Chapter XXXVII: Appendix: I (4)

When the aforesaid nun was a little maid in her father's house, the
devil ofttimes appeared to her visibly in divers shapes, and in divers
ways affrighted and saddened her tender age. And since she feared to
be driven mad she expressed her wish to be converted[1800] into our
order. One night the devil appeared to her in the form of a man and
tried to dissuade her, saying: "Euphemia, do not be converted, but
take a young and handsome husband and with him thou shalt taste the
joys of the world. Thou shalt not want for rich garments and delicate
meats. But if thou enter the order, thou wilt be forever poor and
ragged, thou wilt suffer cold and thirst, nor will it ever be well
with thee henceforth in this world." To which she replied: "How would
it be with me if I should die amidst those delights, which thou dost
promise me?" To these words the devil made no reply, but seizing the
maid and carrying her to the window of the chamber wherein she was
lying, he sought to throw her out. And when she said the angelic
salutation the enemy let her go, saying, "If thou goest to the
cloister, I will ever oppose thee. For hadst thou not in that hour
called upon _that woman_ I should have slain thee." And having spoken
thus, squeezing her tightly, he sprang out of the window in the shape
of a great dog and was seen no more. Thus was the virgin delivered by
invoking the Virgin Mother of God. How harassing the devil is to those
who have been converted and in how many and divers ways he vexes and
hinders them, the following account shall show. When the aforesaid
maiden had been made a nun, one night as she lay in her bed and was
wakeful, she saw around her many demons in the form of men. And one of
them of an aspect most foul was standing at her head, two at her feet
and the fourth opposite her. And he cried in a loud voice to the
others: "Why are you standing still? Take her wholly up as she lies
and come." And they replied: "We cannot. She has called upon _that
woman_."... Now the same demon, after she had said the angelic
salutation, seized the maiden by her right arm, and squeezed her so
tightly as he dragged at it, that his grasp was followed by a swelling
and the swelling by a bruise. Now when she had her left hand free, she
in her great simplicity dared not make the sign of the cross
therewith, deeming that a sign with the left hand would avail her
nought. But now, driven by necessity, she signed herself with that
hand, and put the demons to flight. Delivered from them she ran half
fainting to the bed of a certain sister, and, breaking silence, told
her what she had seen and suffered. Then, as I was informed by the
lady Elizabeth of blessed memory, abbess of the same convent, the
sisters laid her in her bed, and reading over her the beginning of the
Gospel of St John, found her restored on the morrow. Now in the
following year, in the dead of night when the same nun was lying awake
on her couch, she saw at a distance the demons in the shape of two of
the sisters who were most dear to her; and they said to her: "Sister
Euphemia, arise, come with us to the cellar to draw beer for the
convent." But she suspecting them, both on account of the lateness of
the hour and of their breach of silence, began to tremble, and,
burying her head in the bedclothes, replied nothing. Straightway one
of the malignant spirits drew near and laying hold of her breast with
his hand, squeezed it until the blood burst forth from her mouth and
nose. Then the demons, taking the shape of dogs, leaped out of the
window. When the sisters, rising for matins, beheld her worn out, as
it were pale and bloodless, they inquired of her the reason by signs;
and when they had learned it from her, they were much perturbed, both
on account of the cruelty of the demons and of the distress of the
virgin. Two years before this, when a new dorter had been made for the
convent and the beds had been placed therein, the same nun saw a demon
in the shape of a deformed and very aged mannikin, going round the
whole dorter and touching each of the beds, as though to say: "I will
take careful note of each place, for they shall not be without a visit
from me"[1801].

The abbey of Hoven, which sheltered Euphemia, seems to have been subjected to a continual siege by devils; or perhaps, as the more materially-minded might suggest, Euphemia's malady was contagious. Sister Elizabeth of the same house had a short way with such gentry:

"In the same monastery," says Caesarius, "was a nun named Elizabeth,
who was oftentimes haunted by the devil. One day she saw him in the
dorter, and since she knew him, she boxed his ears. Then said he:
'Wherefore dost thou strike me so hardly?' and she replied: 'Because
thou dost often disturb me,' to which the devil replied: 'Yesterday I
disturbed thy sister the chantress far more, but she did not hit me.'
Now she had been much agitated all day, from which it may be gathered
that anger, rancour, impatience, and other vices of the sort are often
sent by the devil. On another occasion when the same Elizabeth, very
late for matins (owing, as afterwards appeared, to the machinations of
the devil), was hurrying along to the belfry, bearing a lighted candle
in her hand, just as she was about to enter the door of the chapel,
she saw the devil in the shape of a man, dressed in a hooded tunic,
standing in front of her. Thinking that some man had got in, she
recoiled in alarm and fell down the dorter stairs, so that for some
days she lay ill of the sudden fright as well as of the fall.... And
when she was asked the cause of her fall and her scream and had
expounded this vision, she added: 'If I had known that it was the
devil and not a man, I would have given him a good cuff.' By that
time, however, she had girded her loins with strength and strengthened
her arm against the devil"[1802].

Not all the visions seen by these nuns of whom Caesarius writes were evil visions. He has several tales to tell of appearances of the Virgin Mary and of the saints. Besides the well-known story of Sister Beatrice and of the nun whose ears were boxed by the Virgin, the most charming Mary-miracle related by Caesarius tells of a nun who genuflected with such fervour to the blessed Mother that she strained her leg; and as she lay asleep in the infirmary, she saw before her the Virgin, bearing a pyx of ointment in her hand; and the Virgin anointed her knee with it, till the sweet odour brought the sisters running to find out the cause; but the nun held her peace and bade them leave her. Sleeping again, she found herself once more in the company of the Virgin, who led her into the orchard, and

placing her hand beneath the nun's chin, said to her, "Now do thou
kneel down upon thy knee"; and when she had done so our Lady added:
"Henceforth do thou bow thy knee thus, modestly and in a disciplined
manner," showing her how. And she added: "Every day thou shouldst say
to me the sequence 'Ave Dei Genitrix,' and at each verse thou shouldst
bow thy knee. For I take great delight therein." And the nun, waking,
looked upon her knee, to see whether aught had been accomplished in
the vision, and in great surprise she saw that it was whole[1803].

Another pretty story tells how, when a certain sister was reading her psalter before a wooden statue of the Virgin and child, "the little boy suddenly came to her and as though he would know what she was reading, peeped into her book and went back again"[1804].

Sometimes it is not the Virgin or her Son but a patron saint who appears to a nun who holds him in veneration. Caesarius tells the following tale of a nun who specially venerated St John the Baptist:

More than all the saints she took delight in him. Nor did it suffice
her to think upon him, to honour him with prayers and devotions, to
declare his prerogatives to her sisters, but in order to perpetuate
his memory she made verses concerning his annunciation and nativity
and the joy of his parents. For she was learned and sought therefore
to describe in verse anything which she had read concerning his
sanctity. Moreover she exhorted and besought all secular persons with
whom she spoke to call their children John or Zacharias, if they were
boys, Elizabeth if they were girls. Now when she was about to die John
a monk of the Cloister came to visit her, and knowing her affection
towards St John, said: "My aunt, when you are dead, which mass would
you have me say first for your soul, the mass for the dead or of St
John the Baptist?" To which she without any hesitation replied: "Of St
John, of St John!" And when she was at the point of death, having
compassion upon the sister who was tending her, she said: "Go
upstairs, sister, and rest for a little." When the sister had done so
and was resting in a light sleep, she heard in her slumber a voice
saying, "Why liest thou here? St John the Baptist is below with Sister
Hildegunde"--for that was her name. Roused by this voice the sister,
not waiting to put on her clothes, came down in her shift and found
the nun already dead; and round her was so sweet a perfume that the
sister doubted not that St John had been there, to accompany the soul
of his beloved to the angelic host[1805].

Some of Caesarius' anecdotes show an amusing rivalry, if not among the company of heaven, at least among their votaries on earth. Two delightful stories may be quoted to show how deep-rooted is the competitive instinct, which, baulked in one direction by the prohibition of property, showed itself in hot disputes as to the rival merits of patron saints:

There were and I think still are, in Fraulautern in the diocese of
Treves, two nuns, of whom one took special delight in St John the
Baptist and the other in St John the Evangelist. Whenever they met,
they contended together concerning which was the greater, so that the
mistress was scarce able to restrain them. The one declared the
privileges of her beloved in the presence of all, the other set up
against them the very real prerogatives of hers.

One night, however, before matins St John the Baptist appeared to his worshipper in her sleep and set forth a list of the virtues of the other St John, declaring that the latter was far greater than he, and bidding her the next morning call her sister before the mistress and seek her pardon for having so often annoyed her because of him. That morning after matins, however, St John the Evangelist also visited his champion in her sleep and after retailing all St John the Baptist's claims to superiority, assured her that the latter was far greater and gave her a similar order to ask pardon of her sister:

"On the morrow," says Caesarius, "they came separately to the mistress
and revealed what they had seen. Then together prostrating themselves
and asking pardon of each other as they had been bidden, they were
reconciled by the mediation of their spiritual mother, who warned
them that henceforth they should not contend about the merits of the
saints, which are known to God alone"[1806].

In spite of this excellent moral, however, Caesarius has very clear ideas himself as to the respective merits of certain saints; and, if we are to believe him, even St John the Evangelist was sometimes guilty of a scandalous neglect of duty:

"It is not long ago," says he, "that a certain nun of the monastery of
Rheindorf near Bonn, by name Elizabeth, went the way of all flesh. Now
this monastery is of the rule of St Benedict the Abbot. But the said
Elizabeth delighted specially in St John the Evangelist, lavishing on
him all the honour she could. She had a sister in the flesh in the
same monastery, who was called Aleidis. One night when the latter was
sitting upon her bed after matins and saying the office of the dead
for the soul of her sister, she heard a voice near her. And when she
demanded who was there, the voice replied, 'I am Elizabeth, thy
sister.' Then said she, 'How is it with thee, sister, and whence
comest thou?' and it answered, 'Ill indeed has it been with me, but
now it is well.' Aleidis asked, 'Did St John in whom thou didst so
ardently delight avail thee aught?'--and it replied, 'Truly, naught.
It was our holy father Benedict who stood by me. For he bent his knee
on my behalf before God'"[1807].

St John the Evangelist, it will be perceived, suffered from the incalculable disadvantage of never having thought of founding a monastic order.

Caesarius narrates a great many other _exempla_ concerning nuns, but I have quoted the most characteristic. There never was a book so full of meat; and it is greatly to be regretted that no translation has as yet placed it within the reach of all who are interested, not only in medieval life but in the medieval point of view[1808].