Acta Sanctorum Ordinis S. Benedicti, saec. II (Mabillon, 1669) — translated into modern British English. By an anonymous monk who lived in the tenth century. From a Cîteaux manuscript codex.

Brief Observation #

St Deicolus — called by later writers Deicola or Diey — first abbot of Lure, seems to have been unknown to Bede, Wandalbert, Usuard and Ado and the other martyrology-writers who lived in the middle age: for only in the more recent calendars (unless perhaps we except the Luxeuil and Lure manuscripts) does he hold a place among the saints. His Life seems first to have been written by the anonymous monk here given, at the bidding of Werdolf the abbot, successor of Balthrann, who — Otto I favouring, not yet emperor — restored the monastery of Lure about the year 920, as below at numbers 18 and 19. John Bolland doubts whether this Life’s writer was a monk, since he expresses his profession rather obscurely in the prologue; but he shows himself plainly a Benedictine monk when at number 23 he calls Benedict “our most blessed Father.” Lure, moreover — or Luthra as the manuscript codices write it, in the vernacular Lure, in the diocese of Besançon, not far from Luxeuil and the river Lignon, commonly called the Loignon — is still today a celebrated abbey of the order of St Benedict, feast 18 January.

The Author’s Prologue to Werdolf, Abbot of Lure #

That a man should reckon himself and the world as dross is proved by true deliberation; it is fitting to increase the growth of the heavenly school by a sufficiently happy exchange. Moreover, by the inextricable pledge of the foretasted sweetness — the impediment of sloth’s delay being utterly removed — as one who walks not in the flesh but in the spirit, to give himself in all things untroubled to the fruits of the spirit. With this pious but upright suspicion of yourself being stirred, you discern that I, father Werdolf, not undeservedly of immeasurable veneration — girt with the indefatigable shoulders and company of the watchful, bearing celibacy through so many returns of the sun in the zodiac in an unoffending article — command, ask, beseech that I should attempt the spiritual work by spiritual imitation, in obedience, as a follower of the monks in whatever way. To which I say: I comply at once, though with a withering scarcity I can scarce do it — as one who hitherto has fixed no step in the tenor of flattery but the contrary. “Good will be with you,” say you; “the charity of God will not fail, by which all good things find efficacy — doubtless it brings the pious beginning to effect.”

Here Begins the Life #

¹ When Columbanus, the master and charioteer of the Lord, had been driven out of the monastery of Luxeuil, he took care to increase the divine work of the pilgrimage which he had undertaken in obedience to the Gospel — hastening to Italy, fearing nothing of the foe’s cunning. And because a city set on a mountain cannot be hidden — that the Lord’s lamp might shine openly for all the churches throughout the world — taking with him certain disciples, sons whom he knew to be more perfect, they set out with the divine clemency going before, accompanying and following. And when they had advanced two miles and come to the place called Vepras, the blessed Deicolus, a monk of the holy father and now of rather advanced age, began to be grievously weakened in his feet. Nor delay: prostrate at the father’s knees he devoutly asked leave to remain. But he, condoling with the brother’s weakness in the mildest affection, did not refuse leave, and commended him to the divine mercy in a father’s voice, saying: “May almighty God, for whose love you have left your native soil and ever obeyed me in all things, make us rejoice together in the presence of His majesty.” And when long, for the greatness of charity, they embraced one another and copiously poured forth pious tears, at last the pious father bespoke the blessing to his disciple in these words: “May the Lord bless you out of Zion, that you may see the good things of Jerusalem all the days of your life.” These things said, so great a father quickly took the road begun; but the disciple, as the Divinity had disposed before the ages, remained among the Burgundians for the salvation of many.

² When the blessed Deicolus knew himself left alone before God, he gave himself to the effort of native devotion and prayers, that whatever pleased the divine will concerning him might be revealed to him soon. And wandering through the uncertain byways of the forests, seeking and tracking places fit for human habitation, he came at last to a certain arid spot, oppressed with the anguish of thirst. And when he had long besought the Inventor of things there on bended knees, scraping the earth a little with the staff he used — suddenly He gave His faithful servant a broad wave of a little spring, which from from there irrigates the neighbouring places with a most limpid rivulet; and so long as earth shall be, it is named and loved and duly cultivated by all the inhabitants in the same father’s name. Consoled by so great and such a gift, the man of the Lord gave thanks to the Divinity and himself refreshed abundantly; and to all ages after him he plainly left the blessing of his memory. And this is the first miracle of power which the Lord wrought through the blessed Deicolus. For the wonderful God in His saints and faithful in all His words — He who says in the Gospel: “Amen I say to you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you shall receive, and it shall be done for you” — did what He promised and enriched His servant’s faith with clear honour; and He who once for the Israelite band brought water from the rock, bade the exceeding arid place abound with rivulets of waters at His servant’s prayer.

³ And when the holy man inquired through the wilderness, like a wandering traveller, for suitable places to dwell — since his father had enjoined him under the title of obedience not to enter the monastery of Luxeuil further — it happened unlooked-for that he met a herd of swine. And the swineherd, seeing a man of so tall a stature and clothed in a garment of unwonted habit, smitten with stupor began to ask who he was, or from which he had come, or what wish he had had that he should will to walk in so vast a wilderness without guide or companion. To whom the man of God answered in gentle speech: “Fear not, brother; I am a pilgrim and bear the monastic purpose; and I would wish, if it stood with your mind, that for charity’s sake you should show me whether there is any place in the neighbourhood profitable for human converse.” To whom the swineherd said: “I know not indeed any habitable place in that part, save one not far hence called Luthra, marshy and watered with very many springs, situate in the demesne of a certain most powerful vassal named Werfar.” To whom the holy man: “can you, brother, lend me guidance that I may see the place itself?” And he answered: “I could in some manner indeed, but I dare not leave my herd without a keeper.” To whom the blessed Deicolus: “No, son, refuse me not stubbornly so small a space; know truly that if you purpose to go with me, you shall meanwhile lose not the least little pig. And if you doubt, I will set my staff as your vicar-keeper, that on returning you may know how much my faith avails with your charity.” This said, he fixed the staff he bore in his hand rooted in the soil, and went to the named place with his guide going before. And when after a long space of an hour the swineherd returned by the same way anxious to see his herd, he found according to the man’s promise his herd gyrating round the staff and lying down fed — nor was one of them missing. O truly the merit of the blessed man, whom brute animals also obey! — while he reasonably seeks God, He exalts His faithful above men who, though He was God above all things, willed to become man.

⁴ Among all things the venerable man Deicolus, coming to the desired place, ever unwearied persisting in the divine work — as one to whom the world was crucified — offered himself wholly to God. He found a church situated on the slope of a certain mountain, consecrated in honour of St Martin — in which the foresaid soldier, at fixed times together with his household, offered the office of divine worship. The same little place moreover, in which his most sacred remains now rest in peace, offered entrance to no one, but was fenced on every side with the density of woods and the irrigation of springs. But the man of the Lord, mindful of the Gospel precept, took heed not to do his justice before men lest he be seen by them; but awaited the secret space of an hour when he could prostrate himself alone to God alone. Wondrous to tell and inscrutable to human wit: how often he went alone to the doors of that church to fulfil the hour of the divine synaxis — without delay, no door-keeper granting it, the broad entrance lay open to him.

⁵ Which thing being learned by the priest, he began to complain in public in these words: “Alas, brethren, on account of one monk I can no longer live here.” And when the not-small company which had assembled at the church asked what such things meant, the priest added: “A certain pilgrim monk hides in that little wood, who uses I know not what enchantments, and in the middle of the nights is accustomed to come here for prayer’s sake — the doors diligently barred by day he opens at his will and devotes himself to prayers within. I swear by God of heaven and earth that if henceforth I find him in our church, I will cast him out afflicted with deserved stripes and injured.” To whom those standing by said in counsel: “Have patience meanwhile until our lord come and himself try the truth; and if such virtue is of God we cannot forbid him; but if otherwise, let us eliminate him from our borders as befits an impostor.” See how they who devoutly cleave to almighty God command the elements and are not resisted! He who after His resurrection entered to the disciples through closed doors — He bade the closed doors be opened to His servant Deicolus.

⁶ But the blessed Deicolus, strenuously beseeching the divine mercy day and night, little fearing men’s threats — as one ever hedged with angelic custody — entered the church after his custom, until the priest with his officials pursued him bitterly for a long while. But when almighty God kept His servant harmless from the impious ones’ hands, the fraudulent malice again led them to open the church’s windows and to obstruct the doors, opened wide, with the greatest heap of brambles, thorns and briers up to the very lintels, saying: “Perhaps if that monk now strives to enter, he shall not escape without the mark of misfortune.” But since neither wisdom nor prudence nor counsel can stand against God, that malevolence harmed not the man of God — no, as often as he thought fit he entered powerfully.

⁷ Therefore the most stupid men, raging beyond measure, sent a plaintive embassy to their lord — who then lived in his allodial estate in the place called Villa Gallonis — saying: “Does it please you that a certain monk claim your little chapel for himself as an oratory, and no one be able to cast him out?” Hearing this, Werfarius, seized with headlong fury, sanctioned a too-cruel sentence on the man of God, saying: “Go with haste, and if any of my faithful can take him, let him be castrated without hearing.” Scarce had he given the mandate when, at that same hour, the snare which he unjustly prepared for God’s servant he himself wonderfully fell into, by God’s just judgement. For the same member which he had ordered cut off from God’s servant was immediately turned into a swelling — so that all his bowels violently settled into that place and prepared his near death. And when he was seen to be vexed with vehement pain, his wife, Bertildis by name, mindful of the sentence he had rashly imposed on the man of God, admonished him with grave lament, saying: “I surely believe that on account of that pilgrim whom you unjustly ordered to be castrated, this pain has entered you; I will therefore send quickly and summon him, if perchance through his prayers so great a pain may be put to flight from you.” But because nothing happens on earth without cause — before the messengers reached the man of God, the same Werfarius, subdued to death, made an end of living.

⁸ Which heard, the blessed Deicolus, regarding not the irreligious soldier’s injury but the devout woman’s faith, took the road step by step. And when he had come to the place, the religious woman, now made a widow, received him with the greatest honour as befitted so great a father; but he, wearied from the journey, before he went to his seat wished to lay aside his birrus — which the Greeks call amphibalus — for refreshment’s sake. Which the very many servants who were present seeing, ran from every side to lay the garment diligently in safety. To whom he said: “Not so, little sons; for I find a servitor who will keep the garment faithfully for me. I am a pilgrim for Christ; whatever pleases Him concerning His servant, let Him do.” A wondrous and stupendous thing! The venerable man, beholding the sun’s ray entering through the house’s window like a beam (which according to the philosophers’ definition is nothing else than the thickness of the air and the sun’s illumination), approached and laid the garment upon it. There it hung nearly the space of two or three hours without earthly support and waited for the man of God until he would clothe himself again. At this miracle those present, astounded, gave glory to God — who so deigned to honour His servant in an unheard-of manner.

⁹ And the venerable woman, seeing so evident a miracle wrought through God’s servant, prostrate at his feet began to redouble her lament and call the man of God with great cries, saying: “O servant of the most high God, have mercy on my senior, your servant — for he sinned in ignorance toward you, and so the divine vengeance suffered him not to live longer. Now however I grieve more over his sin — lest he be tormented in hell — than over his temporal death, by which I am unhappily bereaved. Therefore, my father and lord, I supplicate your piety to the ground — that you would deign to intercede with almighty God, whose servant you are proved to be, with pious vow for the absolution of his soul, lest he be made destitute of eternal life. And whatever our demesne is at Vivarium, and the place itself in which St Martin’s church is built, with all its appurtenances — moreover this villa also with all pertaining to it — I willingly deliver to your paternity to be held by perpetual right.” To whom he answered: “Fear not; I believe in my God that for your faith not only shall his soul be freed from hell’s hand, but he shall soon possess the joy of paradise — for in you I see the Apostle’s sentence truly fulfilled which says: ‘The unbelieving husband shall be saved through the faithful wife.’ " And so the man, full of God, converted the minds of many to the love of religion through the notable miracle he wrought.

¹⁰ And when the holy man, foreseeing future things by the Spirit, received the named demesnes in the presence of many, he entered Lure with a great crowd of the faithful. And when he had long surveyed the place alone, at last he entered where he now rests. There he gave himself to prayer and gave thanks to the Giver of good things, and afterwards said: “This is my rest for ever and ever; here will I dwell, for I have chosen it.” The faithful round about hearing this came to visit God’s servant and enriched him with copious gifts; and he gave the greatest endeavour how to make that place fit for the use of sacred religion. And the divine bounty afforded him such prosperity that in a small space he completed two oratories in beautiful work — one in honour of the most blessed Prince of the Apostles, the other in honour of the Teacher of the Gentiles. Which done, religious men began to flow together from every side to so great a father’s mastership and devoutly submit their necks to Christ’s sweet yoke; and that place was made, according to the Lord’s will, a paradise of monks — which hitherto had been open to the lairs of wild beasts. And to say all: you could see there plainly fulfilled Isaiah’s prophecy which says: “In the dens where dragons lived before, the green of reed and rush shall spring.” But because the prophet spoke metonymically, by “reed” is understood that which is done by a reed — namely sacred scripture; and by “rush” the hope and joy of the hearers is designated. What did the holy man do together with his brethren and disciples save fulfil the sacred eloquences by meditating, preaching, reading? Therefore according to the perfection of the Lord’s discipline, to which that blessed man attained to perfection, a school of the divine service was established there — so that after the Acts of the Apostles all had one heart and one soul, nor did any of them hold anything his own, but all things were common to them.

¹¹ On a certain day, while the blessed man persisted in the divine work with watchful zeal among the brethren, it happened that the renowned king Chlothar — who, according as father Columbanus, full of the spirit of prophecy, had foretold him, was already strengthened with the federation of three kingdoms — came into the neighbourhood of that monastery for hunting. For he had a court and royal fisc near the monastery, which as yet pertained nothing to the man of God. On a certain occasion, when many of the optimates were pursuing in noble chase a huge and very great boar, the beast, fleeing the fierce men, fled for refuge to the dwellings of spiritual men and entered the man of God’s little cell. But the holy man, who was ever wholly in God, seeing the beast’s ferocity turned into tameness, stretched out the hand of mercy and said: “Believe me, because you have fled to charity — today you shall not be deprived of life.” When see, from every side the hunters, following the beast’s tracks, came even to the man of God’s cell. And they who were of sharper sense, entering the man of God’s oratory and finding the beast lying before the altar, its ferocity laid aside — had scarce breath for stupor; and with the greatest speed they sent messengers to call the magnificent king to the spectacle of so great a virtue.

¹² When he had come in royal manner and prayer was made, he studied with the greatest humility to ask the man from which he was and what study he had. And when the holy man had told him as the truth had it, the king added: “And from where do you live, venerable father, you and those with you?” The man of the Lord answered: “It is written that nothing is wanting to them that fear the Lord. Let this not be hidden from you: we lead a poor life, but it suffices us if we have feared God.” And when the king had learned that he was the blessed Columbanus’s disciple, he said: “Surely, my father, only stay with us — abandon us not, aged one; I will sufficiently take thought how this place, for your paternity’s sake, may be supplied hereafter without want. All things which hitherto pertained to my disposal in this neighbourhood, whether in woods or in royal fishings, meadows also or pastures — from this day and henceforth I deliver to you, to be held perpetually for this sacred place. Moreover at the villa called Bndanus, with the church and all that is there, I firmly grant; and since such are wanting here, all that is called of my right at St Antony’s I freely deliver by free tradition to the dearest father.” These things being confirmed, the king and all present seeing, the boar at the man of God’s bidding sought the glades at his wonted pace, hurt by none; and so the devout king, the father’s blessing devoutly received, returned to his own with joy.

¹³ These things being nearly done, the man of the Lord began anxiously to meditate within himself how he might fortify with princely defence the place which almighty God had deigned to give him in his pilgrimage — that after his happy death it might by no means lie open to wicked plunderers ever inimical to the peaceful. At last, by heavenly inspiration using wise counsel, he sought the Roman Highness with the collected company of brethren and servitors. And when he had been honourably enough received by the Roman pontiff — after he had visited the apostles’ threshold and finished his prayer — the pope asked with subtle inquiry what cause moved so great a father to undertake so great a labour of journey. To whom the man of the Lord said: “I am an Irishman, brother, a pilgrim for Christ. It befell me to abide, according to the Lord’s will, in the parts of Gaul among the Burgundians in the place called Luthra — where already, by divine aid, I have built two oratories as best I could for the Princes of the Apostles who hold this Roman citadel. And now the Lord has enriched that place through the princes of that land with the best demesnes, royal fiscs, and nearly all that can suffice for the use of our brethren. But that nation is savage and given to rapine beyond measure. Therefore, prelate, it pleases me to delegate the place itself and all subject to it to the Prince of the Apostles by supreme tradition, under the attestation of perpetual memory — namely on this tenor: that my successors who shall govern the same place hereafter in discipline shall render yearly to this apostolic presence ten solidi of silver for tribute.”

¹⁴ And all things being accomplished for which he had gone, according to the tenor of his firm petition, he received a charter sealed with apostolic authority — that so long as the world should stand, the abbot of that place, ordained according to the election of the brethren dwelling there, should in all things have free disposal of what is God’s without anyone’s contradiction. Moreover, by the key-bearer’s hand under the bond of anathema he gave precept that it should never be lawful for any kings or optimates to inflict molestation on the foresaid place by force or power — save that he who administers the Roman empire and obtains the advocacy of the apostolic see should ever faithfully defend the same place. The blessed Deicolus, greatly gladdened by the apostolic donation, turning his back on the Roman walls, returned to Gaul with backward course, laden with heavenly gifts — that is, precious martyrs’ relics and ecclesiastical ornaments together with his privilege, confirmed with the apostolic seal.

¹⁵ After he had received himself at home, the labour happily accomplished, and had most religiously ordered all things pertaining to God in the monastery, he constituted a certain disciple of his named Columbinus — whom he had also lifted from the sacred font and himself instructed, of whose life and manners he was very secure — abbot in his place with the brethren’s election, and committed to him the government of souls. Which ordained, he, panting for a more secret place and a straiter life, built himself a small oratory apart and had it consecrated in the name of the Holy Trinity — that he who had hitherto laboured with Martha about the frequent ministry might henceforth sit with Mary beside the Lord’s feet and intently hear His word. And so the holy man, because in the practical — that is, the active — life he had faithfully sweated for the Lord, ascended by gradual order worthily to the theoretic — that is, contemplative — life: no longer, as before, anxious about many things, but seeking with the psalmist the one thing needful and saying: “One thing have I asked of the Lord, this will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.” And because he chose the best part for himself, it shall not be taken from him for ever.

¹⁶ Afterwards, when the venerable man — now advanced in age, full of manifold merits — had finished his celibate life on earth, passing gladly out of the flesh’s prison he was placed in the heavenly mansions, hedged round by the companies of the heavenly citizens. The eminent father died on the fifteenth before the Kalends of February [18 January] — on which Phoebus is accustomed to leave the tropic of Capricorn and take the first part of Aquarius in the zodiacal circle. But at that hour in which his happy passing drew near, he summoned abbot Columbinus with the brethren and, admonishing them of all things that are God’s and to keep peace and charity among themselves — when he had received the viaticum of our redemption — gave the kiss to the brethren and, blessing all, amid the very words of prayer and praise rendered his most happy soul to the heavens. He was buried in the oratory which he had built for himself, and in which for many years he had led the angelic life; and there his sacred remains, entombed in peace, await the glory of the resurrection — until the Lord return from the wedding and death be swallowed up in victory, that he may appear with Christ in glory in the assembly of all the elect.

¹⁷ After the venerable father Deicolus departed the world and happily entered the pasture of eternal life, the blessed Columbinus gave himself in all things to following his father’s footsteps unerringly with his brethren. And the Lord gave that place such increase through His servant Deicolus’s merits that many nobles and potentates — leaving the spirit of worldly vertigo with all they could have — chose the monastic discipline and sufficiently enriched the monastery, subjecting themselves to the sacred rule.

¹⁸ And when the spiritual school flourished there for many courses of years, suddenly a lamentable tempest arose whose immensity nearly the whole world felt. For the most ferocious nation of the Hungarians — whose fury a century of ruined city-walls and consumed church-buildings proclaims — burst forth by divine vengeance to afflict the church which abounded with false Christians and thereby provoked the Lord in many things; and like a most fierce beast, whatever it invaded it crushed with its teeth and trampled the rest underfoot. And when their copious army invaded the Burgundian kingdom, all the inhabitants — from the least to the greatest — hid themselves through the mountains’ ridges, the valleys’ windings and the precipices of rocks for the desire of living; and it happened that the diabolical men entered the blessed Deicolus’s monastery. Which when they had diligently searched and found no one — decreeing to give all to fire in their wonted madness, save the two apostles’ oratories — the divine clemency annihilated their profane endeavours. But when they strove raging to approach St Deicolus’s sepulchre, they were so smitten with divine terror that they judged themselves in swift peril. At last, going out and striving to burn so great a father’s dwelling, the heavenly power resisting them they could not burn even one tile. Then, adding fury to their natural madness, they filled the oratory with straw up to the top and heaped a mighty fire upon it, to satisfy their malign will. Wondrous power! — the more they tried, the more the straw spurned them and kept the upper roof unharmed. Which the wicked men seeing, terrified, fled outside. See how the Lord’s clemency fought against the senseless and kept His servant’s tomb inviolate. Then it plainly appeared what manner of man he was who had merited that place for an inheritance from the Lord. And when the barbaric men, crueler than all wild beasts, had consumed nearly all Gaul and Germany partly with sword, partly with fire — and no Christian existed who would meet them or threaten them — the wretches, rejoicing in their impunity, returned to their own laden with many spoils. Lamentable to tell: you could see in the sacred places where before the monks’ religion had flourished and the clerks’ devotion had warred, nettles, thorns and all manner of shrubs growing in this solitude — and because few inhabitants remained, the fields were everywhere reduced to solitude.

¹⁹ And when the blessed Deicolus’s place also had suffered so great misfortune of loss that neither monk nor clerk was held there, a certain warlike count from the parts of Alsace named Heberard — who used to frequent the Burgundian kingdom — invaded that place and wickedly claimed it for himself as inheritance. And because no one was found to withstand him, all the time that he afterwards lived he retained it with a tyrannical hand against right. Alas for grief! — the holy confessor of the Lord Deicolus never thought counts should be the heirs of his place, but monks beloved of God; nor did he ever study to feed horses or hunting-dogs, but to gather the poor and pilgrims. O wondrous patience of God! “See, shall I not be silent? — shall I be ever silent?” says the Lord. “By no means.” But when the same count departed life with such obstinacy of mind, his son Hugh by name — who also was now made count — invaded all that seemed to be his father’s, whether by right or by power of injury, and stubbornly claimed it for himself — among all which also the holy father Deicolus’s place. Who, since he was held famous for the fortitude of male offspring in nearly all kingdoms, and in many affairs was a camp-soldier envious, possessed St Deicolus’s demesne unpunished for some time.

²⁰ And when the sacred place was daily occupied by worldly filths, it happened once that three of his sons came down to that same place at evening-tide; and all things necessary being prepared, sound and whole they incautiously set themselves to prowl about the blessed father’s sepulchre. And because they gave glory neither to God nor honour to His saint Deicolus, it went not unpunished with them — thanks be to God. To whom shall I compare it? But since truth begets hatred — and it is my purpose to regard no man’s person, that the grateful may bring the grateful and the ungrateful the ungrateful — I indeed, holding the royal way and looking neither to the people’s favour nor despising anyone’s reed, holding the truth on the right hand and on the left according to the Apostle, judge it best not to be silent. For are not all who are reckoned under the martyrs’ name prostrated in death for the truth? And since Christ is the Truth, I call Him and all His followers to witness: that same night the three sons — of whom the firstborn was Heberard, the second Hugh, the third Gunthramn — when they had awaked after the sweetness of sleep to the exercise of hunting, found themselves unlike themselves. You could see the consular men so contracted and feeble that you would think them impotent in the natural manner of all their members and enervated of all vigour; and to say nearly all to Christ’s and His saint’s praise — save the tongues alone, which palpitated penitence and confessed guilt — all the other members were utterly useless: the hands not, the feet nothing; of the rest it is not to be doubted.

²¹ And when the egregious soldiers were long held captive in the bonds of sin, the father — now of mature age — came not slothfully to the spectacle of his own condemnation, summoned, full of tears, each in turn protesting that they themselves were guilty of such misfortunes, testifying they had sinned in many things. At last the old father, compelled by his sons’ intolerable grief, broke forth into the truth with these words: “Hear me, sons; attend your father’s words. Know for certain that this misfortune has befallen you not by some chance but by God’s just judgement and the Lord’s vengeance. For my father used to tell me very often how he possessed the place — and that this was the holy place of the holy lord Deicolus. But as I see, that iniquity has now come upon your heads, for almighty God suffers not the injury of His elect to pass unavenged, but renders the fathers’ iniquity upon the sons to the fourth and fifth generation. Yet I believe that mercy chastises us in the paternal manner, lest it deliver us to death for ever — for He wills none to perish but all to be saved. Therefore with pure confession and worthy laments of penitence let us flee to the Lord and His saint against whom we sinned; and perhaps not only shall you be restored to your former forms, but — what is greater — we shall merit the perfect remedy of your souls.” To this the sons unanimously said: “you have found the best counsel, father; we are ready with perfect heart to deliver ourselves as servants to St Deicolus. Let us repent of our deeds — if we repent, the error harms not. Let us try in every way to change the flesh’s nobility into nobility of mind. Let us renounce the world which is set in malignity; let us give diligence how we may hereafter be free for God. Let us take up the monastic profession, let us vow ourselves to God and render ourselves; let us walk while we have this life’s light, lest the darkness of eternal death overtake us.”

²² Which said, the father with his sons — the satellites stirred — run up making sad wailing and raging in funeral manner. Lamentable to tell: you could see the praetorian barons, but lately swifter than eagles and fiercer than lions, using others’ consolations and borne as though bound in iron before the blessed father’s sepulchre. And when they had there very long besought the divine clemency — confessing they had sinned and merited to come to this misery — crying lamentably, they were regarded from heaven by the holy father’s intervention and restored to their former integrity. What more should they do? The father rising with his sons, by common vow and common consent delivered themselves to God and His saint Deicolus — not to military service but to monastic obedience; which done, by the sacrament of an oath they bound themselves unanimously upon so great a father’s sepulchre — that none of them should withdraw himself without renouncing the world utterly in the near future and subjecting himself obedientially by tonsure, habit and profession to the rule of our most blessed father Benedict, and guarding the stability of the same place to the end. Which compact accomplished, again and again by terrible oath they made firmness upon the holy father — that from that day and wherever heaven rolls, neither should they themselves desire to possess that place and all subject to it for inheritance, nor should anyone anywhere hereafter hold even a foot’s space of their kindred’s succession by hereditary right. And the stipulation being made in the presence of many, they returned to their own with no small joy.

²³ I judge it not fitting to keep silent a page which nearly all the inhabitants of Europe must needs know. After count Hugh and his sons whom we titled above, willing or unwilling, restored the holy place free as they had vowed to God and St Deicolus, they began curiously to seek through many cells of the wilderness whether they could anywhere find some friend of Christ and institutor of true conversation — who should both prop the place in paternal manner and monastic order, and that they themselves might bear the standard of sacred obedience under his rule. And there was then a certain familiar friend of almighty God named Baltrann, in all things praiseworthy of life — who was already reported to have led the eremitic life irreprehensibly for ten lustres [fifty years]; and the Lord had already wrought such virtues through him that not even the Adriatic gulf could hide his name, but his renown was celebrated even among the Danes — namely for the greatness of his celibacy. I say nothing of the kings of the earth and optimates: the most famous prince Otto himself, who then bore the sceptre, used to frequent him and abundantly exalted his place with the greatest gifts — so that the venerable father himself, on account of the frequency of guests, built himself a secret little hut in which he could be with himself; but the place which he first approved he devoutly fitted for monastic discipline with no small company of monks.

²⁴ And when the holy man had watched some years over the winning of souls, the ancient foe through his satellites began to drive him out with many injuries — grieving that loss was made to him daily of the souls which the man of the Lord snatched from his teeth and studied to render to God. Occasion being taken, two bishops, goaded by avarice, began with gaping jaws to invade that same place — not that they cared for the place, but that the goods which the faithful’s bounty had granted to the place for establishing the divine school’s service, suspended meanwhile on his holy decease, they should arrogate to themselves with greedy zeal. Of whom one was the provisor of the church of Metz, the other the steward of Strasbourg’s flock. And when such rams of the churches long contended over the goods gathered from heaven — for one of them contended that it should cede to his right by occasion of his parish, the other by the place’s subjection — on a certain time the servant of almighty God was taken with the greatest infirmity and made near his end; and when the rumour of his sickness flew through the neighbouring provinces, both bishops invaded the man of God’s cell like vultures with famished beak and waited, intent, for his happy passing. Which when he learned, he began suddenly — the heavenly clemency medicining — to be comforted and amended; and calling to him certain of the wicked men’s persons, he diligently inquired the cause of their waiting. And when they had told him as the matter stood, the man of the Lord answered: “But I also am not ignorant of your will’s endeavour and the machination of the human race’s enemy. Depart as quickly as may be — for I am not dying now; and believe me, what you desire shall not befall you — that you should extirpate after my death the oblations of the faithful which it befell me to hold.” At such a rebuke the whole assembly departed from there much confounded.

²⁵ But the man of the Lord, desiring rather that God who gave should be his goods’ heir than the world, began with a large hand to expend prodigally all he had on the poor and clerks — wishing to free himself utterly, and even in old age to undertake pilgrimage for Christ and close his allotted days at Rome with the most blessed Prince of the Apostles, a private man persisting in sacred leisure. When this had been noised abroad to Hugh and his sons, with tearful prayer they sought the man of God not slothfully, lest he leave them as orphans and bereaved. To whom the man of the Lord answered that he would by no means endure there longer, but wished to give place to envy — and that it was so destined to him by the Lord. But they, their eyes streaming, began to urge the man of God more, saying: “O especial friend of God and unshakable column of the holy church, hear your servants and leave us not desolate. Let your paternity know that we have long existed in monastic life and manners by vow, but cannot hitherto find a leader and father. Therefore, holy father, let it please you to come with us here, near a certain holy place most suitable for monastic conversation which is called Luthra.” To whom the man of the Lord answered: “What has that place to do with you?” They say: “Nothing indeed pertains to us — but a certain most blessed man named Deicolus, who was also St Columbanus’s disciple, merited it from the Lord for an inheritance. He indeed built the place and subjected it to monastic discipline, and by his holy presence glitters daily there with miracles. But it happened on a certain occasion that our parents invaded that place not many years ago and possessed it as their own; now however we have been so divinely terrified there that in the presence of so great a father, bound lately by horrific oaths, we are obliged to take up the monastic profession soon and guard stability there perpetually.”

²⁶ To this the pious man answered: “It is written: “All that you do, do with counsel, and after the deed you shall not repent.” If it please the divine providence that I should move from this place and yield to your exhortation, make me such a credence in the sight of our brethren and the rest of the faithful — that all the ornaments of the divine office which I have in my charge you convey there safe and intact and there re-deliver to me unviolated. On this condition only: that I first send there some faithful man of our brethren who shall diligently approve the place in woods, in fields, in meadows, in fishings and in all that the monks’ utility requires — for I shall not come alone but shall bring my brethren and servitors with me.” To this they say: “Be it done, father, according to your will.” And an oath being made in the assembly of many, as pleased the holy man he sent with them his nephew named Werdolf — whom he himself had instructed and in whom all his hope after God stood — to verify the truth with all diligence. Returning to the man of God he brought back a glad report; and after he had told him the place in secret, he added: “We must take care not easily to give faith to those men. But the place itself, as all the inhabitants confess, is subject to the Roman dominion and lies under the supreme pontiff by written tribute. Therefore, if in the presence of prince Otto they are unwilling to restore the place and render it to its former liberty, let us receive it from the imperial hand itself — on such a surety that for ever none may violate what the sceptre-bearing majesty has defined to remain inviolate.”

²⁷ To this the man of the Lord said: “Let your counsel be acceptable to almighty God. Now therefore gird yourself, take the way of obedience, and hasten to make all this known to the emperor on my part.” Who, studying at once to obey the father’s precept, mounted his horses, went to the emperor with prosperous journey, and made known the matter in hand. And if any envious man should object to me with malicious eye that the same prince was not then emperor — I shall easily refute his strophic syllogism: it is an accident that honour is superadded, while the essence persists in identity. And since what was accomplished could be accomplished, the power was ever present with him, the act followed at the hour. But this by excess; let us now follow the matter begun. When the most pious prince had learned all this, he gave thanks to the Inventor of things and afterwards said: “Hear, all you counsellors of equity and faithful friends: I have often thought of that father of ours, the blessed man Baltrann — for I love him heartily — whether he would consent to be exalted by me to the pontifical honour; but now, as I see, he chooses rather to persist, a poor man of Christ, in the agony of sacred contest than to prosper with this world’s trappings. And see, his most faithful messenger, by whom he faithfully sends me word that he wills to die in pilgrimage for Christ and leave the place which he has hitherto inhabited to envy. There is moreover a place in the parts of Burgundy well suited to sacred conversation, which hitherto count Hugh and his sons have possessed usurpatively — which the saint asks to be freely delegated to him from our dominion, and all that almighty God has granted him for establishing His servant, to subject to the same place perpetually by our empire’s authority. For the place itself lies under the advocacy of our empire and of the Roman and apostolic see.” The courtiers and the emperor’s counsellors answered: “If it please your majesty, let those men be summoned before your presence who have hitherto claimed that place to themselves against right and justice; and let them publicly restore it in your presence and by the firmest oath make such a credence to all your soldiers and private faithful — that from this now and for ever, neither they nor any of their succession shall presume to renew that iniquity or dare to disquiet the place by force or power; but firmly and unshaken, as it was from the beginning of the place’s building, the brethren serving God and St Deicolus there shall keep free power of electing an abbot according to God, who shall preside over the place without any contradiction. Moreover let the imperial highness take care to intimate to the apostolic bishop, that by the authority of the heavenly keys he compose the privilege’s precepts and make them firm with the seal of the apostolic name.” Why need we tarry over particulars? — all was done as pleased the Divinity. The devout emperor fulfilled the faithful counsel; he called the wicked invaders of the sacred place, received the place by universal law, and delivered it to the blessed man with power under a thousand witnesses — as was said above — and committed it to Duke Rudolf and the foresaid counts to be kept under the bond of his fidelity, together with the goods granted to the holy man from heaven.

²⁸ In such tenor therefore the man of the Lord was enthroned in the ruined place of the blessed Deicolus with his monks and servitors and all that the divine bounty had granted him. And it was very needful that he should bring with him a supply of provisions — for he found the place lamentably destitute of all things of human life. Then he gave all endeavour how he could renew the place spiritually. The monastery of the most holy Mother of God and ever-Virgin Mary, which was before very small, he enlarged, exalted and brought to perfection. He built workshops in a short time as he could, that the monastic discipline — which ever flourished under him — could be kept inviolate by the monks. And the venerable father entered the same place on the vigil of the apostles Simon and Jude; and in the same year, on the day of the Assumption of the perpetual Virgin Mary — as had been divinely presignified to him many years before — he died full of the Holy Spirit and was buried on the right of the monastery’s altar, which he himself had renewed for the better. There indeed he glitters with miracles the more frequently as the faithful’s faith requires. And he seeking the heavenly kingdoms, his nephew Werdolf succeeded him in the monastery’s government — who still survives and leads the celibate life, shining as a lamp to all who wish to converse rightly.

²⁹ But because there still survive some who wonder and desire to know how the holy father’s place came into the wicked hand of count Heberard and his son — it irks not to relate it in truthful style as best I may. But while I strive to do this, I seem to impose on the times a preposterous order — which the Greeks call anastrophe — or rather an anticipation, which they call prolepsis, on the reason and page that underlies. After the blessed Columbinus therefore, the course of his labour accomplished, sought the heavenly kingdoms, the venerable abbot Icha succeeded in his place. Who, while for many years he strenuously governed the same place and provided the flock committed to him with great vigilance — you could suddenly see the abbot with his monks expelled on account of a new Herodias’s fraud, and all the arms of the divine school (alas) brought to ruin. Now this was the cause. At the time when king Lothar was dwelling in the province of Alsace in his noble fisc called Marlenheim — whose dignity the lofty walls of wondrous work still attest — he was suddenly branded with the ancient foe’s cautery and brought to such madness of precipitate mind that he put away his religious queen-wife Berthsind and married a certain she-wolf named Waldrada. Who, since she was a most notable sorceress, so fascinated the king’s mind with manifold enchantments that she easily obtained all she asked of him. And when such wickedness grew and there was none to resist, the wretch used so great incest as it were with impunity. Yet — shame working, since he could not keep her in the palace — he delivered to her the abbey of St Deicolus and enriched her with an infernal dowry. Then the harlot, made most joyful, usurped the sacred place to herself and settled in the place called St Quintin’s, and there depopulated all that was the holy father’s in deadly fashion. She injured the abbot, drove out all the monks — therefore doubtless her soul shall be in bitterness for ever.

³⁰ But the venerable queen, after she perceived the divorce and detected the king’s whore, would not traduce him openly but correct him with salutary reproof; and counsel taken with her familiars, she went as quickly as possible to Rome for reclamation. And when she had been received by the whole Roman assembly with immeasurable veneration, she secretly approached the apostolic pontiff and disclosed the divorce between herself and her husband with full tears. Which when the church’s pastor had learned, he summoned the king quickly by apostolic letters, to put an end to so great a crime and amend his ways. And when the summoned king came, he was honourably received as befitted a king. Prayer made, the pope held a colloquy with the king in the Lateran consistory and chastised him with worthy expostulation. Then the king, pricked in heart, prostrate on the ground asked pardon and made himself guilty. And penance being accepted, the pope called the queen into the king’s presence and reconciled them in Christ, and restored the queen’s right hand to the king’s right hand, and bound him with terrible anathema that after the Apostle — as Christ loved the church — so he should henceforth love his wife.

³¹ Which accomplished, the king returned to Gaul; but the queen, as woman’s journey requires, took the road at a slower pace — so that the king now preceded her by two days, now by one. But the foresaid enchantress, hearing that the king had been reconciled to the queen by ecclesiastical order, attacked the king again with serpentine hissing in the queen’s absence. And when the king was now lodging one night at the castle of St Domninus beyond the mountain of the Leopards, the foresaid she-wolf’s emissaries came up quickly, laying her harlot’s garments before the king’s eyes. Which seen, he was so inflamed with fires of rage and envy against the queen that he at once deliberated with himself in irrevocable censure not to return home before he saw her decapitated. But the divine severity anticipated his will, and the most just equity of His dispensation. For when the next day he moved from the lodging whole — before he touched any food — he was so suddenly touched and smitten with a contagion of air, he and all his men, that of so great a multitude not one was found whom food or hair could avail. At last, knowing their guilt, they entered the city of Piacenza dying. There the miserable king with all his men ended his life without the viaticum of redemption — save a certain clerk and a sick servitor, who escaped to announce the truth of the matter with difficulty. Who, constituted in himself, does not see that this evident vengeance arose through the blessed Deicolus’s merits? And when the devout queen reached the said city and saw so great a carnage of the dead tearfully, she had Christ’s servant, her lord, buried, and the rest interred as her means allowed — and afterwards returned home in peace.

³² But Waldrada, the most wicked woman, hearing all that had befallen on the Roman journey — more terrified by fear of the venerable queen than pricked by the recollection of her own crime, since she had nothing of Christianity save the name alone — feigned to seek God, lapsing rather by flight than by will, and entered the monastery of St Romaric a hypocrite. And when she had conversed there for some time with the veil rather than the mind, looking back she grieved that the place of St Deicolus was being taken from her utterly; and as though disinherited she began to lament in womanly fashion. And count Heberard being called, she wickedly presumed to seize the occasion of kinship and committed the holy place to him under the protection of his advocacy. But he, being greedy and an invader of sacred places, on such occasion invaded the blessed Deicolus’s place and, after the wicked woman’s death, reserved it to himself by a single hand in inheritance — and so it happened. For it went not unpunished with him either: namely, according to the prophet he added blood to blood — that is, crime to crime. For he put away Adallind his lawful wife, gave her a bill of divorce, and immersed himself in brothels. For he attached to himself a certain Nonna at the monastery of Ethestein and dragged that iniquity to his very death. But what Adallindis afterwards did, decency suffers not to be inserted in the page. But how the count himself ended his life with a death — it irks not to make plain for example’s sake.

³³ I boldly say what it befell me to know clearer than light from faithful men attesting. You would believe him smitten nearly three years with the Herodian pest — he who, according to the Acts of the Apostles, smitten by an angel expired swarming with worms. For worms so boiled in him from head to heel that his attendants could scarce endure the greatest stench from there; and so miserably he ended his miserable life with Herod. Nor is it to be doubted that in torments he obtains an equal penalty whose life he imitated in every crime. And because he prejudicially took the blessed Deicolus’s inheritance from him on earth, he in some manner disinherited himself eternally in the heavens.

³⁴ But since in the foregoing chapter we have sufficiently recorded how count Hugh became St Deicolus’s wicked heir, it now remains to disclose by the pen some wonders of the holy father more fully. For the countess Hildegard, the same Hugh’s wife, once enticed by curiosity, entered the holy father’s oratory rashly with priests and a crowd of other faithful — that she might carry away something of so great a father’s remains to Alsace as the greatest gift. And when with much straining they sweated to lift the sacred sarcophagus’s lid, so great an earthquake suddenly shook all the buildings, with the greatest thunders and terrors of lightnings, that all were made mad and shaken with the densest blindness — so that for nearly two hours no one could see his neighbour. Then the countess, pricked in heart, learned in brief how much the glorious merits of His Deicolus avail with God.

³⁵ But since she was proved to have laboured at the holy father’s tomb in vain, she boldly approached St Columbinus’s tomb — that at least she might pluck something of the disciple, since the master had been divinely denied her. O wondrous judgements of God! With few she approached; easily she opened the tomb; and one tooth only she snatched for herself with great haste and shut the tomb again. But after she had looked at the tooth, in womanly fashion she began to doubt whether she ought to venerate it among the relics which she had so easily and without resistance obtained. And that some manifested virtue might give her faith, she ordered burning coals to be heaped in the oratory and cast the tooth into the middle. What more? — quicker than speech the tooth gave a very great crack and made a leap, victorious and innocent, as far as the material would let it. At last, made believing, she took care to gather up the precious pledge and placed it with herself with great diligence. From that hour, and so long as she lived among those above, the pain of teeth did not depart from her even for an hour. Then, led by penitence at last, she restored the tooth to its heap — yet the pain remained unshaken. And why the Lord’s saint suffered the tomb to be opened yet would not have it carried away, let him say who will — to me it is not clear. One thing only is plain: that since monks are accustomed to decline women’s company, what the perfect father studied to guard in his life he would not have violated after death either. Then it plainly became known to all how much the master’s merits avail — if the disciple’s avail so much.

[Here the captured text of the Life ends; the page headers of the following Life of St Eustasius appear in the source scan.]