et us begin with the Empress Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine. The official account of her life speaks of her as an Eastern princess, but in Celtic Britain the legends persist that she was a Christian British slave. She became Constantius' concubine and, A.D. 274, Constantine's mother. She was repudiated by the Emperor Constantius in 292, next treated with honour by Constantine when he was proclaimed Emperor, at York, in 302. Christianity was adopted by the Empire in 312. It could well be that his mother, like African Augustine's, had much to do with Constantine's conversion to Christianity. Constantine would establish the seat of Empire not in Rome but in Byzantium, Constantinople, on the shores of the Black Sea. Orthodox art before and after its iconoclastic phase, shows the Madonna and Child dressed in imperial garb, in Roman togas. This iconography doubly refers to Mary and Jesus, Helena and Constantine, palimpsested the one on the other. Both times, when iconoclasm is overturned, it is in turn carried out similarly by Empresses, Irene in 787 and Theodora in 843, as we witness in the British Museum's icon, the 1400 'The Triumph of Orthodoxy', showing the Regent Empress Theodora with her four-year-old son the Emperor Michael presiding at the restoration of the use of icons.

Helena, now Empress, visited the Holy Places, such as Bethlehem, Jerusalem and Sinai, determined where their churches would be built, and she and her son officially established for Christendom the cult of the Cross. However it is likely that the present Mount Sinai is not the true Sinai of Exodus but a mountain Helena decreed by fiat as Mount Sinai and that declaration is taken on faith by pilgrims to this day. Eusebius of Caesaria (260-339), their contemporary, wrote the account of Constantine and Helena's pilgrimages and building programmes in the Holy Places. Eusebius emphasizes Constantine as undertaking the excavations on Golgotha and building the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in 335. Later legend will have this archeology and architecture be Helena's. Eusebius affirms Helena's actions in this area in connection with the Bethlehem cave and basilica and with that on the Mount of Olives. He touchingly describes how she wished, quoting Psalm 132.7, to 'worship at the place whereon his feet have stood.' He also describes how

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especially abundant were the gifts she bestowed on the naked and unprotected poor. To some she gave money, to others an ample supply of clothing: she liberated some from imprisonment, or from the bitter servitude of the mines; others she delivered from unjust oppression, and others, again, she restored from exile.

While, however, her character derived luster from such deeds as I have described, she was far from neglecting personal piety toward God. She might be seen continually frequenting his Church, while at the same time she adorned the houses of prayer with splendid offerings, not overlooking the churches of the smallest cities. In short, this admirable woman was to be seen, in simple and modest attire, mingling with the crowd of worshipers, and testifying her devotion to God by a uniform course of pious conduct.

Reading between Eusebius' lines we see that Helena, who died at eighty in 327, preceded, with her building programme at Bethlehem and the Mount of Olives, those of Constantine in Jerusalem; Eusebius noting that Constantine's programme there is partly in memory of his mother. Thus Helena, as Christian Empress, could give to later women and men in her own third and fourth centuries and in others, a pattern centered upon poverty and power, piety and pilgrimage. She lived out those words read from Isaiah by Christ in the synagogue at Nazareth.

  

Monica (†387) and Augustine (†430)

ugustine, Aurelius Augustinus, was born in Africa in A.D. 354 at a time when the Roman Empire was crumbling. He grappled with the conflicting beliefs of that uncertain era, coming to reject Neoplatonism and Manicheanism for Christianity, being converted in a garden outside Milan through reading Paul's Epistle. And his mother's tears. He had been a Professor of Rhetoric, of Literature, he now professed Christ, the Word. Edith Stein has written a beautiful dialogue between Ambrose and Augustine in her Three Dialogues. Augustine was baptised by Ambrose in 387. Returning to Africa he became Bishop of Hippo, dying as the Vandals were besieging his beloved cathedral city. In his Confessions he writes his spiritual biography, much as Julian does in her Showing of Love. In it he explains that sin is the tending to non-being, to diverging from God's Creation. In its Book XI Augustine presents a heady discourse upon Time and Eternity, based upon Ambrose's evening hymn.

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Take the line 'Deus Creator omnium', which consists of eight syllables . . [Augustine sings the line.] What has become of each syllable? Their sound is finished and has been wafted away into the past. They no longer exist. . . . It is in my own mind, then, that I measure time . . . . Suppose that I am going to recite a psalm that I know. Before I begin, my faculty of expectation is engaged by the whole of it. But once I have begun, as much of the psalm as I have removed from the province of expectation and relegated to the past now engages my memory, and the scope of the action which I am performing is divided between the two faculties of memory and expectation . . . But my faculty of attention is present all the while, and through it passes what was the future in the process of becoming the past.  [Then Augustine compares that action to God.] If there were a mind endowed with such great power of knowing and foreknowing that all the past and all the future were known to it as clearly as I know a familiar psalm, that mind would be wonderful beyond belief. We should hold back from it in awe at the thought that nothing in all the history of the past and nothing in all the ages yet to come was hidden from it. It would know all this as surely as, when I sing the psalm, I know what I have already sung and what I have still to sing, how far I am from the beginning and how far from the end. But it is unthinkable that you, Creator of the universe, Creator of souls and bodies, should know all the past and all the future merely in this way. Your knowledge is far more wonderful, far more mysterious than this.

My mother and I were alone, leaning from a window which overlooked the garden in the courtyard of the house were we were staying at Ostia. . . .Our conversation led us to the conclusion that no bodily pleasure, however great it might be and whatever earthly light might shed lustre upon it, was worthy of comparison, or even of mention, beside the happiness of the life of the saints. As the flame of love burned stronger in us and raised us higher towards the eternal God, our thoughts ranged over the whole compass of material things in their various degrees, up to the heavens themselves, from which the sun and the moon and the stars shine down upon the earth. Higher still we climbed, thinking and speaking all the while in wonder at all that you have made. At length we came to our own souls and passed beyond them to that place of everlasting plenty, where you feed Israel for ever with the food of truth. There life is that Wisdom by which all these things that we know are made, all things that ever have been and all that are yet to be. But this Wisdom is not made: it is as it has always been and as it will be for ever . . . And when we spoke of the eternal Wisdom, longing for it and straining for it with all the strength of our hearts, for one fleeting instant we reached out and touched it. Then with a sigh . . . we returned to the sound of our own speech, in which each word has a beginning and an ending - far, far different from your Word, our Lord, who abides in himself for ever, yet never grows old and gives new life to all things.

And so our discussion went on. Suppose, we said, that the tumult of man's flesh were to cease and all that his thoughts can conceive, of earth, of water, and of air, should no longer speak to him; suppose that the heavens and even his own soul were silent, no longer thinking of itself but passing beyond; suppose that his dreams and the visions of his imagination spoke no more and that every tongue and every sign and all that is transient grew silent - for all these things have the same message to tell, if only we can hear it, and their message is this: We did not make ourselves, but he who abides for ever made us.

or was Helena the only European woman to visit the Holy Places in Africa and Asia during this period and to write letters describing her experiences. Let us also look at the Roman matron and widow Paula and her virgin daughter Eustochium. Paula and Eustochium wrote an important, joint, and most joy-filled letter to their friend in Rome, Marcella, published as Jerome's Epistola XLVI/46, in which they described their pilgrimage in A.D. 385 to the Holy Places, to Africa, to Israel, before settling down for the rest of their lives with Jerome in Bethlehem, financially supporting him and assisting his labours with translating the Bible from Hebrew and Greek into Latin, the Vulgate text to which Egeria did not have access. We often see paintings of scarlet-clad Cardinal Jerome in his study at his labours, but his womenfolk are forgotten and omitted from those canvesses, except in two, one now in the National Gallery in London, but which was at San Girolamo in Fiesole, which shows the widowed Paula, at her side her most beautiful virgin daughter, Eustochium, and another by Francisco Zurburan and Workshop now in the National Gallery in Washington, and originally painted for the Hieronymite Order founded by Alfonso of Jaén's brother, and to which belonged the famous Sor Juana de la Cruz in Mexico City.

Paula movingly contrasts the wealth of Rome and the poverty of Bethlehem:

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Where are spacious porticoes? Where are gilded ceilings? Where are houses decorated by the sufferings and labours of condemned wretches? Where are halls built by the wealth of private men on the scale of palaces, that the vile carcase of man may move among more costly surroundings, and view his own roof rather than the heavens, as if anything could be more beauteous than creation? . . . . In the village of Christ . . . all is rusticity, and except for psalms, silence. Whithersoever you turn yourself, the ploughman, holding the plough handle, sings Alleluia; the perspiring reaper diverts himself with psalms, and the vine-dresser sings some of the ballads of this country, these are the love-songs, as they are commonly called; these are whistled by the shepherds, and are the implements of the husbandman. Indeed, we do not think of what we are doing or how we look, but see only that for which we are longing.

Paula's pilgrimage, like Egeria's, is a mapping out in time and space, using the Bible to understand the lands of the Bible. But Paula adds to Egeria's knowledge of the Bible in its Old Latin translation and her curiosity about Greek and comparative liturgy, her own knowledge not only of classical Latin but also of Greek and the Hebrew she is avidly studying. Helena, Egeria and Paula all use time and space, the book of the Bible and geography of the Holy Land as their Internet upon which to weave a web of links to sanctity, retrieving what is hallowed and hallowing.

Twenty years later, Jerome was to write another letter, his Epistola CVIII/108, praising Paula, and in it recapitulating the description of the pilgrimage that she had made. We learn much about Paula in Jerome's voluminous writings. He tells of her luxurious Roman life, her wealth, and her very great status. She, who had once always dressed in silks, and who had been used to being carried about Rome by her eunuch slaves so that her feet might never touch the ground, who was descended from Agamemnon, and whose husband was descended from Aeneas, had joined Marcella's group of high-born, wealthy Roman ladies, who together attempted to follow a life of monastic severity. Jerome became their teacher, expounding the Scriptures to them. But he quarrelled with Church officials in Rome most bitterly and found it expedient to return to Bethlehem. Paula and her daughter, Eustochium, joined him there, Paula leaving behind the rest of her children weeping on the quay. In the Holy Land Paula studied Hebrew so that she might sing the psalms, the chief early Christian devotional practice, in their original language and assist him in his translation work. She lived for twenty years in Bethlehem, dying there in A.D. 404. Paula and Eustochium's letter to Marcella pleads with their old friend that she leave Rome, called in the letter a 'Babylon,' and come to Jerusalem and its Holy Places. A noted Jerome scholar remarks that this letter is 'written in the name of Paula and her daughter but manifestly by Jerome himself, to Marcella,' then goes on to say, 'It is an idyllic piece, relating spiritual serenity and contentment . . . and stands in striking contrast to the querulous, vituperative note' of Jerome's typical writings. We find other male scholars making the same statements of Heloise's letters, that they are Abelard's, yet that they are in a totally different style than his.

The letter in question is Epistola XLVI. It describes Paula's pilgrimages to all these Holy Places in such a way as to have Marcella participate in their sacred journeying, mentally, and vicariously, in her imagination. Paula and Eustochium begin their letter by stating that, although the Crucifixion may have made Jerusalem an accursed place, there is ample scriptural justification for Christians to return to that holy city. Paula relies not only on the Scriptures and upon her growing knowledge of Hebrew but also upon Cicero for her arguments, describing both St. Paul speaking of his need to return to Jerusalem and Cicero speaking of his need to learn one's Greek not only in Sicily but in Athens, one's Latin not in Lilybaeum but in Rome. She adds, in a capstone to her argument, that Jerusalem is 'our Athens.' She then quotes Virgil's First Eclogue on the great distance of the British Isles from Rome in noting that Christian Gauls and Britons all make haste to come, not to Rome, but to far Jerusalem. Jerome is also fond of this phrase, but states it the opposite way: ' Et de Hierosolymis et de Britannia aequaliter patet aula coelestis: regnum enim dei intra nos est,' Epistola LVIII. Chaucer may have had it in mind with his Wife of Bath, who so often speaks of Jerome. Jerome writes the letter in 404 after Paula's death, giving Paula's vita to her virgin daughter, Eustochium. In contrast to Paula's letter to Marcella, Jerome's account of the pilgrimage Paula made is almost barren of references to classical authors. He does, however, mention the ' fables of the poets', de fabulis Poetarum , in giving the tale of Andromeda chained to a rock, as happening at Joppa, which he notes was also the harbor of the fugitive Jonah. He had earlier cited some lines of the Aeneid concerning the Greek Isles. But, unlike Paula, he does not show off his classical learning. He is here being more Christian than Ciceronian. (We recall his dream in which he is chided, or chides himself, by being told, 'Thou art not a Christian. Thou art a Ciceronian.'  But it is full of descriptions of her great piety and of her deep emotional participation in the past drama of the present places which she visits. He feminizes her. He is writing in her praise as had Valerius in that of Egeria. The letter waxes most sentimental about her parting from her family members, describing her as torn between the love of her children and her love for God.

Jerome in Epistola CVIII/108 notes Paula's deep, affective piety at the Cross and the Sepulchre in Jerusalem, and at the cave and church in Bethlehem, which she had not particularly stressed herself. He amplifies her previous words to Marcella and speaks of her as prostrating herself before the Cross, almost seeing upon it the hanging body of the Lord, as she prays, and as kissing the stones, the one which the angel had rolled away and the one in the Holy Sepulchre on which the Lord had lain. Then he describes her entering into the cave of the Nativity, weeping and as if seeing the Virgin wrapping the Child in swaddling clothes and placing him in the manger between the ox and the ass written of in the Prophets, the Magi adoring him, the star shining above, the Mother nursing the Child, the shepherds coming by night and seeing the Word which was made flesh as John wrote in the beginning of his Gospel:

n principio erat verbum et verbum caro factum est.'

One should note that Jerome, Paula and Eustochium lived in the adjacent cave, which one can still see today, reached by a passage from that of the Nativity, beneath the sanctuary in the Empress Helena's Bethlehem basilica.

Jerome's account in Epistola CVIII/108 ends by saying, and unconsciously echoing Valerius concerning Egeria:

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Her zeal was wonderful - her courage scarcely credible for a woman. Forgetful of her sex and the weakness of her frame, she desired to dwell with her maidens among so many thousands of monks' in the Egyptian Thebaid, but returned to Jerusalem.

It is an interesting relationship, that between Paula and Jerome. We should not forget that Chaucer will play upon it when he writes the Wife of Bath's Prologue, in which he has the Wife, in her scarlet garb, visit the same Holy Places as did St. Paula, and has her constantly cite, not classical authors, but St. Jerome, especially his treatise, Adversus Jovinianum, his diatribe against marriage and widowhood, in which he advocates, as he also did in a letter to Paula's daughter Eustochium, perpetual virginity.


Arsenius (†450)

rsenius, born in 354 into Roman Senatorial rank, was selected as imperial tutor to Theodosius' sons, Arcadius and Honorius, arriving in Constantinople in 383, teaching there for eleven years. Agonizing amidst the splendour of the court one day he heard a voice saying, 'Arsenius, flee the company of men, and thou shalt live'. So he left, going to Alexandria and into the desert of Nitria.There he counselled the staying in one's cell for prayer, work and sustenance. It is said of him that at sunset on the Sabbath he would raise his hands in prayer, until the dawn light of Sunday shone upon his face. One brother looked through the window to see Arsenius standing in his cell in prayer, his whole body afire. It is said that because at court he had worn the finest, softest clothes, as a hermit he wore the meanest garb, and that he hid behind a pillar in church so that his white hair and beard not be seen. Similarly he let the water in which he soaked the rushes for basket become rank to compensate for the perfumes to which he had been accustomed. Arsenius would say, 'The monk is a stranger in a foreign land: let him not occupy himself with anything there and he will find rest'. He also said, 'If we seek God he will be revealed to us; if we laid hold on him he will remain with us'. On an occasion a brother said to Abba Arsenius, 'How is it that you who have much learning, both Greek and Latin, ask questions about the thoughts of humble Egyptian villagers'. Arsenius replied, 'With Greek and Latin learning I am acquainted, but I have not yet learned the alphabet of these villagers'. The Sayings of the Holy Fathers gives, 'It is right for a monk to live even as Abba Arsenius lived. Take care each day to stand before God without sin, and draw nigh unto him with tears as did the sinful woman, and pray to God as if he were before you, for he is near and looks carefully upon you'. Once a lawyer came to tell Arsenius he had been left a large sum of money in a will. Arsenius replied, 'I died before he did'. Abba Anthony told his disciples of Abba Arsenius and Abba Moses, that when a monk went to Abba Arsenius concerning the silent life of contemplation, he neither set a table for him nor gave him refreshment. Then he went to the blessed Abba Moses and he both welcomed him and gave him refreshment. Next in a vision he saw Abba Arsenius in a ship with the Spirit of God who was travelling with him. He also saw Abba Moses in a ship filled with angels. Thus it was understood that the life of silent contemplation was exalted above alms and ministrations as was the conduct of Matthew the Evangelist above that of Zacchaus the tax-gatherer. Often cited by our writers in this volume, in the Amherst manuscript, and in the writings of Dame Gertrude More, is his saying, 'That I have spoken I have many times repented, that I held my peace, I have never repented'.


Boethius (†524)

oethius, Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, was born about A.D. 480. A Christian, he also knew all the classical and pagan works of philosophy written by Plato and Aristotle, Parmenides and Pythagoras, Cicero and Seneca, and he reconciled these to Christian theology in his own writings. He was a Roman Senator, defending the ancient principles of their Republic, but was thrown into prison by the barbarian Emperor Theodoric where he awaited a most brutal form of execution, ropes to be bound around his head till his eyes burst out and then to be finished off by the bludgeon and the axe, A.D. 524. During that time he wrote The Consolation of Philosophy, which is modeled upon the biblical books of Job and Wisdom and upon the Platonic dialogues about Socrates while he was awaiting execution in Athens. Boethius in this work presents Philosophia as a beautiful woman who consoles Boethius (she is really his wiser self) for his foolish and mawkish self-pitying. She gets him to recover from his depression by telling him of Time and Eternity, Creation and Creator, Man and God, the Circle and the Centre. She is his and our psychiatrist.

His book was treasured up for centuries, only falling out of favour at the Age of Reason. King Alfred translated it into Old English, Jean de Meun translated it into French, Chaucer translated it into Middle English. Queen Elizabeth I translated it into Elizabethan English. Dante, Chaucer and Julian of Norwich all used its concepts and were all deeply influenced by it. Boethius' Consolation is a key to understanding medieval poetry and Christian theology. It is also a 'golden book' as Edward Gibbon called it, that can be of use to disordered souls in our own moment in time.

The work is written in sections, divided between Prose and Poetry. Medieval manuscripts of the text are richly illuminated, presenting Boethius in prison, mourning on his bed, and visited by the Lady Philosophia, and from her Dante derived his consoling figure of Beatrice.

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Book II, Prose 7 Boethius: You know that ambition for material things has not mastered me; but I have desired the opportunity for public service so that my virtue should not grow old and weak through lack of use. Philosophia: But think how trivial and empty such glory is. You know from astrological computation that the whole circumference of the earth is no more than a pinpoint when contrasted to the space of the heavens; in fact, if the two are compared, the earth may be considered to have no size at all. . . But, if the soul, in full awareness of its virtue, is freed from this earthly prison and goes to heaven, does it not disregard all earthly concerns and, in the enjoyment of heaven, find its satisfaction in being separated from earthly things?

Book II, Poem 8 Philosophia: Love rules the earth and the seas, and commands the heavens.

Book III, Prose 1 Philosophia: I am about to lead you to true happiness, to the goal your mind has dreamed of. But your vision has been so clouded by false images you have not been able to reach it.

Poem 1 Philosophia: Just so, by first recognizing false goods, you begin to escape the burden of their influence; then afterwards true goods may gain possession of your spirit.

Poem 3 Philosophia: The only stable order in things is that which connects the beginning to the end and keeps itself on a steady course.

Poem 9 Philosophia: You [God] who are most beautiful produce the beautiful world from your divine mind and, forming it in your image, You order the perfect parts into a perfect whole.

Prose 12 Philosophia: Then it is the supreme good which rules all things firmly and disposes all sweetly (Wisdom 8.1). Boethius: I am delighted not only by your powerful argument and its conclusion, but even more by the words you have used. And I am at last ashamed of the folly that so profoundly depressed me. Philosophia: Then can God do evil? Boethius: No, of course not.  Philosophia: Then evil is nothing, since God, who can do all things, cannot do evil. Boethius: You are playing with me by weaving a labyrinthine argument from which I cannot escape. You seem to begin where you ended and to end where you began. Are you perhaps making a marvelous circle of the divine simplicity? Philosophia: As Parmenides puts it, the divine essence, is 'in body like a sphere, perfectly rounded on all sides'.

Book IV, Prose 6 Philosophia: Consider the example of a number of spheres in orbit around the same central point: the innermost moves toward the simplicity of the center and becomes a kind of hinge about which the outer spheres circle; whereas the outermost, whirling in a wider orbit, tends to increase its orbit in space the farther it moves from the indivisible midpoint of the center. If, however it is connected to the center, it is confined by the simplicity of the center and no longer tends to stray into space. In like manner whatever strays farthest from the divine mind is most entangled in the nets of Fate; conversely, the freer a thing is from Fate, the nearer it approaches the center of all things. Therefore, the changing course of Fate is to the simple stability of Providence as time is to eternity, as a circle to its center.

Book V, Prose 6 Philosophia: Eternity is the whole, perfect, and simultaneous possession of endless life. The meaning of this can be made clearer by comparison with temporal things, For whatever lives in time lives in the present, proceeding from past to future, and nothing is so constituted in time that it can embrace the whole span of its life at once. It has not arrived at tomorrow, and it has already lost yesterday; even the life of this day is lived only in each moving, passing moment. But God sees as present those future things which result from free will. If you will face it, the necessity of virtuous action imposed upon you is very great, since all your actions are done in the sight of a Judge who sees all things.

Pseudo-Dionysius (†VI century)

hristianity, for centuries, believed that a late fifth-century, early sixth-century theologian was, as he pretended to be, that Dionysius the Areopagite whom Paul converted, along with the woman Damaris, at Athens (Acts 17.22-34). The Neoplatonist Pseudo-Dionysius wrote magnificent treatises, Julian of Norwich quoting from him three times in her Showing of Love. His manuscripts had been given by the Emperor Michael the Stammerer in A.D. 827 to King Louis the Pious. John Scotus translated them in 862, Anastasius, the papal librarian, commenting on the text in 875. Abbot Suger of St Denis (Saint Dionysius) commenced Gothic architecture through using Dionysius' theology in stone, lead and glass.

Gothic Architecture, Norwich Cathedral

But Abelard, while a monk at St Denis, denounced Dionysius's identity as fraudulent. Meanwhile, the Victorines also discovered and used the Dionysian corpus of writings. Cardinal Adam Easton, the brilliant Benedictine of Julian's Norwich, owned the complete works of Pseudo-Dionysius, in a fine thirteenth-century manuscript giving some of the Greek text as well as all the Latin translation, the invocation to the Trinity being most beautifully illuminated with a gold-leafed, intertwined 'T' at folio 108v. That manuscript is today, Cambridge Ii.III.32. Meanwhile, the Cloud of Unknowing Author (but whom I suspect to have been Adam Easton writing to Julian), translated the Mystic Theology into Middle English as Deonise Hid Diuinite for a woman contemplative. To do so he converted the Trinity into an invocation to divine and feminine Wisdom.

Thou vnbigonne & euerlastyng Wysdome, the whiche in thiself arte the souereyn-substancyal Firstheed, the souereyn Goddesse, & the souereyn Good, the inliche beholder of the godliche maad wisdome of Cristen men: I beseche the for to drawe us up in an acordyng abilnes to the souereyn-vnknowen and the souereyn-schinyng height of the derke inspirid spekynges, where alle the pryue thinges of deuinytee ben kouerid and hid vnder the souereyn-schinyng derknes of wisest silence, makyng the souereyn-clerest souereynly for to schine priuely in the derkyst; and the whiche is in a maner that is alweys inuisible & vngropable souereynli fulfillyng with ful fayre cleertees alle thoo soules that ben not hauyng eyghen of mynde.

Benedict (†547), Scholastica (†before 547) and Gregory (†604)

regory the Great (c. 540-604) wrote an account of the Life and Miracles of St Benedict (c.480-547), casting these in the form of Dialogues between himself and Peter, a fellow monk. In these Dialogues there is a most moving account of Benedict and of his twin sister Scholastica and how she is able to force her brother to break his Rule and stay over night at her convent at Subiaco so that they may converse all night upon God. She prays to God for a storm which he grants. Three days later she dies.

That account is followed by one of Benedict's vision of God as greater than all his Creation. He is standing in prayer at a window of a great tower, apart from his sleeping disciples, when suddenly there is a great light, greater than that of the sun. As he marvels he suddenly sees as it were the whole world collected into one ray of light before his eyes.

Gregory and Peter discuss that vision, Gregory explaining that to the soul who sees the Creator all Creation becomes small, 'animae uidenti creatorem angusta est omnis creatorem'. He goes on to explain that it is not that the world contracts, but that the soul, seeing God, expands above the world, becoming greater than itself. 'Quod autem collectus mundus ante eius oculos dicitur, non caelum et terra contracta est, sed uidentis animus dilatatus, qui, in deo raptus, uidere sine difficultate potuit omne quod infra deum est'. And he further discourses upon the interior light and that of the eyes in this vision. The male abbot has experienced Mary's Magnificat in his prayers. 'My soul doth magnify the Lord'. Smallness become largeness; darkness, light; humility, power.

Gregory's Dialogues was, of course, a staple in Benedictine circles. The lovely dialogue, within the Dialogues, following upon this one of Benedict's vision of God, was of the twin brother and sister, and which is sung antiphonally on the feast day of Benedict and Scholastica by Benedictines, celebrating the breaking of their sacred Rule. And that served to make Benedict's following vision concerning prayer the more memorable.

Christina of Markyate refers to Benedict's vision, where she sees in a flash of light the whole world.

And Julian of Norwich refers to it - and especially in connection with the Virgin at the Annunciation and Nativity,

and with the hazelnut passage,

and then again and again fugally throughout her text.

For Julian, whose anchorhold at St Julian's Church is under the Benedictines of Carrow Priory, who are in turn under the Benedictines of Norwich Cathedral Priory, is seeped in Benedictinism. It is possible that her Benedictinism is taught her by the brilliant Norwich Benedictine Adam Easton. It is even possible that Adam Easton might be her brother, might even be her twin.

n Early Christianity, in Ireland and England, hermits, contemplatives, paralleling those of the Egyptian and Syrian deserts, were known as the Celi Dei , the Friends of God. This name is also frequent in later contemplative movements and writings. At the same time that Julian of Norwich, Walter Hilton and the author of the Cloud of Unknowing were formulating their contemplative texts in England, other mystics were writing on the Continent. As in England, women were present alongside men in this project, this textual community stretching over most of Europe. Meister Eckhart had available to him the writings of Hildegard von Bingen, as had also John Tauler those of Mechtild von Magdebourg, and those of Marguerite Porete. Associated with Meister Eckhart was Agnes of Hungary, with Henry Suso, Elsbeth Stägel, while John Tauler likewise preached to Dominican nuns and Jan van Ruusbroec wrote spiritual treatises to them. That sense of women belonging to the 'Friends of God' (Wisdom 7.27, James 2.23) as well as men may have had its origins in the Christianizing of Germany from England by Anglo-Saxon monks and nuns, influenced by the Celi Dei, and who established double monasteries, St Hilda's Whitby, St Lioba's Bischopsheim and countless others. At first the mysticism, or contemplation, is Benedictine. Then it becomes strongly Dominican. Associated with it are also the women Beguines, such as Margaret Porete and Mechtild of Magdebourg. This booklet traces the lives and works of the God Friends, recognising that three of their texts, Marguerite Porete's Mirror of Simple Souls, Jan van Ruusbroec's Sparkling Stone and an extract of Henry Suso's Horologium Sapientiae, are found together with Julian's Showing of Love in the Amherst Manuscript in the British Library and that these other works may well have been translated for her and thus constituted her Library of Mystics from which she partly drew her inspiration.

Lioba (†781)

t Boniface travelled from England to Germany proselytizing amongst the pagan tribes there and establishing monasteries for both men and women. St Lioba, St Boniface's kinswoman, was a nun in Wessex who had studied under Mother Tetta (in secular life, Cuthberga, sister of the King of Wessex, wife of the King of Northumbria). Boniface sent for Lioba to come to Germany, because she was a skilled Classicist, learned in the Scriptures, the Church Fathers, canon law and the decrees of all the councils. In fact, she was never without a book in her hand, reading at every possible opportunity and she never forgot what she read. Her name 'Lioba' means 'Beloved'. Boniface asked that her bones be laid by his at her death. Charlemagne's wife adored her but Lioba hated the life of court like poison.

Latin

Her life tells, among others, this story: 'She had a dream in which one night she saw a purple thread issuing from her mouth. It seemed to her that when she took hold of it with her hand and tried to draw it out there was no end to it. . . When her hand was full of thread and it still issued from her mouth she rolled it round and round and made a ball of it .' An old and prophetic nun was asked about the meaning of the dream and explained that it referred to Lioba's wise counsels spoken from her heart. 'Furthermore, the ball which she made by rolling it round and round signifies the mystery of the divine teaching, which is set in motion by the words and deeds of those who give instruction and which turns earthwards through active works and heavenwards through contemplation, at one time swinging downwards through compassion for one's neighbour, again swinging upwards through the love of God.'

The image of the ball of purple thread in Lioba's hand is similar to Julian's hazel nut in the palm of her hand.
 

Hildegard of Bingen (†1179)

From the Lucca Manuscript

      Hildegard, Ordo Virtutum

ildegard of Bingen, and other women like her, such as Hrotswitha of Gandesheim (A.D. 932-1000) and Herrad of Landesburg, followed in the learned Benedictine tradition established in German-speaking countries from England, such as with St Leoba, which gave women the status of Christian equality with men. Hildegard composed music and wrote treatises on medicine, on Benedict's Rule, a play, many letters, and visionary mystical works which she also illuminated in a manner that is deeply compelling. But, unlike Lioba, she was not a pleasing person. Until the age of forty she kept to her bed. Richardis, her friend and fellow nun, then persuaded her to embark on her career as writer of letters to the leaders of Church and State in her day and to compose her mystical treatises. When Richardis left her to become an abbess at another monastery Hildegard was furious, demanding her return. Richardis, obediently, died. Hildegard ruled her monastery by means of tyrannising over her nuns with her migraines - about which she writes in her medical works and whose effect she illuminates in her mystical treatises. She is an example of a genius who is less than charitable. One admires her work, but not her desire for control. She has significant prophetic messages for us today.

We need to see Hildegard's play, the Ordo Virtutum, in its contexts, first of monastic obedience, then of flesh and blood reality concerning disobedience behind its morality, the tragedy of Hildegard's companion, Richardis von Stade, and lastly the surrounding text in which it first was found, the Scivias, especially the final section, and other writings by Hildegard which enclosed this central drama in her thought and her life. Hildegard's Ordo Virtutum is the celebration of Obedience following upon a period of revolt. It is the story not so much of a prodigal son as of a prodigal daughter.

In real life there was such a prodigal daughter, Richardis von Stade, the much loved fellow nun who had colluded with and nursed Hildegard in her illness of not only the customary migraines but even bouts of blindness and paralysis at the time when she sought to leave Disibodenberg in order to found Rupertsberg. Richardis had encouraged Hildegard in her writing of Scivias, begun in 1141. Perhaps she recognized that this was psychotherapy for her abbess. The partly completed text of Scivias, Bernard's interest in it, and Richardis' family influence enabled Pope Eugenius III to grant papal recognition to Hildegard at the Synod of Trier and also made possible the move to Rupertsberg. At this time the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa had a secret interview concerning prophecy with Hildegard, the Sibyl of the Rhine, at his royal palace at Ingelheim. It is very likely that these clustered actions took place through the influence of Richardis von Stade and her powerful family in their attempt to save Hildegard's life.

Then Adelheid was elected abbess of Gandesheim in 1152, Richardis having been elected abbes of Bassum in 1151. Hildegard had bitterly opposed Richardis' election which would take her way from her, and she ungratefully took the case to her family and to the pope. Adelheid's election was not so disturbing to her. The Archbishop of Bremen, Richardis' brother, have been forced to write to Hildegard to break the news to her of Richardis' sudden death on 29 October 1151. He told her that his sister when dying had stated her intention of returning to Hildegard and Rupertsberg. Hildegard, answering his letter, described Richardis in words that echo and mirror those of the Ordo Virtutum and its surrounding text in the Scivias; there are also echoes of another letter written to a woman who had abandoned being a nun and to whom Hildegard had referred as a prodigal son. In all these writings Hildegard stressing her outrage at women's disobedience, used the Benedictine emphasis upon Ordo, even to the extent of paraphrasing Benedict's Rule, while describing the serpent, the devil, in Virgilian terms borrowed from the Aeneid, Book II, to give vent to her personal emotions.

Perhaps within that rage is Hildegard's envy of Richardis' freedom. Her headaches and invalidism could indicate suppressed fury. She herself tended to recover from serious illness through being disobedient. She had been presented to Disibodenberg as a child of eight, and took her vows of perpetul virginity and obedience very early in life. Obedience, Ordo, is central to her life and art. Yet her writings are full of sexual curiosity and lore, this material granting her writings some of their most powerful images. Yet she disobeyed Disibodenberg in founding St Rupertsberg. Yet she herself would defy St Paul against women preaching, and she would herself preach at Trier - like Mary Magdalen's legendary preaching in Provence. Mary Magdalen being perceived in monasticism as having been the first contemplative, the model for monastic life - though Hildegard oddly compared her love for Richardis to that of Paul for Timothy. Yet she would even, in 1178, when she was eighty, defy the Church concerning the burial of a young nobleman and would face six months of excommunication. Yet her music disobeys, to its glory, the acceptable and expected intervals of Gregorian chant. Not for nothing did Goethe, who knew her work, echo her love of viriditas with his Faustian 'Grey, dear Friend, is all theory,/ And green is life's golden tree'.

In the play, but only in play, not in reality, the Anima/ Richardis returns to Queen Humility/ Abbess Hildegard, the ugly shouted words of the Devil giving way to the chanted symphony of the Virtues and the returned Soul - an alternative and comedic ending to the tragic story. The scenes of the Soul and of the chained Devil are splendidly illuminated in the now lost Scivias codex. It could well be that had it not been for Richardis' disobedience, first to the concept of women's helplessness, then to the concept of her dependency upon another, and finally Richardis' choice of death as freedom from Hildegard's tyranny, the writings, the music and the illuminations we so treasure today could not have come into being. They are like the pearl of great price: they inscribe, chant and illumine the Kingdom of Heaven. Let us now conclude with Hedwig's vision of Hildegard walking in the cloister which she had built, singing her own sequence O virga ac diadema.

Mechtild of Hackeborn (†1298)

ertrude of Hackeborn was elected Abbess of Helfta in 1251 at nineteen. Her sister, Mechthild of Hackeborn, like Mechtild of Magdebourg, wrote visionary works. And so did another nun who entered the convent, Gertrude the Great. Their visions are largely based on Bernard and the Song of Songs and filled with eroticism and the Body of Christ, in particular, his Sacred Heart. Julian is to borrow some of that imagery in her Showing of Love for the scene where Christ shows her the wound in his side, as he had earlier shown it to Doubting Thomas, to affirm his love for his Creation. The scribe of her Amherst Short Text Showing of Love also is the scribe of Mechtild of Hackeborn's Book of Ghostly Grace in Middle English. The seventeenth-century English Benedictine nuns in exile  consciously took Helfta as their model, the very young Helen More taking the name in religion of 'Gertrude' with that awareness.

ngela of Foligno, a Franciscan tertiary, who did not really choose to live in a physical cloister or a physical cell, spoke of the fruits of contemplation as being where one's soul becomes a room, a cell, in which one finds the All Good, finds the entire Creation. This account, written down at her dictation by Fra Arnaldo, her confessor and spiritual director, often clandestinely, gives: 'anima mea est una camera . . . est ibi . . . omne bonum'.

/Et quamvis ego possim recipere tristitias et laetitias exterius aliqualiter et parum, tamen intus in anima mea est una camera in qua non ingreditur aliqua laetitia nec tristitia nec delectatio alicuius omnino virtutis nec delectatio alicuius rei quae nominari possit, sed est ibi illud omne bonum quod non est aliud bonum, vel illud ita omne bonum quod non est aliud bonum. Et in illo manifestare Dei, quamvis ego blasphemem dicendo et male dicendo illud quia non possum illud loqui, dico tamen quod in illo manifestare Dei est tota veritas; et in illo manifestare Dei intelligo habeo totam veritatem quae est in caelo et in inferno et in toto mundo et in omni loco et in omni re, et totum delectamentum quod est in caelo et in omni creatura, cum tanta veritate et certitudine, quod nullo modo possem credere aliud toti mundo. Sed si totus mundus diceret aliud, ego facerem inde truffas. Et video illum qui est esse et quomodo est esse omnium creatorum. Et video quomodo me fecit capacem ad intelligendum praedicta modo melius quam fueram hactenus, quando videbam eum in illa tenebra quae me tantum consuevit delectare. Et video me solam cum Deo, totam mundam, totam sanctificatam, totam veram, totam recta, totam certificatam et totam caelestem in eo. Et quando sum in isto, non recordor alterius rei.

Et aliquando dum eram in praedictis dixit mihi Deus: Filia divinae sapientiae, templum Dilecti, delectum Dilecti. Et: Filia pacis, in te pausat tota Trinitas, tota veritas, ita quod tu tenes me et ego teneo te. Et una operationum animae est, quod intelligo cum magna capacitate et cum magno delectamento quomodo Deus venit in Sacramento altaris cum illa societate (IX: p. 215)/.

/Et in praedicto die habui tam nobilem elevationem et tam claram intelligentiam quomodo Christus venit in Sacramento altaris, quod nunquam nec prius nec postea fuit mihi tam clare demonstratum. Et fuit mihi demonstratum quomodo Christus veniebat cum illa societate. Et poteram delectari in Christo et in illa societate, quod non est mihi consuetum quod possim delectari nisi in Christo, unde mirata fui quomodo poteram delectari in eo et in societate. Et aliter intelligebam eum, et aliter intelligebam societatem illam, et delectabar in eo et in societate. Et fuit mihi dictum quod illa societas erat throni. Et ego non intelligebam quid esset dicere "throni". Et erat illa societas una sclera vel una acies tantae multitudinis, quod, nisi esset quod ego intelligo quod Deus facit omnia cum mensura, crederem quod illa societas esset numerus sine mensura, id est innumerabilis. Et fuit ibi locutio divina dicens: Animae sunt in quas venio, et transeo. Et dixit quod non erat anima in magno numero civitatum, in qua pausem sicut pauso in anima tua. Et dixit numerum civitatum, sed non recordor eius.

Et ego frater scriptor quaesivi ab ea si illa acies, postquam acies erat, si habebat aliquid mensurae in longitudine aliqua vel in latitudine aliquo modo. Et ipsa respondit quod non habebat aliquam mensuram in longitudine vel latitudine, sed erat ineffabiliter. (IX: p. 211)./

/Sed postquam anima perfecte unitur Deo et ponitur in sede veritatis, quae veritas est sedes animae, non clamat nec conqueritur de Deo nec tenerescit nec infirmatur, immo cognoscit se indignam omni bono et omni dono Dei et dignam maiori inferno quam sit ille qui factus est. Et ponitur in ea una sapientia et una maturitas, et fit stabilis et ordinata et adeo fortificata quod iret ad mortem; et habet Deum in plenitudine quantum capere potest, et Deus etiam ipsam crescere facit ut fiat capax eius quod vult ponere in ea; et videt illum qui est, et videt quod omnia nihil sunt nisi in quantum habent esse ab illo qui est; et habet omnia quae praecesserunt pro nihilo comparative et etiam omnia creata; nec curat de morte nec infirmitate, honore vel vituperio. Et ita pacificatur et quietatur quod nihil appetit et perdit desideria, nec potest operari quia est victa; et ita videt in illo lumine Deum omnia ita debite et ordinate facere, quod etiam de eius absentia non infirmatur; et ita fit conformis voluntati eius quod eum absentem non requirit, sed de omnibus quae facit contentatur et totum ei committit. (Instructions II: p. 223)./

/Non miremini, filii mei carissimi, si non rescripsi vobis ad plures litteras quas mihi misistis, quia taliter sum ligata quod nec vobis nec aliis litteras mittere possum nec dicere verba spiritualia nisi haec communia. Et in toto mundo non delectat me aliquid dicere nisi solum haec duo, scilicet cognoscere Deum et seipsum, hoc est iacere continue in carcere suo et nunquam de suo carcere exire. Et si de suo carcere exit, cum dolore et cum vera contritione conetur redire ad carcerem suum. Credo quod qui nescit iacere et stare in carcere suo, non vadat et non habet bonum quaerere alienum et non rimetur desuper se. (Instruction XIV: p. 267)/

/De cognitione dei et sui ipsius

(Oportet quod homo cognoscat)

Iterum cum quaereretur ab ea quare oportet haberi paupertatem, dolorem et despectum, respondit: Oportet quod homo cognoscat Deum et seipsum.

Cognitio Dei praesupponit cognitionem sui hoc modo, ut videlicet homo consideret et videat quem offendit; postea consideret et videat quis est ipse qui offendit. Ex qua secunda consideratione et visione datur gratia super gratiam, visio super visionem, lumen super lumen.

Ex his incipit devenire ad cognitionem Dei. Et quanto amplius cognoscit, tanto amplius diligit; et quanto amplius diligit, tanto plus desiderat; et quanto plus desiderat, tanto fortius operatur. Et ista operatio est signum et mensura amoris; quia in hoc cognoscitur si amor est purus et verus et rectus, si homo diligit et operatur quod dilexit et operatus est ille quem diligit.

Sed Christus, quem diligit, habuit, dilexit et operatus est illa tria donec vixit; ergo qui eum diligit, debet eadam semper diligere, operari et habere sicut Christus ea habuit, ut habetur supra./

/Recordemini, carissimi, quod Christi primo passibilem vitam apostoli praedicantes, eam post mortem resuscitatam a femina didicerunt. . . . Quia et beatus Hieronymus dicit de Olda prophetissa ad quam concurrebat populus, quia in opprobrium virorum et doctorum legis, qui erant transgressores mandati, est ad femineum sexum prophetia translata. Deo gratias semper. Amen./

Perhaps Franciscan Angela of Foligno helped shaped Dominican Catherine of Siena's and Benedictine Julian of Norwich's concept of a 'Cell of Self-Knowledge'. Certainly the English Benedictine nuns in exile at Cambrai and Paris were copying out her text as well as Julian's. A small manuscript by them, Bibliothèque Mazarine 1202, titled 'Colections', finished 23 July 1724, on pages 21-22, gives:

Blessed Angela of Foligno

n a certain time while I pray'd in my Cell, these words were sayd
unto me interiorly by God.

Marguerite Porete (†1310)

arguerite Porete, like Mechtild of Magdebourg, was a Beguine. She, too, was influenced by the writings of Pseudo-Dionysius. She wrote her magnum opus, The Mirror of Simple Souls, presenting Pseudo-Dionysius' negative theology as a dialogue between the Soul who sends to a distant Emperor, God, her portrait, and Love and Reason. In the text she states that in such a state of contemplative love of God the soul has no need of masses or prayers or of anything else. She also gives the Pseudo-Dionysian principle of evil as nought, as nothing, as non-existence. First her book was publicly burned by the Bishop of Cambrai at Valenciennes, then she was tried in Paris by the Inquisition and herself burnt at the stake in 1310, the people weeping because of her great learning and goodness. The theology faculty at the Sorbonne had united against her, amongt them Nicholas of Lyra, the converted Jew, whose commentary on the Apocalypse would influence Magister Mathias and through him Birgitta of Sweden. A friend struggled to protect her, calling himself the Angel of Philadelphia, but was forced to recant and burn his habit and belt, living the rest of his life in a monastic prison. Later we hear of Jean Gerson attacking both Marguerite Porete, whom he misnames as Marie of Valenciennes, for 'her incredibly subtle book', and Jan van Ruusbroec. Some copies of her manuscript survived, including three translated into English, one of which is in the same manuscript as is the earliest extant Julian's Showing of Love manuscript in the British Library, the Amherst Manuscript, which is written by a Lincolnshire scribe circa 1435-1450, perhaps earlier, and which emphatically states that this version of Julian's text, the Short Text, was written out in 1413 when she was still alive. The contents of this manuscript, apart from its initial two texts which are translations made by Richard Misyn, a Lincoln Carmelite, for an anchoress, Margaret Heslyngton, from texts written by Richard Rolle in Latin for other women contemplatives, one of them also an anchoress named Margaret, may represent Julian's own contemplative library. The Amherst Manuscript includes as well the Henry Suso excerpts from the Horologium Sapientiae and the Jan van Ruusbroec, Sparkling Stone, which are given here on this Juliansite. It is possible that Marguerite Porete's Mirror of Simple Souls, present in this same manuscript, was a part of Julian's own anachoritic library and that it influenced her. She departs from Marguerite Porete, however, in being actively concerned for her even-Christians, rather than Quietist.



Dante Alighieri (†1321) 

ante Alighieri, like Julian, lived in the fourteenth-century, and was as deeply influenced as was she by these three mystic theologians. He embedded the principle of Love, spoken of by all three, as the controlling force of his Commedia as it is of the Cosmos, ' l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle'. And in Vita Nuova XII, he had described God as Love saying to him, 'Ego tamquam centrum circuli, cui simili modo se habent circumferentie partes; tu autem non sic.' [I am as at the centre of the circle, equidistant from all parts, but you are not'.]

Dante and Julian both share in the sense of the Trinity as Divine Power, Wisdom and Love (Inferno III), both share, by way of Marguerite Porete, in the theology of Mary as paradoxically Mother and Daughter of her Creator, 'figlia del tuo figlio' (Paradiso XXXIII).

It is not likely that Julian was influenced by Dante except, perhaps, through Cardinal Adam Easton, who quotes from him in his own writings. What is important is that they share the same principles derived from these preceding mystic theologians, participating in a past 'Internet' of God's Wisdom. Common also to many of these mystics, these Friends of God, is the sense of drawing apart, as to Mount Tabor with Christ, only to descend the Mountain again to be with all people in God's image, to be both chosen and universal, to treasure these things in their heart as had Mary, their task to seek Wisdom, amongst women and amongst men, and with her to be part of God's sweet ordering of the cosmos.

All these writers, Augustine, Boethius, Dionysius, Dante and Julian, are influenced by the Hebraic and feminine figure of God's Wisdom, God's Daughter.

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work. The first of his acts of old. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth  . . . When he established the heavens I was there, when he drew a circle on the face of the deep. When he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep, When he assigned to the sea its limits, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he marked out the foundations of the earth, Then I was beside him, like a master workman, and I was daily his delight, Rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world. Proverbs 8.22-31

 She reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other and she orders all things well. Wisdom of Solomon 8.1

Einsiedeln, Cod. 710 (322), fol. 89, Henry Suso and Elsbeth Stagel sheltering under cloak of Sapientia

The Horologium Sapientiae ('Clock of Wisdom', the 'Computer of Wisdom'), was written in 1339. Henry Suso died at Ulm, 1366. Immensely popular throughout Europe this work was translated into other languages.

Henry Suso's Horologium Sapientiae, in British Library, Add. 37,790, fols. 135v-136v, presents part of Chapter Four's dialogue between Wisdom and the Disciple. British Library, Add. 37,790, the Amherst Manuscript, also contains Julian of Norwich's Showing of Love, Marguerite Porete's Mirror of Simple Souls, Jan van Ruusbroec's Sparkling Stone, and works by Richard Rolle, Walter Hilton and Birgitta of Sweden. It may have been copied out by Richard Misyn himself for the recluse Margaret Heslyngton, and these earlier layers of the manuscript could have even been written as early as circa 1413, and represent Julian's own contemplative library. One may be reading what she once read.

Both Henry Suso and Richard Rolle stress Jesus ' name, Suso inscribing it upon his own flesh over his heart with his writing stylus, Rolle wearing it as an embroidered badge upon his hermit's garb, Charles de Foucauld as a hermit using a similar practice in our own century. Women were more likely to centre such a concept upon the heart of Jesus, as did Mecthild of Hackeborn, whose Book of Ghostly Grace in British Library, Egerton 2006, is copied out by the same scribe as that of this Amherst Manuscript, and as did Julian of Norwich herself.

There is a Carol sung each Christmas in Germany, said in its legend to have been sung by the Angels when they danced with Henry Suso.

The concluding reference in this text to the Desert Father Arsenius is also to be found in the booklet 'Colections', seized at the French Revolution. Manuscripts of this text by Henry Suso are sometimes illuminated with Henry Suso, who was Swiss, and his translator together gazing upon the medieval form of a computer, an elaborate Swiss clock, presented to us by the figure of God as female Wisdom. The rubrication here follows that in the Amherst Manuscript.

A Brief Formula for the Spiritual Life:

N the fellowship of saints which as the morning stars
shone in the dark night of this world and as the sun and moon
shed forth the beams of their clear knowledge you shall find some who
surpassingly were perfectly grounded not only in active life and virtue but
also in contemplation, of whose teaching and example you may take
the most perfect doctrine and love of true spiritual life. And nevertheless I
willingly and condescendingly to your youth and inexperience shall give you
some principles of spiritual living for a memory to have always
at hand to set you in the right working if you desire
to have the perfection of spiritual life that is to be desired by all men
and if you will and desire to take it up manfully you shall first
withdraw from ill fellowship and harmful company of all men who would
hinder you from your good purpose, seeking always opportunity when and what
time you may retire and there take privy silence for contemplation
and flee from the perils and turbulance of this harmful world. Always it
belongs to you first to study to have cleanness of heart, that is to say
that you keep your sensory perceptions turned into yourself and there you have as much as is
possible the doors of your heart busily closed from the

[Fol. 136]

forms of outward things and images of earthly things. Truly
among all other spiritual exercises cleanness of heart has the sovereignty,
as a final intent and reward of all the travails that a chosen knight of Christ is to receive.
Also you must lessen your affections from all your business about all the things that might
hinder your freedom from such a thing that in any manner has might and power to bind and
draw down your affection to it. As it is written in Moses' Law, 'Remain living in your own
dwelling and do not go out your door on the day of the Sabbath. Every man shall live by himself and
no man go out through the door of his house upon the Sabbath day'. This is as much as to say
that for a man to dwell with himself is to gather all the various
thoughts and affections of his heart and have them knit together into
one true and sovereign good, that is God. And to keep the Sabbath is
to have your heart free and unburdened from all fleshly affections that might
defoul the soul and from all worldly cares and business that might distress
it and so rest sweetly in peace of heart as in the haven of silence and
the love and feeling of his Creator God. Above all other things, let
this be your principal intent and business, that you always have your soul
and your mind lifted up to contemplation of heavenly things, so that
frail earthly things be left, to be continually drawn up to
the things that are above and what thing so ever it be that is different
from this, though it seem great in itself as chastising of the body, fasting,
vigils, and such like exercises of virtue, they shall be taken
and considered as secondary and less worthy and only so much expedient
and profitable as they profit and help to cleanness of heart. And there
fore it is that so few go on to perfection for they waste their time and their
strength in mean things that are not greatly profitable and the due
remedies they leave and discard. But if you desire to know the
right way to fulfil your intent you shall sovereignly desire
to continual cleanness of heart and rest of spirit and tranquillity and
to have your heart lastingly lifted up to God.
Disciple: Who is he who in this mortal body may always be knit to
that spiritual contemplation?

Wisdom: There may be no deadly manner always fasten and
set into this contemplation but from this cause, as said earlier,
that you may know. Where you shall fasten and solemnly set the
intention of the spirit and to what mark you shall always draw
the beholding of your soul when at that time the mind may
get them he will be glad and when he is distracted and drawn
away then he is sorry and sighs often as he feels himself
separated from that beholding. But if by chance you will ever turn against
me and say that you may not long abide and dwell in one's man's state
you shall know and understand that the power of God may do
and work more than any man may think. Therefore it falls
often that that thing that a man binds him to at the beginning
with a manner of violence and difficulty, afterwards he shall

[Fol. 136v]

P. Odo Lang O.S.B., Librarian, Einsiedeln Abbey, which owns major Suso manuscript, Cod. 710 (322), also major Mechtild von Magdebourg manuscript

  here may no man entere the sayde exercyse be cunnynge
  ffor contemplatyfe lyfe may nought be taught oone be anothere
  bot where as god whiche es verrey trowthe manyfestys hym
  selfe in spirit. ther all necessaries moste plentevously are lerned
  and that is that the spirit says in the Apochalips vincenti
  says he schalle gyffe hym a litil white stone and in it a newe
        name the whiche no man knowes but who that takys it. This
        litel stone promysed to a victorious man it is called. Calcalus.
        for the litelnes ther of. ffor yyf alle a man trede it with his fete
        yit he is not hurte th er with. This stone it is red with a schyny
        nge witness to the lykenesse of a flawme of fyre. litylle and
        rownde and be the serkle ther of it is playne and smothe. Be this
        litel stone we vndyrstande oure lorde ihesu cryste. whyche by
        his dyuynyte is the whitnesse of euer lastande lyght and the
        schynere of the ioye of god. Also the myrroure withoute spotte
        in the whiche alle thynge hase lyfe. Whosumeuere therefore

    [A118]

owrecommys and ascendys aboue hym selfe and alle othere thyn
gys that maye be consayved be bodely exercyse to hym his gyffyn
this litelle white stone, and in it he takis clereness and lyfe
This litel whyte stone is symulate to a flawme of fyre for
burnynge loue of the euer lastynge worde hase sacyate alle the
worlde with charite and with alle lovynge spiritys in loue
burne to nought And also this Calcalus is so lytle astone
that whate tyme it is trodunn apon vnnethes it is feled. And
therfore it is called Calcalus. As who say trodunn apon
with the heyle. the whiche the Apostele exspoundys where
he says that the sonne of god sette hym selfe atte nought A=
nd also he was obedyente to the deth vnto the whiche
Acordes the wordes of oure lorde sayde by his prophet. Isays
oure lorde am aworme and no man. reproued of men and ab=
iecte of peple. Wherefore the same tyme that the iewes tre=
tyd hym downe. he made hym selfe so lytell. that is to saye. so
meke. that vnnethes they myght fele hym. ffor yif they hadde
knawynge hym for the sonne of god they durste of no wyse
hafe crucyfyed hym. Neuerthelesse yit he is botte litle in ther hertes
that loues hym nought and therfore thay sette hym atte nought
Also this litel stone the whiche I spake of. it is rounde and be
the circumference playne. The rowndenesse thereof teches the de=
uyne trowthe nowthere to hafe begynnynge ne endynge And
the playnesse ther of informes vs that is to delyuer vs and to re
warde euere man aftyr he hase atheled whiche rewarde be it
goode or euylle abydes be the havere ther of with owtyn ende
The laste proprite that this Calculus hase is that it is smothe
And so the euer lastynge worde of the ffadere hase no burdene
And yit by the vertewe ther of it beres bothe hevynn and erthe
And also it is nere euer ethynge. And yit nithynge may cumme
tille it. ffor it excedes abofe and gase before alle creatures. And
therfore to none botte to whome he wille and where he wille

He shewys hym selfe. So than that in his smothenesse the
humanyte ascendys aboue alle hevenesse there abidynge cro=
wned on the ffadere ryght hande, Considere nowe wele thann
that this is the litle white stone whiche is gyffen to a contem =
platyue mann in the whiche is gyffenn written anewe name
that noman knawes bot who that takys it And therfore it is
to knowe that euer e spyrrit is named in his reuertynge vnto
god. And that specyally be the nobilite of his seruys, And also
be the hete of his loue. the whyche name is the fyrst name
of innocentry gyffyn vs at oure baptyme whiche newe
haue loste thorowe oure synne and wrechidnesse. And yit be
the merites of oure loue and infynyte grace of god. we
are merked and putte in knawelynge ther with agayne And therfore
yif we wille obey to alle myghtty god in thre principalle
thynges, whiche he wille wirke in vs. yit we schalle be
baptysed agayne thorowe the holigoste. And we schalle
resayfe a newe name whiche schalle abyde with vs euer

irgitta of Sweden , like Hildegard of Bingen, began her intense political and authorial career suddenly in her forties. Birgitta was widowed in 1344 and at that point commenced her role as prophet not just to Sweden but to all of Europe. She had already had visions, and so did others concerning her. These visions she now wrote down with the help of major Swedish ecclesiasts, one of them Master Mathias, who had studied Hebrew under Nicholas Lyra in Paris, an Augustinian Canon who was associated with Dominicans, and who translated the Bible into Swedish for her. She spoke of Master Mathias and of many others in her circle as 'Friends of God'. Her first agenda was the reform of King Magnus of Sweden, who was much in need of it. But she was also deeply concerned about Europe, particularly about the Hundred Years' War being waged between England and France, and the exile of the Popes to Avignon. Master Mathias in 1347 was delegated by Bishop Hemming of Abo to take the document to the Kings of England and France and to the Pope in which Christ and the Virgin order them to cease their war and the Pope to return to Rome.

Bishop Hemming and St Birgitta, Diptych, Finland

Latin

This is what she wrote in a vision about and to King Magnus. In it she sees a lectern and a book. 'For the appearance of the lectern was as if it had been a sunbeam [of red, gold, white]. . . . And when I looked upwards, I might not comprehend the length and breadth of the lectern; and looking downward, I might not see nor comprehend the greatness nor the deepness of it . . . After this I see a Book on the same lectern, shining like most bright gold. Which Book, and its Scripture, was not written with ink, but each word in the book was alive and spoke itself, as if a man should say, do this or that, and soon it was done with speaking of the Word. No man read the Scripture of that Book, but whatever that Scripture contained, all was seen on the lectern. Before this lectern I see a king . . . The said king sat crowned as if it had been a vessel of glass closed about . . .'

She continues to describe how the king's glass globe is protected by an angel but threatened by a demon . . . 'This living king appears to you as if in as it were a vessel of glass, for his life is but as it were frail glass and suddenly to be ended'. She continues by speaking of how this king knowingly sins but that if he repents he can be saved by the angel from the fiend. Beside him is a dead king above whom is writing describing his lust, his pride, his avarice. . . but the writing is blankly gone from the part that should have proclaimed his love of God.

'Then the Word speaks from the lectern, saying "[What you see is the Godhead's self. That you cannot understand the length, breadth, depth and height of the lectern means that in God is not found either beginning or end. For God is and was without beginning, and shall be without end "]. Also the Word spoke to me and said "[The Book that you see on the lectern means that in the Godhead is endless justice and wisdom, to which nothing may be added or lessened. And this is the Book of Life, that is not written as the world's writing, that is and was not, but the scripture of this Book is forever. For in the Godhead is endless being and understanding of all things, present, past and to come, without any variation or changing. And nothing is invisible to it, for it sees all things "]. That the Word spoke itself means that God is the endless Word, from whom are all words, and in whom things have life and being. And this same Word spoke then visibly when the Word was made man and was conversant among men'. She adds to the King that she is giving him the Word's words, adding that 'few receive and believe the heavenly words given from God, which is not God's fault, but man's'.

Later, she writes 'I saw an altar and a chalice with wine and water and bread and I saw how in a church of the world a priest began the mass, arrayed in a priest's vestments. And when he had done all that belonged to the Mass, I saw as if the sun and moon and the stars with all the other planets, and all the heavens with their courses and moving spheres, sounded with the sweetest note and with sundry voices.'

St John writing the Apocalypse, Hans Memling, St John's Hospital, Bruges

In another vision, at the end of her life, in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, she sees the judgement of her wicked son Charles where her prayers and her tears for Charles cause the devil to have amnesia concerning her son's sins. First the book in which the fiend has written them down suddenly has blank pages instead of writing, then the sack in which he has placed them is empty when turned inside out, then the devil himself forgets them totally from his memory and goes wailing off to Hell, cursing Birgitta.

Much of Birgitta's visionary imagery comes from law courts, for her father was the King of Sweden's law man and her husband was likewise a law man. She both prophesied and wrote following the Black Death of 1348 when Doomsday, Judgment Day, seemed particularly near. She told King Magnus that the Black Death would happen, then left for Italy, Sweden being too dangerous for her. Birgitta set up her household in Rome, living in prayer and constantly receiving visions, having male secretaries assist her, one of them a Spanish Bishop, Alfonso of Jaén. In the last year of her life she journeyed to the Holy Land, preaching on her journey in Naples and Cyprus, prophesying the 1452 Fall of Constantinople. Her massive book of the Revelationes, which is really Julian's title of 'Showings', was copied out in illuminated manuscripts, then in print, and treasured throughout Europe.

At her death in 1373 Alfonso of Jaén, Queen Joanna of Naples, Queen Margaret of Sweden, the Emperor Charles of Bohemia, and Cardinal Adam Easton of England, a Benedictine from Julian's Norwich, all sought Birgitta's canonization as a saint.

ope Gregory XI sent Alfonso of Jaén to Catherine of Siena at Birgitta of Sweden's death. At that point Catherine, who had previously been illiterate, proceeded to write important letters to Popes and Emperors, Kings and Queens and even to the condottiere Sir John Hawkwood, on the need for peace. We do not think of her as part of the Dominican-inspired Friends of God movement across Europe but this act clearly places her in that context. Pope Urban VI wanted her to have Birgitta's daughter, Catherine of Sweden, accompany her to carry out diplomacy on his behalf with Queen Joanna of Naples.

Catherine had been the twenty-fourth child of a Sienese dyer. Everyone had wanted her to marry but she refused, having made a vow of chastity, and instead sought to enter the Dominican Third Order, which only admitted women who were widows. She won. As a Dominican Tertiary she cared for the sick and dying, including criminals condemned to death in Siena. She was surrounded by disciples, one of them an English hermit, William Flete, whose work, The Remedies Against Temptations, Julian quotes and uses in the Showing of Love, another a lawyer Cristofano Di Ganno, who later translated Birgitta's Revelations into exquisite Italian, another a painter, Andrea Vanni, whose delicate portrait of her survives, indeed in the very place of her major visions in San Domenico, Siena.

Andrea Vanni, St Catherine of Siena, San Domenico, Siena

abideth in her inward beholdinge to know herself, to that entent only that sche myght better knowe in herself the goodnes of God.

/¶ Here begynneth the boke of dyuyne doctryne. That is to/ saye of goddes techyng. Gyuen by the person of god the fa/der to the intelleccyoun of the gloryous vyrgyne seynt Kathe-/ryn of Seene/ of the ordre of seynt Domynycke. Which was/ wryte n as she endyted in her moder tongue. Whan she was in co n/templacyon & rapt of spyryte she herynge actualy. And i n the same/ tyme she tolde before many what our lorde god spake in her.



¶And here foloweth the fyrst/ chapytre of this boke. Which/ is how the soule of this mayde/ was oned to god & how then she/ made .iiii. petycyons to oure/ lorde in that tyme of contem/placyon and of the answere/ of god and of moche other do/ctryne: as it is specyfyed in the/ kalender before. Capt.1.

Soule that is reysed up
with heuenly and
ghostly desyers & af-
feccyo ns to the worshyp
 of god & to the helthe
of mannes soules with a greate . . .

________

The Orcherd of Syon (Westminster: Wynken de Worde, 1519), Catherine of Siena's Dialogo in Middle English, its colophon: 'a ryghte worshypfull and deuoute gentylman mayster Rycharde Sutton esquyer stewarde of the holy monastery of Syon fyndynge this ghostely tresure these dyologes and reuelacions . . . of seynt Katheryne of Sene in a corner by itselfe wyllynge of his greate charyte it sholde come to lyghte that many relygyous and deuoute soules myght be releued and haue comforte therby he hathe caused at his greate coste this booke to be prynted'./

Her confessor and biographer was Raymond of Capua who became head of the Dominican Order. Pope Urban VI leaned heavily upon her for his own survival. Severely anorexic, she died at the age of thirty-three, collapsing under the weight, she said, of the Church.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

The Ruthwell Cross, Scotland
 

he earliest written English poem is the 'Dream of the Rood' inscribed in runes upon a stone cross in Scotland. The delight of being a pilgrim scholar is in journeying to Carlisle, then across the border from Hadrian's Wall to Bewcastle and Ruthwell to see these ancient monuments, and then to Vercelli in Italy and seeing its manuscript. None of the original versions of this poem are today in England. Today, the English language in the world's eyes, is the language of commerce, of power, of imperium, of war, like that of pagan Rome. We tend to forget its earliest poem, centred most crucially upon the Cross, upon spirituality.

My pilgrimages, imitating those of hly women such as Helena, Egeria, Paula, Eustochium, Pega, Guthrithyr, Margaret, Birgitta and Margery, took me not only to Ruthwell, Bewcastle, and Vercelli, but also to Jerusalem, where I saw the Holy Sepulchre and the site of the Cross, and finally to Florence, where I organized an international conference of the Laurentian Library's Codex Amiatinus, brought by Ceolfrith from Wearmouth-Jarrow to Italy. At that conference we noted that Jarrow has the same inhabited vine sculpture as has the Ruthwell Cross, copying classicizing scuptural elements foreign to Hibernian or Anglo-Saxon work, and Ceolfrith was specifically noted by Bede to have sent such stone-masons skilled in Roman work to King Nechtan in 710.

The Anglo-Saxon Ruthwell Cross, reflecting Constantine and Oswald's crosses, allows those who see and read it to contemplate in turn each place concerning the life of Christ, Nazareth, the Egyptian Wilderness, the Jordan Wilderness, Galilee, and Jerusalem, culminating with the Crucifixion. It is a map of the Holy Places that pilgrims may read. The runes of the 'Dream of the Rood' inscribed about their edges, their margins, describe the writer, likely Cædmon, dreaming of the Cross speaking to him, narrating of the wood and blood and of the sacred burden it had once borne; then, in Cynewulf's longer version, of its being turned into the sacred reliquary bedecked by the Emperor Constantine with gold and rubies at Constantinople. Jerome, whose works were read at Whitby, had practiced contemplating upon the Crucifix, becoming himself as naked as the naked Christ, in his 'imitatio Christi'. So here does Cædmon, if he is its author, in his contemplation meet with the blood-stained wood of the Roman gallows (Anglo-Saxon 'galgu') erected once to hang Jesus, the Christ, the King of the Jews. So does Cædmon's poem, and its Cynewulfian revision, today have us converse as pilgrim visionaries with the ignoble gallows and imperial reliquary of God.

The poem is shaped in two forms, both used in Anglo-Saxon Riddles. It begins with the dreamer saying 'I saw', then has the inanimate object speak, telling its observers, its poet and its readers, 'I am'. There are such Anglo-Saxon Riddles spoken by 'Book', by 'Cross', etc. In a sense it, too, is the mocking titulus placed above the Cross, 'Jesus, King of the Jews'.

The longer version is given from the manuscript left by an Anglo-Saxon pilgrim in Vercelli, Italy, the rubricated lines being those given in the runes on the Ruthwell Cross.

Anglo-Saxon

ear, while I tell of the best of dreams . which came to me at midnight
when humankind kept their beds.
It seemed that I saw the Tree itself . borne on the air, light wound round it,
brightest of beams, all that beacon was . covered with gold, gems stood
fair at its foot, and five rubies . set in a crux flashed
from the crosstree. Around angels of God . all gazed upon it,
since first fashioning fair . It was not a felon's gallows,
for holy ones beheld it there . and men, and the whole Making shone for it
Trophy of Victory . I, stained and marred,
stricken with shame, saw the glory-tree . shine out gaily, sheathed in
decorous gold; and gemstones made . for their Maker's Tree a right mail-coat
Yet through the masking gold I might perceive .
what terrible sufferings were there
It bled from the right side . Ruth in the heart
Afraid I saw that unstill brightness . change raiment and colour,
again clad in gold or again slicked with sweat . spangled with spilling blood.
I, lying there a long while . beheld, sorrowing, the Healer's Tree
till it seemed that I heard how it broke silence, best of wood, and spoke:
'It was long ago-I still remember . back to the holt where I was hewn down;
From my own stock I was struck away . dragged off by strong enemies
wrought into a roadside scaffold . They made me a hoist from wrongdoers.
The soldiers on their shoulders bore me . until on a hill-top they raised me
many enemies made me fast there . Then I saw, marching toward me,
Mankind's brave King . He came to climb upon me. I dared not break nor bend aside . against God's will, though the ground itself
shook at my feet. Then the young warrior, Almighty God, mounted the Cross, in the sight of many. He would set free mankind.
I shook when his arms embraced me, but I durst not bow to ground,
stoop to Earth's surface . Stand fast I must.
I was reared up, a rood . I held the King, Heaven's lord, I dared not bow . They drove me through with dark nails: on me are the wounds
Wide-mouthed hate dents. I durst not harm any of them.
They mocked us together . I was all wet with blood sprung from the Man's side . after he sent forth his soul. Many wry wierds I underwent . up on that hilltop; saw the Lord of Hosts stretched out stark . Darkness shrouded the King's corpse.
A shade went out wan under cloud pall . All creation wept,
keened the King's death . Christ was on the Cross.
But there quickly came from afar . many to the Prince .
All that I beheld had grown weak with grief . yet with glad will bent then
meek to those men's hands . yielded Almighty God.
They lifted Him down from the leaden pain . left me, the commanders
Standing in blood sweat . I was sorely smitten with sorrow
wounded with shafts . Limb-weary they laid him down.
They stood at his head . They looked on him there .
They set to contrive Him a tomb . within sight of his bane
carved it of bright stone . laid in it the Bringer of Victory
spent from the great struggle . They began to speak the grief song,
sad in the sinking light . then thought to set out homeward;
their most high Prince . they left to rest with scant retinue.
Yet we three, weeping, a good while . stood in that place after the song
had gone up from the captains' throats . Cold grew the corpse, fair soul house.
They felled us all . We crashed to ground, cruel Wierd,
and they delved for us a grave . The Lord's men learnt of it, His friends found me.
It was they who girt me with silver and gold. . .

 

B. Christina of Markyate, Richard Rolle, John Whiterig, William Flete, Walter Hilton, the Cloud of Unknowing Author, Julian of Norwich, Margery Kempe

She tells Roger of her vision of Christ giving her his Cross to hold and Roger speaks amidst the Latin in Old English:

letare mecum, myn sunendaege dohter

That decision is preceded by a vision, one that looks back to Gregory's Dialogues on Benedict and forward to Julian of Norwich and Catherine of Siena. In the Dialogue following that concerning Scholastica and Benedict in loving discourse upon heavenly matters all night, Benedict is seen one night in prayer, and at the same instant the whole world to shrink as into one beam of light. Here Christina sees the Queen of Heaven and all the angels.

Latin

And falling downwards to the ground, she saw in one flash the whole wide world.

'I wish to have that place to dwell in'.

/Centuries later the actual first Abbess of Syon, founded from St Birgitta's Abbey of Vadstena, would be one Joan North, reclusionem moniales de Markyate, replacing the titular one, Matilda Newton, monialis de Barking, while the titular Confessor General, William Alnwick, Benedictine of St Albans and Recluse of Westminster, is replaced by Thomas Fishbourn, likewise a St Albans' Benedictine, and indeed also one of its Recluses, its Hermits: Margaret Deanesly, The Incendium Amoris of Richard Rolle of Hampole, p. 114. The Brigittine manuscripts, including those of Julian of Norwich, were either destroyed or taken into exile, next coming into the hands of the exiled English Benedictines, like the St Albans Psalter at Lambspring. England's Brigittine Syon Abbey from its foundation in the early fifteenth century knew the story of twelfth-century Christina of Markyate, its Abbess's original Mother Foundress. Likewise did the English Congregation of Benedictines in exile on the Continent. At Benedictine Cambrai, which became Stanbrook Abbey, Father Augustine Baker encouraged the Benedictine nuns in their reading and copying such medieval contemplative texts acquired from his former employee, Sir Robert Cotton. Baker's successor, Father Serenus Cressy, Chaplain to the Benedictine daughter house in Paris, now St Mary's Abbey, Colwich, arranged that the Abbot of Lambspring pay for the printing of the editio princeps of Julian of Norwich's Revelations of Divine Love./

Richard Rolle (†1349)

ichard Rolle became a hermit, abandoning his university studies, after first asking his sister to procure for him his father's raincoat and an old dress of hers, for making his habit. She proclaimed he had gone mad. His prolific writings were to be copied out over and over again, his Latin works translated by the Carmelite Misyn, in turn doing this for Margaret Heslyngton. He has a strong presence in the Amherst manuscript. Often William Flete's Remedies against Temptations is falsely attributed to Richard Rolle. BL MS Cotton Faustina B.vi.Part II

This is from Rolle's Meditations on the Passion (which we shall see reflected, too, in the Latin of John Whiterig):

'Thy body, sweet Jesus, is like a book all written with red ink; so is thy body all written with red wounds . . . grant me to read upon thy book, and somewhat to understand the sweetness of that writing and to have liking in studious abiding of that reading'

'More yit, swet Jhesu, thy body is lyke a boke written al with rede ynke; so is thy body al written with rede woundes. Now, swete Jhesu, graunt me to rede upon thy boke, and somwhate to undrestond the swetnes of that writynge, and to have likynge in studious abydynge of that redynge. And yeve me grace to conceyve somwhate of the perles love of Jhesu Crist, and to lerne by that ensample to love God agaynwarde as I shold. And, swete Jhesu, graunt me this study in euche tyde of the day, and let me upon this boke study at my matyns and hours and evynsonge and complyne, and evyre to be my meditacion, my speche, and my dalyaunce.'

here are strong similarities between the contemplations of an Oxford-educated Benedictine, likely named John Whiterig, who had become a hermit on to the Island of Farne, 1363, dying there in 1371, and Julian of Norwich's Showing of Love. When a student at Durham College (for he mentions being saved from drowning in Oxford's Cherwell River), he would have overlapped with Adam Easton, a student at Gloucester College, both colleges established for educating young Benedictines at Oxford. The Durham Benedictines first settled at Wearmouth and Jarrow in memory of St Benet Biscop and St Bede, then were invited in 1083 to Durham where they served at the shrine of St Cuthbert, who had died on Farne in 687. St Godric visited St Cuthbert's cell on Farne before becoming himself a hermit at Finchale (1065-1170). Lindisfarne, at some distance from the island of Farne, also continued as a monastic site until the Reformation, though like Whitby with gaps following Viking arrivals. Durham typically kept two monks on Farne, where they supported themselves by fishing and lived intense lives of prayer.

The Ruins of Lindisfarne

In the following, the Latin text derives from 'The Meditations of the Monk of Farne', ed. David Hugh Farmer, OSB, Studia Anselmiana 41 (1957), 141-245; the English translation from Christ Crucified and Other Meditations, ed. David Hugh Farmer, Trans. Dame Frideswide Sandemen, OSB (Leominster: Gracewing, 1994). The complete paperback book is available: UK, ISBN 0 85244 266 1; USA, ISBN 0 87061 202 6. Dame Frideswide Sandeman well represents the continuing tradition of Julian's association amongst contemplatives, for she is a Benedictine at Stanbrook Abbey, which was founded from Cambrai, where exiled English nuns, including several descendants of St Thomas More , under the guidance of Dom Augustine Baker , OSB, had studied, copied and contemplated upon such texts, including Julian of Norwich's Showing of Love, eventually preparing it for publication in 1670, with Dom Serenus Cressy, OSB, as ostensible editor. Benedictinism is about Eternity, more than time, a contemplative choral dialogue of men and women across centuries. P. Franklin Chambers drew attention to the similarities between the two contemplative writers, John Whiterig and Julian of Norwich, in his Juliana of Norwich: An Introductory Appreciation and an Interpretative Anthology (London: Gollancz, 1955). The manuscript transcribed is Durham B.iv.34, fols. 5v-75, and which is the only extant manuscript with this text.

David Hugh Farmer mentions the self-identification of the Hermit of Farne with St John the Evangelist on the Isle of Patmos, to whom he addresses a 'Meditacio Eiusdem ad Beatum Iohannem Ewangelistam'.

Hans Memling, 'St John Writing Revelation,' St John's Museum, Bruges
Reproduced with permission, Memlingmuseum, Stedelijke Musea, Brugge, Belgium

John Whiterig, while Hermit on Farne, also began to write a poem in praise of St Cuthbert, perhaps dying before it could be finished.

Parallel passages in Julian of Norwich's Showing of Love will be added more completely at a later date, noted here with 'Julian '. My profound thanks to Catherina Lindgren, Sweden, and to Iain Bruce, Oxford, for making these texts available. The passages that follow can be read by both contemplatives and scholars, and perhaps contemplatives and scholars could even change places with each other to the profit of both modes of thought and of being.

AD CRUCIFIXSUM

MEDITACIONES CUIUSDAM MONACHI APUD FARNELAND QUONDAM SOLITARII

tudy then, mortal, to know Christ: to learn your Saviour. His body hanging on the cross, is a book, opened before your eyes. The words of this book are Christ's actions. as well as his suffering and passion, for everything that he did serves for our instruction. His wounds are the letters or characters, the five chief wounds being the five vowels and the others the consonants of your book . . .

However much else you may know, if you do not know this, I count all your learning for naught, because without knowledge of this book, both general and particular, it is impossible for you to be saved. So eat this book which in your mouth and understanding shall be sweet, but which will make your belly bitter, that is to say your memory, because he that increases knowledge increases sorrow too.

May this book never depart from my hands, O Lord, but let the law of the Lord be ever in my mouth, that I may know what is acceptable in thy sight.

isce ergo homo Christum, cognosce Saluatorem tuum, corpus etenim eius pendens in cruce uolumen expansum est coram oculis tuis; uerba uolumina huius sunt actus Christi, dolores et passiones eius. Omnis enim Christi accio nostra est instruccio, litere seu carateres uoluminis huius vulnera eius sunt, quorum quinque plage quinque sunt uocales, cetere uero consonantes libri tui . . .

Quidquid scis, si hoc nescis, nichil reputo quod scis; quia sine sciencia huius libri uniuersali uel particulari inpossibile est te saluari. Comede ergo uolumen hoc, quod dulce erit in ore tuo et intelectu, sed amaricabit uentrem tuum, id est memoriam, quia qui addit scienciam addit et dolorem . . .

Non recedat, Domine, liber uoluminis huius de manibus meis, sed ut lex Domini iugiter sit in ore meo, ut sciam quid acceptum sit in oculis tuis.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 53, fols. 29v-30

__________

'Thy body, sweet Jesus, is like a book all written with red ink; so is thy body all written with red wounds . . . grant me to read upon thy book, and somewhat to understand the sweetness of that writing and to have liking in studious abiding of that reading'

'More yit, swet Jhesu, thy body is lyke a boke written al with rede ynke; so is thy body al written with rede woundes. Now, swete Jhesu, graunt me to rede upon thy boke, and somwhate to undrestond the swetnes of that writynge, and to have likynge in studious abydynge of that redynge. And yeve me grace to conceyve somwhate of the perles love of Jhesu Crist, and to lerne by that ensample to love God agaynwarde as I shold. And, swete Jhesu, graunt me this study in euche tyde of the day, and let me upon this boke study at my matyns and hours and evynsonge and complyne, and evyre to be my meditacion, my speche, and my dalyaunce.'

Richard Rolle, Meditations on the Passion

Vowels are the soul, consonants the bones and flesh of words.

Spinoza on Hebrew

On Jesus shadowed in Isaac:

Thou art Isaac, who didst make laughter for us by offering thyself to God in sacrifice upon a mount called Calvary. Thou art the ram, caught by the horns amidst the briers, and sacrificed in place of the son; for that which thou hadst assumed succumbed to death, but thou who didst assume it couldst not succumb. And yet thou art not two but one; according to thy human nature thou didst die and wast buried, according to thy divinity thou didst remain unhurt. And thus, O good Jesus, thou didst make laughter for us amidst tears and music for us in thine own lament.

Fourteenth-Century Icelandic Manuscript, Bible in Icelandic, Abraham sacrificing Abraham, stopped by angel grabbing his sword, ram caught by horns in thicket. Árni Magnússon Institute, Reykjavik, Iceland.

u es Isaac, qui risum nobis fecisti, quando te ipsum tradidisti sacrificium Deo super unum moncium qui Calvarie dicitur. Tu es ille aries inter uepres herens cornibus, qui pro filio immolatur: quia quod assumpsisti morti succubuit, sed qui assumpsisti morti succumbere non potuisti; et non duo tamen sed unus, qui secundum humanum naturam mortuus es et sepultus, et secundum Diuinam mansisti illesus. Risum igitur, bone Ihesu, nobis in lacrimis suscitasti, et musicam in luctu tuo.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 2, fol. 7

Julian on Christ and laughter

On Jesus shadowed in Jacob

Thou hast beguiled the devil, through whose envy death entered into the world; and this thou didst do so wisely and fittingly, that life rose up from thence whence death had sprung, and he, who by a tree had gained his victory, was likewise by a tree overcome.

. . . delusisti diabolo, cuius inuidia more introiuit in orbem terrarum: et tam prudenter hoc fecisti et conuenienter, ut unde mors oriebatur inde uita resurgeret, et qui in ligno uicerat per lignum quoque uinceretur.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 3, fol. 7

On Jesus shadowed in Joseph

Thou shalt no longer be called Jacob, Lord, but Joseph shall be thy name, which is interpreted 'increase' or 'joining'. Either meaning is more fitting, because thou hast increased thy people exceedingly, and thou wast thyself joined to us, when the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, that that man could in very truth say unto thee: 'This is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh'.

on vocaberis ultra Domine Iacob, sed Ioseph erit nomen tuum, quod augmentum siue apposicio interpretatur; qui utraque nominis interpretacio optime tibi conuenit, siue quia auxisti populum tuum uehementer, siue quia appositus es nobis quando Verbum caro factum est et habitauit in nobis, ita ut dicere ueraciter poterit homo tibi: Hoc nunc os ex ossibus meis, et caro de carne mea.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 3, fol. 7v

Remember us then, O Lord, when it shall be well with thee, for thou art our brother and our flesh; suggest to the Father that he should fill the sacks of thy brethren - fill them, I mean, with that wheat which, once it had fallen into the ground and died, brought forth much fruit, and filled every living creature with blessing. Thou who knowest no ill-will towards thy brethren, grant us our measure of wheat. For we have no other advocate who has been made unto us justice and sanctification, and whom the Father always hears for his reverence, but thee, good Lord, who art the propitiation for our sins. Remember then, O Lord, when thou standest in the sight of God, to speak well on our behalf. Ask thy Father to give me that wheat which with desire I have desired to eat before I die.

emento nostri ergo, Domine, dum bene tibi fuerit, quia caro et frater noster es, ut suggeras Patri two quatinus impleantur sacci fratrum tuorum illo dico frumento, quod dum semel cadens in terra mortuum fuit, multum fructum attulit et omne animal benediccione repleuit. Qui igitur nescis inuidere fratribus illius, tritici mensuram impertire nobis. Non enim alium habemus Aduocatum, qui nobis factus est iusticia et sanctificacio, quem semper audit Pater propter suam reuerenciam, quam te, bone Domine; et tu propiciacio es pro peccatis nostris. Recordare ergo, Domine, dum steteris in conspectu Dei, ut loquaris pro nobis bonum. Postula Patrem tuum ut michi donet triticum, quod desiderio desideraui manducare antequam morior.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 4, fol. 8

Julian on Christ as our brother

I wish for no other wheat but thee: give me thyself, and the rest take for thyself. For what have I in heaven, and what have I desired more than thee on earth? Whatever there is besides thee does not satisfy me without thee, nor hast thou any gift to bestow which I desire so much as thee. If therefore thou hast a mind to satisfy my desire with good things, give me nought but thyself. For my desire would not be pleasing in thy sight, if I longed for something other than thee more than thee.

liud nolo triticum nisi temetipsum: da michi ergo teipsum, et cetere tolle tibi. Quid enim michi est in celo, et quid plus quam te optaui super terram? Certe quicquid est preter te non michi sufficit preter te, nec est munus apud te quod tantum desidero sicut te. Si ergo uelis replere in bonis desiderium meum, nichil aliud michi des nisi temetipsum. Non enim coram te cupiditas mea placeret si aliquid aliud, quod tu non es, plus quam te optaret.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 5, fol. 8

od for your goodness give to me yourself. For you are enough to me. And I may ask nothing that is less, that may be full worthy of you. And if I ask anything that is less, ever I shall want, but only in you I have all. And these words 'God of your goodness' are very lovely to the soul and very close to touching our Lord's will. For his goodness comprehends all . . .

Julian of Norwich, Prayer, Showing of Love, Westminster Manuscript

On Jesus Shadowed in Moses

Thou art the brazen serpent hung upon the gibbet, a remedy to all believers against the bites of the devil. Thou art the lonely sparrow upon a house-top, and thou hast found a nest for thyself which is the Virgin's womb. Thou art the scapegoat, and hast carried our sins into the wilderness of eternal oblivion, so that as far as the east is from the west, so far should our iniquities be from us. Thou art the lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world . . .

u es ille serpens eneus suspensus in patibulo, in quem credentes  curantur omnes a morsu diabolico. Tu es enim ille passer in tecto solitarius, et nidum tibi inuenisti, qui Virginis est uterus. Tu es hircus emissarius, qui peccata nostra tulisti in desertum obliuionis perpetue, ut quantum distat ortus ab Occidente longe fierent a nobis iniquitates nostre. Tu es agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi . . .

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 6, fol. 8v

. . . all things work together for good; not only good works, but even sins. For example, one of the elect who is somwhat elated on account of an outstanding virtue is tempted by the devil to impurity and allowed to fall, so that the memory of so shameful a sin may for the future preserve him from pride, and give him rather, what is safer, a fellow-feeling for the lowly.

. . . omnia cooperantur in bonum, hiis qui secundum propositum uocati sunt sancti, non tantum bona opera sed eciam peccata. Verbi gracia: aliquis electus a diabolo temptatur per luxuriam, qui ex aliqua uirtute qua forte pollet aliqualem habet elacionem, permittitur cadere, ut quam uile se meminerit flagicium perpetrasse: de cetero numquam habeat materiam superbie, immo, quod est tucius, humilibus consentire.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 9, fol. 10

Julian, 'All Shall Be Well'

On Jesus Shadowed in Jonathan

Let us by no means bring to naught in our city the likeness of those whom we have made to our own image and likeness, but rather let thy wisdom prevail over the malice into which they have falled through their proud self-love, desiring to become like gods, knowing good and evil. Let it reach from thee, the end, for thou are both beginning and end, unto the end of all creation, that is to say man, who was created last of all, and let it dispose all things sweetly.

uos ad ymaginem et similitudinem nostram fecimus, eorum ymaginem in ciuitate nostra nullo modo ad nichilum redigamus; sed pocius uincat sapiencia tua maliciam eorum, in quam proprie superbiendo impegerunt, cupientes fore sicut dii, scientes bonum et malum. Attingat ergo a te fine, qui principium es et finis, usque ad finem tocius creature, hominem uidelicet qui ultimo creatus est, et disponat omnia suauiter.
 

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 11, fol. 11

Julian, on God in the City of the Soul, on Wisdom

Thou art Christ, Son of the living God, who in obedience to the Father hast saved the world.

u es Cristus Filius Dei uiui, qui precepto Patris mundum saluasti.
 
 

I see thee, O good Jesus, nailed to the cross, crowned with thorns, given gall to drink, pierced with the lance, and for my sake . . . upon the gibbet of the cross.

uideo te, Ihesu bone, cruci conclauatum, spinis coronatum, felle potatum, lancea perforatum, et omnibus membris super crucis patibulum propter me diuaricatum.

. . . being thyself most beautiful, for me thou hast desired to be accounted as a leper and the last of men;

. . . cum speciosus sis, ut leprosus et uirorum nouissimus pr me reputari uoluisti;

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 13, fols. 11v-12v

In thy head I perceive wondrous multiplicity of suffering, for in all thy five senses thou didst feel indescribable Pain. Thou didst see thyself crucified and hanging between thieves, thy friends deserting thee, thine enemies gathering round, thy mother weeping, and the corpses of condemned criminals strewn round about; whatever met thy gaze was a source of pain and sorrow, of horror and dismay.

n capite tuo admirabilem penarum intueor multitudinem, quia per omnia organa quinque sensuum inena rrabilem sensisti dolorem. Te ipsum enim uidisti crucifixsum atque pendentem in medio latronum, amicos uidisti fugere, inimicos appropinquare, matrem uidisti flere, atque cadauera dampnatorum in circuitu iacere, et quicquid uisu traxisti pena fuit et dolor, tremor et horror.

Thou didst hear threats, murmuring, sarcasm and taunts from the bystanders; threats, when they cried out: 'Away with him, away with him; crucify him'; murmuring, when they said: 'He saved others, himself he cannot save', and some had said before that: 'He is good', while others said: 'No, he seduceth the multitude'. Sarcasm, when the soldiers, being their knees, greeted thee with: 'Hail, king of the Jews'; for sarcasm is a covert sort of mockery, when one is ironically called something by the scoffer, other than what he believes to be true. They believed him indeed to be a criminal rather than the king of the Jews, and yet they spoke the truth although with false intent. Thou didst hear taunts, when they said: 'Vah! Thou who dost destroy the Temple and in three days rebuild it!'

udisti timorem et susurrium, subsannacionem et derisum ab hiis qui in circuitu stabant. Timorem, inquam, audisti quando dixerunt: Tolle, tolle, crucifige eum. Sussurium audisti quando dixerunt: Alios saluos fecit, seipsum non potest saluum facere, et ante quidam dixerunt quia bonus est, alii autem non, sed seducit turbas. Subsannacionem tunc audisti quando geniculantes dicebant Aue rex Iudeorum, quia subsannacio oculta est derisio, cum aliud uidelicet aliquis uocatur ironice quam a deridente fore creditur. Credebant enim eum pocius maleficum quam regem Iudaeorum, et tamen uerum dicebant quamuia menciendo. Audisti, Domine, derisum quando dicebant: Vah qui destruit templum et in tribus diebus reedificat.

Thou didst taste bitterness, O Lord, when they gave thee gall for thy food, and in thy thirst gave thee vinegar to drink. Thy nostrils, O Lord, breathed in the stench of the corrupting corpses of executed criminals lying round about. Thy sense of touch felt fierce pain in thy head, for the crown of thorns pierced it so grievously that thy blood flowed down in torrents through thy hair even to the ground. And so, good Lord, whatever thou didst look upon was terrible, whatever thou didst hear was horrible, whatever thou didst taste was bitter, whatever thou didst smell was putrid, and whatever thou didst touch was painful.

ustasti Domine amarum, quando in escam tuam dederunt fel et in siti tua potauerunt te aceto. Per nares, domine, traxisti fetorem ex cadaueribus putridis morte punitorum, que in circuitu iacebant. Per tactum uero in capite sensisti asperitatem, quia corona spinarum in tantum pungebat capud tuum ut cruorem habunde per crines in terram currere faceret. Bone ergo Domine, quicquid uidisti fuit terribile, quicquid audisti fuit horribile, quicquid gustasti fuit amarum, quicquid odorasti fuerat fetidum, et quicquid tetigisti fuit ualde asperum.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 14, fols. 12-12v

One thing, O good Jesus, I would know of thee; namely what reward will be bestowed on thee for all that thou hast suffered for us, since we have nothing that we have not received from thee. All gold is but as a grain of sand in thy sight, and silver would be accounted much in compensation for thy passion.

num a te, Ihesu bone, scire uellem, qua uidelicet mercede donaberis pro hiis que passus es pro nobis, cum nos nichil habeamus nisi quod a te accepimus. Omne enim aurum in conspectu tuo arena est exigua, et tamquam lutum estimabitur argentum in recompensacione tue passionis.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 15, fol. 12v

Julian on Passion

Speak, Lord, for thy servants listen, ready to receive the engrafted word which is able to save their souls. If thou desirest to know this plainly, call thy husband, that thou mayest understand aright. Let him who hath ears to hear, hear what Christ saith now to the churches.

oquere, Domine, quia audiunt serui tui, parati suscipere institum uerbum quod potest saluare animas eorum. Si hoc aperte scire desideras, uoca uirum tuum ut recte inteligas. Qui ergo habet aures audiendi, audiat quid modo ecclesiis Christus dicat.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 16, fols. 13-13v

I know well, O Lord, that thou desirest my whole self when thou askest for my heart, and I seek thy whole self when I beg for thee.

cio Domine, scio, totum me cupis cum cor meum petis, et totum te desidero cum te ipsum postulo.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 18, fols. 13v-14

Julian's Prayer

. . . even if he at times out of his goodness enters under our roof to abide with us. This he does especially according to that operation whereby he enables us to taste the first-fruits of the Spirit, by breaking for us a little of the bread which is himself, and saying: 'Taste and see that the Lord is sweet'.

 . . . et si aliquando propter suam bonitatem intret sub tectum nostrum ut maneat nobiscum, secundum illam maxime operacionem qua nos facit probare de primiciis Spiritus frangens nobis modicum de pane seipso et dicens: Gustate et uidete quoniam suauis est Dominus.

Julian

Thou canst, O good Jesus, most clearly be recognized in the breaking of this bread, which no one else breaks as thou dost. For thou dost visit the soul with such joy, and fill it with such ineffable delight and indescribable love, that for one who loves such favours the enjoyment of so gracious a visit from such a guest, were it only for the space of a day, would surpass all physical love and a whole world full of riches. This is not surprising, since it is a sort of beginning of eternal joys, a sign of divine predestination and pledge of eternal salvation; it is a grace rendering us pleasing to God, and bestows on us a new name, which no one knows save he who receives it, and apart from the sons and daughters of God none can have a share in it.

iquidissime, Ihesu bone, cognosci poteris in fraccione panis, quem nemo alius sic frangit sicut tu. Quam enim sic uisitas animam iubilo, et ineffabili uoluptate ac inenarrabili reples amore, ut delicias amanti delectabilius foret tanti hospitis tam iocunda frui uisitacione, saltem per diei medium, super omnem amorem mulierum et totum orbem terrarum diuiciis repletum. Nec mirum cum sit de eternis gaudiis inicium aliquod, argumentum Diuine predestinacionis, et arra salutis perpetue, gratia gratum faciens et nomen nouum, quod non nouit quis nisi qui accipit, cui non communicat alienus a filiis Dei et filiabus.

John Whiterig, Meditacio ad Crucifixum, Chapter 20, fol. 14v

This last passage is remniscent of Jan van Ruusbroec's Sparkling Stone, on the little white stone with the new name which is given to us.



William Flete (†1383?)

William Flete's text, Remedies against Temptations, was known to and used by Julian of Norwich in her Showing of Love. A  miscellany at Cambrige University Library, containing this text, twice over, was likely compiled by the Benedictine nuns at Carrow Priory, Norwich, the dialect likewise identified by LALME as of Norfolk. Flete left Cambridge, where he had been a scholar, for Italy, July 1359, where he became spiritual director and executor to Catherine of Siena as an Augustinian Hermit at Lecceto. Eric (later Edmund) Colledge and Noel Chadwick published the text from Cambridge University Hh.I.ii, folios 100-116, in the difficult-to-obtain Archivio Italiano per la Storia della Pietá 5 (Rome, 1968). Only one Latin manuscript ascribes the text to William Flete, other versions generally being attributed wrongly to Richard Rolle or Walter Hilton. The text influences Walter Hilton, Ladder of Perfection, Julian of Norwich, Showing of Love, and the anonymous Chastising of God's Children. The work needs greater exposure as an essential part of Julian of Norwich's contemplative library, and as a book which was also to be recalled by Thomas More when imprisoned and awaiting death in the Tower of London, and to be copied out by his great granddaughter Dame Bridget More, O.S.B., Cambrai and Paris. Compare it with John Whiterig's Contemplating the Crucifixion. Like Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy, it is one of the 'golden books' of western civilization. These texts are medieval psychiatry. They are the cells of the understanding of one's self and God, phrases common to both Catherine of Siena and Julian of Norwich manuscripts. See Chaucer, 'Miller's Tale', The Canterbury Tales, I (A) 3421-3525, for John's consolation meted out to Nicholas who seems to have fallen into mental illness. In these texts, written for women, and here copied out by women, care is taken to use gender inclusive language, speaking, in the fourteenth and fifteenth century of 'men and women'. The letter þ (thorn) is the Middle English character for 'th', the letter 3 (yoch), the Middle English character for 'y, gh'. My thanks to Juliana Dresvina for making the text available to me for this transcription.

Catherine of Siena, The Orcherd of Syon (Dialogo), London: Wynken de Worde, 1519

Here seweth a souereyn and a notable sentence to comforte a persone that is in temptacion.

Capitulum primum

ure merciful lord god chastyseth hese childirn and suffereth hem to ben tempted for many profytable skeles to here soule profi3te: and þerfore ther schulde non man ne woman ben hevy ne sory for no temptacion. For Seint Jame the apostele thecheth vs þat we schulden haue wery gret joy quan we ben tempted with diuers temptacions. For as the goold is purged and pured be fier, and a knight in hard batail is proued good but if he suffre hym self to ben ouere come, right so is a man be temptacion preued for good but if he suffre hym self to ben ouere come, þat is to seye but if he consente ther to be deliberacion.

Soothly, quan a man is scharply tempted, he may thanne hopen of gret vertu, for Seynt Austynn seyth þat þe perfeccion of euery vertu is for a man to be meche troubled with temptaciones, for euery vertu is proued be his contrary. Our enmy the fend is besy day and nyght to tarye and trauaylen goode men and women with diuers temptaciones, in doutes of the feythe, and dredes of sauacion, and other many mo in divers maneris, and specially now in these dayes he is ful besy to dysese and to disseyve mannes soule; and þerfore wysely reule 3ou to with stondyn the fend in eche fonndynge or vyolent temptyng of temptacion, and 3eve 3e no fors of alle his asawtes, of doughtes ne of dredis, ne of erroures ne of dyspit, ne of false lesynges ne of fantasies, ne of no maner trauaylynge of þe fend. Whether þou se hem, here hem or thynk hem, take non heed of hem, for they ben materis of grete mede, and no synne in no wyse, whether they ben trauelous or angwyschiouse þat comen of malice of þe feend. or of yuel disposicion of mannes complexion. And þerfore alle suche trauels men ou3ten nouth to charge, but suffren mekely and abyden pacyently, til god do remedye þerto; and for as moche as they ben materis of gret mede, no man aughte not to stryuen þer a3ens, ne merueyle of hem, ne seeke þe cause, ne þenk be quat skyle he is so traueiled. For þe more þat a man duelleth in sechynge and þenkinge of errouris and in angwyschis, þe more deepely he fallyth bothe in to errouris and in angwyschis.

And þerfore, for as moche as a mannes þought is often veyn and diuers, and non ende hathe, it oweth not to ben charged ne to be taken heed off, ne a man schulde not angre hym self with all, ne blame ne arette it to his owne defaute þat he is so traueiled, for swiche trauailes ben peyneful and not synful, for as moche as þei been gretly ageyn his wil. Seynt Austyn seyth þat euery synne lyeth in wilful wil, and quat þat is a3ens a mannes wil it is not synne, and the holy doctour Ysodre, De Summo Bono, seyth þat þe fend tempteth a man no more þan god 3eueth hym leue. Þerfore lete vs alwey haue a good wil to wilne weel and to do wel, and god wil kepe vs and 3eue vs the victorye, and þe fend schal ben confounded. Feith and hope ben ground of al perfeccion and roote of al vertues: þerfore oure old enemy þe fend is ful besy with all his slyghtes to drawe þe soule doun þer fro. And it falleth somtyme þat þe fend tempteth and trauaileth a rightful soule so scharply þat it is ouere leid with care and dreuen to dispeir; al þat tyme, þou3 the soule perseyue it nought, it dwelleth stille in þe dreed and in the loue of god, and all þat trauaile is to his soule gret meede afore the sighte of god. For oure lord of his endles mercy arettiþ not to the soule that synne þat him self suffereth the fend to wirche in the soule; but quan we be oure oure owne wikkid wil fully don a3ens þe wil of god with deliberacion, þanne synne we, but quan we ben drawen with wykkyd vilenous þoughtes, and turmented with dispeir and thoughtes a3ens oure owne wil þurgh fondynge or violent temptynge of þe fend, we sufferen þeyne but we don no synne. And 3et þe sely soules knowliche is hid be þat turment.





Santa Francesca Romana's cell in the corridor painted with the visions she had of evil spirits, from which her guardian angel, given her by her dead son, Evangelista, saved her


Capitulum secundum

ut often the temptynge of þe fend, þat maketh þe soule to erre in feyth and to fantasye in dispeir, semeth gret synne to a manis soule, and is not so. For all holy doctoures seyn þat feith and hope ben vertues of a mannes wil, wherfore who so wolde rightfully beleue, he is in right beleue aforn god, and who so wold trustely hope, he is in trusty hope aforn god, þough he be neuere so moch trauailed with weerful thoughtes or doughteful. Þe apostle Seynt Poule seyth þat in a mannes wil is þe beleue of rightwysnes, of which wordes seyth þe glose þat al only in mannes wil, which may not be constreyened, lieth bothe meede and gylt. Þat is to seyn, a man aforn god hath neuere meede ne gylt for no dede, but only of tho dedes þat ben don wilfully.

But sumtyme mannes þoughtes and womennes ben so trauailed and ouerleid that they knowen nought here owne wil; and þough it so be, thei auten not to care, for good dedes schewen alwey a good wil, and euele dedes yuel wil. Werefore a man þat doth in dede the seruice of god, þat man hath a good wil to god, þou3 his trauailouse herte deme the contrarye. Also þer schulde no creature demen his euencristen for no wers fantasyes or douteful, but if thei haue a very opyn knowynge of þat þinge for whiche thei schulen deme hem. Fore þer schulde non demen yuel of man ne woman for a thynge þat is oncerteyn or in weere or doute; and right so it is yuel and not skylfully don ony resonable creature to deme his owne soule in swich plyght, þat it were parted fro god for only wersum fantasies or douteful.

Capitulum tercium

nd if it so be þat 3e have consentid and fallen in ony temptacion, beth sory, and crieth god mercy þerof, and beth not discomforted þerfore. Þenke wel on the grete mercy of god, how he forgaf Dauid his grete synnes, and Petir and Maudeleyn, and not only hem but also alle tho þat haue be or mow be and schulen ben contrite for here synnes and cryen god mercy.

Þerfore, sustir, fle to hym þat al mercy is jnne, and aske mercy, and 3e shuln haue mercy and forgeuenesse of alle 3oure synnes; and make you louly to þe sacramentis of holy cherche, and þanne 3e owen to beleuen trustily þat þei ben forgouen, and 3e receyued into grace of god. For god seyth hym self be his profete Ezechiel þat quan a synful man sorowth for his synnes he wele neuere more haue mynde þer of. And if a man may parceyue in his herte no verry sorwe, and þou3 he þenke quan he biddeth his bedes or cryeth to god for mercy þat he doth al a3ens herte, here fore schulde he not deme hym self graceles; for who so wold haue very sorwe for his synnes, in þe doom of god he hath very sorwe for his synnes, and who so wolde in herte crye god mercy veryly, he cryeþ god mercy veryly. For as I haue sayd afore, god taketh heed to mannes wil, and not aftir his trauelous fantasyes.

It is good þat a man take non heed of all swiche trauelous fantasyes and steringes þat comen on this wyse, for god heydeth fro hem the knowleche for grete skeles, to here profy3te of soule. Suyche passyons is no synne, but mater of grace and of grete merite, and so þenke alwey. And if it be so that the temptacyons cesen not, but waxen alwey more and more, be not aferd, but sey somtyme among, in þe worchepe of god and in dispite of þe fend, 3oure crede, and knowlyche 3oure beleue and 3oure hope be mouthe, and þenk on þe wordes of Seynt Poule, þat seyth: Knowleche of mouth is don to helthe of soule. And thei mow not ben disseyued be the fendes wyles þat with a good avysement bothe and wil withstondeth þe feend; for was þer neuere man disseyued of þe feend withouten assent of his owne wil, and with suche a wil that is ful avysed and quemeful, with very assent of herte, for a wersum or douteful trauelous wil putteth not awey a man fro god.

Capitulum quartum

nd þerfore þer schulde no man kare ne ben hevy þat he is so traueiled more þan another. Sister, alwey quan I speke of man in þis wrytinge, take it bothe for man and woman, for so it is ment in alle such writinges, for al is mankende. And forthermore as touchynge 3oure troubles, þenke 3e in alle 3oure diseses qwat troubles and diseses goddis seruantis have suffred, what peynes and quat tormentis þei haue had here in erthe in many sondre maneris, and 3e schal fynden cause to suffre. Leo þe pope seith þat it falleth somtime þat goode and righteful soules ben sterd be þe fend, and somtyme be sterynge of complexion to angres, troubles, taryenges and diseses of dredes, þat it semeth to hem her lif a torment, and here deth an ease, in so moche þat somtyme for disese þei begynnen to dispeire both of here lyf of body and of here soule. And thei wenen þat þei ben forsaken of god, whiche asayeth and proveth his chosen frendes be temptacyons and angres. But these fondynges or vyolent temptynge and angwischis ben but purgynges and preuynges of the soule, for as I sette and seyde at þe begynnynge of þis wrytynge, right as þe feir purgeth gold, and a knight also is preuyd good and hardy be bataile, right so temptacions and trubles preueth and pureth þe rightful man. This is preued wel be Thobie, for the angel Raphael seide to Thobie thus: For as moche as þou were righteful to god it was nedeful þat temptacion schulde preuen thi wil.

It is weel knowen þat seknesse falleth to a man aftir the disposicion of his complexion, and Leo the pope seith þat the feend aspyeth in euery man in what wyse he is disposed in complexion, and aftir that dispocicion he tempeteth a man in his complexion; for ther as he fyndeth a man ful of humors of malencolie, he tempteth hym most with gostly temptacions. But þese, if thei wiln be meded of god, schape hem to pacyens, and seye thei with Job: Sethen we haue receyued of god benefetis, why schulde we not receyue and suffre disese. And þink on the disese þat oure lord Jesu Crist suffred hym self here on erthe, and suffred his blissed modir to haue also, and þenk weel also that 3e may not in þis frel world ben so free as aungel þat is conformed in grace; but while 3oure body and soule beth togydre in this lyf, 3e most receyuve troubles as well as esys. And þenke not þat god hath forsake 3ou, bur mekely abydeth the comfort of god, and dredles quan it veryly nedeth, 3e schul not failen þer of. For trusteth weel þerto, þat quan 3e felen 3ou in suche plyghte, þat grace is veryly with you.

But some men quan thei haue dredes of sauacion, or ben tempted to dispeir, or if thei haue ony vycious gostly sterynge or grete felynges of here owne frelte, thei wenen anon þat thei haue synned in the holy gost; and þanne fend putteth in hem þat it may neuere ben forgouen, and þerfore thei may not be saued. Þus speketh þe fend with jnne hem. and afrayeth som sely creaturis þat þei wenen that thei schuln gon out of here mynde; but 3e þat ben þus tempted, answere þe fend a3en þat he is fals and a lyer: it his nature to ben soo. For the synne of þe holy gost as clerkes seyn is infenyte with owten repentaunce and þat is quan a man wilfully be deliberacion wole not ben repentaunt ne aske of god mercy ne for3eueness of his synnes, ne wole not be turned, but wilfully departeth hym from the godnesse of god, and in this wretchednesse abydeth wilfully with ful consentynge of wil, and leueth and deyeth þer inne. He þat dooth þus synneth in þe holy gost, which may not ben for3euen here ne elles where, for he wolde not truste in þe goodnesse of þe holy gost and aske for3eueness of his synnes; and a man þat wil no mercy aske may no mercy haue. This is infenyte, with outen repentaunce.

But þough a man or woman haue or feele alle þe vycious sterynges and as many mo as ony herte kan þenke, a3ens here owne free wil, and alwey quan reson cometh to hem, thei ben myspayed with al, and fleen alwey to goddys mercy, it is to hem but preuynge and clensynge of synnes, þou3 thei been often in the nyght and in the day now vp, now doun, as wrasteleris ben. And þou3 3e haue ony tyme vtturly fallen in ony synne gostly or fleshly, and lyen þer inne wilfuly be deliberacion and ful consent of herte, þanne beeth soory and aske god for3euenesse, and euere more þenke fully þat þe goodnesse of þe holy gost surmounteth al synnes þat euere were donn and euere schul be don. For þou3 oo man hade do alle the synnes þat euere were don and euer schullen be do, þou3t and seyd in to þe day of jugement, and he were wery contrite and asked god for3euenesse, and mekely lowned hym to þe sacramentis of holy cherche he schuld haue mercy and for3euenesse of all his synnes.

Þe mercy of god is so gret þat it passeth alle his werkes, and þou3 sometyme 3e heren speke or reede in bokes sharpe wordes and harde sentencys, comforteth 3oure self, and þenke weel þat alle swiche harde wordis ben seyd and wretyn to chasteise synneres, and to with drawe hem from wikkednesse, and also to purge and pure goddis specials, as is the metal in furneys, and of hem god wil make his hous. And wete it weel, many wordis þat semen ful harde ben ment ful tendirly in good vndirstondyng; and þou some wordes ben ment harde as þe pleyn text spekyth, 3e shul not taken hem to 3ou ward, but þenketh in comforte of 3oure self þat alle harde sentens moun ben fulfillyd in the Jewis and Sarasyns. For the cristen þat wiln ben contrite, and truste to goddis mercy, or haue a wil þat it were soo, thei schuln ascape alle perels, so þat þei schul not perishe bt be saued; and þe Jewes and Sarasyns in þo perils schuln perische to perdicion, for þei haue not the strenghte of baptym þe precyous oyntement of Crystes passyon, þat schulde to here soules 3eue lyf and heele.

Off þis we haue gret exaumple and figure in holy writ, where þat Moyses ledde þe children of Israel, goddis people, ouere þe Rede See. Moyses went aforn hem and smot the watir with his 3erd, and þerwith the watir departyd, and the childern of Israel wentyn ouere saf and sound, and thei of Egypt perisheden and drounchen in the watir. Be Moyses I vndirstonde oure lord Jesu Crist, and be the 3erde that departed the water þat þe children of Israel wern not perisched. I vnderstonde his passyon, and be the children of Israel cristen peple.

A man þat stondeth in disese, he is holden to seken alle þe weyes he may to comforte hym self. Oure lord Jesu Crist cam from his fadris bosom in to þis see of tribulacions and temptacions to be oure ledere: he goth beforn vs, and with his precyous passyon he smyteth awey the pereles of our tribulacions and temptacions, so þat we schal not perische, but it schal brynge vs to safte, þat is euere lastynge blisse; and þerfore synge we to hym þangkynges and herynges or preysynges as the childern of Israel deden.

And þough a cristen man were neuere so wikkyd ne so synful, and stood in the same sentens of hardest wordes þat ben wretyn, 3et he schulde trusten to goddis mercy, for if he wolde forsaken his synnes and 3iue hym to good liff, he schulde haue grace and for3euenesse, and the scharpe wordes of dampnacion schulde turne hym to mercy and sauacion. For þus seyth oure lord god in holy wryt be his profete Jeremye: Þough I make gret thretes, I schal repente me of my wordes, if my people wil repenten hem of here synnes.

O behold the gret goodness off oure lord, and how pyte constreyneth hym, wurscheped and þanked be he euere. He is so good and so benynge and so ful of mercy to the repentauntis þat he chaungeth his sentensis fro scharpe vengeance in to for3euenesse, and of þe peynes 3eueth aleageances. He seyth also be his profete Ezechiel: I schal for3eten þe synnes of ony man þat with wery contricion wil drawen hym to goode: and þis great mercy schewed our lord openly be the cyte of Niniue, and also be king Ezechie. Þerfore dispeir no man for synne, but alwey trust fully to goddis mercy þat so weel kan redresse alle our myscheues, and turne alle oure woo to wele and our sorwe in to joye.

O þou glorious myghteful god, þat þus merueilously werkest in thy creaturis, quat þi mercy is brod and large þat maketh þe to chaunge thi sentence, which is thi wil and thi word. Blessed be þou good lord, in all thyn holy vertues, for thou kanst, mayst and wilt turne and chaunge alle oure infirmitee to our beste if we wele vs self flee to þi goodnesse and asken mercy.

But god forbede þat ony man schulde ben the more bolde or necgligent to synne wilfully or wytyngly be deliberacion for oure lord is so mercyful; for I dar sauely seyn þat euery creaunt soule and curteys wil be the more loth to offenden hym. But 3e that ben tempted a3ens 3oure wil, and wolde not be 3oure good will for alle þe world displesen god wilfully, but ben yled and taryed with peynful þoughtes, beeth not afered of þe fend ne of his affrayers. He is foule discomfited quan he seeth a man or a woman whiche he temptetch is not aferd of hym. Somtyme þe fend cometh and temptetch a soule fiersly like a dragon. Somtyme he assaileth a soule rampandly lyke a lyon. But and a man strenghte hym self sadly in þe goodnesse of god, and arme hym in his precyous passyon, an hundyryd feendis, how euere thei come, schul haue nomore poure ouere hym than haue as many flyes or knattis. And therfore strenght 3ou alle in god, and eschewe 3e not and beeth not abaysched to strengthe and arme 3ou in hym þou3 3e bee synful; for he seyth hym self in the gospel that he cam for þe synful. Also in a nother place of þe gospel he seyth that he cam for mercy and not for vengeance. He cam, þe good lord, to be oure scheld and oure strengthe, and so lete vs homly with a meke herte take hym.

And if 3e fele 3et ony dredis be ymagynacion or temptacion, or for wordes þat 3e haue herde or haue rede in bokes, be þe whiche 3e dowte of sauacion, þanne þenketh on tho wordes þat crist hym self taughte to a man þat doutyd and asked of oure lord who schulde be saued, for hym þoughte hym selfe it was ful hard to eschewe all þe poyntes þat leden to perdicion; and oure lord seyd to hym: Crede in deum patrem omnipotentem. Beleve, seyd oure lord Jesus, þat god þe fader is al myghtyful, as who seyth, there is no þing impossible to god, but alle is possible to hym þat alle synnes may for 3eue and alle wronges redresse, and bryng soules to his blisse. And þerfore þenk wel þat his myght may do alle þinge, and his wisdom kan, and his goodnesse wole, and trusteth fully þerto he wole saue 3ou and brynge 3ou to his euere lastynge joye, quan he seeth beste tyme for 3ou. For he hath bought 3ou þerto ful dere with his precious blod and peyneful deth; and I dare safly seye þat þer is non so synful a caytef þat is cristen or wolde be cristen þis day on erthe, and þough he were for synne in the seyght of god dampnable, and in the sighte of alle creaturis also, 3ha and were juged to be dampned be alle scripture, and he wolde for sake his synne and be contrite and asken god for3eueness, he schuld haue mercy and for3euenesse of hym, and if he stode soo or hadde a good wil to stonde soo in þe tyme of deth, he schulde be saued.

The myghte and þe mercy of god is so moche and so gret þat it surmounteth alle his lawes and judgementis and alle scripture; and so oure lord Jesu scheweth vs be an exaumple in the gospell of þe woman þat was founden in avouterye. By Moyses law, þat was ordeyned of god, shuld haue be stoned, but þe myght and þe wisdam of god schewed to þe Faryseyes here owne synnes þat accused here, so þat þei myght not for schame demen here, but stolen awey oute of þe temple, and oure lord Jesu demed here not, but he of his gracious mercy for 3af  here alle here synnes. And þerfore be a man or a woman neuere so synful, and þou3 thei fele neuere so many bodyly and gostly synnes al day rysynge and styringe with inne hem, thei schulden neuere the rathere dispeire of þe mercy of god ne be discumforted, for þer as meche synne is, þere is meche mercy and grace, and the goodnesse of god knowe, þat is to seye in the for3euenesse of synne, quan a man turneth hym from synne and is very contrite.

But god schilde, as I seyde afore, þat ony creature be the more recheles or bold to synne wilfully; but for þe mercy of god is so large, we owen to ben the more besy and diligent to loue and plese god, for þat he is so good and so ful of mercy. God werketh lyke a good lyche, for a lyche suffereth somtyme the dede flesh to growe on hym þat he hath in cure, but aftirward he taketh awey the dede flesh and maketh the qwyk flesh to growe, and so he heleth þe man. Right so doth oure lord, þat is euere ful of benyngnyte, and is makere of heuene and erthe, blissed and þanked mote he be. He suffreth somtyme a man or a woman to falle in dedly synne, but aftirward of his gret pyte and mercy he putteth to his hond of grace, and hem þat weren dedly wounded þoru3 synne, he heleth hem and washcheth away here synnes in þe welle of his mercy, and maketh in hem the quik vertues to growe, wher þoru3 he 3eueth hem lyfe.

Oure lord god is also like a gardener, for a gardener suffereth somtyme wikked wedys to growen in his gardeynn, and whanne the erthe þoru3 reyn is moyste and tendre, he taketh awey the wedys bothe rote and rynde. And in the same wyse doth oure good lord. He suffereth somtyme in his gardeyn, whiche is manis soule, wikked wedis of synne growe, but quan the hert wexeth tendre be meknesse, and moyste þoru3 contricion, oure benynge lord taketh awey þanne alle þe synnes bothe rote and rynde, and planteth and setteth in his gardeyn goode herbes and frutes of good vertues, and wattereth hem with þe dewe of his blissed goodnesse, where þoru3 thei schal come to euere lastynge blisse, joye and reste.

Now sethen þat oure lord god is so good, so piteuouse and so mercyful to synneris þat wilfully haue offende hym in gret horryble synnes, ful moche more, as 3e may weel wete, he is mercyable and hath pyte and compassyion of a soule þat is a3ens his wil taried with trubles and temptacion, but oonly þat god suffereth hem to be so wexed for helthe of here soules.

And þerfore, suster, be not douteful ne hevy, for it schal neuere turne 3ou to perell, but it schal turne 3ou to gret profyte, for ther by 3e schal wynne the crowne of worchip and þe palme of victorie, whiche schal ben to 3ou gret worchip and glorie in the blisse of heuene þou3 þe þank þat 3e schuln haue of oure lord god for 3oure with stondynge of such temptacions and for your pacyens if 3e taken it mekely, and to þe fend it schal turne to schame and confusion. And þou3 it seme 3ou somtyme þat 3e feele a discord betwyn god and 3ou, be not þerfore discomfortid, for þus seyth oure lord be þe profyte Ysaie: A lytel while I haue for seken the, and in a moment I haue hyd my face fro the, but I schal gadere the a3en in many mercyes, and I schal haue mercy on the, and that mercy schal euere last.

Capitulum quintum

nd þerfore grutche no man a3ens the will of god, ne merueile not of þese maner of temtacions, for the more a man or woman is tempted in this maner or in ony other maner a3ens here wil, and thei with stonden it, þat is to seye not with a quemeful wil consentynge þerto, but mekely suffereth it, þe more thei ben sadded in good vertues and profyten in the syght of god, þou3 it be hyd fro hem.

But parauenture quan 3e stonden scharply tempted, 3e þenken þat 3e ben to dulle and to necgligent in goostly exercyse, for þoru3 weiknesse of 3oure spirit þat is for traueiled 3e seme þat 3e haue in wil consentyd to swyche temptacions as 3en ben tempted with. But it is not soo, for 3e schuln vnderstonde þat euery man or woman hath too willis, a good wil and an yuel wil. Þe yuel wil cometh of the sensualite, the whiche is euere dounward enclynynge to synne, and þe good wil cometh of graces, þe whiche is alwey vpward enclynynge to alle goodnesse. And whiles þat 3e haue alwey whanne resoun cometh to 3ou, a good wil to de weel, and ben myspayd with all yuele þoughtes and sterynges þat 3e feele and wolde neuere feele ne don other þanne in the wil of god, þou3 suche wikked þoughtes and sterynges come among in to 3oure herte, and be gret violens of scharpnesse of trouble and disese 3e ben enclyned to the wil of þe sensualite,  3et do 3e it not ne 3e consente not þerto, but it is þe sensulaite þat dooth it in 3ou, and 3oure good wil stondeth stille in 3ou onbroke, þou3 the cloudes of yuel þoughtes stoppe awey 3oure syghte fro þe felynge of youre good wil, as 3e may se be exaumple of the sonne. The sonne schyneth alwey and is in his due place, as weel quan we seen it noght as whanne we seen it; but the reyny cloudes stoppen away our syghte, þat we may not seen it in suche tyme as reyny cloudes ben. And so it fareth be þoure good wil, which stondeth alwey be goddis grace vnbroken in 3ou, þou3 3e fele it noght for trauaileuse þoughtes that benymeth þe sighte of youre knowleche.

O yet goddis childern þat scharply ben vexed with tribulacions and temptacions, comforte 3e 3ou in 3oure benynge fadir, þat seyth to 3ou in holy writ be his profete: My childern, þou3 3e go in the feir, drede 3ou not, for the flaume schal not dere 3ou, as who seyth, 3e my chyldern þat ben cristen peple and in good wil to do weel, þou3 3e go in the feer of tribulacion and temptacion, drede 3e not, for it schal be arettid to you for no perel of soule, but þoro3 my goodnesse and the merites of my passyon, it schal turne to 3ou to gret helpe and profyte of soule.

Þe maner of alle these temptacions, and the remedies þer a3ens, scheweth oure sauyour to his apostle Seynt Petir in þe gospel wher he seyth þus: Petir, Sathanas asketh þat he myghte sifte the as who sifteth whete. In as muche þat Sathanas asked this, it schewed weel þat þe fend had no myght to tempte þe seruaunt of god in suche troubles but be his suffraunce; and þat was openly schewed in the fondyngis or temptyngis of Job, and that he wolde haue syfted hym as who sifted whete. Taketh kepe: þe more þat whete is cast fro syde to syde in a seve, the more clene it is; right so, þe more þat a man or woman is traveiled with the fend a3ens here wil, þe more clene thei ben aforn god, and here be we lerned openly þat god suffereth not his seruauntes to be tempted but for here beste, be so þat þei schape hem to withsonte the fend as goddis derlyngis schulden do.

But for as myche as no man may with stonde þe fend withouten the helpe of god, þerfore of his helpe he maketh vs sekir and seyth thus: I haue preyed for the, þat þi feyth faile þe nouth. And there þat a man fyndeth in his herte a good paciens redily to suffren all diseses makely for goddis sake and for his loue, not takynge heed of alle the fendis temptacions and traueles þat man þoru3 the myght and þe grace of Crist berith doun þe fend, and he hym self preued ther with. And to suche men oure lord seyth þis: Þou þat art thus turned to god in pacyence, but if þou helpe to counceil and conferme thi brethern and teche hem to suffre as the grace of god hath tau3t þee, ellis þou art onkende. Salamon seyth þat oo brother is a myght a3ens the fend, and þerfore thei that ben sorweful and scharply traueiled, quan thei haue herd the good counceil of her brother or suster, thei owen to taken comfort to hem and sey these wordes with Dauid: O þou my soule, why art þou so drery, and why troubelest þow me soo, truste fully to good god þat is ful of mercy, and to hym I knowleche þat hym I schal serue, be I neuere so myche traueiled ne trubled.

And suche men þat þus ben traueiled and taried with scharpe peynful þoughtes and sterynges, thei owen to taken the councel and techynge of wys men þat ben goode and discrete, and be no weye þat thei folwe here owne wielde fantasyes, for þat wold vttirly schende hem. And in the mene tyme of suche troubles, þei musten 3eu hem to som good li3t occupacion, and somtyme to redynge and syngynge the seruyse of god, and to other good dedes, and euere among preyenge to god of helpe, and þat he sende hem strenghte and pacyence. And þou3 thei fynde in hem self no maner of swetnesse ne sauour oto goddis seruise, 3et thei owten not to care ne ben heuy þerfore, for it is jnow to helthe of mannes soule þat he wolde haue reste and swetnesse in the seruise of god. For in the doom of god, the wil stondeth as for dede, and so seyth holy wryt, which may not ben ontrewe, þat every good wil is acceptid as for dede. Seynt Bernard seyth þat somtyme god with draweth deuocion fro preyer to make the preyer the more medful. God wold be serued somtyme in bitternesse and somtyme in swetnesse, and both to we musten mekely receyue. And Aristotil seyth a resoun, þat with the more and hardere trauueile þat vertues ben goten, þe bettir it arn and þe more þank wurthy. But the soule is more trauailed with heuynesse of herte and vnlykynge to serue god þanne whanne a man is in good lykynge and ful swetnesse and reste of soule, wherfore dredeles it is the more medeful. It was no maystrye for Seynt Petir, quan he saw oure lord Iesu on the hyl in blisse to seye: Lord, it is good vs to dwelle here; but aftirward quan he saw hym amongis his fomen tormentid, a womans word mad hym afered and soo sore in dreed þat he seyde he know hym not. But aftir þat, quan he was confermed þoru3 the myght of the holy gost, þer was no turment in erthe, ne kynge ne prince, þat myghte make hym aferd. Right soo, if a man be in swetnesse and reste of herte, it is no maystrye to seruen god, but it is no maystrye quan a man is traveiled and oute of reste to seruen hym. But qwat trauayle that a creature haue in the seruyce of god, if a mannes wil be good, and wolde þat it were weel, þe more mede he schal haue. And if a man wolde suffre pacyently til he aftir trauailes be strengthed of the holy gost, þer schulde no fend in hell haue myght to affere hym not gretly. And þou3 it be longe or he feele comfort, lete hym not drede, for oure mercyful sauyour woteth wel what tyme comforte is most nedeful to hym, and thanne fayleth he nought. And þerfore lete hym trusten weryly þat it is al for his beste, þou3 þat he knowe not goddis abydynge.

Somtyme the feelynge of swetnesse and of comfort is with drawen from a man, for ellis he schulde waxen proud and presumptuouse, or necgligent and recheles in vertues; and þerfore it is withdrawen for the beste to helthe of his soule. And also hardenesse and scharpnesse sent to a creature is ful profitable to the soule, for Seynt Augustyn seyth þus in techynge of vs alle, þat þe manere of god is, þat quan a man is feble and newly turned to hym, to 3eue hym pees and swetnesse, and soo to stable hym in his lawe and loue; but quan he is stabled and sadly set and grounded in loue, þan suffereth he hym to be al to trauailed for twoo skylles. Oon is to preue hym, and to crowne hym þe more hy3e in the blisse of heuene, and another is to purge hym of his synnes in this world that he in no wyse be longe from hym in þe tother worlde.

Capitulum sextum

nd for as myche as many men kunne not in tyme of temptacion ne woln not see it, but ben sory and dredeful of complexion, þerfore to alle suche men thre thynges ben nedeful. The firste is þat thei be not myche alone. The secunde is þat thei þenke not ne seche no þing deeply, but fully reule hem, as I seyde afore, be som good discret persone; and þou3 it come in to here herte and mynde þat þei schuld be lore or in perell, þou3 þei wold beholde here counsell, thei owen to taken non heed to suyche þou3tis and sterynges, ne charge hem. Take thei non heed of suyche ymagynacions or sotyl conseytes, for it may neuere turne hem to dampnacion, the counseil of wise men þat is 3ouen to hem for here sauacion. God seyth in the gospel þat if þe menynge be good of a manis purpose, þe dede is good. The thredde remedy is this, þat for as myche as the fend traueileth faste to make a man dredful and sory, þanne þat he to þe worchip of god and in troust of his helpe, and to schame and confusion of the fend and right in dispyct of hym, þat he strengthe hym self to be glad and mery, þou3 it be a3ens herte. And drede no þing the fendis malice, for þe lasse gladnesse that a man fyndeth in his herte, þe more mede he is worthy, so þat he strengthe hym self to be glad and mery to the worchep of god and dispitte of þe fend. For holy writ seyth þat þe aposteles 3eden awey mery and glad quan the Jewes, goddis enemyes, hadden schamfully beten hem.

Also a man oweth to be glad, quan the fend tempteth and turmenteth hym, for three skelles. The first is þat he is turmentid of goddis enemy. The secunde for in suche tormentis and temptynge the fend scheweth þat he is ful his enemy and þerfore oweth euery man to be glad þat goddis enemy is his enemy. And the threde is for be suche tormentis a man is not only relesed of the peynes of purgatory, but also it maketh hym to wynne heuene blisse to his meede. Jesu seyth in the gospel: Blissed be thei þat sufferent persecucion for rightwysnesse for here is þe kyngdom of heuene.

Capitulum septimum

lso oure olde enemy the fend and serpent is often tymes aboute to begyle mannes soule in many sondre maneris. He cometh somtme vndir þe colour of goodnesse to disseyuen hem þat fayn wold don wel; and specyally of the thingis I wele speke of.



How the Blessed Francesca met the Evil One disguised as her Patron, Saint Onofrio

On is this, þat þou3 a creature, man or woman, be neuere soo wel ne so ofte schreuen and in reste of soule, þe fend maketh hem to beleve þat þei ben not wel schreuen, and alle he doth to brynge þe soule to heuynesse. And somtyme þe fend be to myche trauayle and noi3aunce maketh a man fully to for3ete som thing þat he wolde seye, and þanne he maketh þe soule oute of reste tyl he bee eftesones shreuen; and þis doth he not for he wolde þat a man were often shreuen, but fully to entarye hym, and to maken hym beleue þat he were out of grace and blyndet for synne, and þerfore he myghte not maken hym self clene.

The secunde gyle vndir colour of goodnesse þat the fend tempteth with is þis. Whanne somme men or women haue be custom good sterynges and deuoute þou3tes and felyngis of meditacions and of contemplacions, of suyche parauenture as ben solatarye, he wele þanne tempte hem to lothe here dyuyne seruyse that thei ben bounden in, or werysom, and make hem to ben heuy and weersum to do it, for he steryth hem to wene þat it were best and more plesynge to god to folwe here owne werkynges with inne foorth of þinkynges and felynges, þanne for to sey þat þei ben bounden to, þat at some tyme thei ben so trauailed and troubled to and fro þat thei weten neuere whiche syde is best to take. And þis 3e may weel wete is þe fend, for alwey he cometh with taryengis, or with false plesaunce, and þis doth he not for thei schulde occupye hem highely in contemplacion or in goode meditacions, but for he wolde lette and disturbe hem þerfro, and also he wolde maken hem vttirly to leue þe seruyse of god þat þei ben bounden to.

The thredde colour of gyle þat he tempteth with is þis. Whanne a man or a woman 3eueth hym to honest solace, to strenghte hem self with a3ens the fendis tormentis in comfort of his owne soule, þanne the fende wele stere hym to haue consciens þerof, and putteth in here hertis þat alle suyche disportys is but synne and vanyte. And somtyme he wole bryng to here mynde herfore don synnes, for to tary hem; this he doth for to drawe here hertis to heuynesse, for thei schulde no comforte haue, but al care and trouble, and so to tempte hem to dispeir and to bitter þou3tis. But the remedyes of these temptacions ben þese.

As vnto þe firste, þat þe feend tempeth a man or woman, þou3 thei ben neuere soo wel schrewen hem semeth þat þei ben not wel schrewen, but alwey dou3ten þat it is not aright doon, or some is for3ete which thei seen nought; but take þei right non heed of suyche þoutis, no more þan þei wolden of a gnatte that fleeth before here face, but þenken fully it is þe feend to lette and distrouble pees in here soule. And if so bee þat a man somtyme þoru3 trauelouse þou3tes for3eteth som þing of charge þat he wolde haue seyde, þanne schape a tyme and be confessed þer of; and if he may not ly3tly haue his confessour, þenke þat he wolde ben confessed þerof quan he may haue his goostly fadir, and in the mene tyme crye god mercy, and aske hym for3euenesse of all his traspace, and troust fully it is for3ouen. For a man is not so redy to asken for3euenesse and mercy, þat 3et oure mercyful lord of his grete goodnesse is more redy to 3eue it hym.

And as touching the secunde temptacion, þat the feend wolde lette and forbarre a man fro his dyuyne seruyse þat he is bounden to, and tempteth hym vtterly to leue it, is þat he be þanne þe more diligent to seye it weel and deuoutly, with grete reuerence and right good avysement or attendaunce, and if he seye his seruyse alone, he may quan deuoute þou3tes comen, or loue with swetnesse vysyteth hym, or some hi3 visitacioun of the holy gost toucheth hym, he may stynte of his seruyse for the tyme, and attend to þat, and aftir þat seye forth so þat his seruyse be not lefte undoon ne vnseyde. And if he doth þus, it schal ben but lytel lettynge to his due seruyse, but he schal fnde comfort and eese þerinne; and þou3 it lette hym at oo tyme, it schal supporte hym another tyme.

Þe thredde temptacion is þis. Whanne a man in comendable tyme 3eueth hym to honest companye and solace in strenghtynge of his soule, the feend putteth in his mende and maketh hym beleue þat it is synne and perel to hym; and not oonly þis, but also his olde synnes afoore don he putteth to his mende for to tarye hym. But alle 3e þat ben taryed þus of the feend with þese þou3tes and sterynges, beleue hem not ne charge hem not, for alle þing þat is treuly groundyd in god, it pleseth god and not displeseth. Þerfore goddis seruaunties musten alwey grounden hem weel in god, and don be þe counseil of holy cherche, and if thei don so, þei schuln neuere be disseyued. And in as myche as all þing hath tyme in goddis seruyse, a man au3te to tende to no þing, be it neuere so good, þat schulde lette him fro goddis seruyse.

And also a man þat is traueiled and taketh hym to solace in dispyt of þe fend, he ou3te not þat tyme tende to þat thing þat wolde tarye hym, but he oweth to schape hym a tyme to crye god mercy and aske for3euenesse of al his trespas and synne. Þanne ou3te he to taken to mynde þat þe firste mynde was but a taryenge of þe feend; for he þat is endeles good schuldd rather stere a man to þenke on his synne in helpe of his lyf þanne in taryenge of his lyf and of his soule.

Capitulum octauum

lso þe feend is ful besy to men and women of tendir conscyens, to brynge in hem so myche errour þat thei wene þing that is no synne or parauenture is weel done semethe to hem synne, and of a venyal synne maketh it to seme greuouse as dedly synne, and of þing of no charge maketh it to seme as thou3 it were don in dipiste of god or of his seyntis.  And somme the enemy the fend tarieth so gretly þat what euere thei doo or leue to do, thei ben so byten in conscyens þat þei kan no whilte to gydir haue reste in hem self; and alle this the fend doth þoru3 fals dreed and blynd conscyens. But þe remedy of þis temptacion and of all other is þat þei gouerne hem be here confessour, or be some good discret persone, and rule hem fully aftir hym, and not aftir here owne blynde mysruled consciens.  For suyche a man as is þus taryed, if he folwe his owne conscyens, it were a gret pryde þat he wolde holden his owne wit betyr than the trewe loore of holy cherche. Þerfore a man þat wolde don soo muste nedes fallen in to gret errouris of þe feend and in to his handys; and if suyche an errour of conscyence made be the enemy seye on to 3ou þat other men feele not þat þat 3e feele, and þerfore thei kunne not deme ne 3eue 3ou good remedye þerto, and þerfore 3e muste folwe 3oure owne fantasyes, or ellis 3e þenken that 3e schuln be lore, take 3e non heed of this þou3t and steryng, ne of no suyche fantasyes þat comen in to 3oure herte, ne charge hem not. But putteth awey all suyche errouris of consciens as faste as thei comen to mende; lete him lightly go, and if ony seye þat þei may not putten hem awey, thei seye not right, for who so is in wil to do awey a fals conscience and errour, to fore god it is alwey, þou3 þer leue in hym neuere so many fals domes. And therfore þou3 a man haue neuere so many teryenges a3ens his wil in his consciens, he dare not drede hym, for dredeles god schal euere comforte hym or he deye; and þe lengere that he suffereth suyche taryengis, the more is he worthy in the syghte of god.

Capitulum nonum

nd þou3 the feend putte in 3ou ony þou3t of dispeir, or maketh 3ou to þenke þat in the our of death 3e schuln haue suych yuele þou3tes and sterynges, and þanne 3e ben but lore, beleue hem not ne charge it not, but answere hym þus, þat 3e haue put fully 3oure trouste in oure lord god, and þerfore þou3 he tempte 3ou with ony temptacions, þou3 the myght of god and merites of his passyon it schal be no perel to 3ou of soule, but to hym it schal turne to schame and confusion. And if ony creature, man or woman, seie to 3ou ony bytynge woord or wordes of discomfort, taketh it mekely and paciently, and þenketh þat perauenture it is don þoru3 temptacion of the fend to distroblen 3ou and lette 3ou, or it is a chastysyng of god for som word or for dede þat 3e haue don or seyd. For oure lord god dooth lyke a lovynge modir: a louynge modir that is wys and weel tau3t, sche wole þat here childern be vertuouse and weel norisched, and if sche may knowe only of hem with a defau3te, sche wole 3eue hem a knocke on the heed, and if thei don a gret defua3te, sche wole 3eue hem a buffet vndir the chekes and if thei don a gretere trespas, sche wole bylasche hem scharpely. Þus doth god, that is oure louynge fadir þat al vertue and goodnesse cometh fro. He wole þat his specyal and his chosen chyldern ben vertuouse and weel tau3t in soule, and if thei don a defaute, he wel knocke hem on the heed with suyche wordis of displeasaunce and of discomfort. And if thei doo a gret defaute he wole 3eue hem a buffet with gret scharpenesse in sondry maneris, aftir þat the sundry defautys ben; and if thei don grettere trespaces, he chastyseth hem ful scharpely with gret duresses. And alle þis oure good lord dooth for a specyall loue, for he hym self seyth þat tho þat he loueth he chastyseth. O treuly, and we token good keep of these wordes, we wolden be gladdere of his chastysyngis þan of alle the worldes cherysynges; and if we deden soo, alle diseses and trybulacions schulden turne to comfort and joye.

But it is ful hard in tyme of scharpenesse, quan a soule stondeth naked fro alle goostly and bodyly cimfort, to take and fynde joye in disese. But þei þat stonden in suyche inward duresse, thei must seke, in all weyes of discomfort, how þei mowe comfort hem self in god, and þenke alwey þat it is for here beste. And trusteth fully þat god sent neuere chastysyng, þat he ne sent comfort, be long tyme or be schort, where þoru3 he brengheth hem oute of here disese. Þe profete seyth: Many ben the trivulacions of rightful men, and of all þo god schal deyueren hem.

And þou3 3e fele somtyme steryingis of dispeir, or of vnkendely and onreuerent þou3tes, comforte 3ou euere more in the goodnesse of god, and in the peyneful passyon þat his manhod suffered. And for as moche as þe feend tempteth many to desperacions and dreedis of sauacion, and specyally goddis seruauntes, and also worldly men and women the feend tempteth hem to dispeir quan þei beholden here greuous synnes, and the goostly lyueris he tempteth to dispeir be inputtynge of false dreedys and streyt conscience, and be deep ymagynacion of predestinacion, and in moo sondry wyses than I kan telle, and ful graciously god hath comforted and sent comfort to many that with dispeir hath be trauayled,  and amongis al tho þat god hath comforted and broute oute of þat errour. I am steryd to telle of oone of hem, which was a squier þat hi3te John Homeleis.

Narracio

his squier þat I haue named had ben a synful man, and soo at þe laste þoru3 the beholdynge of his synnes and be the feendes temptacions, he feel in to dispeir, soo deeply and so greuously that he had ny lost his mynde; and thus he was traueiled fourty dayes, þat he myght neyther slepe ne ete, but wasted awey and was in poynt to spille hym self. But good god, þat is ful of pyte and mercy, wolde not haue hym lore, and on a day, as he in ful grete sorwe walked in a wode alone, an aungel came to hym in fourme of a man, and saluted the squier ful goodly, and talked with hym. Þanne seyde the aungel to hym: Þou semest, seyde he, a man ful of heuynesse and sorwe. Telle me, I prey the, what causeth thi disese. Nay seyde the squier, it is not the to telle. 3is, seyde the aungel, þou wost neuere how weel I may helpen the and thi disese remeue. A man schulde, sayde þe aungel, alwey in discomfort and heuynesse discouere his hert to somme creature þat myght ese hym, for þoru3 good counsel, he myght, seyde þe aungel, recouere bothe to comfort and to heele, or in sum wyse haue good remedy. Þe squier answarde þe aungel a3en, and seyde þat he wiste weel that he cowde not ne myght not helpe hym, and therfore he wolde no3te telle hym. This squier wende alwey þat this aungel hadde ben an erthely man, and he dreede þat if he had tolde hym, he wolde a3enward haue seyde som word þat schulde vtterly haue disesed hym; and quan the aungel si3 þat he wolde be no weye tellen hym, he seyde to hym in this wyse: Now, seide he, sethen þou wilt not telle me thi greuaunce. I schal tellen it the. Þou art, seyde the aungel, in dispeir of thi sauacion, but truste fully þou schalt be saued, for the mercy of god is so gret þat it passeth alle his werkes and surmounteþ all synnes. It is sooth, sayde the squier, I wot weel þat god is mercyful, but he is rightful also, and his rightwysnesse must nedys punysche synne, and therfore I drede his rightwysnesse in iugementes. The aungel answered hym a3en, and tolde hym many exaumples, how god ful graciously is mercyful to synners: but this squier of whom I telle was soo deeply fallen in heuynesse and in dreed that he kowde take no comfort of thing that he seyde. Þanne spake the aungel to hym and seyde: O, seyde he, quat þat þou art hard of beleue; but wilt þou haue an open schewynge þat þou schalt be saued, seyde þe aungel to the squier. I haue here thre dises þat I wole throwe, and þou schalt throwe, and who so hath most on þe dises, sekirly he schal be saued. A, seyde the squier, how myght I in þrowynge of dyses be in certeyn of my sauacion; and helde it but a iape. The aungel þrewe the dyses, and had on euery dee vpward syxe; and he had þanne the squier þrowe the dyse. O, seyde he, certis þat dar I not, for I wot wel, þou3 I caste the dise, mo þanne þou hast cast schulde I not haue and if I hadde lesse þan þou hast, I schulde vtterly falle in discomfort. But soo þe aungel spak, þat at þe last the squier threwe the disc, and in the þrowynge be goddis myght euery dee claf atweyne, and on eche dee was sixe, and so he hadde the double þat þe aungel hadde. And as he merueiled vp on this, þe aungel vanyschid oute of his syght. Þo wiste he wel it was aungel sent of god to brynge hym oute of his wo. And þanne he cau3te so gret comfort and ioye in þe mercy of god, and in þe goodnesse of his grace, þat alle his sorwes and dredis wenten clene awey, and he becam þanne goddis seruaunt, and was a blissed leuere, and quan he schulde departen fro þis world, he diuysed þat whanne he was deed, þere schulde be leid up on hym a ston wreten with þese wordes aboute þat folwen: Here lieth John Homeleis, þat of þe mercy of god may seyn a largeis. I knew a wurchipful persoone that was in the same abbey here in Ingelond there as he lyeth, þat redde up on hym the wordes aforn seyde.

Now þanne sethen oure mercyful lord god, þanked and worchepid mote he bee, sent þus goodly comfort to þis man, þat was a worldly synful man, and receyued hym to his grace, and brou3te hym oute of dispeir, þer schulde no man ben heuy ne discomforted, þou3 he fele temptacions of dispeir, for hardily god wole comforten hym whanne he seeth tyme. And þou3 he sende not to a man comfort anon, it is for to eerne hym the more mede. And þenke alwey, quan 3e feele ony temptacions bodyly or goostly, that 3e stonden in the blissynge of holy cherche, for holy write seyth: Blyssed be thei þat suffren temptacions, for whanne þei ben preuyd, thei schuln taken þe crowne of lyfe, the which god hath behi3t to them that louen hym.

Capitulum decimum

 3e childern of holy cherche, þat haue for saken the world for helthe of youre soules, and principally to plesen god, comfort 3e in in hym whom 3e haue chosen to loue and serue, for he wole ben to 3ou ful free and large, as 3e may see be exaumple of Petir in the gospel, where þat he asked oure lord Iesu what reward he schulde haue þat had forsaken alle þing to folwe hym; and oure lord answered hym and seyde that he schulde iugen with hym þe twelue tribis or kynredis of Israel at þe day of jugement. And ferthermore oure lord seyde also to hym þat all, not only on or too or somme, but he seyde þat alle þo that forsaken for his loue kyn or frendes or possessiones, þat is to seyn hous or lond or ony other worldly good, þe schuln hauen here in þis lyfe an hundirt fold mede and blisse with outen ende.

Þerfore, suster, caste awey all fals dredis that wolde disturbele and lette 3ou fro loue and hope in god, for no þing pleseth so moche þe feend as to see soules with drawen hem fro goddis loue, and þerfore he bysyeth hym þer abouten day and nyght, to lette loue and disturble pees in mannes soule. And on the other syde, no thyng counfoundyth hym soo myche as dooth þe loue of god, to see a man to sette al his desyr þerto. But þenk not now as in discomfort, allas, I feele not that loue, I haue not þat loue þat is soo good, and so be youre owne ymaginacion falle in discomfort and heuynesse of herte, and þenk and deeme 3oure self lore; but put awey alle heuynesse and discomfort, and þenk weel it cometh of the enemye, þe feend, to entarye 3ou. Haueth a good wil to loue and to plese god, and prenteth wel þese woordis in 3oure herte, þat a good wil is acceptid as for deede in þe sight of god, and comforte 3ow alwey in þe name of Jesu. For Jesu is as moche to seie as sauyour: þenketh weel þer vp on, and haue it weel in mynde, and his passyon and also his holy vertues, for no þing schal put awey so soone alle þese veyne dredis and temptacions and alle maner of fantasyes as forto haue weel in mynde þe name of Jesus, his passion and his glorious vertues.

Þese thre been scheld and spere, armure and strenghthe to dryue adoun the feend, be he neuere soo fersly aboute man or woman; and specyally to þenk on his gracyous vertues, how god þe fadir in hym is al dyuyne nature, in whom is al myght, to whom no thing is impossible but alle possibilite: and god the sone is al wisdam, that all þing made and all þing gouerneth: and god the holy gost is al loue and bounte, þat in a moment of tyme all synnes may for 3eve. Not thre goddis by oo god in thre persones, thre persones and oo god onl, in whom is al blisse and al glorye. He is so fair and bright schynynge that all aungell wondern of his bewte; his glorious blisful presence feedeth and ful filleth alle þe court of heuene with merthe and melodye that is euere lastynge. In hym is al benignyte, kepynge vs fro vengeaunce, in hym is al grace and gentilnesse, curtesie, freedam and largynesse, pite, mercy and for3euenesse, joye, sweetnesse and endeles helte. Suster, he is in alle oure tribulacions, quan we clepen on to hym, oure comfort, oure strength, oure helpe and oure soules helthe. Suster, this is 3oure spouse, whom 3e desyre to loue and plese. The gretnesse of his vertues, ne the multitude of his joyes whyche spredeth in to al þe court of heuene to hem þat ben þer inne, may non herte thenke, ne tunge telle the blisfulnesse of his presense may not be seyd ne wreten.

Joyeth therfore in oure lord Crist Jesu, for he hath bouth 3ou ful deere, to brynge 3ou to þat blisse, and seith som tyme to hym with a meke herte: O holy god in whom is al goodnesse, whos pite and mercy made þe to descende fro thin hy3e trone, doun in to þis weylynge world, the valey of woo and wepyng, and heere to taken oure kynde, and in þat kynde þou peyne and passion and cruel charp deeth, to brynge oure soules on to thy kyngdom. Þou mercyful lord, for 3eue me all þe synnes þat I haue don, thou3t and seyd. Glorious trinite, sende me clennesse of herte and purete of soule, restore me with holy vertues and strengthe me with þi myght, þat I mowe alwey with stonden synne and all temptacions. O good lord, comforte me with thin holy gost, and  fulfille me with perfi3t grace, þat I may fro hens forth lyue vertuosly and loue þe with all my myght, with alle myn herte and with alle myn soule, and neuere to offende the, but euere to folwe thi plesyngis in wil, word, thou3t and dede. Graunte me this, god infinite þat eternaly schal dure. Amen.

Suster, if 3e don thus, I hope it schal doon you ese, and þou3 3e fynde no maner of comfort ne swetnesse ne deuocion quan 3e wolde, be not þerfore discomforted, but suffereth mekely. Many ben þat stryuen with hem self as þou3 thei wolde haue swetnesse and deuocion be maistrie, and I sey 3ou, so wole it not come, but be mekenesse it wil sunnere be had, and þat is þus, þat a man holde hym self vnwurthy to haue ony swetnesse or comfort, and offere hym lowly to the wil of god, and put his wil fully in goddis wil. A man schulde not desyre to haue swetnesse and deuocion for his owne comfort and plesaunce, but purely for this entent, only to plese god, and to folwe his wil; and þerfore if we putte alwey oure wil in his wil, it suffiseth on to vs, whether we haue it or noon.

Somme also wenen, but if thei felen swetness and deuocion, þat thei ben out of grace; but certeynly somme þat felen in hym self no swetnesse ne deuocion, þei ben in more grace than somme þat felen swetnesse and deuocion, and haue many comfortys, for betir were mekenesse with oute feelyngis than felyngis with outen mekenesse. Þerfore, suster, suffere mekely and pacyently what euere falleth to 3ou, and alwey haue a good wil to do as most were to þe plesynge of god: and quan ony discomfort cometh in 3oure herte be ymaginacions or be temptacions of the enemy, haueth tho wordes in 3oure mynde þat often ben seyd in this writynge, þat a good wil schal be accepted as for dede. For and 3e desire to loue and plese god and to be vertuouse, it is take and accepted as for dede of oure lord god. If 3e folwe it to 3oure myght alwey quan reson cometh to 3ou with desirful wil to don weel, and if 3e haue felt comfort and swetnesse, þou3 3e fele the same temptacions aftir as 3e deden afore, beth not þerfore discomfortid, ne þenketh thus, allas, it is comen a3en, it wole neuere awey fro me, and so falle in discomfort be 3oure owne ymaginacions. But comforte 3ow in god, and beth glad that þe feend hath envye on to 3ou, for whiles þe lyf is in the body he wil entarye alwey goddis seruauntis, for he is ful set a3ens hem, with al malice and velanye to disese hem in diuers maneris in al þat he kan and may. Saynt Austyn seyth: Many maneris ben þe temptacion be þe whiche þe wrong eddere the feend, enemye to al mankende, tormenteth mannes soule, and Seynt Gregory seith þat þer is no þing in which we owne to be so seker of god as for to haue taryenges and tormentis. And if a man seith that bodily tormentis ben medeful and not gostly tormentis, he seyth nou3t right, for dredeles þe gostly tormentis ben werse, more peyneful and more a3ens wil þan ben the bodily toormentis, and in so moche they ben þe more medeful. And þerfore þat man dooth dishonour to god þat seith with a ful vysement þat þe fend may in this world more tormenten þan god may meden. Wherfore treuly þer is no thing more medeful ne more goodly ne more charitable þan for to strengthe and comfort the soule þat þe fend tarieth, for who so comforteth hem that ben desolate, þe lord of comforte, Jesu Crist oure lord god, wole comforte hem endelesly in the blisse of heuene. The which lord, þouru3 þe myght and merite of his peyneful passion and his precyous blood, felle down the poure of þe fend, and graunte cristen soules victorie ouere the feend, to the worchip of al þe trinite, fader and sone and holy gost, þat lyueth and regneth with owten ende. Amen.

Here I haue endid of temptacions the remedie. God for his goodnesse on me sinful haue mercy. Amen. Mercy god, mercy god, mercy god on me. Amen, me sinful haue mercy. Amen.

    Mercy god, mercy god, mercy god on me. Amen
    Gloria laus honorque deo patri. Amen.
    Et sic explicit liber iste.

Giovanni di Paolo, St Catherine Receiving Stigmata, Santa Cristina, Pisa, Metropolitan Museum of Art