in her hands, so that the nuns could not remove it till after her death. They all noticed her lips moving and a glow of heavenly hope on her face. Her body was so sacred that parts of it were dispersed throughout the Christian world.

THE EMPEROR MONK ENTERS A MONASTERY (A.D. 1557).

The Emperor Charles V. having for twenty years looked forward to the step he was now taking, took leave of many of his old servants, and on February 2nd, 1537, was placed in his litter, and with a company of fifty-two retainers, besides his household of sixty, crossing the leafless forest, halted at the gates of Yuste, the Jeromite convent in Estremadura in Spain. There the bells were ringing a peal of welcome, and the prior was waiting to receive his imperial guest, who, on alighting, was placed in a chair and carried to the door of the church. At the threshold he was met by the whole brotherhood in procession, chanting the Te Deum to the music of the organ. The altars and the aisle were brilliantly lighted up with tapers and decked with their richest frontals, hangings, and plate. Borne through the pomp to the steps of the high altar, Charles knelt down and returned thanks to God for the happy termination of his journey, and joined in the vesper service of the feast of St. Blas. This ended, the prior stepped forward with a congratulatory speech, in which, to the scandal of the courtiers, he addressed the Emperor as “your paternity,” until some friar with more presence of mind and regard to the situation whispered that the proper style was “your majesty.” The orator next presented his Jeromites to their new brother, each kissing his hand and receiving a fraternal embrace. Some of the friars bestowed on his gouty fingers so cordial a squeeze that the pain compelled him to withdraw the hand and say, “Pray, don’t, father; it hurts me.” During this ceremony the retiring halberdiers who had escorted their master to the journey’s close stood round with tears and lamentations as they took leave and felt their occupation gone. Sounds of mourning at the final parting were heard as the Emperor was conducted to an inspection of the convent, and then to supper, and then to a repose which had so long been the dream of his life.