{ "meta": { "schema_version": "1.1", "endpoint": "/api/sources/rhineland-mystics/suso/vol-1-36-chapter-xl.json" }, "work": { "slug": "suso", "name": "Heinrich Suso" }, "parents": [ { "slug": "rhineland-mystics", "name": "Rhineland Mystics", "url": "/sources/rhineland-mystics/" } ], "chapter": { "num": 37, "slug": "vol-1-36-chapter-xl", "title": "Chapter XL.", "of": 51, "words": 6192, "text": "## Chapter XL.\n\nOf a grievous suffering which befell him while thus \noccupied. \n\nSuch was the way in which the Servitor \naided many persons who were in suffering. But \nthe good work cost him dear, owing to the \nmartyrdom of sufferings which fell upon him \nin consequence. And God showed him these \nafflictions when they were still future, in the fol- \nlowing vision. Once when he was travelling he \narrived one evening at an inn ; and just before \ndaybreak it seemed to him in a vision that he \nwas taken to a place where Mass was going to \nbe sung, and that he had to sing it, for the lot \nhad fallen upon him. The singers began the \nMass of martyrs, \"Multse tribulationes jus- \ntorum ;\" that is, Many are the sufferings of God's \nfriends. He was not pleased at hearing this, \nand would have been very glad to change it, \nsaying : — How strange ! Why are you deafen- \n\n\n192 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\ning us with the martyrs ? Why do you sing to- \nday the Mass of martyrs ? We are not keeping \nany martyr's feast to-day. They looked at him, \nand pointing at him with their fingers, said : — \nGod has His martyrs now at this time, as He has \never had. Get ready, then, and sing for thyself. \n\nHe turned over the pages of the Missal which \nlay before him, and would much rather have \nsung the Mass of confessors, or any other one \nexcept that of the suffering martyrs ; but though \nhe turned the book over and over again, it was all \nfull of Masses of martyrs. When he saw that it \ncould not be otherwise, he sang with them, and \nhis singing rang forth exceeding mournfully. \nAfter a little while he began again, and said \nto them : — This is very singular. One would \nmuch rather sing Gaudeamus (Let us rejoice) \nabout joyful things, than sing as we are do- \ning about sorrowful things. They answered : — \nGood friend, thou dost not understand it yet. \nThis song about the martyrs goes first, and then \nwhen the proper time has come the joyous song \nGaudeamus follows after it. \n\nWhen he came to himself again his heart \ntrembled within him because of the vision, and \nhe said: — Alas, O God! must I once more \nsuffer martyrdom ! In consequence of this his \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 193 \n\ndemeanour became so sorrowful as lie journeyed \nonwards, that his companion asked him, say- \ning : — Ah ! father, what is the matter with you, \nthat you look so exceeding sorrowful ? He an- \nswered : — Alas ! dear companion, I have to sing \nhere the Mass of martyrs. Meaning, that God \nhad made known to him that he had a martyr- \ndom to suffer. But his companion understood \nhim not ; so he remained silent, and kept it all \nwithin himself. \n\nOn his arrival at the town, which took place \nin the dark days before Christmas, he was, as \nusual, so sorely visited with bitter sufferings that \nit seemed to him, as the saying is, that his heart \nwithin his body must break, if such a thing \nhas ever happened to those in sorrow. For \nthese sufferings hedged him round on all sides, \nand it was his sad lot to have every thing taken \nfrom him which had been a support to him in the \nway of service, consolation, or honour, and which \nwas of a nature calculated to comfort a man \nhere below. This bitter suffering was of the \nfollowing kind: Among those persons whom \nhe had tried to lead to God there came to him \na deceitful crafty woman, who under an out- \nwardly good life concealed a wolfish heart, \nwhich she hid so well that the brother for a \no \n\n\n194 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nvery long time did not perceive it. She had be- \nfore this fallen into great sin with a man, and \nhad added to her crime by attributing the off- \nspring to a different person from the guilty man, \nwho protested his own innocence in the matter. \n\nThe Servitor did not reject the woman on \naccount of her misdeeds ; but he heard her con- \nfession, and helped her in all needful and proper \nways, more than it was the custom of the other \nreligious of the country, who are called Ter- \nminerer (mendicants), to do. , After this had \ngone on for a long time, it came to the knowledge \nof the Servitor, and of other reliable persons, \nthat she was still secretly continuing the same \nevil practices as before. He said nothing about \nit, and would have gladly avoided making it \nknown ; at the same time he gave up his rela- \ntions with her and ceased to help her. When \nthe woman became aware of this, she sent him \nword not to act thus ; and threatened him that, \nif he left off giving her the same assistance as \nheretofore, he should suffer for it ; for that she \nwould father upon him a child, which she had \nhad by a secular man, and he would thus be \nput to shame by means of the child and be \ncovered with infamy every where. \n\nThe Servitor was filled with consternation \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 195 \n\nat these words, and stood motionless; then, \nsighing inwardly, he spoke thus within himself : \n— Anguish and distress surround me on all \nsides, and I know not which way to turn ; for \nif I act in this way, woe is me, and if I do not \nact thus, still woe is me; and I am so girt round \non all sides by distress and woe that I am like \nto sink under it. And thus, with terror in his \nheart, he waited for whatever God might allow \nthe devil to bring upon him. At last, after \ntaking counsel with God and himself, he came \nto the conclusion, that of these two miserable \nalternatives it was better for him in soul and \nbody to abandon the wicked woman altogether, \nlet the consequences to his good name be what \nthey might ; and so he did. \n\nThis inflamed her fierce heart with such \nrage against him, that, running hither and \nthither to ecclesiastics and seculars, she strove \nwith more than human wickedness to defame \nherself, in order to bring suffering upon the \npoor man, and she told every one that she had \nhad a child, and that it was by the brother. \nAll who believed her words were greatly scan- \ndalised at it, and the scandal was the greater \nthe wider the reputation of his holiness had \nspread. All this pierced him through to his \n\n\n196 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nvery inmost heart and soul, and, being thus \nencompassed on every side by anguish and \ndistress, he lived absorbed in himself, and the \ndays seemed to him long and the nights miser- \nable, and his short sleep was mingled with panic \nfrights. He used to look upwards sorrowfully to \nGod, and with deep groans exclaim: — Alas, O \nGod ! my hour of woe is come. How shall I, or \nhow can I, bear this agony of heart ? Alas, O \nGod, would that I had died before I ever saw \nor heard of this misery ! Lord, behold, I have \nhonoured Thy venerable Name all the days of \nmy life, and I have taught many persons far \nand wide to love and honour it. And wilt Thou \nbring my name to such great dishonour? This \nis a sore thing that I complain of. Behold how \nthe venerable Order of Preachers must now be \nbrought to disgrace through me. I grieve for \nthis, and shall always grieve for it. Woe is me, \nby reason of the straits into which my heart lias \ncome ! All good persons, who before held me \nin great honour as a holy man — a thing which \ngave me courage to persevere — now, alas ! re- \ngard me as a wicked deceiver of the world ; and \nthis pierces and wounds my heart through and \nthrough. \n\nWhen the poor sufferer had spent much \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 197 \n\ntime in these lamentations, and his body and \nvital powers were wasting away, there came to \nhim a woman, saying : — Good sir, why do you \nwear yourself away through this excessive grief? \nBe of good cheer. I will give you such counsel \nand assistance, that, if you will follow my advice, \nyour good name will remain uninjiued. There- \nfore take courage. He looked up, and said to \nher: — Dear lady, how will you bring this to \npass? She answered: — I will take away the \nchild by stealth under my cloak, and either bury \nit alive at night, or stick a needle into its brain \nso that it will die. Thus the vile slander will \nfall to the ground, and you will keep your good \nname. He answered in a voice of fury : — Woe \nis me, wicked murderess ! alas for thy murder- \nous heart! Wouldst thou thus kill the guiltless \nbabe ? What matter that its mother is a wicked \nwoman 1 Wouldst thou bury it alive % No, no ; \nGod forbid that such a crime should ever be \ncommitted through me. See; the very worst \nthat can befall me in this matter is the loss of \nmy worldly honour; but if the worldly honour of \na whole country depended on me, I would rather \nsacrifice it to-day to the everlasting glorious God \nthan let this innocent blood thus perish. She \nreplied : — And yet it is not your child. Why \n\n\n198 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nthen trouble yourself about it? Upon which \nshe drew forth a sharp-pointed knife, and said : \n— Let me take it away out of your sight, and \nI will wring its neck, or stick this knife into its \nlittle heart. It will be dead at once, and you \nwill be at peace again. He answered: — Silence, \nthou unclean and wicked devil. Be it whose \nchild it may on earth, it is still formed after \nGod's image, and has been full dearly pur- \nchased with the most precious and innocent \nBlood of Christ. Therefore I will not that its \nyoung blood be shed in this way. The woman \nmade answer to him impatiently: — If you will \nnot let it be killed, at least let me carry it \nsecretly into the church some morning, that it \nmay fare with it as with other deserted found- \nlings ; else you will be put to great expense \nand annoyance, until the child's bringing up \nis finished. He replied: — I trust in the rich \nGod of heaven, who has always provided for me \nhitherto, that He will provide henceforth for both \nof us. And then he added : — Go and bring me \nthe babe very secretly, that I may see it. \n\nWhen he took the babe into his bosom and \nlooked at it, the babe smiled at him. Upon \nwhich, fetching a deep sigh, he said : — Should \nI then kill a pretty babe that smiles at me? \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 199 \n\nNo, in truth! I will gladly suffer whatever \nmay befall me through it. Then turning to \nthe babe; he said: — Alas, thou hapless, tender \nbabe ! thou art indeed a poor orphan ; for thy \nown false father has denied thee, and thy mur- \nderous mother has sought to fling thee away, \nlike an ugly good-for-nothing whelp. Well; \nsince God's providence has given thee to me, \nin such a way that I cannot help being thy \nfather, I will gladly act as one towards thee, \nand I will receive thee from God and from no \none else; and even as He is dear to me, so shalt \nthou too be dear to me, my own sweet babe. \nAh, child of my heart ! thou sittest in my sor- \nrowful lap, and lookest up at me so lovingly, and \nyet canst not speak. Alas ! and I too look at \nthee with wounded heart and tearful eyes, and \nmouth that kisses thee, and I bedew thy infant \nface with the stream of my hot tears. \n\nWhen the pretty boy felt the great tears of \nthe weeping man fall so fast upon his little eyes, \nhe too began to weep heartily with him ; and \nthey both wept together. But when the Ser- \nvitor saw the babe thus weeping, he pressed it \ntenderly to his heart, and said: — Be still, my \ndarling ! Alas, child of my heart ! should I \nkill thee because thou art not my child, but \n\n\n200 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nmust cost me dear? Alas, my beautiful, dear, \ntender child ! I would not hurt thee ; for thou \nmust be my child and God's child; and so long \nas God provides me with but one single mouth- \nful, I will share it with thee, to the glory of \nthe good God ; and I will bear patiently what- \never may befall me through thee, my own sweet \nchild. \n\nWhen the cruel-hearted woman who had \nbefore wished to kill the babe heard him speak \nthus tenderly amid his tears, she was so deeply \nmoved by it to great pity, and broke out into \nsuch loud cries and weeping, that he was ob- \nliged to quiet her, lest some one should come, \nand the whole thing be known. At length, \nwhen she had wept her full, he gave her back \nthe babe, and blessed it, saying : — May the \nloving God bless thee, and the holy angels \nguard thee from all evil ! And he bade her \nprovide it with what was needful at his cost. \nAfterwards the wicked woman, the child's \nmother, set to work again; and as she had \nalready greatly slandered the brother, so she \ncontinued to do whenever she had an oppor- \ntunity of injuring him; on which account lie \nbecame an object of pity to many pure and \nvirtuous souls, and they often wished that the \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 201 \n\njust God would take her away out of the \nworld. \n\nIt happened once that one of the Servitor's \nkinsmen came to him, and said: — Alas, sir, \nfor the great crime which this wicked woman \nhas committed against you ! God knows, I will \navenge you on her. I will secretly station my- \nself on the long bridge which goes over the \nwater ; and when the sacrilegious wretch passes \nthat way, I will throw her over and drown her ; \nand her great crime shall be avenged upon her. \nHe answered : — No, my friend; God forbid that \nany living being should be put to death on my \naccount. God, who knows all hidden things, \nknows that she has done me wrong about the \nchild. Therefore I leave the matter in His \nhand, either to slay her or to let her live, ac- \ncording to His will. And I tell thee that, even \nif I were willing to disregard my soul, by con- \nniving at her death, I would still honour in her \nthe dignity of all pure women, and allow her the \nbenefit of it. The man answered very angrily : \n— As for me, I would as soon kill a woman as \na man, if she had behaved to me so villanously. \nHe replied: — Nay; for that would be an act \nof most unreasonable and blameworthy ferocity. \nThink no more about it, and let all the suffer- \n\n\n202 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nings fall upon me which God wills me. to \nsuffer. \n\nAs the Servitor's afflictions were continually \non the increase, it seemed to him one day, \nthrough infirmity of soul, that his distress had \nreached such a point that he must needs go \nforth in quest of something to support and cheer \nhim in his sufferings. Accordingly he went out \nto seek for consolation, and he hoped to meet with \nit especially at the hands of two of his friends, \nwho while he still sat on the upper side of for- \ntune's wheel had treated him as though they were \nhis true friends and comrades. It was from them \nthat he now sought consolation for his suffering \nheart. Alas ! God showed him in them both \nthat no dependence is to be placed in creatures; \nfor he was more cruelly humiliated by them \nand those about them than he ever was by \nordinary people. One of these friends received \nthe afflicted brother very harshly, and turning \naway his face from him in anger, behaved to him \nin a very insulting manner, with cutting words. \nAmong other offensive expressions which he used \nhe told the Servitor to cease in future from all \nfamiliarity with him; for that he was ashamed of \nhis company. Alas! this pierced the Servitor's \ninmost heart ; and he answered mournfully: — O \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 203 \n\ndear friend, if by God's ordinance thou hadst \nfallen into the miry pool, as I have done, verily \nI would have sprung in after thee, and lovingly \nhelped thee out of it. O misery ! it is not \nenough for thee to see me lying before thee deep \nin the mire, but thou must needs trample on me \nbesides. Of this I make my plaint to the sor- \nrowful Heart of Jesus Christ. His friend bade \nhim be silent, and said to him insultingly : — \nThere is an end of you now. Not only your \npreaching, but your books too which you have \nwritten, ought to be treated with contempt. \nThe Servitor answered him very sweetly, and \nlooking up to heaven, said : — I put my trust in \nthe good God of heaven that my books will \nbe still more valued and loved than they have \never been, when the appointed time shall come. \nSuch was the mournful consolation which he \nreceived from his best friends. \n\nHitherto in this town his necessities had been \nfully supplied by kind-hearted persons. But \nwhen these lying and slanderous tales were \ncarried to them, those who believed the false \ntalemongers withdrew from him their help and \nfriendship, until at length, the truth having been \nmanifested to them by God, they returned to \nhim and acknowledged that he was guiltless. \n\n\n204 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nOne day, when he had sat down to take a \nlittle rest, his bodily senses were stilled in ecstasy, \nand it seemed to him that he was carried into a \nland above the ken of sense. Then he heard \nsomething say in the very depths of his soul : — \nHearken, hearken, to a word of consolation \nwhich I will read to thee. He did as bidden, \nand listened attentively. Upon which the voice \nbegan to read in Latin the following words from \nthe chapter at none of the Vigil of Christmas,, \n\"Non vocaberis ultra derelicta, etc.\" (Is. lxii. 4); \nthat is, Thou shalt no more be called the for- \nsaken of God, and thy land shall not be called \nthe wasted land. Thy name shall be, God's \nwill is in thee, and thy land shall be cultivated;, \nfor the heavenly Father is well pleased with \nthee. When the voice had finished reading \nthese words, it began again to read the same \nwords over and over again full four times. \n\nThe Servitor in astonishment said: — Dear \nfriend, what meanest thou by repeating these \nwords so often? The voice answered: — I do \nthis to strengthen thy confidence in God, who \nwill provide for the land of His friends — that \nis, for their mortal bodies — all things needful to \nthem ; and when what they require is withdrawn \nfrom them on one side, He will make it up to \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDEEED. 205 \n\nthem on another. In this fatherly way the al- \nmighty and everlasting God will deal with thee. \nAnd in truth this all came to pass so manifestly, \nthat many a heart laughed for joy at it, and \nthe almighty and everlasting God was praised \nby those who had before shed many tears from \ngreat compassion. \n\nIt fared with this suffering man as with some \ndead animal which has been knocked about and \ntorn in pieces by wild beasts, and yet has some \nmarrow left in it. Last of all, the hungry flies \nand other insects settle upon it, and strip bare \nthe gnawed bones, and carry away with them \ninto the air the marrow which they have sucked \nout. Even so the Servitor was miserably pulled \nto pieces, and his shame was carried far and wide \ninto distant lands by persons of seeming piety ; \nand they did this with good words, and under \nthe cover of regrets, and with outward show of \nfriendship, which was notning but faithlessness \nwithin. In consequence of this, evil thoughts \nlike these would sometimes dart across the Ser- \nvitor's mind: — Alas, dear God! he who only \nsuffers at the hands of Jews, and heathen, and \nopen sinners, may contrive to bear it; but \nthese persons who are tormenting me so griev- \nously have the appearance of being Thy good \n\n\n206 LIFE OF BLESSED HEKRY SUSO. \n\nfriends, and therefore it is so much more pain- \nful. \n\nBut when he came to himself, and took a \nreasonable view of it, he excused them from all \nfault, and acknowledged that it was God who \nhad done it through them, and that it was fit- \nting he should suffer thus, and that Almighty- \nGod often orders things for His friends' good by \nmeans of His enemies. \n\nOnce especially, when he was suffering from \nthese thoughts, it was said to him interiorly : — \nRemember that Christ the Lord would not only \nhave His beloved disciple John and His faithful \nSt. Peter in His pure company, but He willed \nalso to endure the wicked Judas at His side. \nAnd dost thou desire to imitate Christ, and yet \nwill not endure thy Judas ? A thought in answer \nflashed at once across his mind : — Alas, Lord ! if \na suffering friend of God had only one Judas, it \nwould be bearable ; but in these times every cor- \nner is full of Judases, and when one departs four \nor five spring up. To this there came the fol- \nlowing reply within him : — A man who is what \nhe ought to be should not look on any Judas as \na Judas; but he should regard him as God's \nfellow-worker, by whom he is to be trained and \npurified for his good. When Judas betrayed \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 207 \n\nChrist with a kiss, Christ called him his friend, \nsaying : — My friend, wherefore art thou come ? \n\nThe sufferings of this poor man had now \nlasted a long time ; but there was one very little \nground of comfort, to which he clung, and which \nwas all his support — namely, that the burden \nwhich weighed him down had not been brought \nbefore the judges and prelates of the Order. This \nlittle comfort was speedily withdrawn from him \nby God; for the Master-general of the whole \nOrder and the Master of the German province \nboth came together to the town in which the \nwicked woman had slandered the pious Servitor \nof God. When the poor man, who was living \nin another place, heard this news, his heart died \nwithin him utterly, and he said to himself: — ■ \nIf perchance the Masters give credence to the \nwicked woman against thee, thou art dead ; for \nthey will condemn thee to such a penitential \nprison, that it were better for thee to die. He \nremained under the weight of this anguish twelve \ndays and nights continuously, and during this \ntime he was in constant expectation of this ago- \nnising penance, as soon as they should arrive \nthere. \n\nOne day, overcome by the state of misery \nin which he was, he broke out, through human \n\n\n208 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nfrailty, into unseemly gestures and behaviour; \nand in this sad condition of his outer and inner \nman he went apart from every one into a place \nof secrecy, where none could hear or see him, \nand he gave way at intervals to deep and re- \npeated groans. The tears stood in his eyes, and \nthen streamed down his cheeks. His distress \nwas so intense that he could not remain still, \nbut he would sit down on a sudden, and then \nspring up again and run up and down the room \nlike a man wrestling with grief and anguish. \nThen there shot through his heart a thought \nwhich took the form of a remonstrance, thus : — \nAlas ! O everlasting God, what is Thy purpose \nwith me f Meanwhile, when he was in this sad \ndisordered state, a voice from God spoke within \nhim, saying: — Where is now thy detachment \nand that evenness of soul in weal and woe which \nthou hast so often and so joyously counselled to \nothers, whilst thou didst lovingly point out to \nthem how entirely a man should abandon him- \nself to God, and hold fast by nothing? \n\nTo this he answered with many tears : — \nAskest thou me where my detachment is ? lea- \nther do thou tell me where is God's unfathom- \nable pity for His friends ? For in spite of it I \nam waiting here in utter desolation, like a man \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 20$ \n\ncondemned to forfeit his life, property, and hon- \nour. I had fancied that God was kind. I had \nfancied that he was a good and gracious Lord to \nall who ventured to abandon themselves to Him. \nWoe is me! God has failed me! Alas! that \nvein of kindness whose compassionate streams \nnever yet ran dry has run dry for me, poor man. \nAlas! the kind Heart whose kindness the, whole \nworld proclaims has deserted me, poor man, mis- \nerably. He has turned away from me His beau- \ntiful eyes and His gracious countenance. O \nthou Divine countenance ! O thou kind Heart ! \nI had never deemed of Thee that Thou wouldst \nhave cast me off so utterly. O fathomless abyss, \ncome to my aid, for I am altogether undone. \nThou knowest that all my consolation and re- \nliance is in Thee alone, and in no one else on \nearth. Oh, hearken to me this day for God's \nsake, all ye suffering hearts! See that no \none take scandal at my disordered state ; for so \nlong as detachment was in my mouth it was \nsweet to me to speak of it ; but now my whole \nheart is wounded through and through, and the \ninmost core of all my veins and brain is trans- \npierced with anguish, and there is not a limb of \nmy body which is not tortured and wounded in \nevery part of it. How can I then be detached ? \nP \n\n\n210 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nWhen he had spent about half a day in this \ndisordered state, and his brain was quite shat- \ntered, he sat still at last, and, turning from him- \nself to God, gave himself up to God's will in \nthese words : — May it not he otherwise ! u Fiat \nvoluntas Tua\" (Thy will be done). \n\nAs he sat thus, with his senses rapt in ec- \nstasy, it seemed to him in a vision that there came \nand stood before him one of his holy spiritual \ndaughters, who when she was yet alive had often \ntold him that he would have many sufferings, \nbut that the everlasting God would help him out \nof them. She now appeared to him, and tried \nlovingly to comfort him ; but he received her \nconsolations angrily, and charged her with un- \ntruthfulness. She smiled at this, and drawing \nnear, offered him her holy hand, saying : — Ac- \ncept my Christian troth, hi God's stead, that lie \nwill not forsake you, but will help you to come \nout victorious from these and all other sufferings. \nHe answered : — See, daughter ! The weight of \nmy afflictions is so great, that I can no longer \ncredit thee, unless thou givest me some token \nthat thy words are true. She replied: — God \nHimself will manifest your innocence to all good \nand pure hearts. As for wicked hearts, things \nlook to them according to the colour of their own \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 211 \n\nwickedness. A wise friend of God heeds them \nnot. Moreover, the Order of Preachers which you \nbewail shall be the more pleasing to God and all \nreasonable men, on your account. And as a sign \nthat these words are true, note this. The ever- \nlasting God will soon avenge you, and will let \nfall His wrathful hand upon the wicked heart \nwhich has thus troubled you. Moreover, all those \nwho have specially abetted her by their malicious \nslanderings will soon feel His vengeance. Be \nsure of this. The brother was much comforted \nhy these words, and waited steadfastly in expec- \ntation of how God would bring this matter to \nan end. \n\nVery soon afterwards, it all came to pass ex- \nactly as she had said. For the monster who had \nthus tormented him died, and she died too by a \nsudden death. And many others also among \nthose who had been the chief causes of his suf- \nferings were snatched hence by death ; some of \nthem dying insensible, and others without con- \nfession and communion. \n\nOne of these persons, who had been a prelate, \nand had caused very great suffering to the Ser- \nvitor, appeared to him in a vision after death, \nand told him that it was on this account God \nhad cut short his life and term of office, adding, \n\n\n212 LIFE OF BLESSED HENRY SUSO. \n\nthat he would have to waste and wither in pur- \ngatory for a long time as a penance for it. \n\nMany persons who knew what had happened, \nand were favourably disposed towards the Ser- \nvitor, on seeing this unusual vengeance, and the \ndeaths which God sent so suddenly upon his ad- \nversaries, praised Almighty God, saying : — Of a \ntruth God is with this good man ; and we see \nwell that wrong has been done him, and it is but \njust that he should henceforth be of more account \nin the eyes of reasonable men, and be looked upon \nas higher in holiness than if God had not visited \nhim with these sufferings. \n\nMoreover, the prelate of the German province \nexculpated him, saying that he and the Master- \ngeneral of the Order had held a strict visitation \nabout him, as was fitting, and had found nothing \nagainst him, save that a wicked woman, who was \nunworthy to be believed, had spoken maliciously \nof the honest man ; a thing which might very \nwell happen, if people would give ear to wicked \ntongues. \n\nThus the kind God succoured the Servitor, \nand very graciously caused this terrible storm of \nsuffering to subside and pass away, according as \nthe holy daughter in the vision had told him for \nhis consolation. And he often thought within \n\n\nHE IS CRUELLY SLANDERED. 213 \n\nhimself : — Ah, Lord, how true the words are \nwhich are said of Thee : He to whom God wishes \nwell can be harmed by no one ! \n\nThe friend, also, who behaved to him in \nsuch an unfriendly way was shortly afterwards \ntaken hence by God. After his death, when \nall the hindrances which had delayed him from \nbeholding God face to face had been removed, \nhe appeared to the Servitor in golden garments \nradiant with light, and embracing him lovingly, \npressed his face tenderly against his cheeks and \nbesought his pardon for all the wrong he had \ndone him, and prayed him that a true heavenly \nfriendship might continue between them ever- \nlastingly. The Servitor accepted this proposal \nwith joy, and embraced him in turn very lovingly; \nupon which he vanished out of sight, and entered \nagain into the bliss of God. \n\nAfterwards, when the appointed time had \ncome, God gladdened the sufferer in return for \nall his sufferings with inward peace of heart, still \nrepose, and bright illuminations of grace; so that \nhe praised God with all his heart for the past \nsuffering, saying that he would not take the \nwhole world not to have suffered it all. More- \nover, it was given to him to see clearly that by \nthis crushing blow he had been in a more noble \n\n\n214 LIFE OF BLESSED HENPwY SUSO. \n\nfashion drawn out of himself and transported \ninto God than by all the manifold sufferings \nwhich he had endured from his youth upwards \nuntil then. \n\n\nChaptek XLI. \n\nOf interior sufferings. \n\nWhen the Servitor's spiritual daughter had \nread the account of the grievous sufferings just \nrelated, and had shed many tears over it through \npity, she prayed him to explain to her in the \nnext place what is the nature of interior suf- \nferings ? He answered : — I will tell you two \nthings about interior sufferings. There was a \nman of high position in a certain Religious \nOrder on whom God had laid an interior suffer- \ning; and the poor brother's heart and spirits \nwere so overwhelmed by it, that he ceased not \nnight and day from tears and cries and lamen- \ntations. At length he came with great devotion \nto the Servitor of the Eternal Wisdom, and told \nhim his distress, and besought him to pray to \nGod for him that he might be delivered. \n\nEarly one morning, when the Servitor was \nsitting in his chapel and praying for the brother,, \nhe saw the evil spirit come and stand before \n\n\nINTERIOR SUFFERINGS. 215 \n\nhim, under the form of a hideous Moor, with \neyes of fire and a terrific hellish look, and with \na how in his hand. The Servitor said to him : \n— I adjure thee hy the living God to tell me \nwho thou art, and what thou wantest here. \nHe answered in a very fiendish fashion : — I \nam \" Spiritus BlasphemiaB\" (the Spirit of Blas- \nphemy), and thou shalt soon know what I want. \n\nThe Servitor turned towards the door of the \nchoir, and, as he did this, the suffering brother \ncame in by the same door on his way to the \nchoir for Mass. Thereupon the evil spirit drew \nhis bow and shot a fiery arrow into the brother's \nheart, so that he almost fell backwards, and \ncould not come into the choir. The Servitor \nwas greatly pained at this, and severely re- \nproved the devil for it. On which the proud \nfiend became exceeding wroth with him, and \ndrawing the bow once more, with a fiery arrow \nupon it, tried to shoot him also through the \nheart. But the Servitor turned quickly to our \ndear Lady for help, saying : — \" Nos cum prole \npia benedicat Virgo Maria\" (0 Virgin Mary, \nbless us with thy gentle Babe); and immediately \nthe devil's strength left him, and he vanished \nout of sight. \n\n\"When morning came, the Servitor related \n\n\n216 LIFE OF BLESSED HENHY SUSO. \n\nwhat lie had seen to the suffering brother, and \nconsoled him, and at the same time told him \nthe remedies which would be of avail, as they \nare set forth in the sermon of his which begins : \n; — \" Lectulus noster floridus, etc.\" \n\nAmong the many persons afflicted with \ninterior sufferings who sought his help, there \nonce came to him a secular man from a foreign \ncountry, saying: — Sir, I have within me the \ngreatest of all sufferings which a man ever had, \nand no one can help me. A little while ago \nI despaired of God, and I was so despondent, \nthat through excess of anguish I resolved to \ndestroy myself, and kill both body and soul. In \nthis agony of mind, just as I was on the point \nof springing into a raging torrent, and had \nalready taken a run with the deliberate purpose \nof drowning myself, I heard a voice above me \nsay, \"Stop! stop! Put not thyself to this shame- \nful death: seek a friar preacher.\" And the \nvoice named you to me by your name, which I \nhad never heard before, and it said, u He will \nhelp you and set you right.\" I was full of joy \nat this, and gave up the thought of killing \nmyself; and I have sought you out by asking \nafter you, as I was bidden. When the Servitor \nsaw the miserable state in which the man was, \n\n\nTHE BENEFITS OF SUFFERING. 217 \n\nhe turned lovingly to the poor sufferer, and \ncomforting him, made his heart light, and taught \nhim what to do in order to avoid, by God's help, \nfalling again into such a temptation.", "project_translation": false, "text_trust": "verbatim", "quote_safe": true, "license": null, "methodology_url": null } }