THE HOLY LIFE OF PHILIP NERIUS Founder of the Congregation of the ORATORY. To which is Annexed A Relation written by S. Augustine of the Miracles in his days, wrought many of them in or near the City wherein he resided and well-known to Him. AND A Relation of Sundry Miracles wrought at the Monastery of port-royal in Paris, A. D. 1656. publikcly attested by many Witnesses. Translated out of a French Copy published at Paris. 1656. At Paris 1659. THE HOLY LIFE OF PHILIP NERIUS Founder of the Congregation of the Oratory. Translated out of the Latin Copy by Jacobus Baccius. 1. Joh. 3. 22. Whatsoever we shall ask we shall receive of him: because we keep his Commandments, and do those things which are pleasing before him. Joh. 15. 15. Now I call you not Servants but Friends, for the Servant knoweth not what his Lord doth. Gen. 18. 17. Shall I hid from Abraham that thing which I do? The Translator to the Reader. Christian Reader, AS Precepts direct, so Examples encourage, obedience: and the latter, upon most men, have much more effect, than the former. Hence nothing (commonly) to Christian's more beneficial, than the Histories of the Lives of Holy men: and both the most frequent; and the most perfect, Conversions to God have been effected (next to the Holy Scriptures) from these read, or seen. Now; eminent holy practices cannot be severed from eminent divine favours (God exceedingly loving and honouring those, who greatly serve him). And hence are these latter ordinarily in such histories found mingled and interwoven with the former. And perhaps this not unprofitably; because nothing more inciteth men to the imitation of the virtues of so pious persons, than the belief of their receiving such extraordinary divine consolations and favours. Not a few such very miraculous (I confess) occur in this present Story of Philip Neri (though my principal intent was, to propose his virtues and piety to your practice (and therefore I chief recommend to your reading the second Book of this Life.) rather than these to your admiration). Which passages, that this may not seem to you, either too incredible, or extravagant; after that you have recollected yourself, whether many like and parallel instances may not be easily found in Scripture-Story; be pleased to review some of the lives of those Holy men of former times, written by persons of a more universal credit with Christians. As the life, of S. Antony written by S. Athanasius: [out of which life when Pontitianus had related some very strange stories to S. Austin; which effected his Conversion suddenly after to the Church Catholic (see Confess 8. L. 6. C.) he saith there: Stupebamus audientes tam recenti memoria, & prope nostris temporibus testatissima mirabilia tua in fide recta & Catholica Ecclesia. Omnes mirabamur, & nos, quia tam magna erant; & ille, quia inaudita nobis erant.] Of Paul the Anchoret; Hilarion; Malchus; Nepotianus; Paula etc. by S. Hierom: Of S. Gregory Thaumaturgus; Theodorus; Ephrem; by S. Gregory Nyssen: of those Eastern Monks and Hermits, by Theodoret, in his Historia Religiosa: and those Egyptian, by Palladius in his Historia Lausiaca: of S. Martin, by Severus Sulpitious: of S. Ambrose, by Paulinus, his servant: of S. Austin by Possidonius, one of his domestich society, of divers Saints and Martyrs, by S. Gregory Turonensis: (all these writers before Anno Domini six hundred.) since; of S. Benedict, by S. Gregory the Great (D●alog. 2. lib:) of S. Malachias, by S. Bernard: his intimate acquaintance: and S. Bernard's Life, by Gulielmus and Bernardus, Abbots, and Gofridus Clarevall: all of them his contemporaries. In which you may discover many things not less strange, not much unlike, to what is here presented you: and therefore, if you yield any belief to the one, you cannot justly withdraw it from the other: unless (perhaps) the same austerities and devotions cannot be performed, or the same divine gifts and graces returned in the sixteenth Century, which have been in the third, fourth, or fifth. At least, if you have not leisure, or books, to peruse some of those, be pleased to consider well those pieces of S. Austin, which (faithfully translated) are annexed to the end of this History. From which (I think) will sufficiently appear to you the conformity of the more modern ages with those more ancient; and that these latter, differ not so much from the opinions and practices, the events and experiences of former, times, as some would fain persuade. Now whereas this Life hath been, by divers Authors, at several times, written both in Latin and Italian, this Translation follows that Latin Copy set forth by Jacobus Baccius, and printed at Rome, One thousand six hundred forty five. But (for the greater credibility of the truth of the things here related) know; that the first Edition thereof (though somewhat more compendious) was, within six years after the Death of this Holy man (He dying 1595. and that being published 1601.) written by Antonius Gallonius a Priest of the same society, one much conversant, and intimately acquainted, with the Holy Father: published in the same place, where Pbilip Neri lived (namely in Rome); and that not only in Latin, but Italian (the vulgar tongue, understood by all) and that relation as much, or more, punctual, in the particular circumstances, of time, place, persons, etc. than the latter Editions were: (a strange impudence, in a Priest especially, if the matter were forged). Besides; in the margin of that first Edition, to many of the relations, and some of those as strange and incredible, as any of the rest (so that, the one granted, the other may not reasonably be denied) are set down the Names of those, who, in public, upon oath, testified them: of whom many were then living in the same place, where this History was divulged; by which any falsification might easily have been discovered. Amongst which witnesses are found many persons of eminent quality; and some also, of noted holiness of life: of whom it may be reasonably presumed, that they would not conspire to swear an untruth; nor go themselves to hell, to make another a reputed Saint on earth. Amongst the rest, Baronius, one much present with Philip, and, for some time, his Confessor, is often cited as a witness upon oath to many things therein. Out of the m●rgent of that Edition of Gallonius, I have here inserted, for the more satisfaction, some of those attestations: Concerning which, if the words of Gallonius himself may have any credence, hear what he professeth in his preface to the Reader, in that first Italian Edition printed at Rome. 1601. I writ (saith he) things, many of which I have seen myself with my own eyes. And a little after. This which I have written (to take away all doubt from him, who shall read this present History) is received from well-nigh three hundred witnesses, all persons of integrity, examined solemnly and upon oath, by Jacobus Butiusda Gallese Secretary to the Congregation, etc. Amongst these Witnesses are six most Illustrious Cardinals, who had with this servant of God, Philip, great familiarity, and much conversation. Namely; Alexander de Medicis, Cardinal of Florence, afterward Pope Leo XI. Octavius Paravicinus, Augustinus Cusanus, Fredericus Borromaeus, afterward Archbishop of Milan, Franciscus Maria Taurugi, and Cesar Baronius. Thus he in his Preface: after which I desire you to review, what in this present Edition is said by Jacobus Baccius in the fourth Book, ninth Chapter. sixteenth paragraph [Five years after his death etc.] Card. Baron. lib. Anal. Tom. 8. post Epist. Dedicat. Clem. VIII. QUo pariter symbolo tu mecum agens, manui meae debili tuam validissimam jungens, obtusum stylum in sagittam salutis Domini, contra insultantes Assyrios convertisti. Quod sicut verum, 4 Reg. 13. ita pulchrum, ac jucundum est mihi de republica profiteri. Pugnasti tu quidem, s●●l aliena manu, usitato more tuo, qui cum admiranda operari consueveris, mirandus tamen nunquam volueris apparere, nihil tam sollicite cavens, quam ne quid de te magnifice diceretur, operimento stultitiae saepe operiens sapientiam, juxta 1 Cor. 3. 18. 31. pervulgatum illud, & celebratum mentique tuae infixum penitus 1. Reg. 21. Apostolicum paradoxum; Qui vult sapiens esse, stultus fiat. Ita quidem, ut nullis compedibus blandientis saeculi tenereris, exemplo David ad tempus ora mutantis, magna dona spiritus occultares, quae sunt infirmitatis humanae foris ostentans— Sed quam tu vivens in Christi aerarium copiosissime intulisti, post migrationem ex hac vita aucto Judic. 7. multiplici faenore, ipse rependit. Siquidem ubi laguncula terrea fracta est, que latebat intus sua charitate refulgens, lampas apparuit, & quae a●sconsa erat sub modio lucerna ardens, & lucens, super aeternitatis altum candelabrum exaltata perspicua facta est mira●ulorum fulgore coruscans. Nunc enim, & quae vivens edideras, sed occultaveras, mirifica, signa, sunt cognita, & alia quam plurima recens edita patuerunt. Splendit, vile licet adhuc, utpote temporarium, sepulchrum tuum votivis tabellis, & ex precioso metallo signis affixis, tuorum miraculorum indicibus, quibus magis quam preciosorum marmorum crustis, vel Aegyptiis pyramidibus, & obeliscis effulget, majus decoris indies accipiense incrementum ab iis, qui nova beneficia consecuti, inferunt nova signa. THE FIRST BOOK, of the LIFE of PHILIP NERIUS. His Actions before his going to Vallicella. CHap. 1. Philip's Birth and Infancy. 1 ch. 2. He is sent to his Uncle's in Campania. 5 ch. 3. His going to Rome: and first fervors in Spirit. 7 ch. 4. His studying Philosophy and Divinity. 8 ch. 5. Quitting his studies he devotes himself wholly to Christ. 10 ch. .6 The miraculous palpitation of his heart. 12 ch. 7. His good works, and pains for the converting of others. 16 ch. 8. He erects the Fraternity dedicated to the H. Trinity. 19 ch. 9 He is made Priest, and authorized to hear Confessions. 21 ch. 10. The original of the Spiritual Conferences. 23 ch. 11. His first Penitents. 25 ch. 12. His zeal for propagating the faith of Christ. 33 ch. 13. He puts Baronius upon compiling his Annals. 40 ch. 14. The foundation of the Oratory. 44 ch. 15. He undertakes the charge of a Church of the Florentines, 49 ch. 16. The persecutions and affronts he suffered. 54 ch. 17. The Congregation of the Oratory erected at Vallicella. 61 ch. 18. He removeth to Vallicella. 65 ch. 19 The Rules of the Oratory. 66 ch. 20. The obedience and reverence given him by his Sons. 73 THE SECOND BOOK. Of the Virtues of Philip. CHap. 1. His Devotion and Love to God. 81 ch. 2. His devotion to the B. Virgin and the Saints. 87 ch. 3. He transmits' holiness and devotion unto others. 90 ch. 4. His Gift of Tears. 93 ch. 5. His Prayers. 97 ch. 6. His zeal for the saving of souls. 103 ch. 7. His singular prudence in governing of youth. 109 ch. 8. His care for the Sick and Dying. 113 ch. 9 His comforting of the Afflicted. 120 ch. 10. He frees divers of their Scruples of conscience. 126 ch. 11. His Alms. 131 ch. 12. His Tender heartedness and compassion. 136 ch. 13. His unstained Virginity. 139 ch. 14. His Abstinence. 147 ch. 15. His contempt of Riches. 149 ch. 16. His declining of Honours and dignities. 155 ch. 17. His Humility. 160 ch. 18. His Mortification. 167 ch. 19 The mortifications he imposed on his Sons. 173 ch. 20. His Patience. 180 ch. 21. His Perseverance. 189 THE THIRD BOOK. Of the Gifts bestowed on him by God. CHap. 1. His Ecstasies and Rapts. 194 ch. 2. His Visions. 202 ch. 3. He foretelleth divers of their deaths. 211 ch. 4. He foretelleth the recovery of divers. 216 ch. 5. Several other Predictions of His. 220 ch. 6. He foretells others of their being made Popes and Cardinals. 226 ch. 7. His beholding things absent as if present. 231 ch. 8 His understanding men's thoughts. 236 ch. 9 His Prudence and Discerning of Spirits. 246 ch. 10. He frees persons Possessed by the devil. 259 ch. 11. His appearing to persons far remote from him. 265 ch. 12. He raiseth a Dead Boy to life. 270 ch. 13. The opinion men▪ had of his Sanctity. 273 THE FOURTH BOOK. CHap. 1. Philip's last sickness and the apparition of the B. Virgin. 287 ch. 2. He foretells his own death. 291 ch. 3. His Death. 295 ch. 4. He appears to divers after his Death. 298 ch. 5. The concourse of people that came to see his Corpse. 301 ch. 6. The strange cures wrought before the interring his Corpse. 304 ch. 7. His Body is opened and Buried. 307 ch. 8. His Body is translated to a Chapel built to his honour seven years after his Death. 310 ch. 9, The Eulogies and Titles of Honour given him after his Death. 314 THE FIFTH BOOK. Of the Miracles which he did whilst he lived. CHapt. 1. Miracles done by him with the sign of the Cross. 322 ch. 2. Miracles wrought by the touch of his Hands. 3●5 ch. 3. Cures wrought by his Prayers. 335 kh. 4. He drives away Diseases by his command. 342 ch. 5. Various miraculous cures wrought by him on divers. 344 ch. 6. He helps divers women in Childbirth. 347 ERRATA. PAge 18. line 23. read Infirmaries. p. 155. l. ult. r in his ear. p. 210. l. 14. r. crafty. p. 321. l. 14. r. HCities, l. 18. r. Convocation. p. 322. l. 15. r. gain, p. 339 l. 9 r. Rheum, p. 365, l. 33. r. in Hypocrates judgement, p. 367. l. 16. r. voisinage, p. 391. l. 7. r. too much p. 392. l. 22. 8. cap. The HOLY LIFE OF PHILIP NERIUS: Founder of the Congregation of the ORATORY. THE FIRST BOOK. His Actions before his going to Vallicella. Chapter 1. Philip's Birth and Infancy. PHilip Nerius was born at Florence in the Year of our Lord 1515. On the Vigil of the B. Marry Magdalen after midnight, Leo the Xth. then Pope: and at his Baptism in the Church of S. John Baptist, was after the name of his Grandfather called Philip. His Father Francis Nerius was a man of good repute with all, and of great integrity in his plead in the Law. His mother Lucretia Soldia a Noble and Religious Matron, whose Ancestors had formerly managed the prime offices in that Commonwealth. Francis had by Lucretia four Children; two Daughters Katherine and Elisabeth, and two Sons, Anthony, that died an infant, and Philip; who was of a pregnant wit, an affable disposition, handsome features of body and and a strange sweetness of behaviour; furnished with all the excellencies wherewith those, who from Heaven are designed unto the good of Souls, are usually beautified. His virtuous Parents virtuously educated him whilst yet a child: first entering him timely What is Writ concerning his Childhood is from the relation of his Sister, of his own mouth, of Ludovico Parigi his most ancient and familiar friend. into Grammar, wherein he not only outwent, but became also admired by his Schoolfellows. He studied Rhetoric too under an able Master, through whose discipline he proved a good proficient. Among other essays of his after-piety, which at times from his very infancy he discovered to the world, a marvellous inclination to things divine, a rare modesty, and very great reverence to his Superiors were remarkable in him. He was so dutiful to his Father, that, but once in all his life, was he known to move him (in the least) to anger; viz. when he very lightly struck his Sister Katherine, as she disturbed him at his prayers: which fault (if at those years it may be termed a fault) being reproved for by him, he a long while after bewailed. His Mother's commands he was so careful of, that being at any time bid to stay any where, he would not stir from the place without her leave. She dying, and his Father marrying anew, his Stepmother, out of a reverence to his Sanctity, loved him entirely, as her own; and when he afterward left Florence, wept sore to part with him. Yea in her last most desperate Sickness, being at the point of Death, she oft redoubled his name, ever and anon calling him thereby, as if the very mentioning of it were a kind of ease to her. Nor only was he thus respective to his Parents and betters; even his equals and inferiors found him so pleasant, as if he had no mixture of Choler in him at all: so that for his excellent temper, and innocent carriage he was (by contraction of his name) styled Pippus bon●s, Pippus the Good. By which amiableness both of Nature, and manners, he not only deserved the love of men, but was protected by God, even to a miracle: For being some eight or nine years old, and (as boys are) eager of riding, he got up on an ass that was in an outer court; and on a sudden together with the ass fell down a pair of stairs into a cellar, where a woman presently running took him up sound▪ and well, whom she supposed to have been bruised to pieces. These rare accomplishments of the mind were attended with a special care of religion, and the service of God: and his devotions argued in him a strange maturity, and carried with them much of authority. For they consisted not in erecting little Altars, as is usual for children at that age; but in sending up prayers, reciting Psalms, and devout attention to the word of God: concealing still in his talk his intention to become a Priest, or betake himself to a Cloister; and even in his childhood growing reserved in his designs; as perfectly detesting all manner of ostentation. Such a forwardness in virtue, and so childlike innocency procured him already that favour with God that whatever he requested of our Lord, he instantly obtained: So that it oft happened, when he had lost any thing upon recourse to his prayers he presently found it. He drew his first breathe of the Spirit from the Friar's predicant, whose Church dedicated to S. Mark, he much frequented, insomuch as living afterward in Rome, when any of the Fathers of that Order visited him, he would usually say; Whatever good I have by God's blessing received from my Infancy: I own it all to the Fathers of your Society; principally to Zenobius de Medici's, and Servantius Minius: of whom he was wont to relate this passage. These two had agreed together, every night, before they went to Matins, to confess their sins to one another, but the enemy of mankind envying them so great a good, knocks at Zenobius' chamber one night, two hours before ordinary, and cries, O ho, rise, 'tis high time: whereat he awaks, and leaping out of bed hies him to Church, where he finds the counterfeit Servantius walking hard by the seat of Confession. Zenobius taking him for Servantius indeed devoutly knelt to make his confession, the devil sits by, takes it, and at any fault the Penitent confessed, answered, Pish, this is nothing, no fault, this: then discovering some worse offence, still he replied, These are but trifles. Zenobius hearing that, mistrusting the devil's wiles, crossing himself thus bespoke the Father of lies; Art not thou that fiend infernal? at which he vanished away, both disappointed of his hope, and confounded with shame. Besides these he resorted to an eminent Preacher of the Order of the Humiliati, called Baldoline, whom he greatly delighted to hear; of whose Sanctity, he gave a very fair Character, affirming that Florence was saved by this man's prayers; in the Year 1527. What time the Duke of Bourbon passing with his army through Italy, assaulted Rome. The Holy Youth thus taken up with Spiritual employments, this divine privilege was granted him, that burning with the love of all virtues he even flamed with a Zeal of suffering for Christ. He was then about fifteen years of age, when he fell into a burning fever, which he endured with that patience and resolution, that though his body lay under the strokes of the disease, his Spirit seemed in a sort above it: therefore secretly hiding the matter, his chief care was to conceal from the family his being Sick. No less bravery of mind did he express, when his Father's house being on fire, he bore with such moderation the loss of no small quantity of goods; that he thereby raised in all a very great opinion of his future piety. Chap. 2. He is sent to his Uncles in Campania. THere was an Uncle of Philip's named Romulus, a man very industrious, who going from Florence into Campania, and living a Merchant at S. Germane had there got an estate to the value of 22000 Crowns, and more: to him therefore was Philip at eighteen years old, by his Father dispatched, with design, that applying himself to Merchandise, he might make him his heir, especially having none nearer a kin to him then he. So coming to S. Germane, he was by his Uncle kindly received, towards whom he so demeaned himself, that observing his ingenuity and manners, he purposed to make him his heir; but that God who had destined him to nobler ends, defeated the contrivances of his Uncle: and Philip within a while perceiving himself called forth to a far better course of life, began to consult of altering his condition: to the perfecting which project of his, that which now comes to be related did conduce. At the Port of Caieta, not far off S. Germans, there riseth a Mountain, famed by report for one of those that ren● asunder at the Passion of our Saviour. This mountain parts itself into three huge clefes from top to bottom, of which the middlemost is much the widest; where on a high and stately Rock stands a Chapel remarked for an ancient Crucifix in it, wh●ch, as they pass by, the Seamen are wont to salute with volleys of Shot. Hither ofttimes Philip retires, the better to contemplate on the mysteries of the Passion: where loathing daily more and more the varnished follies, and gilded roctenness of this world, he resolved, quitting his Merchant's affairs, to make choice of a life, wherein he might freely serve God, with a mind disinteressed from worldly cares. His Uncle soon discovers his drift, and labours might and main to alter his Resolutions: First promiseth to leave him sole Heir to his whole estate; then minds him of the Nerian Family, like to fail utterly in him; which he should do well to think of; and neither hastily nor unadvisedly determine a matter of that consequence; Lastly tells him, he had not deserved so ill at his hands, as not to obtain one favour from him, in lieu of so many bestowed. Philip as was fit, modestly replied; He should never be unmindful of his favours indeed; but as to the rest, he rather commended his affection, then approved his counsel. Chap. 3. His going to Rome: and first Fervors in Spirit. WHen he had been at S. Germane two years, moved by impulse of the H. Spirit, he comes to Rome, not so much as acquainting his Father therewith, lest he might divert him from his intentions. At his entrance into the City, he met with an opportunity (to his own wish) of devoting himself to Christ: for going to one Galeottus Caccius a Gentleman of Florence, whom possibly he formerly knew, he seeing the modesty of the youth, took him into his house, and pitying his necessity, allotted him a little chamber, allowing him yearly a quantity of Corn, which Philip gave to a Baker, to whom he repaired daily for a loaf to sustain life with. This his kindness the pious young man was not wanting to requite, even with a greater; taking upon him the instruction of Galeottus' two Sons, both in Learning and Manners; whom in a short time he brought to that pass, that in innocence and purity they seemed Angels rather than men. Here for divers years did Philip lead a most austere life, shunning all Company and commerce; so that there be, who affirm him to have lived an Anchorets' life even in the heart of the City. His diet was so spare, you would have said, Hunger could not pinch, nor Thirst parch him; for when the Servants used at first to save him a share at meals, yet would he go down into the yard to the well, and dine or sup with bread and water; adding sometimes a few olives or herbs: yea oftimes fasting three days together. His chamber was slightly furnished, for except a little Bed, and a few Books, you should scarce find any thing there. His necessaries both of linen and woollen hung on a line tied cross the room. He was much in Prayer, wherewith he was so delighted, that he needed no external inducement, his own inclinations did so hurry him thereto, spending sometimes whole nights and days therein. This his emment course of life became so notorious, that not Florence alone, but most of the Cities of Italy heard the fame thereof. Chap. 4. His Study of Philosophy and Theologie. ANd the better to attain the perfection of divine knowledge, and contemplate on heavenly things, he annexeth to the exercises of Piety, the studies of Philosophy and Divinity. And applying himself first to Philosophy, he therein so acquitted him, that not without cause he was ranked amongst the learned'st Scholars, eminent in those days in the College at Rome. His Preceptors were the chief in all the City, Alphonso Ferrio, and Caesar Jacobellius, afterwards Bishop. He studied Divinity among the Augustine Friars; wherein he made such a progress, that he gained enough to serve him for his whole life: insomuch that when he was old, he would answer the deepest questions in Theology as readily, as if he had come from his studies but the other day: sometimes discussing such points with his Sons, who were versed in them; both to endear them the more to him, and by these allectives, further and promote them in Christian Devotion. At other times (but that seldom) he would discourse thereof with the most judicious Divines of that Age; of whom were Ambrose de Balneolo, afterward made Bishop of Nardo by Pius the V and Paulus Bernardinus of Luca of the Order of S. Dominic, famous for Wisdom and Learning, with whom he was very intimate. To others he carried himself with such Modesty, as though he had scarce been in the Confines of Learning. Whereupon a wise Prelate visiting him, and conferring at large with him, said at his parting: I took this for an ignorant and unlettered man, but in truth I find him excellently qualified for virtue and profound knowledge: the like befell Alexander Saulius, Bishop, first of Aleria, then of Pavia, famous for holiness and learning, who propounding some Theological questions to him, wondered at his sharp understanding, and gave him the like testimony. Hence it was his custom, that if any of His had in his hearing delivered any thing, either unwarily or obscurely, in their ordinary Sermons, (of which course more hereafter) he would presently up into the Pulpit, and explain it with such weight of reasons and significancy of terms, you would have said, his Doctrine was rather inspired by God, then acquired from Art. In Theology he mostwhat inclined to the judgement of S. Thomas, whose Sum he had still by him: nor was he less a proficient in the H. Scriptures; by continual reading whereof, and daily meditation, he was able to interweave the sacred Oracles with his discourse, to the great advantage of his hearers. Nor in his younger time did he neglect Poetry, as well Latin as Italian, in which he grew so dextrous, that on a sudden he would compose excellent verses at pleasure. Yet while he thus intended his studies, he did not for this omit the exercises of Religion and Charity; but resorted to the Infirmaries of the City, carefully tended the sick, taught in the Cathedrals the principles of Faith, and the like; in brief, refused nothing that any way conduced to the good of Souls. Yea, for the time he studied Divinity, whensoever he fixed his eyes on the Crucifix which hung up in the Schools, he was not able to forbear sighs and tears. So that, as at Florence he was surnamed Pippus bonus, so at Rome he gained the title of Philippus bonus, Philip the virtuous. Chap. 5. Quitting his Studies he devotes himself wholly to Christ. AS soon as he had gathered from Sciences, and reading Holy Books what he thought might suffice to the promoting his own and others Salvation, taking S. Paul's advice; Non plus Sapere, quam oportet sapere; That none presume to understand, above what is meet to understand; all business set aside, he determined to know nothing but Christ and him Crucified. Hereupon he sold all the Books he had, and bestowed the Money on the Poor: which act of Charity performed, he betook him to his Prayers with more fervent devotion; even to the spending days and nights therein, and continuing sometimes in it full forty hours. And for his better progress, he began more severely to afflict his body, sleeping on the ground a-nights, beating himself every day with small Iron Chains, declining the Company of men, daily frequenting the seven Churches of the City, especially the Caemitery of Callistus; where carrying with him only one loaf for his provision, he would many times pass whole nights in supplications: which strange course of life he led for ten years together. Which Francis Cardonius, a Dominican (who then in Rome had charge of the Novices in the Monastery of S. Maria supra Minervam:) observing, to encourage others to the practices of stricter holiness, would frequently tell them; Phil●p Neri indeed was a right holy person; who, besides many wonderful things done by him; lived ten whole years in S. Sebastian's Grots. If he chanced at any time to find the Church-doors shut, when he repaired to those holy places, he was won● to stand in the Porch; and there employ himself in meditation on heavenly things; oftimes in reading some pious book by Moonlight. Here was he enriched with such celestial treasures, here was he so ravished with delights, that when he could no longer sustain those overcoming pleasures, he would cry out; It is enough, good God, it is enough, withhold I entreat thee, withhold the excesses of thy Grace, for I cannot ●ear them: and falling flat upon the earth, he was fa●n to roll himself too and fro. No wonder therefore, if being big with him, who fills heaven, and earth, he did divers times affirm, that nothing was more irksome, more a burden to him that truly loved God, than life: oft using that memorable and common saying, That Holy Men endured life, desired death. Yet God not only thus feasted his Champion with Spiritual Dainties, but on the other side exercised him with the encounters of devils that assaulted him. He went once to the Lateran Church, and passing the Amphitheatre of Vespasian, an evil spirit in the likeness of a naked person comes out and meets him, suggesting filthy and impure thoughts to him: but the chaste youth knowing the wily artifices of that old Serpent betakes him to his wont artillery of Prayer, with which he shamefully worsted the fiend. One night also, not far from S. Sebastian's Church, on a sudden three devils with ugly and grim visages (the more to fright him) met him praying, and meditating as he walked, but he, as one disdaining them, discovering no sign of fear went on undauntedly, continuing in prayer with great tranquillity: at which they fled, frustrate of their expectations. And with many other combats in this kind did those wicked spirits assail him, over whom notwithstanding this valiant Soldier of Christ victoriously triumphed. Of which in their proper places. Chap. 6. The miraculous Palpitation of his Heart. HAving lived thus a long time, and now 29 years of age, among other privileges wherewith God honoured him, the miraculous beating of his heart, the fracture of two of his ribs, so that they stuck out, were not the meanest: which befell him after this manner. A little before Witsuntide, a festivity dedicated to the Holy Ghost, to whom Philip having long since piously surrendered up himself, now more intensely prayed; Lo! on an instant he perceived himself seized with such a passionate fervour of Divine Love, that flinging himself on the earth, like one in a swoon gasping for air, he was forced immediately to bare his breast: when, the extreme heat somewhat allayed, he risen, and transported with extraordinary joy, putting his right hand to his left side, found a kind of rising where the heart is & seated, swollen to the bigness of ones fist. What the cause of this tumour was, plainly appeared when he was dead, in the view of divers: for as the Surgeon opened his Corpse before skilful Anatomists that were by; they found two of the five lesser, which they call the short, ribs, broken clean asunder, and sticking forth like a bow, which for fifty years afterward that he lived, at no time ever closed again: and yet (which seems incredible) he never found from it, either then, or afterward, the least pain or trouble. At the same time, though he were in very good temper of body, and perfectly free from any grief or passion, yet was he suddenly taken with a palpitation of the heart, that held him from that moment to his last breath: Yet it used to seize on him only when he was conversant in matters of Religion; as when he said Mass, gave Absolution, ministered the Body of Christ, prayed, or performed the like offices; at which his heart would so leap within him, as though it would have broke its prison, and have forced its way through him. Then should you have seen the stools, bed, and the chamber itself shaken and tossed, as with an earthquake; so once at the Cathedral of S. Peter when kneeling down upon a great and heavy board, his whole body did so quake and tremble, that the board he rested on moved up and down, like a thing of no weight at all. From that time was Philip so devoted unto the Holy Ghost, that after he was Priest, he would every day (except the rites of the Church were against it) use that prayer in the Sacrifice of the Mass; Deus cui omne cor patet. Hence it was likewise, that if any Penitent coming to Confession chanced to lean against his breast, he should (even to admiration) feel that throbbing of his heart, and, if his head touched him, sometimes perceive it recoil, as if struck with a hammer; and he in the mean while freed of all Temptations. So that Tiberius Ricciardellus, Canon of the forenamed Church of S. Peter, who voluntarily served the H. Man four years together, left this upon record. What time I served the B. man (saith he) I was surprised with a lewd and foul imagination, which so soon as I had disclosed unto him, he bade me come nearer, and join my breast to his; I approached, did so, and was instantly rid of it, never after being molested with like impurities. Thus Tiberius. The same do Marcellus Vitellescus, Canon of S. Maria Major, one very gracious with Philip, and sundry others avouch. Besides, that part of his breast burned with such extreme heat, that it diffused itself over all his body; and even when he grew in years, and was almost spent Many have seen this, and fourteen witnesses, persons of credit, have confirmed it by Oath. with incredible abstinence, yet in the depth of Winter, in the in the middle of the night was he forced to uncover his breast, open Windows, and by several ways, (as he could) let in the cooler air. Which immoderate heat grew so great at some times, that not only his hands grew exceeding hot, but his throat was dried up and scorched, as it had been on fire: that in winter, when all things are i'll, and stiff with frost and snow, you should have seen a man worn out with old age, walk open-breasted thorough the City. But when the Physicians, in regard of the differing Symptoms, which he found from this panting, applied several and contrary medecines; he jestingly said, I would these men knew but the cause of my malady▪ intimating that he was not distempered by any natural sickness, but wounded rather with Divine Love: and therefore used to say, Vulneratus sum Charitate ego, I am wounded with love. As likewise finding himself ensnared in the love of Christ, he would sing in Italian. Vorrei saper da voi, come ell' é fatta Questa rete d'amor, che tanti hà preso? I would fain be by you taught How this Net of Love is wrought, Where so many have been caught. In like manner he would oftimes throw himself upon his bed, and there languish, surcharged with the too delicious Gusts of the Spirit. So truly was that in the Canticles verified in him, Fulcite me, etc. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. But to conceal his secret from the notices of any, he gave out, those Fits arose either from indisposition of body, or long custom; and therefore purposely wore a Handkerchief on the left side of his breast, that the extension of his Ribs might not be perceived. This also in his palpitation was attributed to a miracle, that it took him not by constraint, but by consent; as he more than once declared to Cardinal Borromeo his most intimate friend. And therefore Andrea's Caesalpinus, and Angelus Victorius, with other able Physicians, set forth several Tracts about it, showing how this thrusting forth his Ribs befell him by a special Providence of God; that his heart (likely otherwise to be oppressed in so violent a motion) having by this means a larger circuit, might beat freelier, and gather air the better. After he had received of God this favour, he began more than ever to visit the seven Churches; whom, as he was going one day, the Spirit of God so strongly seized on, that cast down to the ground, he was fain to cry out; Depart from me, O Lord, depart; for lo! I die; and except thou help, I can no longer bear it. From which time the Merciful Lord somewhat abated and lessened those impetuous violences of Holy Love. Chap. 7. His good works, and pains for the Conversion of others. HAving now a long while lived thus, severed from the society of men, and now called forth by the supreme Lord of all for the good of Souls, he applies himself wholly to the conversion of Sinners. To that end he resorts to public meetings, the company of Scholars, frequents the Academies, intrudes into the assemblies of the profane, diligently repairing to the chief places of business: where on all occasions, without any regard of their persons, treating of divine things, he won many, whom by degrees he gently led to Christ. Among others, whom he converted, was Henry Petra of Placentia, who by his persuasions forsaking his Merchandise, was made Priest, and lived very exemplarily at a Church of S. Hierom's, where he made a Holy end. This was he that amplified and enlarged the Congregation of Christian Doctrine in the City. Next he gained unto Christ Theseus Raspa, who likewise leaving the profession of a Merchant took Orders, and died full of years and good works at the same Church with Petra. He reclaimed also John Manzolius, who, though a Laique, yet aspiring to perfection, gave a great example of virtue unto many. Besides many others, whom he reduced to the paths of life, of whom hereafter. And as his Charity increased, he (no doubt by directions from the H. Spirit) began to consort with the most lewd recreants in all the City (but being of that age, not with women at all) many of which he persuaded to better courses. Of these there was one of the chief Bankers, who inveigled with the Love of pelf, and mired in Sottish and carnal pleasures led a most dissolute life. He being by Philip's means incensed with a Zeal to the service of God repaired to a Priest, for absolution of his sins, who repulsed him, for that he refused to abjure committing the same again, he, coming to Philip something sad, relates what had happened, beseeching him to pray to God for him, though most unworthy. Philip cheering his dejected mind, and making light of the difficulties said Go: I am now hasting to pray for you; and will not desist till I have moved the most High to pity: and so he did: for shortly after, upon his withstanding the next occasions to those sins, he was absolved according to his desires by the same Priest, who had formerly rejected him; and became a great observer of Philip ever after. And here must not be forgot, that when he was young, being very handsome, he was by some debauched persons enticed to villainy as he came from Sermon; but he immediately discoursed to them ex tempore of the ugliness of vice, and dignity of virtue, with such courage, that they went away his converts, who came to pervert him. He drove divers to several Religious Orders. Whereupon S. Ignatius Loiola Founder of the Society of Jesus living then at Rome, used to call him the Saints-bell of that time; for that he excited others to Regular Discipline, while himself led a Secular life: just as the Bell that tolls others to Church, and itself the while abides in the Steeple. Ignatius was desirous to have made him his own, but God had otherwise appointed. Philip's Sons observed, that those who despised his counsel for the most part came to an ill end. So it chanced to one that professed Philosophy, whom Philip had chid for some heinous fact, but he slighted his admonition; and no sooner went from the place, but was unfortunately murdered. The like happened to another, whom once, or twice he had wished to repent, who growing obstinate, within a few days was imprisoned, convicted of a notorious crime, and adjudged to die, but at the earnest suit of his friends was condemned to the Galleys. Yet whilst employed in the cure of Souls, he neglects not other acts of piety, he oft visited Hospitals, where with his own hands he made beds, cleansed away all filth, swept the floor, served in meat, and did such like offices; but in the first place commended to God the Souls of dying people; not leaving them till they either recovered, or died. These instances of Christian charity so inflamed the hearts of many unto Piety, that not only the Clergy, but even the Laity, and Nobility began to frequent Infirmities and places of charity (a thing not common in that age) where, as every one stood affected they releived the sick, or strangers and pilgrims. Hence the Order of those that minister to the Sick had its Original; whose first Instituter was Camillus Lellius, a man renowned for his virtues, and a great admirer of Philip. Here it must not be passed over, that Philip affirmed, how when too of this order were one time commending to God the Souls of the dying, he saw Angels wispering words in their ears: which thing he had often related to them, to encourage those religious persons to so important a duty of piety; as is mentioned in their Chronicle. CHAP. 8. He erects the Fraternity dedicated to the H. Trinity. BEsides these the H. Man contrived otherways for the good of his Neighbours; for in the year 1548. on the 16th. of August, together with Persianus Rosa a devout Priest (his Confessarius) he instituted the Society of the most H. Trinity in the Church of S. Saviour's in the Camp. Here Philip and about fifteen more met, where besides the frequent use of Sacraments, and other religious exercises, they communed about spiritual matters with great devotion, provoking one another to Christian perfection. The first Sunday of every Month, and yearly in Holy week before Easter, according to the custom of the Church, they for the space of forty hours exposed the B. Sacrament of the Eucharist in most solemn manner; at the performing which Philip discoursed of heavenly things (sometimes at each hours end) with such fervency of Spirit, as there was none so hard and inflexible, but relented while he spoke: and once it fell out, that at one throw (letting down the net of Divine exhortation) he drew up thirty young men together who stuck fast in the mud of an impure conversation: yea divers that came to jeer, seeing a Layman preach (a thing then unusall) struck with the force of his words betook them to the practices of a holy life. During the time of these prayers, he for the most part spent a day and a night in heavenly contemplation; and at the end of each hour by a signal dismissed them that prayed, calling up others, and saying, See Brethren, the hour indeed is spent, but never the time of doing well. The Institution of this Society (which continues at this present) was, that Pilgrims coming to Rome out of devotion, might be hospitably entertained: which in the Jubilee following under Pope Julius the third began to grow to a perfect work. For the number of those that came to the City being in these years much greater, and no place settled for poor and stranger's to lodge in, Philip and his associates moved with charity courteously received them: and the resort increasing exceedingly, there was a necessity of hiring a larger house to lodge the many comers the more conveniently. This charitable work excites divers to the like: in such wise, that every day you should see, whilst whole multitudes of travellers flocked in from all parts, some washing their feet, others bringing them victuals, others making their beds; some comforting the distressed, instructing the Ignorant, all diligent in doing all offices of charity and piety. So that the good savour of this Order diffusing ' its fragrancy abroad far and wide, sundry were ambitions of entering into it. The first of this fraternity (who all reverenced Philip as their Father) though but meanly accommodated with temporals, had nevertheless a rich furniture of their own virtues; for he that had the lowest office among them, serving in the Kitchen, arrived to so high perfection, that going many times at midnight from his lodging, looking up to heaven he would be even rapt with the meditation of things divine. Another likewise of the same society foreseeing the day of his death, sends for his Sister, and bid her write, such an hour on Friday I shall departed: and departed the same hour as he had said. Further these pious, and compassionate men, observing sick men turned out of the Hospitals, before they were quite recovered, oftimes relapsing with greater peri of their lives, appointed that such for some days should be relieved here, till they were perfectly well. All which, being daily augmented, and enlarged, was for conveniency removed from the Church of S. Saviour's too that place where the Temple of the H. Trinity is now erected, at the Bridge Xistns. And to what greatness this work hath rise, within these three last Jubiles, both our Fathers and ourselves have beheld. For not only the chief Prelates of the Court, and Cardinals of the Church of Rome; not only men, and women of principal note (the one toward the men, the other toward women) have been seen performing services of all kinds; but there also you might behold the Pope himself (both to the admiration, and for the imitation of the beholders) washing the feet of Pilgrims, serving them at table, giving them Alms, and most devoutly doing such like offices; insomuch as the fame hereof was bruited throughout the whole Christian World. CHAP. 9 He is made Priest, and Authorised to hear Confessions. GOd therefore having determined the work of his Servant to the Cure of Souls, and Philip in that condition being uncapable of such employment, inwardly excites Persianus Rosae his Confessor to persuade him to the taking H. Orders. At first he opposed it, objecting his weakness, and endeavoured by many reasons to divert Persianus from those thoughts: but he peremptorily demands his obedience. So in the year 1551. (the Council of Trent not then broken up) Philip at the age of 36. in March at S. Thomas' Church in Parione, but upon several days, received his first Tonsure, the four inferior Orders, and Subdeaconship: and the same month and year, namely on the Saturday in Holy week was made Deacon at the Lateran Church: and on the 23d. of May the same year, Priest, at S. Thomas'. Soon after he went to dwell at S. Hierom's a Charitate, where lived some few yet holy Priests: viz. Bonsignorius Cacciaguerra of Sienna, a man eminent for his Sanctity, and Learned, Persianus Rosa Philip's Confessor; Francis Marsupinius of Arezzo, one of great simplicity and integrity, who next after Persianus was Philip's Confessor; one Francis surnamed the Spaniard, no whit inferior to the rest in virtue; and Peter Spatarias of Arezzo too; one of extraordinary piety, and the last of all the Priests at S. Hierom's that were his Confessors. For these dying he chose John Baptist a P●●usian of the society of Jesus for some years; and last of all Caesar Baronius to his dying day. These servants of Christ, lived in the same house together, united fast in the same bond of mutual charity and respects; without any other particular constitution of government, save only Love, none superior to other, nor having one table, but keeping their order of seniority, cared for nothing but to outvie each other in the serving of God, and helping their Neighbours. Which Order continues still, and flourisheth to the great example of virtue: and here was Philip Authorised for the taking Confessions; whereby he daily gained opportunities for promoting the good of Souls. CHAP. X. The Original of the Spiritual Conferences. BUt for that most then neglected the things pertaining to salvation, and counted it enough for them to confess their sins once or twice a year: Philip observing, that the bane of souls principally arose hence; employed all his wit and pains to animate and stir them up to more frequent use of the Sacraments, and the discharge of other religious duties: which with those devout persons already mentioned he restored, or at least promoted at Rome. And to effect it the better, laying all aside, he gave himself wholly to the hearing Confessions, having no small number of Penitents, and considering what great advantages accrued thereby, bestowed part of the night also herein: and betimes in the Morning gave audience to others confessing to him in his Chamber; for whose conveniency he laid the key of his door in a constant place, that they might have access to him at their pleasure. As soon as ever the Church-doors were open, he strait betook him to his seat of Penance, which he left not usually, except to say Mass, or when some urgent occasion called him away. When none came he stayed there either meditaring, or walking before the Church-porch; that if any needed his help they might presently have recourse to him, as being at leisure. He was so delighted in hearing Confessions, that he would often say, he took exceeding pleasure in but fitting in the Penitential chair; and therefore as long as he lived he omitted not this service. And when any asked him, Father, why do you over-burden yourself with so great pains taking? his answer was, I am so far from thinking it a burden, that I find it an ease and recreation to me. Neither was it enough in his opinion to allure many by these artifices, but he also laboured to strengthen and confirm them in the ways of God. To which end he took order for their meeting in his chamber after dinner, (for at those hours the wise man knew the incursions of the Noonday devil were most of all to be avoided and withstood) where gathering round about him, he either sitting or resting on the bed, proposed some moral subject, as the beauty of virtue, or deformity of vice, or else the life of some Saint, whereto every one contributed his part. Which pious discourse ended, Philip repeating what was said, followed the argument with such a Monte Zazzaro testified this upon oath. eagerness, that he a shook the whole room with his action, and oftimes his body was seen lifted up into the air, and he standing as on the Ground. At first there were present at these Conferences but seven or eight: viz. Simon Grazinius and Montes Zazzara, Florentines; Michael a Prato a Shoemaker, two young men Goldsmiths; and a Roman, one of the Maximi: but the number afterward increasing, the H. man at his own charges provided a larger, and more convenient room in the same house. CHAP. XI. His first Penitents. WIth these religious exercises did He win many of the prime of the City, which became famous in all manner of virtues. Among which the principal were John Baptist Salviatus, Sister's son to Katherine de Medici's, Queen of France; who was not ashamed to stoop unto the meanest services for Christ's sake, even to attendance on the Hospitals, an employment than thought (but thought unjustly) ignominious for a Noble man; all which he managed with such evidences of his Charity and and Humility, that the sick out of respect to his Person refused his service, which many times he was fain to force upon them. One day making the beds in an Hospital (as his manner was) he found one sick, which had formerly been his servant, who (when he would have made his bed) sick as he was opposed him: the Master urged, the Servant refused; so that a great quarrel began betwixt them, till after a hot contest the Master's Piety got the victory of the Servants Modesty. This man was such a master of his affections, that he who lately stalked through the City, gorgeously arrayed, attended with a numerous train of servants, having once relished the Spirit, began now utterly to abandon the empty ostentation of such State; yet Philip wished him to go well habited, and keep a competent Retinue for the Honour of his house. By these and the like virtues he so pleased God, that at his death, armed with the Sacraments of the Church, and spreading forth his hands to Heaven, he sang that of David, Laetaetus sum in his quae dicta sunt mihi, in domum Domini ibimus: I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord: and so breathed out his soul in the arms of Philip his most tender Father. Before this, Philip had long since brought Portia the Wise of this Salviatus, one of the Maximi, to a wonderful height of Piety; for living a Widow at Florence, she resolved on some stricter course of serving God; and thereupon withdrew unto a Monastery of Religious Virgins: but not having her health well at Florence, returned to Rome, where, entering into the Nunnery of S. Katherine of Sienna on Mount Viminal, being very aged, as she had lived virtuously, so she died holy and lamented. Next Salviatus was Francis Maria Taurusius Politianus, allied to two Popes, Julius the third, and Marcellus the second; a man of great parts, and for his excellencies and abilities of mind by the Princes highly esteemed, and of much repute at Court. He, upon occasion of a certain Indulgence at that time published, went to the Church of S. Hierom a Charitate to Confession, and found the good man, never unprepared to such offices. When he had done Confession, Philip had him to his chamber; where, after many and several discourses, he took an occasion to desire him to go and pray with him one hour. Taurusius yielded to it; and found in that space such a gust of heavenly things, that the hour seemed less than a minute to him. And when afterwards coming to Philip's lodging, he oft saw him hoist up into the air whilst he prayed he began to have a venerable esteem of him, and inflamed with more ardent affections unto holiness, thought of prescribing to himself a new course of life. But withheld by some obstacles from those purposes of serving God, he acquaints Philip with them; who bids him Go, and rest contented; for those lets that now hinder you within a month will be over: and at the month's end returning to the H. man well quieted and at ease, he confessed to him, with great contrition and remorse, the sins of his whole life; and finding in Confession that Philip could discover his very thoughts and imaginations, became such a lover and admirer of him, that foregoing the Pomp and splendour of the Court, he resigned up himself wholly to his conduct. This man had so burning a zeal, and fervent devotion, as needed more correctives to allay, than incentives to excite it: and he so wholly depended in every thing upon the Divine pleasure, that he never lost the tranquillity of mind, which he had at his first conversion. He highly reverenced Philip; so that being fourscore years of age, and dignified with the Cardinal's purple, he gloried most, that he had laid his groundwork in Christ's School under Nerius for above fifty years. He was famous for the gift of prayer and tears. He was so excellent at making familiar Sermons, that he is styled by Baronius in his Ecclesiastical Annals, Dux Verbi; the Chieftain of the Preachers. Clement the eighth created him first Archbishop of Avignion: and then conferred on him the Cardinal Dignity: when he was in years he earnestly besought the Fathers, that he might return to them, and end his days in the Congregation, they all assented; so, not long after, in the year of our Lord 1608. and of his age the 82d. and the eighth month, he devoutly ended his life, and lies buried in the Church. There was besides, among the sons of this H. Father, Constantius Tassonius, Nephew to Peter Bertanus Cardinal of Phanum, who being so great a Courtier as he was thought never to be weaned from the world, yet by his converse and acquaintance with Philip, retired from Court, and arrived to a most eminent piety, there being not the meanest duty of charity which he would not most willingly undertake: Thrice a week, and for the most part, every day, he opened himself to his Confessor, and fed on the Bread of Heaven: went every day to Hospitals and Almshouses; refusing no means of conquering his own will, imposed on him by Philip. When he was made Priest he said Mass every day: so averse to riches and Church-preferments, that being offered a Benefice of a considerable value, he rejected it. For his extraordinary Sanctity and Virtue he was by S. Carlo solicited to come to Milan, where he continued in his family to his dying day in high estimation; at last being dispatched to Rome by that H. Cardinal, he died in the bosom of Philip, who foretold his death to him, as after will appear. One of the eldest of Philip's Scholars was John Baptist Modius, a Portuguese by profession a Physician, one learned and virtuous, that writ excellently of the waters of Tiber: and completed some Notes of the B. Jacoponius upon the Canticles. Once Philip came to see him almost dead with a fit of the Stone; and exhorted him to patience; when going out he stepped into the next Church, and prayed to God most fervently for him; and at the first tear the H. man shed, Modius voided the stone. Thereupon This was publicly attested by John Francis Bordinus Archbishop of Avignion. being recovered, not unmindful of the blessing, he put himself into his sole patronage and tuition. He was of a mild temper, soon affected with the miseries of others; very ready in preaching; who by Philip's appointment (whilst yet a Layman) with much banefit and content unto the Auditors; rehearsed the lives of the Saints over in the Oratory: of which hereafter. When he died, Philip appointed to that employment Antony Fuccius of Tifernum. a Physician able and pious, and one of the H. man's disciples, who had agreed to go with him into the Indies, for propagating the Christian Faith. There was also one Martius Alterius greatly devoted to Philip, a Roman; one who was so good a proficient under his discipline, that Moses like, for the exuberances of the Spirit, he could scarce frame to speak of Divine matters. He was also so compassionate to the poor, that he gave them his very bed. Add to these Matthew Stendardus, Nephew to Paul the fourth, Bernardinus a Valle of Com●, Fulvius Amodeus, James Marmita, John Antonius a S. Severina, Lewis Paris, who lived with Philip as his menial servant almost thirty years: and many others of the prime families of Italy, all of which gave singular proof of their profiting by his Discipline, before the whole Court of Rome. Beside these he had other Sons, of mean rank indeed, but of illustrious piety. Of which the first was Steven a shoemaker of Arimium, who lately living a Soldier led a dissolute and profane life, in the abetting quarrels and maintaining of sends: being at Rome he happened to go to the Oratory of S. Hieroms to the sermon there, and in civility to the rest sat the lowest of all; but Philip though he neither knew nor had seen him before, brings him to the uppermost seat kindly inviting him to sit down; when the company was gone coming to him again, he used him with such respect, that being won partly with God's Word, partly with these, courtesies he frequented the sermons every day, by the constant use of which and of the Sacraments he by degrees cast off his long accustomed evil habits, and by little and little attained unto the height of virtue. He was so propense to works of mercy, that albeit he lived poorly, yet of that he got weekly in his trade, abating necessary diet, he distributed the rest among the poor. He continually meditated on his latter end, preparing himself thereto, no less than if he had been to die that day: yet his daily thinking thereon made him not alter his countenance, nor leave his wont cheerfulness. He was strict in his obedience, and much in prayer, in which he received many and great favours from our Lord; particularly this that in the Church of the H. Trinity he was seen to shine with a marvelous brightness. Thus sequestered from all kind of company, lived he in a small cottage about 23 years, and being advised by his friends (suspecting he might die suddenly without notice taken) not to live alone, he made answer, that he relied on the B. Virgin's patronage, and doubted not, but that pious Mother would assist him in such an exigent. Nor was he mistaken in the event, for one night being like to die on the sudden, he went out and called some of his neighbours to stay by him, and fetch the Curate of the Parish; and going to bed again, when he had fitted himself in due manner with all the Sacraments, he quietly surrendered up his Spirit. Next to Steven was Francis Maria firnamed Ferrariensis an honest and upright man, one who could smell a filthy stench in sin, and sometimes had heard the music of Angels: when he communicated (which he did every day) or discoursed about heavenly matters he would even melt into tears. Withal so ambitious of suffering for Christ, that once in grievous tortures of the stone he prayed God, if he saw it good to inflict more on him; upon the uttering which words he was presently cured. He was so desirous of the salvation of others, that after 3 years' tears shed for a certain Jew he at length procured his conversion of God. Taurusius found him once weeping fore, and demanding the reason of it, I could almost drown myself in tears, saith he, when I think of the words of our Saviour, Cum haec omnia feceritis, dicite, etc. When we have done all these things, say, we are unprofitable servents: for if the Apostles suffering so much for Christ, must call themselves unprofitable, what shall I poor wretch say, that remember no good ever done by me? The same Taurusius found him another time very intent in prayer, going backwards still as though some huge mountain had been coming upon him, and ask why he did so: I was saith he, meditating on God's immensity and greatness, which appearing still greater and greater to me caused me even with my body to retreat likewise. Another of Philip's disciples was Thomas a Sicilian, who through his managery attained to such a pitch of humility, that he took it for a high honour to have but the office of sweeping So Peter's Church in the Vatican: which when he obtained, he discharged with all diligence and care. In the day time he never went out of the Church; In the night he would fetch a light nap on the steps of some Altar: having lived in this office divers years, the devil, enduring his unshaken constancy, put him into a fright, that by being terrified he might desert his employment. So, as he rested securely one night, the evil spirit on the sudden made a great noise in the Church, that he verily thought all the seats had been taken up and presently dashed against the ground; herewith awakened he risen, and taking a wax-light looked round the Church, but found nothing misplaced at all: and prying narrowly into the private corners and holes; lest some thief might lie ●id there, he spied a devil skulking behind a pillar in the likeness of an ugly More; Thomas boldly ran to him, lifting up his hand to strike him a box on the ear, but the Father of pride ashamed, vanished; so, he unappalled returned to his place, and slept on quietly. Among other of Philip's Scholars was Friar Lewis of Spoleto, so called, not for that he entered into any Religious Order, but for that in honour of S. Francis he always wore hair cloth. He sustained great temporal poverty, but was requited by a spiritual opulency, and the most precious virtues, especially purity. For which reason Philip allotted him the care of the Virgins of S. Katherinede Rosa; of which; when for certain causes he desired to be discharged, he could never get the B. man's consent, as having sufficient experience of his chastity. Of the number of his disciples must Peter firnamed Molinarius be also reckoned, one who lost his sight with excessive weeping; which he is reported to have recovered afterward by miracle from Almighty God. Sundry other children in Christ had Philip, which died in high reputation for Sanctity; of whom some are for brevity's sake omitted here, some, as occasion offers, shall be inserted in due place. CHAP. XII. His Zeal for propagating the Christian Faith. NOw while the children of this B. Father were conferring of divine things daily in his chamber, where were sometimes read letters, that used to be sent yearly from the Indies to the Fathers of the Society of Jesus; Philip casting with himself how plentiful a harvest, and how few labourers there were in those parts, resolves (so he were ascertained it would be acceptable to God) to go into the Indies, there to his utmost to propagate the Christian faith, and, if need were, shed his blood for the truth of Christ. His intents he declares to some his chief familiars, in number about twenty, of whom was Taurusius; of these some he wishes to become Priests, only that thereby having procured the Apostolical Benediction they might take a voyage to the Indies. But because he would not enterprise nor determine any thing of moment but by advice, prayer, and the advantage of time, using longer Prayers then formerly, he went to a Monk of the Order of S. Benet, that dwelled in S. Paul's Monastery without the City, and advised with him, as being in repute for his life and learning: he remitted him to another Monk of the Order of Cistercians, called Augustin Ghettine Govenourr of the Monastery of the H. Martyrs, Vincentius and Anastasius at Aquae Salviae. This man was in esteem for knowledge and sanctity, by his parents dedicated to God and Religion ere he was born into the world. For his devout Parents, having duly confessed, and received the B. Sacrament, were wont to consecrate to God their issue, as oft as it befell them, yet unborn. He was famous likewise for the Spirit of Prophecy; and exceedingly devoted to S. John the Evangelist; by whose means, he said, he had received very many favours: insomuch that being near his end he cried out, My dear S. John (so he called him) hath assured me, I shall die on his Festival. And indeed as he said Mass on Christmas day, the Evangelist forewarned him, that next day after he should die: so, Mass being done, he hastened to bed, and arming him with the Sacrament of extreme Unction, the day following died. To this Reverend person Philip relates what he had designed, and requests his advice aceording as the matter imported, he deferred in it, and bids him come again, that so he might give him a more punctual answer. At the day appointed when Philip came, he returned him this answer; S. John the Evangelist had appeared to him, and told him plainly, that his Indieses should be at Rome, and that God would use his service there for the good of many: telling him further that the Three Fountains seemed to him of bloody tincture, which, as S. John expounded it, presaged a great calamity on the City. Upon this Philip gave over, determining to settle at Rome, and addict himself altogether to the furthering and promoting the salvation of others, as long as he lived. Yet did not this ardent Zeal of propagating the Faith chill in him at any time: for what he could not do among the Indians, he to his uttermost endeavoured in the City. When a Jew, Heretic, or any other Infidel met him, he could not refrain weeping at the first sight, he was so earnestly desirous of his conversion: and therefore neglected nothing that might further it. One time he traveled with Prosper Cribellius, one of his Sons, whom he loved well, to S. John Lateran's; into whose company a Jew chanced to light; as they went into the Church, reverently kneeling before the Altar, where was the H. Sacrament, the Hebrew stood with his hat on, turning his back upon the Altar, to whom Philip; Friend, let me entreat you to pray with me a little in these words, O Christ, if thou be the true God, grant that I embrace the Christian faith: Far be that from me, replied the Jew, that were to question my own Religion. Thereupon Philip spoke to them that were by, Pray ye for him, for doubtless he shall receive the faith of Christ: and so it proved; for a while after, at the prayers of Philip, with other spiritual means, the Jew was baptised, and listed in Christ's Militia. On the Vigil of the H. Apostles Peter and Paul, Marcellus Ferrius, one of Philip's Sons, happened on two young men, Hebrews, in the porch of the Vatican Church: who saluting them courteously, began to discourse piously and profitably (and not in vain) of both the faith and glory of those Hebrew Apostles: thereby gently and by degrees persuading them to visit Philip at their leisure, who lived then at S. Hieroms. They did so, and were kindly entertained by the H. Father, whose sweetness and civility so transported them, that for some months together they constantly called on him at certain times; afterwards when they left coming, Philip sends for Marcellus, bids him carefully look out those young men. He goes to their house, inquires of their Mother, if they were well: she tells him one of them lay dangerously sick; he desired to have access to him, and, as God would have it, was admitted: when he came into the Room he finds him like to die; his disease having taken away his stomach quite, so that he refused all meats. The woman requests Marcellus to offer him meat if happily he would take it from his hand: he did, and the young man accepts whatsoever he offers. Marcellus when he saw his time, whispers in his ear. Philip remembers him kindly to you: at which, he was much pleased and smiled. Then Marcellus, Remember you promised Philip you would become a Christian; I well remember it, said he, and will stand to my word. Marcellus informs Philip hereof, who over joyed said to him, Doubt not, let us but fall to our prayers, and be confident, he will receive the faith. In fine, the sick party recovered and both he and his Brother were Baptised. He converted also to the Christian faith, one of the wealthiest of the Jews, who was baptised in S. Peter's Church. And because his Father who was still a Jew was more familiar than was meet with the Son so lately become a Christian, Gregory the XIIIth. then Pope, fearing lest by this daily converse this new Soldier of Christ's might receive harm, told Philip he liked not that kind of intercourse. The H. man replied, he therefore suffered their society, for that he hoped by the son's means to gain the Father to Christ also. And he was not deceived in it, for as soon as the Son but brought his Father to Philip, he discoursed with such fervent charity, and forcible eloquence of true faith in God, that being inflamed therewith he quickly was baptised, and admitted into the number of the faithful. Some years after, when Philip went from S. Hieroms to Vallicella, the same man having four Nephews, Orphans, was solicitous to keep them from conversing with the Jews, that so being instructed in the mysteries of religion, they might be trained up in the faith of Christ: these therefore, their affectionate Uncle commits to Philip, who lovingly and friendly, as his manner was, received them, but said nothing of religion. A while after he bid them pray unto the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to enlighten their minds with the beams of his truth, promising the next day at Mass to set upon God by violence. And though the young men, who had been oft assaulted by arguments and exhortations, continued This is attested by divers sworn Witnesses. unshaken, it was observed at the time Philip said Mass, they inclned to embrace the Christian faith; whereupon those, who were there the day before, and heard what Philip said, namely, That he would offer violence to God, remembered his words. Meanwhile that the lads where learning the principles of Religion at Vallicella, one of them fell into a fever, and the sixth day the disease being at the highest, the Father's fearing he would die, consulted about baptising him; but toward Evening Philip came to see him, and lightly stroking his forehead and breast, My son I should be sorry, said he, you should die of this sickness; for the Jews would give out, the Christians had been the cause of your death: therefore to morrow before dinner s●nd to put me in mind, that at Mass I pray to our Lord for you. Which when Peter Consolinus, Philip's chief favourite, heard, he told the youth, Son you will recover this sickness; for this good man hath by his prayers to God restored divers to health. That night he had a shrewd fit, and the Physician that had the cure of him, sent to his Uncle to make all haste if he meant to see his Nephew alive; but when the hour for Mass came, Consolinus asked the young man if he should mind Philip, as was agreed; who was willing. When lo! scarce had the H. man done Mass but the young man risen up perfectly well, and sat upon his bed, and his Uncle coming found him rid of his fever. After dinner when the Physician came and felt his pulse, as his manner was, crossing himself at the strangeness thereof he cried out, have ye Physicians at home, and do ye fetch them from abroad? at evening came Philip again to see him, and told him, Truly son you had died, but that your Mother might not impute the cause of your death to us, I have obtained of our Lord your recovery by prayer. Whereupon as soon as he was throughly well, some two months after, both he and his Brothers, to the great joy of the devout old man, were baptised by Pope Clement the eight in the Lateran Church, on the feast of the Apostles, S. S. Simon and Judas. But because they as hearty desired the conversion of their Mother, they never left importuning their superiors, till they got her placed with a Lady of great quality: and ask Philip still, what hopes were of her; the good man answered, She shall not yet embrace the faith of Christ; nor is it now so expedient: but it shall fall out more seasonably both for you and her. And so it was; for, about six years after, she and others to the number of 24. were baptised together. He gathered into the bosom of the Church many heretics also; whose names are purposely omitted. Yet how he caused one Palaeologus to renounce his heresy, may not be passed over in silence. He was kept as an Arch-heretic in the Inquisition, and, persisting obstinately after all ways used, was condemned to be burnt. As he was led to execution, Philip then living at S. Hieroms, being acquainted therewith, forthwith runs and meets him, leaping into the crowd; and making his way resolutly through the guard, when clasping about the condemned person, he friendly counsels him to retract his error. When they came to the stake, Philip (by the authority God vouchafed him at that time with them) bid the officers stay: they did so: meanwhile Philip in few words, yet such as had their weight from heaven, persuaded this errand to the acknowledging of the truth: willing him to get upon a form and there publicly disclaim his heresy, who hearty did abjure and detest his impious opinions in the view of all the people. At last Philip prevailed so far, that he was brought back to prison, where to mollify the mind of this penitent, he procured him of Gregory the thirteenth a very liberal gratuity, besides what the Masters of the Inquisition allowed him for diet: and that he might not relapse from his good resolutions, visited him every day, treating with him only about matters of religion. And for the subduing and curbing in him the spirit of arrogance and pride, wherewith heretical minds use to be possessed, he gave him the lives of S. John Columbinus and Jacoponius to read, saying, that this sort of men are easilier won by the example of holy men, and their innocent behaviour, than subtleties or disputes: so that Palaeologus was sorry he had not light on Philip before, and been acquainted with him. Yet he lasted not long in this good mind, which Philip foretold in these words: This man's conversion doth not altogether like me: yet by his prayers and tears he obtained of God his return and repentance: but at length relapsing again he was put to death, not without signs of hearty contrition; Caesar Baronius and John Francis Bordinus at the instance of Philip affording their assistance for settling his mind in the faith being then at the brink of death. CHAP. XIII. He puts Baronius upon writing his Annals. THis so vehement zeal of propagating the faith would not be confined to the limits of Rome, but diffused itself far and wide unto the most distant quarters of the Christian world. For perceiving that in some Northern countries the enemies of the Catholic faith daily broached new and infectious doctrines, he, on the contrary pitying the great ruin of Souls, resolved to oppose himself. Thereupon by special directions of the spirit of God he enjoined, that in the Oratory (of which anon) one of his Scholars as oft as he preached, should bring down the Ecclesiastical story in order, from the Incarnation of Christ; that so, the beginning, truth, and progress of the universal Church exposed to open view, and the craft and cheats of heretics discovered, neither the Ignorant might be led into error, nor the Learned pretend any excuse. For this task he made choice of Caesar Baronius of Sora, Doctor in either Law, a man renowned for sacred story, and noted for good life, who being but a private person was so liberal a benefactor to the poor, that he bestowed all his houshould-stuff, to a silver cabinet of a good value, and of much esteem with him, yea his very apparel toward their maintenance: and so great a despiser of honours that he tore his privilege of Doctor, merely in contempt of himself. Him therefore the H. Father designed for publishing the History of the Church so oft recited in the Oratory, having well digested it into Method: a labour, which being begun out of obedience, and after vast pains and continual watch perfected, came happily forth. Which so noble and admirable work is to be ascribed rather to Philip than Baronius, as in his preface on the eighth Tome he hath left upon record, for the clearing of which, his own words are set down at the end of this treatise. Add hereunto, that Philip himself a little before he died, calling Baronius to him, said, Think but meanly of thyself, Caesar, for these works are not the issue of thy pains and study; but a gift of the Divine Bounty rather: when repeating the same again and again, True Father, replied Baronius, for whatever is in them is all next God owing to your prayers. The same is confirmed by a vision from heaven, which appeared to him not long before he set about the compiling his Ecclesiastical History. For when first he began to preach in the Oratory, he used to thunder out the terrors of the o'th' and hell: which after he had a while practised, Philip by direction of the H. Ghost, foreseeing that, if he changed the subject of his discourse, it would prove more beneficial both to himself and others, advised him to apply himself to the composing his Ecclesiastic story, and leave preaching death and hell: at that time Baronius did not oppose, but his genius carrying him the other way, afterward neglected his admonition: so that Philip by virtue of his authority commanded him speedily to go about the task he had set him. Which his injunctions Baronius thought hard, and urged thereto one while by the virtue of obedience, another while discouraged by the reluctancy of his nature, he was extremely troubled, but the Good Lord to allay these tempests in him, thus made known his mind to him. As he was asleep one night, he thought he was discoursing with Onuphrius Panuinus, who also applied himself to Ecclesiastical history, when being very pensive, and intimating what Philip had imposed upon him, he desires him not to refuse the finishing such a work: and as he heaped up arguments to persuade his friend, on the sudden he hears Philip's voice saying yield Caesar, now yield, and stand out no longer, for that the Ecclesiastical history must be written by you, not by Panuinus. At which Baronius awaked, and perceiving it to be the Divine will, immediately resolves to run through the Church Annals in the Oratory: which when he had brought along from Christ's, we near to his own times, Philip enjoined him to rehearse them once or twice from the beginning to the end: so that in the space of thirty years (as in the preface mentioned he affirms) he went over in public, the whole story from the beginning seven times, ere he printed the first Tome; and at last put forth the whole work divided into twelve Tomes. For this his great service to the Church he was by Pope Clement the eightth advanced to the dignity of a Cardinal; which eminency with what unwillingness and regret he received, is there recorded by him; besides his refusing before that three wealthy Bishoprics. So, worn away with continual study and long weakness, living in hi● Tusculan retirement, when he found his end approaching, Let us go to Rome saith he, for it beseems not a Cardinal to die in the Country. Being brought therefore to the City in a Litter, his sickness increasing, he died the last of June 1608. In the 69th. year of his age (which number he had with his pen marked in many pages of his books; as being prescribed for the term of his life) in a house near the Oratory, not far from S. Philip's Chapel, the Fathers of the Congregation being present; and was buried with great concourse of people. For the same cause, to wit the refuting obstinate heretics fond rejecting the worshipping of saints, Philip enjoined him to annex some Annotations to the Roman Martyrology. And for this reason also Thomas Bozzius of Eugubium, and Anthony Galloni●s of Rome, both Priests of the Congregation, published their writings with great commendation and liking; the first, of the marks of the Church of God, the other of the Lives of the Saints. CHAP. XIV. The Foundation of the Oratory. seeing therefore Philip determined to bestow his pains at Rome, in winning souls to God, and the number of penitents daily increased, that the place though large could not hold them: in the year 1558. He obtained of the deputies for the chief convent of S. Hierom, that part of the Church, which lies on the right side of the Chancel above the body of the Church; where he erected the Oratory, whither he removed the Conference held before in his Chamber. That Oratory is yet to be seen, but more sumptuously and neatly built; to which the R. R. Fathers daily resort to prayer, and on holidays preach to the great benefit of souls. Hither therefore did Phiiip with his Sons retire every afternoon to their Spiritual exercises; which ended, he would lead them, on worky days to some open place of the City or Suburbs; on festivals to some Church or other: and hence came the custom of having the daily repast of the word of God, and that familiar way of preaching instituted by the H. Father. But these beginnings of the Infant Oratory none better can delineate, than he who knew them so exactly, and described them so copiously, Baronius. For in the first Tome of his Annals, treating of holy meetings, such as the Apostle mentions to the Corinthians. Certainly by the Divine wisdom, saith he, was it brought to pass, that in our times, thirty years since, by means chief of the R. Father Philip Nerius a Florentine, who as a wise Masterbuilder laid the foundation; and of his disciple the R. Father Francis Maria Taurusius Politianus, who amongst them seemed the Chieftain of the Preachers, Assemblies were instituted in the City, much what after the form of those Apostolical conventions, such especially as by the Apostle were appointed for the discoursing of divine matters, both for edifying the hearers, and for propagating the Church. By the care therefore and industry of these was it first agreed on, that the Zealous Christians should meet adays at S. Hieroms Oratory (for from it came the name of the Congregation of the Oratory) and there a religious meeting should be held after this manner. First silence being made, they began with prayer, and one of the Brothers reads some pious lesson. At the reading of which the Father used to interpose upon occasion, explaining more fully, enlarging, and vehemently inculcating upon the minds of the Auditors, the things read: continuing his discourse sometimes a whole hour (with great satisfaction to the hearers) dialogue-wise▪ ask some of the company their opinions of such a thing. Afterward by his appointment one of them went up into the desk raised upon steps, and made an Oration, without flourishes or varnish of Language, composed out of the approved and choice lives of Saints, Sacred writ, and sentences of the H. Fathers. He that succeeded him discoursed after the same manner, but on a differing matter. Then followed a third, who related some part of the Church-story in the order of its several ages. Every of these had his half-hour allotted him, and performed all with marvelous delight and approbation: then, singing some Hymn, and going to prayers again the company broke up. All things thus ordered, and ratified by the Pope, as far as the times would suffer, that beautiful face of the Primitive Apostolical assembling seemed to be revived again; whereat all good men rejoicing, and many taking their model from them, the like exercises of piety were set up and practised in other places. Thus far Baronius to show the rise and original of the Oratory. To these daily duties he added others to be performed on Holy days. First he enjoined them to confess duly, and spend some time in prayer before they went to Mass; after that to receive the Sacrament. Then he sent them severally to divers Infirmaries, some to S. John Lateran's Hospital, some to S. Maries de Consolation, others to Santo Spirito in Saxia, where they did each of them to their power help the sick both by word and deed. Some of them virtuous above the rest (in number about thirty or forty) to the singular example of piety to the beholders, went every day to perform these offices of charity. Besides some of them every Saturday evening, and on Holiday eves came to Philip, whom he took with him by night from S. Hieroms, to the Churches either of S. Maria supra Minervam, or S. Bonaventure on Mount Quirinall, (for then a Covent of Capuchins dwelled there) where they went to Matins with the Friars in the Choir, and spent all the night in prayer and meditation, that so in the morning they might receive the B. Sacrament with greater gusts and relishes of devotion. The number of them was sometimes so great, that you should see the Quires of the Regulars and Religious filled with secular and Lay persons. Philip for divers years used almost every night to frequent those Churches, whom, upon a signal that was betwixt them, the Porter let in; and the Dominicans freely granted him the keys of their Monastery, to come in at pleasure. But not content with these works of piety (thereby to withdraw his Sons especially the younger, from the occasions of sin) he was wont at certain times of the year, as Shrovetide and after Easter, to go with them to the seven Churches of the City, though now those of the Oratory visit them at shrovetide only. At first very few went, five and twenty or thirty at most; but the company soon increased, that even in Philip's life time there went oftimes no less than two thousand of them together. All were admitted of what rank so ever, except women: very many of the Regulars came, especially of the Orders of the Capuchins and Dominicans, from whom there flocked thither whole troops of Noviees. The manner of their journey was thus. On the day appointed they all came single, or in companies to S. Peter's in the Vatican, or the Cathedral of S. Paul without the walls, where putting themselves into ranks, they went forward to the other Churches: as they passed they spent part of the time in meditation on some set subject out of the sacred mysteries (the multitude being distributed into Classes, unto every of which a Priest was assigned) the rest of the time was taken up in singing Hymns, Psalms, Spiritual songs, and Litanies, the Musics attending them: if any of the day remained over, they conferred of religious matters. In every Church, except those two mentioned, one of their own, or some other made a short sermon to the people: but when they came to S. Sebastian's or S. Stevens Church, Mass was celebrated with all solemnity, where all of them well nigh received the Sacrament. Thence they went to the gardens of the Maximi or Cresscentii, and sometimes to those of the Matthaei in Mount Caelius (yet at this day they (with their permission) visit those only of the Matthaei) in which every one sitting in his order, a table was furnished with bread and wine sufficient, and an egg, a piece of cheese, with an apple added thereto. At dinner the Singers entered singing and playing to some holy Anthem: when table was taken away, they went to the other Churches; and so home, every one greatly rejoicing. These religious processions were wholly governed by Philip, who took such pains therein, that by overmuch wearying himself he sometimes fell into a fever, but in his latter years, both by reason of age, and because the Institution was already sufficiently settled, he stayed at home and performed other pious duties. How pleasing a work unto God that was, though it appeared not by downright miracles, yet was notably declared by sundry divine intimations. Once as his manner was, he went about Carnevall-time to these Churches, and in the way from S. Paul's to S. Sebastian's arose on the sudden so great a tempest, that all thought of betaking them to their heels; but Philip bade them, Stay and be confident for I will warrant,- none that goes with me shall suffer much by this storm. These devout usages so piously introduced by the R. Father were commended by divers reputed both for gravity and learning: among which John Rubeus in his book dedicated to Philip honours them with these eulogies. Among other right famous things (saith he, bespeaking the H. man) which I beheld the last year, being 1568 in Rome; it most pleased me to see the Oratory of S. Hierom a Charitate thronged with such a multitude of devout persons: which reflecting more seriously on, I reckoned to be the goodliest and noblest of all the rarities in the City. And so much the more I both wondered and rejoiced, for that I saw Personages of the best rank, and of several nations attend so cheerfully to the word of God, dispensed with that simplicity and integrity by You. Whence it falls out that almost infinite numbers of people abjuring the world, as the whole City can witness, consult of giving themselves up to Christ, where devoting themselves to the Cloisters of the Religious, and other Holy Orders, they steadfastly persist in their vowed sanctity. Thus Rubeus. CHAP. XV. He undertakes the charge of a Church of the Florentines. NOw some of the chief Florentines duly weighing the abundant advantages that accrued to many by the above mentioned exercise, as likewise with what diligence and discretion Philip governed his society, they endeavoured might and main to get him to undertake the government and care of S. John's Church among them. To which purpose in the year 1564. they sent some to request him in the name of them all to accept of the employment, and to tender him a dwelling with all requisites: His answer was, that he must consider of it and make his prayers to God; and if he found it to be Gods will, he would soon satisfy their desires. Within a few days when they came again he told them plainly, he could by no means leave S. Hieroms, where he had resided so long. At which answer, Bernardine Cyril at that time Master of the Hospital of the H. Ghost in Saxia, and John Baptist Altovitus with Peter Antonio Bandinus, who were employed in the business, repair to Pope Pius the fourth, entreating him to make use of his authority therein; whom having assured to them, they return, and acquaint Philip that the Pope's mind was, he should govern that Church: when, with all submission to Christ's Vicar he accepted of it; but on condition, that he should not be compelled to leave S. Hieroms, which was granted him. Meanwhile he caused three of his to take Orders; the first was Caesar Baronius; the second John Francis Bordinus; an eloquent Roman, afterwards made Bishop of Cavaillon by Clement the eighth, than Archbishop of Avignon; the third Alexander Fidelius of Transona, one of great integrity and purity. These Philip transplanted to the Florentines Church, allotting to some others the care of the Parish; of whom was Germanicus Fidelius Nephew to Alexander; a Youth of 16. years of age. Not long after were added to them Francis Maria Taurusius, with Angelus Vellius of Praeneste of an unblemished and even Angelical life, who was the third Perfect of the Congregation after Philip: and being fourscore and five years old died in peace the tenth of December, after he had seen the solemn Canonization of the R. Father. These excellent men with great zeal and courage began to cultivate the Lords Vineyard; for betimes in the Morning every day they went from S. John's to S. Hieroms Church to confess their sins; after dinner, thither they returned, either to preach, or hear sermons; in the evening again they came to their usual prayers, never omitting these wonted exercises either for Summer's heat, or Winter's cold, for wind or rain. For matters in the house, they were certain years their own Cooks, every one in his week: and that so willingly and contentedly, that Baronius left written over the Chimny-piece, Caesar Baronius Cocus perpetuus: Caesar Baronius everlasting Cook: and oftimes Noble men and Scholars, found him with his apron on, washing dishes. At meals they used reading, which lasted two parts of dinner or supper: they read the Bible, or some devout Author; which done, one of them propounded a question either of morality or Divinity to go round. Germanic●s Fidelius and Octavius Paravicinus both of an age, were readers together at the table, the latter of which for his rare merits was made Cardinal by Clement the eighth. Every Saturday they swept the Church: on Holy days some were employed in taking Confessions, others in giving the Sacrament. Mass was also solemnly celebrated; which ended, Baronius and Bordinus, at the suit of the Florentines, with Philip's consent, preached publicly by turns. At the usual hour Vespers were sung in the Church, after which they either met the B. Father at S. Mary's supra Minervam, or S. Mary's add Martyrs, or where else he appointed; and there Philip or some other propounding some pious subject or theme, sometimes one, sometimes another, answered at the pleasure of the Father, so passing the time in divine conferences, and spiritual exercises. Hence grew a custom after Easter day of going to that part of the Janiculum, where S. Onuphrius' Monastery stood; a place open to the Sun, and pleasant for its overlooking the City lying beneath: yet as the heat of the weather increased, they resorted to some selected Church to perform these services. Where after the melody of voices, a little Boy makes a pious Oration to the Auditors, got by heart, and strait two of the Priests of the Oratory (the Musics at while interposing) make some short discourse to the people. But in winter viz. from the first of November to Easter, they begun about evening in a small Oratory with mental prayer, singing the Litanies and the Anthem of the B. Virgin; then a Boy, as before, repeats a devout exhortation, after which one of the Society preaches for half an hour, with Musics before, and after. These first Fathers kept up this custom of going thrice a day from S. John to S. Hieroms ten years. Which is therefore mentioned particularly in this place, that posterity might take notice with what sanctity and humility these men served God, who both for their literature, and noble extract, were so generally known to deserve the chiefest promotions the Church of Rome had to bestow. Ten years had now passed, when the Florentines observing the many and great inconveniences those Priests sustained, requested Philip, that the service in use at S. Hieroms Oratory might be transferred to S. John's, He assented. So in the year 1574. on the fifteenth of April in S. John's Oratory enlarged for that purpose the Fathers began their accustomed familiar sermons. In such wise that Juvenall Ancina afterward Priest of the Oratory, than Bishop of Saluciae, a holy man (about annexing whom to the Catalogue of Saints, writings were drawn by Apostolical authority, and his course of life and virtuous deeds of late years writ) much conversant in those duties, and taken with Philip's piety, and Institution, writes thus in a certain letter to Friar John Mattheo living at Fossanum. Some days ago (this was in 1576) I used to frequent the Florentines Oratory dedicated to S. John, where every day were sermons made by 4 or 5 concerning vice and virtue, Ecclesiastical History, or the lives of Saints exceeding profitable. Hither come Persons of honour; Nobles, Prelates, Bishops, &c▪ Sermon ended, they add some harmonious Airs to recreate the Auditors. A while since they very excellently and lively exemplified the actions of S. Francis, and S. Antony of Milan: and the truth is, the hearers receive much spiritual comfort and content by the explication of such stories: and I am sorry, that I heard no sooner of those wholesome and laudable exercises. Their Preachers are the choicest men, such as are in H. Orders, and reputed for holiness and virtue. Their Chief and Governor is a Venerable Priest named Philip, of sixty years of age, one eminent in many respects, principally for his holy life, prudence, and singular dexterity both in contriving and promoting such religious performances. He is reported to be the Author of that famous custom, which we beheld last Jubilee practised with so great devotion and charity at the Church of the Most H. Trinity, which hath its name from Pilgrims: withal, the Father's Toletus, Possevinus, and divers others highly honour him: lastly, sundry persons have recourse to him as an Oracle, not from the City only, but out of Italy, France, and Spain, and other remote Provinces. So Juvenal. By which may be gathered in what reputation the Institution of the Oratory then flourished. CHAP. XVI The Persecutions and affronts he suffered. YEt, to take our rise a little higher, these religious usages, which should rather have gained him respect and love with all, did to some forlorn miscreants administer matter of spite and calumny. For, when at first he held discourses of Spiritual things in his chamber, every day after dinner; and applied himself to hear Confessions, many that maligned him began privately to whisper and in time openly decry him, prating what came next. The Ringleader of them was Vincentius Teccosius of Fabrianum, a Physician, one of the four Deputy-Governours of the place, to whom gathered two Apostates, that lived there disguised under a religious habit; these at Teccosius' instigation used all means to drive Philip thence. For being Sacrists by place, as soon as they saw him coming to the Vestry, they would shut the door against him, deny him the Vestments, or bring him such as were torn, sometimes take the Chalice or Missal out of his hands, or hid them; otherwhiles make him pull off the H. garments being vested, and go from one Altar to another to and fro; as soon as ever he was gone forth of the Vestry to say Mass, call him back again; by these injuries and provocations to make him leave S. Hieroms. All these disgraces the servant of Christ took no notice of, but carrying himself courteously to them both in word and deed prayed to God for them every day: and being desired by some of his own to remove somewhither else: Not so, replied he, I will not seem to shun the cross God hath allotted me here. And still the milder he, the more insolent they; though he strove, as for his life to soften their perverseness. Till, seeing he availed nothing he flies to him that helps his servants destitute of all humane assistances; and as he was saying Mass one time, looking on the Crucifix, he thus bespoke his saviour: Why not, O good Jesus, why dost thou not hear me? so long, yea so ardently have I importuned thee for the virtue of patience: why, I beseech thee, dost not thou favour my petition? Immediately he hears a voice saying within him: Didst thou not beg the grace of patience; know, thou shalt obtain it, but through injuries and affronts. Animated therefore with this reply, he ever after more patiently and contentedly endured reproaches: so that, they who offered wrongs were sooner wearied, than he that suffered them. And thenceforward, when at any time he was reviled, he would either contemn the offence, or excuse the offender. Some two years after, one of these Apostates set upon Philip one day, railing and inveighing against him with such inveterate malice and rancour, that the other who was by, pitying the good man flew with so great violence upon his fellow, catching him by the throat, that, but for Philip he had throttled him. Whereupon considering how villainously he himself also had dealt by him, and remembering his former Religious vows made, he discloses the whole business in order to the H. man; and by his directions betook him to a Regular life again, always after crying up the Sanctity of Philip. Nay Vincentius Teccosius himself was overcome and vanquished by the patience of Philip, craving his pardon before divers, and surrending himself up to the servant of God; whom choosing for his Confessor, he so dearly affected, that there passed not a day, wherein he came not in courtesy to see him. Yet was not all malice against him thus extinguished, all calumnies laid asleep; nay he was afterward worse abused by other profane persons. For they objected, that it was out of pride, that he went to the 7 Churches, with such shoals of people; that it suited not with one, who despised the vanity of the world, by gathering multitudes to turn the eyes of the whole City on himself. Others looking only on the sums of money spent then in victuals, not regarding the number of persons, ascribed all to revel and gluttony. The Politicians blamed him with pretensions of care unto public peace; for that so great a confluence would occasion uproars and tumults. All which was told Philip again, who took it patiently without any disturbance. The bruit hereof increased daily, till it came at last to the Prelate that was Deputy of the City, who, moved by the reports of them that bore a spleen to Philip, sent for him, and reprehends him sharply: Is it not a shame, saith he, that you who profess a contempt of the world, should hunt for popular applause, and walk thorough the City guarded with troops, with such nets as these fishing for Church preferments? When having shrewdly taunted him with such like expressions, he prohibits him the hearing Confessions for fifteen days; and to use the customs of the Oratory, but by leave first obtained; or to lead about with him any companies of men; threatening imprisonment upon his disobedience. Neither would he let him departed, till he had put in security for his appearance. Philip with a pleasing and composed countenance answered; That as he had begun all things, which he had instituted, with the glory of God, so likewise was he ready to desist from all, for the same glory of God, that he ever should prefer his Superiors directions before his own desires: that he had taken up that usage of visiting the Churches, out of no other end, but to divert his from those dangers of sinning, which at such times as Shrovetide, use to be most rife. The Deputy replied, Come you do all this, not for the glory of God, but to make a party for yourself. At which, Philip wistly eyeing the Crucifix that stood there, said, Lord thou knowest whether I do it to make me a party; and so went his way. But because he highly prized the virtue of obedience, especially to his Superiors, he presently forbade his sons to come to him at all. Meantime, while the good man was commending himself to God, having entreated divers Religious persons to be instant in prayer about this business: one day on the sudden appeared a Priest in a rough garment tied about with a rope, neither known by face, or seen ever before or after that day, who said, I am sent to bid you expose the H. body of our Lord, for the people to adore, with the solemn supplication of the forty hours, by the Sovereign patronage whereof all persecutions shall be chased away, for so it was revealed from heaven to certain servants of God. Then coming to Francis Maria Taurusius he whispers in his ear these words; This trouble shall be quickly over, and the work that is begun be more strongly confirmed; they who resist now, shall assist hereafter; and if any one shall dare to oppose it any longer, God shall speedily avenge it on him: the Prelate that is your chiefest adversary shall certainly die within fifteen days: this said, he vanished out of sight. And it fell out precisely as was foretold: for the Prelate (the Pope's Deputy) relaing the proceed to his Holiness somewhat partially died suddenly; which coming to Philip's knowledge, he pitying his sad end would never let any of his utter so much as a word to his disparagement. For it became the servant of Christ to arm himself with no other weapons, against what he stood charged with before his Superiors, save the shield of his own innocency. Giving himself therefore more to prayer, he oft told his Sons, This storm arose for my sake; not yours, that by this means I might be taught the virtues of humility and obedience; and when I have received the good which God intends me by them, these slanders questionless will have an end. But when Pope Paul the fourth heard the whole cause, and evidently discovered Philip's integrity, he sent him, as a token of his good affection, two wax tapers, of those that use to be light up in the Pope's Chapel on Candlemas day: letting him know that he not only granted him free leave to visit the seven Churches, but to exercise all the duties belonging to his institution: and that it was his unhappiness, that he could not be present at those religious performances. At which his sons were overjoyed, and a while after went with the B. Father (as they were wont) to the 7 Churches, to render thanks to the Divine goodness, that the tempest now blown over, they might freely observe the Orders of the Oratory. No sooner was this blaze of persecution out, but a much fiercer was kindled against the Order; for, under pretext of piety and Religion, some possessed Pius Quintus of B. Memory, that the preachers of S. Hieroms many times delivered things ridiculous or unsound; which argued either high indiscretion or Ignorance, and must needs endanger their hearers. Hereupon Pius like a faithful and Vigilant Pastor culls out two Dominicans, and severally enjoins either of them to go to S. Hieroms, and mark exactly what was said or done, and to bring him word, if there were any thing repugnant to faith or good manners. While these religious persons were busy about the Pope's commands, the Pope himself tells Alexander Medici's, Ambassador for the great Duke of Tuscany, that he had heard, how the Fathers, Preachers at S. Hieroms had unwisely or unwarily let some things slip them; particularly, out of the A●ts of S. Apollonia, that she voluntarily fling herself into the fire, without adding, that she had done it, by special impulse of the H. Ghost. Alexander dismissed by the Pope goes to S. Mary's supra Minervam to hear a sermon, where Germanicus Fidelius meets him, and entreats him from Philip he would vouchsafe to visit him as soon as might be, for he would fain speak with him; praying his excuse, being so lame on one of his feet that he could not stir out of bed. After dinner he goes to Philip, but first to sermon; where came up Francis Maria Taurusius, who so handsomely interpreted that action of Appollonia, with its due caution and such facility, that he untied the knots of all those difficulties which the Pope had communicated to Alexander. Sermon ended, the Ambassador went to Philip, who immediately questioned him, what passed betwixt the Pope and him, that morning, about the affairs of the Oratory. He astonished which way he came to know any thing of it ingenuously confessed all to him. But those Religious men, the Pope sent to the Oratory, after a strict view of all that was done there, acquainted his Holiness, they heard nothing but what consisted well with piety and Learning; He rejoicing exceedingly, that there were even in his days men at Rome, that so profitably dispensed the word of God daily to the people; and thence forward both Philip and his Sons were in such favour with him, that he joined Taurusius in commission with his Nephew the Cardinal of Alexandria, going Ambassador to the King of Spain, France, and Portugal, giving him instructions at large of all that was to be treated of. Moreover those Dominican Fathers so esteemed of the Order after that, as for divers years they came almost every day to the sermons, and oftimes preached there themselves: as also the most eminent preachers of other Orders ever and anon used to do. CHAP. XVII. The Congregation of the Oratory erected at Vallicella. BUt though Philip, thinking ever meanly of himself, never dreamt, as he said, of instituting the Congregation, yet at last, his sons earnestly importuning him to it, he gave way: but to the establishing such a work, they thought it most imported, to purchase a seat of their own, where they might lay the foundation of the Congregation, and execute their own laws and statutes. As the H. Man was musing thereon, two Churches very fit for that purpose were propounded to him; S. Mary's on Monticellae, and S. Mary's in Vallicellae and being in suspense, which to make choice of (the better to understand the mind of God in a business of that concernment) he determined to refer the matter to Pope Gregory the thirteenth to be decided; who wished him to choose the Vallicellan, as being in a place of great resort, and fit for service. He perceiving it to be Gods will, presently cast about to procure it, committing unto Taurusius the managing thereof, who obtained of the Pope not the Church alone, but what ever else the Fathers could desire. So this servant of Christ, backed with the Authority Apostolic, instituted at Vallicella the Congregation of secular Priests, which he entitled of the Oratory; and got liberty for framing Statutes and Constitutions, but with proviso, that after a certain time they should be ratified by the See Apostolic. Having possession of this Church, he appoints over it, Germanicus Fidelius and John Antony Luccius, men of known integrity: but because it was too narrow and something ruinous, they thought of bringing it to some better form; they were desirous indeed to rebuild it from the foundation; but their money being short they waved that. When suddenly one day, betimes in the morning Philip by divine inspiration commands the old Church to be utterly razed, and a new one raised in the form and bigness as we see at this day. So the old Church being leveled with the ground, as Matthew of Tifernum that famous Architect in those days, was casting with his line the breadth of the new Church, Philip, then about to say Mass at S. Hieroms, sends a messenger to bid him let all alone till he came. When Mass was over, he dispatches for Vallicella; and as they were concluding on the latitude, he bids lengthen out the line further; Matthew doth so; he bids enlarge it more; he obeys him again; the B. man considering still the place was to narrow commands a third time to extend the line further yet. As soon as he came to the place that had been revealed to Philip; Here stay, faith he, here break up the earth. And as they were digging they light upon a hard wall, old and hid under rubbish, on the right side of the Chancel, some ten handfuls broad, and longer than the Church; besides a huge pile of stone and brick, enough for the foundation, and for raising the wall on the right side. So on the 19 of Septemb. 1575. the first stone consecrated with solemn rites was laid by Alex. Medici's, Archbishop of Florence, Cardinal of the H. Church of Rome, who after translated to the Popedom was named Leo the XI. As the building went up their enemies raged still worse, hindering the workmen, slandering the society; with crossbows and stones pelting John Antony Luccius Overseer of the work: but alas! seven Brothers there were that opposed the business mainly, who died all within two years through the Divine vengeance. The Church now almost finished, in the year 1577. the third of February, on which day fell Septuagesima Sunday, the same Alexander Medici's sang Mass publicly, and the Fathers performed divine duties there, and to enhance their beginnings with the greater devotion, the Pope granted a plenary indulgence to those who confessing their sins, and receiving the H. Eucharist were present at Mass, or visited the Church at all that day. And the same year in April quitting the Church of the Florentines, they removed their usual sermons to Vallicella; Philip still tarrying at S. Hieroms. But because the house was not big enough, the Fathers advised about buying a Monastery that joined to the Church; for that the Nuns of the place, by command of their Superiors, were to remove to another Monastery of the Recluses: Philip looking farther than the rest, no way liked their counsel of buying it. Yet some of them attempted it on grounds of natural prudence, but the business not succeeding, saith Philip, Did not I often tell you, this Monastery was not for our turns? ye shall indeed obtain a Monastery, but another way than ye dream of. He said true; for five months after Peter Donatus Caesius Cardinal, out of his great munificence bought that and other adjoining houses which he frankly bestowed on the Fathers to dwell in. The wonderful confidence in God which Philip had for his achieving this enterprise, may be concluded from hence, that when there was no stock he adventured on so costly a structure, and completed it in two years: oft saying when his money was spent, God will supply us; and coming sometimes to a prime Lady in Rome he would tell her, Madam, you must know the B. Virgin and myself have made a bargain, that I shall not die till the Church be covered. Many therefore imagined that, seeing he never craved of any, and yet daily disbursed such a deal of Money, either God furnished him, or miraculously increased his store. The first moneys laid out in beginning the work were 200 crowns, given by the bounty of S. Carlo Borromeo; whereto Gregory the XIII. added 8000. and above, for the building and beautifying the forepart of the Church; besides 4000 for erecting a Chapel in memory of the Presentation of our Lady: likewise Cardinal Frederic Borromeo gave 4000 and the rest, amounting to above a hundred thousand crowns, God other ways provided. And to show that he never asked any one's benevolence, it is not amiss to add this which follows. One of the Congregation, who had to do with the building, on a time told him, Father, the money is spent, and yet the walls reach not to the roof: Doubt not, saith he, God will never be wanting to his Children. He replies; There is a rich man in the City that useth to distribute a large part of his revenues to pious uses, if he were acquainted with our wants, he would happily help us with a good sum; at which Philip; The man knows in what need the building is, if he be minded he may freely contribute, for hitherto I have asked none, and yet have found no lack of any thing: and so it fell out, that within a few months a noted Lawer dying bequeathed to the Congregation 4000 crowns, and more; and soon after another Lawyer died, and left 8000 by Will. CHAP. XVIII. Philip removes to Vallicella. THings thus settled, Philip, though he governed the whole Congregation, yet would not quit S. Hieroms: for which he gave many reasons; chief, that he might not be called Founder of the Congregation, a title which he ever disclaimed. Besides, lest he might seem to shun the Cross, which in love to him God there offered; and that he might lose the benefit of his so long perseverance in that place and duty, having lived there three and thirty years. But the Fathers, considering how much it imported to have a head to their body, and seeing all means of changing Philip's mind ineffective, repair to Cardinal Peter Donatus Caesius, and beseech him that he would impart the matter to his Holiness, and by Authority from Him procure, what they neither of themselves, nor by others could obtain. Caesius very readily undertakes it, certifying Pope Gregory XIII. of the Father's request: who assenting to it, forthwith enjoins the Cardinal to tell Philip from him, that he must to Vallicella. As soon as Philip understood the Pope's pleasure, bowing his head, without dispute he presently obeys. And in the year 1583. on the 22d. of November, being the Anniversary of S. Cecilia Virgin and Martyr, to the incredible joy of his, he went from S. Hieroms to Vallicella: but though he shifted his station, he held the old course of life, he had prescribed himself at S. Hieroms: and that he might the better attend on the contemplation of things celestial, he chose him a chamber in the higher and privater part of the house. The day he went to Vallicella, that he might inure himself and his to the mastering their inclinations, he commanded that they should carry, openly as they went in the streets, all their household stuff, either on their shoulders, or in their hands. And he was so in love with S. Hieroms his whole life after, that he always kept the keys of his chamber by him, and himself went often, or sent some of his to see it, he was so pleased with the remembrance of his old dwelling. CHAP. XIX. The Rules of the Oratory. AS soon as Philip was come amongst his Sons, with joint consent of the whole Congregation, they chose him Provost: a place he was most unwilling to have, desiring by his example to show them what to do after his death, viz. either choose or confirm their Provost every third year, which Law he intended first to submit unto. But the Society disliking to have any other Superior but him, meant to except him from that Rule: and therefore on the 19th of June 1587. the Fathers elected him Perpetual Provost of the Congregation. Which charge having accepted of, he enacted, that all who would be admitted into his Congregation should retain the state and condition of Priests Secular, not binding themselves by any oath or vow: alleging, that if any had a mind to a more perfect kind of life, there were Houses of Regulars, where they might consummate those holy desires; but it was enough for them of the Congregation of the Oratory to serve God in the bond of mutual Charity, and aiming at the Salvation of themselves and others, to apply themselves wholly to prayer, the administration of the Word, that heavenly repast, and promoting a more frequent use of the Sacraments. Some other Statutes he likewise made, by consent of the Fathers, and advice of men famed for their worth and skill, especially Cardinal Hierom of Ruvere, a very knowing man, as any of that age; which afterward upon the experience of above 30 years, and mature deliberation about them, were at length confirmed by the Letters Apostolic of Pope Paul V. Now for that the ends of the Institution of the Congregation are handled at large in the foresaid Statutes, it shall suffice to inform the Reader here, how the most wise and Sovereign Lord of all, by means of his servant Philip, introduced a new and differing, that is, a plain and familiar way of preaching God's word in the City of Rome. For having both at S. Hieroms, and the Church of the Florentines observed, how exceedingly the Auditors edified by this popular kind of Sermons; as soon as ever he came to Vallicella, he ordered, that every workaday, except Saturday, reading some godly lesson before, there should be four Sermons, each for the space of half an hour; which ended, they concluded with some musical consort, and dismissed the Assembly. At these four Sermons he was present every day for divers years, as were other both Priests and Scholars of the Congregation: and whilst the Oratory was at S. Hieroms, he was not only present, but preached there himself every day. Those whom he called forth to this employment, he principally wished to avoid Subtleties and School-questions, and to propose common Subjects, easy and suitable to each one's capacity. To which end he assigned the Lives of the Saints to some of them to rehearse; too others, the compiling the Ecclesiastical Story; too others, the reciting S. Gregory's Dialogues: advertising every of them by a familiar and easy stile to stir up a love of virtue, and hatred of vice in the affections of their Auditors. He counselled them, if they sought the good of Souls, to interweave some choice examples still in their discourses. If he heard any propound too difficult subjects, or too curious and acquaint in their language, he would command him down out of the Pulpit, as one not only having respect with, but authority over them. And lest they should forsake this low and facile way of preaching, he would not suffer them to dwell long at their studies: so neither would he release Baronius from these usual exercises, although his Annals were then in writing. Not that he would have Learning neglected, but rather that they should apply themselves to the reading of such things as best suited with the Orders of the Oratory; for he would say, The servant of God must indeed learn the Sciences, but principally must avoid ostentation: adding That the knowledge of the H. Scriptures was to be got rather by prayer than study. To these daily Sermons he added frequent prayers; for he gave order that the doors of the Oratory should be opened every day for all sorts of men, but no women: where for half an hour they used mental prayer, recited Litanies and other prayers, as in the Constitutions is mentioned more at large, and so dissolved their meeting. He enjoined that on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, they should scourge themselves with cords, in memory of the Passion of our Lord, yet every one at his own discretion. As touching the Sacraments, he desired the Priests of the Congregation might say Mass every day: although for exercise and trial of their virtue, he sometimes forbade some of them the doing it daily. He admonished them in the time of celebration not to tyre the standers by; but rather study brevity then prolixity; always allowing a competent time to so weighty a matter. He warned them, that if any found himself transported with holy inspirations in the time of celebrating, he should say, Not here, Lord, not here, but I desire thee to reserve thyself for me in my chamber. Those who were not Priests he wished to confess thrice a week at least, and to receive the Sacrament by appointment of their Confessor: he advised all Confessors to take Confessions publicly in the Church every Holy day, Wednesday, and Friday; on other days he would still have one of them there for that purpose. For matters of the house, he desired his should choose a mean, doing nothing that was singular. At times of refection, besides the usual reading, which lasted somewhat above half the meal, the rest of the spare time was spent in propounding a couple of Questions by turns, morning and evening, either pertaining to Morality, or taken out of Sacred Writ, or the heads of Positive Divinity; which were modestly and briefly answered to by them at table, according to every one's sense. These are the main of those Orders Philip made in the Congregation: an Institution since planted in many Cities of Italy, and other Provinces. The H. man was absolutely of opinion, that each House that was erected should, resembling his, give Laws to itself, and be obedient to the Ordinaries of the place, independent on the Roman Congregation. Of which two Bulls are extant of Paul V and Gregory XV. Yet ambitious he never was of augmenting his number. For when the finest wits, and hopefullest youths daily flocked to him, he would persuade them either to go into some of the Regular Societies, or live as they were; thereafter as he thought best for them; but never would he entice any to his own Order, either by entreaties or commendations of it. Yea if all should have forsaken the Congregation, it had not a whit discouraged him; who used to say, God hath no need of men, for of stones he raiseth up Children unto Abraham. If any attempted the like to his design of the Oratory, it troubled not him: when one told him how some Regulars had taken up the custom in their Churches to make familiar discourses, and that they were to be opposed; he wisely answered, And whose gift is it that any prophecy? In other things he governed his Body with much prudence and caution, and so demeaned himself, that he cemented his own fast together in indissoluble bands of love and concord: affirming it was harder than men imagined to preserve long unity among such as were otherwise at liberty, and out of subjection; which nothing doth more facilitate or sweeten, than gentle conduct and moderate commands. Yet did he never, when there was need of it, slacken or remit the reins of government; having some of his so at command, that with a look or beck he could rule them as he pleased: and it was usual with him, whensoever he would reprove any of them, but to look sternly, and 'twas enough. The detestable vice of disobedience he so perfectly hated ever, that if any of his were found guilty therein, they were strait discarded the House. To which purpose he left in writing these words under his own hand: If any think he cannot hold out, by reason of, the meanness of diet, the services to be performed at Church, or the like, but will disturb his fellows, let him freely and speedily quit the place; if not, after a first, or second offence let him be expelled: for I am resolved (o ye Fathers) they shall not continue amongst us, who refuse to observe these so few Orders. Thus Philip. And that all his might learn to deny their own understanding, he sent them forth on business at such unseasonable times and hours as seemed against all reason; and if they demurred never so little, he redoubled his commands, that so taming and mastering their own wills, they might the sooner arrive at the height of true humility. But what progress in piety he expected from his, and what an enemy he was to the refractory and perverse, the Letter which Cardinal Baronius sent from Ferrara, while he tarried there with Clement VIII. to Consolinus then Master of the Novices at Rome, sufficiently testifies; where he writes. I must accuse myself indeed for writing nothing to you all this while, were it but to thank you for your prayers to God for me. I now defray that debt; and as effectually as, I can, both thank and entteat you, together with your Scholars my dearest dear Children, to whom I daily wish greater increase in virtue, hereafter to do the same still. Cherish Good Father, cherish those young and tender plants, dressing them to the likeness of their fair Precedent, the Tree of which they are Branches: the same way and course You steer, conduct them: and be assured, Our B. Parent still lives, sees, and orders his, holding a scourge in his hand to chastise the unruly. For myself, I beg of you, R. Father, to rank me among your Novices, punishing my faults without favour or delay. I would to God I could thus grow young again, verifying that of the Prophet in me, Renovabitur ut aquilae juventus tua. Thy youth shall be renewed like the Eagles. For this, I take it, is the meaning of Abishags cherishing David spent with travail; namely, when the heat of the spirit meets with old age. Certainly Abishag (as you well know) lay with our H. Father, who in his very last years felt such heats, as he thought himsef in a manner burnt up therewith. Not furs, nor purple can warm the aged, but Abishag alone: O let me obtain this favour of God, let me procure this by prayer to enjoy her embraces in this last cold season of my life; since this alone hath induced me to write. So God bless and sanctify you. Ferrara. August 14. 1598. Caesar Baronius Cardinal. Lastly, as to domestic affairs, He was very cautious not to waste the goods of the Congregation, being the Patrimony of Christ, and stock of the Poor: wherein he was so careful, that he would let nothing be disbursed more than needs must: alleging that which Cassian writes of a Cook, whom the Fathers sharply reproved, for but wasting three grains of Lentils: and that of S. Antonine Archbishop of Florence, who went into the Church a nights, and studied by the light of the Lamp, lest (as he said) he should impair the Poors maintenance. And if any judged it too great rigour, he replied; Away with that nicety: so the goods belong not to the Church do what you will with them. CHAP. XX. The Obedience and Reverence given him by his Sons. THe Congregation being reduced into this model, the Religious Father in the first place recommended obedience to his; a duty which not only those of his House, but even strangers most readily paid him, nothing being so hard or irksome, which upon his commands they would not attempt. For this reason Cardinal Taurusius avouched some of them little short of the Egyptian Monks in point of obedience, though neither by vow nor oath thereto obliged; and that none of the Founders of other Orders, that he knew of, were more punctual observed and obeyed than Philip by his. Nor was it spoken upon slight grounds; for some did so revere him, that had he bid them throw themselves down headlong, or into the fire, immediately they would have obeyed. To which purpose the following instances may serve. As he was once discoursing of the virtue of Obedience to his Sons, by a certain fishpond; Which of you, faith he, will come to such a pitch of Obedience, as to fling himself strait into this water at my bidding? He had scarce said it, and that occasionally, not in earnest, but one of them, not staying for a command, fetching his leap skips in, to the certain danger of his life, had not they which were by run in speedily to his help. One time he commanded three of them to walk naked through one of the notedst parts of the City called the Bank. Strange! they begin to lay away their Coats, unbutton them, pull off their shoes, and without delay to fulfil his pleasure; and had done it, but that he made them forbear and put on their again. Another time, as he went by Vespasians Amphitheatre, to visit the sick in S. John Lateran's Hospital, as his custom was, he light on a beggar lying on the ground very sick, and all dirty, whom compassionating, he beckons to one of his Sons to take him out of the dirt, and carry him on his shoulders to the Hospital. He presently takes up the poor man on his shoulders and to the wonderment of all brings him to the place. Baronius was ill at his Stomach, and if he eat never so little, it became very offensive to him; besides such a headache that Philip for bad him to use much prayer, or do any thing that might take up his thoughts. So coming one day after dinner to the B. Father, as he used, there lay in the Chamber by chance a Limon and a pretty big loaf: Philip bade him, Caesar, take that limon and that loaf and eat them up. Baronius thinking on the merit of Obedience, crossing himself forthwith did so, and recovered of either infirmity, both that of his stomach and his head. The same Baronius testifies, that for 9 years together going every day to attend the sick at the Hospital of the H. Ghost by Philip's appointment, coming thither with a fever oftimes upon him, he went home perfectly well having performed those charitable offices. Again, whatever was done by Philip's advice succeeded prosperously, Fabritius de Maximis one of his Pupils whom he loved entirely, had two sons that had been long sick, one of which fed only on Broths and liquids, the other could hardly swallow at all. Fabritius, hoping if they went from Rome to some better air, they might possibly escape danger, consulted the Physicians about it, whose opinions was, if they were removed from the City they could not live. It was July and in the dog-days, when Philip, being visited by Fabritius and acquainted with all that passed, bids him Go, and fear nothing, let them be conveyed in a Litter, and they will recover without fail. Fabricius followed his counsel, and the next day had them to Arsolum 28 miles from the City: whither when they came they strait mended as Philip said. And one of them being hurt in the carriage, taking horse rid out the rest of the journey, without ever being weary. Vincentius Crescentius, Cardinal Crescentius' own Brother, a hopeful youth asked leave of Philip to go to a certain Church with some civil associates about his own age (for without his leave nothing might be done) and it being granted, went: when in the coming back Vincentius fell out of the coach, and the coach wheel ran over his leg; but he got up unhurt, and hying a foot to Philip told him of it, who bid him, Attribute it wholly to your obedience for had you not desired leave you had doubtless broke your leg. Another, a Roman lately married affirms, that as oft as he was at feasts or shows with Philip's permission, he was never annoyed with lewd imaginations; on the other side, if he went of his own head, he was perpetually molested with filthy thoughts. Mark Anthony Maffa was troubledat nothing more than his preaching, and could never frame to it, yet at Philip's command, which he highly reverenced, he performed the duty with such approbation, as he was not inferior to the choicest Preachers. On the contrary, many observed that those who slighted Philip's counsel or directions, most what came to an evil end. Francis Maria Taurusius full of holy Zeal had often importuned Philip to let him rise a nights to prayer, who regarding his infirm constitution denied him. He neglecting his advice, and rising one night to pray, was taken with such a distemper in his head, that he was forced for XI. Months after to forbear it quite. Another of Philip's sons without acquainting the Father whipped himself a days, and being troubled in conscience about it, asked his leave, who told him I not only forbidden you to do it every day, but for doing it at all. Yet he often beseeching him for his consent, Once aweek then, saith Philip, I give you leave. Lo! within a little while after he falls down at the Good man's feet, crying, It reputes me Father it reputes me, for when the day comes for whipping me, I am so loath to do it now, that I cannot endure it once, and therefore I acknowledge, what I did before with much delight, was but the content of satisfying my fond will. He once forbade one going to Tiber, another to Naples; both were disobedient: for which the one broke his leg, as his horse stumbled; the other falling into the sea had like to have lost his life. A young man, whose name is purposely omitted, contrary to the H. Father's mind had contracted acquaintance; which he hearing presaged he would come to an unfortunate end. Within few days killing his fellow he fled from Rome, whither none knew. Fabricius de Maximis had put forth a great sum of money, for a yearly revenue for the life of his Daughter Helena: at Spring being to go into the Country, he comes to Philip, as his manner was, who bid him, Secure your money settling it on some other besides your daughter. He neglected it, for that Helena was young and lusty. In September following she sickened and died: and her Father lost all his money: which chance befell divers others. On the contrary, those that took his counsel saved their estates. Further, the H. man excited his sons to this virtue of obedience not with bare words, but mainly by his example: for besides his constant and indispencible observance of the Prelates of the Church, above mentioned; at his entering on Vallicella (where he was Governor) as oft as he was called either to the Gate, or into the Vestry and the Church, presently and at all hours laying every thing aside he would be there, using to say, That it was better to obey the Sexton or Porter than to be at prayers in his Cell. And if any objected a Priest must have time to prepare himself for Mass; his answer was, Then is he prepared aright, when he so lives, as, for the spotless purity of his conscience he may celebrate it at all hours. When he was sick, he was so observant of his Physicians, that although he found much trouble in taking medicines, yet whatever they prescribed him he willingly and cheerfully received. Yea though they enjoined him to suspend his prayers, or omit Mass (which most grieved him) yet he did acquiesce in their Judgements. As once, a Physician forbidding him his Canonical Hours, though otherwise most devoted to Prayer, he immediately obeyed. To this purpose he was wont to produce select Aphorisms. as first: That those who intended to proceed in Christian discipline should submit themselves wholly to the commands of their Superiors: those that were under no tie of subjection should be ruled by some able and discreet Confessor, and do nought without his advice; alleging, that they which did so, should render no account to the Supreme Judge for actions of that sort. Yet he willed every one seriously to deliberate on the choice of his Confessor, after which election not to leave him, except for very weighty and necessary reasons: for (saith he) the devil, unable to engage men in horrid crimes, strives amain to make Penitents distrustful of their Confessors; that, whom he cannot apparently subvert, having stolen from them their Spiritual guide, he might secretly supplant. He said further, That the shor test cut to Perfection was Obedience; more valluing them who for love to so noble a virtue lived but an ordinary kind of life under Obedience, than those who voluntarily practised the most rigid austerities. Withal he wished them, to accustom themselves to Obedience in the least things, for by this means it would become easier to them in the Greater. One time he sent Francis a Molaria a Noble Roman to S. Hieroms about some business, who coming thither assayed with his key to open the door but could not, he was returning back again, when abashed and going the second time his key would not in; but he was fain with shame to come away to acquaint Philip what had happened. He chargeth him yet to return and reattempt the business: he doth so, and at last opens it: so filled with admiration and joy together he came back to Philip, who said to him, son hereafter learn to acknowledge the efficacy of Obedience. As touching them in special of the Congregation, he required of them, first, that without delay as oft as any service either in the Church, or Oratory, or at home was to be done, to quit all business. He counselled them, not to have any thing in the Vestry belonging to them in particular, not a Surplice, not a Chalice, not an Altar, not an hour, but to be at the Sacrists appointment. He said it pertained to true and regular Obedience, without the discourse of the Understanding, to follow the injunctions of Superiors: assured, that nothing was so expedient, and so conducing to us, as what was imposed by them. And he exhorted those that were under Regular obedience, though they did much good where they were, if their Superior disposed of them elsewhere to no such seeming advantages, instantly to submit. He would likewise say, We should diligently examine, whether some good we intended, was yet required by God in just such a manner, or such a time, and whether of us or of others rather: which only the virtue of Obedience could distinguish. Lastly, he willed Confessors to labour mostly with their Penitents in this virtue, and train them up to the mastering their Understandings, and breaking them of their wills: teaching them rather to lay down their own opinions, and to deny themselves, than to afflict their Carcases with ungentle usage: adding, that such, who either through neglect, or other weak grounds, discharged not this duty to their Penitents, should render a sad account thereof to God. The Second Book, Of the Life of Philip Nerius. Of the Virtues of Philip. CHAP. I. His Devotion and Love to God. INtending to decipher the Virtues of Philip, it seemeth congruous to begin at that, which is the root, and ground of all the rest, his Love to God: wherewith he was so fired that the inward flames lodged within his Soul broke out visibly in his very body. So that rehearsing his Office, or discoursing of heaven, or the like, certain fiery rays were seen to flash out at his eyes. This ardour of Divine Charity so scorched his heart that sometimes the B. man would even languish for love; and at other times whether he stood or walked, his tongue would fly out in various expressions of holy affections. For once beginning (though not heeding it) these words of the Apostle, Cupio, stopping on the sudden he suppressed the rest; Dissolvi, & esse cum Christo. i. e. I desire— to be dissolved and to be with Christ: another while ravished with the excesses of the Spirit he brak forth into that of S. Paul; repletus sum consolation, superabundo gaudio. I am filled with comfort, I over-bound with joy. When he went to Church to his prayers, he felt such over flow of the H. Spirit, that as soon as ever he kneeled down, he was forced to rise again, for fear of an Ecstasy. Sometimes his eyes were so set on heaven, that who so had seen him must needs have taken him for the blessed S. Martin, fixed in that posture of Prayer. But though he were thus transported with these Divine favours, yet had it so pleased God, his desire was to have served his H. Majesty without the gusts of such sensible devotion. But to proceed. First, He was carried with such a longing desire unto the H. Eucharist, that being yet a Layman he took this heavenly refection every day: and being made Priest said Mass daily, if he were well; if not, he received after the manner of Laics: most what at midnight. Therefore toward the end of his life, that he might not be too troublesome to his Associates, he procured of the Pope to have the Fucharist reserved in a certain little Room near his chamber, dressed after the manner of an Oratory; which Room when he was Canonised began to be in great veneration with all, and to be honoured with celebration of Mass there, and resorts of the religious; and lastly was of late years with solemnity translated to the new erected Church, as is to be seen. As oft as he was sick, and the B. Sacrament brought him, as it used to be, after midnight, if the Priest came not just at the time, he was so disquieted in himself that he could not rest: insomuch as being once dangerously ill, and hearing the Bell for Matins, none having brought him his heavenly repast; for Taurusius delayed the time lest he might disturb his rest, he knowing the reason calls Taurusius and tells him, Think not that this will be a means to keep me awake, but reach hither my Lord, and I shall instantly fall asleep. So receiving the Bread of Angels, having soon after slept a while he began to be better, and quickly recovered. Another time being ill, as Antony Gallonius held the Eucharist in his hand, tarrying longer than ordinary ere he gave it him, he not able to wait longer said, Ah, Antony, why keepest thou my Lord in thy hand, and givest him not to me so passionately desiring him? when having taken the H. Communion he fell into a pleasing slumber. The same mind and affections he desired to implant in all his; exciting all Priests of the Congregation to say Mass every day, unless they were hindered by some urgent occasion or let; nor would he take the excuses of those, who for some relaxation to their minds remitted the frequency of saying Mass. For saith he, who ever looks for recreation but from his Creator, or consolation, but from Christ, shall never find either true recreation or solace. He was very desirous that Lay-people should oft partake of this Sacrament: therefore at his instance some of them every eighth day, some every Holiday, others, but those were few, every day feasted on this Angelical food. Yet he more frequently persuaded them to the Sacrament of confession, than of the Altar. Being to say Mass he was so rapt in contemplation of celestial things, that he was fain to divert his mind another way, for fear of Trances: and oftimes you might have seen the Good man stand still awhile, His rapts at Mass were testified by the Cardinals, Paravisini and Tarugi, upon oath, and by above twenty more Witnesses. and give over at the time of celebration, by several sleights and actions to shun those surprises. Wherefore if he said Mass publicly in the Church, he admitted none in attendance but such as were familiarly known to him. And yet nothing indecent or unseemly fell from him in such fits and Violences; but he rather provoked the standers by to piety and devotion. When he came to that part of the Mass called the Offertory, a This was known in a manner to all the City. his heart so leapt for joy within him, that albeit he was of full strength, of a good age, and free from any inclination to Palsies, he could never pour the Wine into the Chalice till he rested his elbow on Card. Tarugi Testified this upon Oath. something: yet did he at no time spill the least drop of either the Blood or Wine. At the Elevation of the Host, many times his hands would continue a long while together held up, and sometimes Card. Tarugi witnessed this upon Oath. he was raised a handful or more from the ground. Therefore to avoid such like accidents, which he suffered against his will; he set down the Host as soon as ever he had but lift it up. In receiving of the B. Bread he found such delicacy, and such a flavour, as if swallowing the pleasing sweetmeats: and therefore he picked out the thickest wafers for that purpose, that so the H. Species might last the longer, and he thereby enjoy more of the presences of his Saviour. But when he drank the blood of his Lord, he did so fasten on the Chalice with his lips and teeth, that he not only fetched off the gilt of it with hard sucking, but left in the very Plate the prints of his teeth. Notwithstanding in this sacred office he was rather quick than tedious: yet with so great a passion of devotion, that he would draw tears many times from those that were by. Mass ended, and thanks duly rendered, as he returned to his chamber, he would be so entranced, as not to be able to discern those he met; and of so wan a visage, that he resembled one rather dead than living. In his latter years, advising with some eminent both for their piety and their parts, he procured of Gregory XIII. that little chamber above mentioned, to celebrate Mass in, with greater privacy and freedom. Where, when the time of receiving the Sacrament came, dismissing the company and putting out the lights all but one, the dour and windows shut, he stayed behind alone: then his servant fastened a note at the door with these words in it, Silence for the Father is at Mass. About two hours after, the Servant came again, and knocked at door; when if Philip called or answered, he strait unlocked the doors, opened the windows, and light the tapers, so the Father dispatched the rest of Mass. But what passed there betwixt God and him, themselves only known. Besides, administering the Sacraments to others, he was so inflamed with pious ardours that his whole body trembled. Insomuch as a Woman then but newly converted to the faith, reports that she saw the Servant of God holding a Pixe in his hand, whose body did so shake, that the H particles were seen raised up on high out of the Pixe, and he himself with an aspect like fire, who presently grew pale as ashes. The like befell Nerus de Nigris a Roman Lord, and a Patrician of Florence, one very much beloved of Philip; who came on a time to Church and brought one Barsum, Archdeacon of Alexandria with him, who was then Ambassador from Alexandria in Egypt to the Pope, both of them receiving the Communion at the Father's hands. Who, as he held the Pixe, was taken with such a trembling, that Nerus feared lest some of the H. particles should fall down, and therefore with a beseeming reverence caught his right hand and held it till he had taken the Eucharist. When they were gone, he told Nerus; You raised a great heat in me to day: for he perceived himself affected with an extraordinary fervour, by the presence of the Archdeacon. In like sort when he reached forth the Host at the Communion, to Julia Vrsina Rangonia a Noble and religious Lady; she with those that were presen saw a consecrated Wafer parted out of his fingers hanging in the air to the amazement of all. He was ravished with devotion to the most sacred Passion of our Lord. And therefore had he by him a brazen Crucifix, the body whereof he could take from the cross, and by putting it to his lips or breast satisfy his devout affections. From this continual meditation on our Saviour's Passion, grew his so vehement desire of going to the Indies to lay down his life for Christ. But not obtaining this wish of his, the Merciful Lord answered his desires in another kind, for, like that H. Virgin Luthgarda, he was Christ's Martyr in design, though not in event, shedding blood for blood. Yea he bled at the mouth so exceedingly all his life, that he seemed many times to have quite lost his sight and pulse. In which most sweet languishment he was wont to say; O Good Jesus, that I could for thy sake pour out my blood, till, at least in part, I have answered thy incomparable love. Withal he was so devoutly affected unto the most sacred Name of Jesus that at the very sound thereof he was even ravished. He was also hugely delighted in repeating the Apostles Creed, being himself full of faith. He said the Lords Prayer with such deliberation and devotion, that sometimes he could hardly finish it. CHAP. II. His devotion to the B. Virgin, and the Saints. BUt the signal reverence and ardent devotion with which he honoured the B. Mother of God, no language is sufficient to express: styling her suas delicias, Amoresque suos, his Darling, and his Love; oft uttering with his tongue the Name of Mary, which he ever carried in his heart: nay so tenderly did he affect her, that many times (as children use) he would lispingly call her Manima. He spent whole nights in prayer to her. At S. Hieroms he fell so desperately ill, that his Doctor, appointed one to watch with him; who one night heard the H. man (supposing none near him) in most friendly and familiar expressions talking with the Virgin of Virgins; that the whole night seemed to him gone like a minute; and when in the morning it rung to the Angel's salutation, he mistook it for the evening. Two short Prayers (among other) called Ejaculatory, he commonly used in honour of the blessed Virgin: the first; O Virgin Mary, Mother of God pray to Jesus for me: the second; Virgin and Mother. With which forms of Prayer repeated threescore times together he counselled his (to no small advantage of their Souls) to present the Virgin as a sacred Chaplet. And the Divine Goodness strangely approved this way of praying: for one of the Congregation being tempted, though unwillingly, about the unstained purity of the H. Virgin, and intimateing so much to Philip, he prescribed him the forementioned form, wherewith to salute the Mother of God; who assaying it, was soon freed of the trouble of the temptation. He professed many favours done him by the Virgin: one was, that whensoever he was disquieted with evil spirits, or frighted with ugly sights, presently repairing but to her image, his fear left him immediately. When the Fathers were busy in pulling down the old Church, he that overlooked the work, bid the Masons by no means deface that part of the building where was kept a very ancient Pourtraicture of the B. Virgin: but Philip one day betimes in the morning commands them without delay to take down that Roof, for he had seen our B. Lady that night holding, it up with her hand, they did so, and viewing the place they espy a beam hanging in the air lose from the wall, and amazed at the miracle, they shouted, and applying their engines took down the roof. This is that Image of our Lady which at this day is seen on the great Altar. He was likewise favoured with divers Visions and apparitions of her; let one serve for all; that famous one a little before his end, of which in its place. As concerning the other Saints, he always gave them singular veneration: and would have their Lives read daily to him for some hours together. He chose for his Patrons Mary Magdalen, on whose Vigil, he was born, and the H. Apostles Philip and James, the one for that he bore his Name; the other for that his Solemnity was kept upon the same day. On the greater Festivals he likewise received greater celestial favours, and would say, It was a bad sign, not to relish spiritual things more than ordinarily on the extraordinary Solemnities of the Church. He had a high esteem of the Saints Relics; yet would very hardly suffer any of his Disciples to reserve them in their private custody, both because ●o in tract of time they find less respect, and for that they are often lost by unskilful heirs that know not their worth. For, saith he, Churches and places consecrate are most proper for them. Yet was he not absolutely against it, for one to keep them decently and devoutly by him: nay himself had in his chamber a box full of Sacred Relics. And here must not be forgot what happened after his decease, while the box was in Baronius' keeping. Antony Francus a Regular Clerk fell ill at Rome, and the Physicians giving him over he received the celestial Viaticum; when Baronius coming to see him brought those Relics mentioned, putting them unto his breast, and for his ease and satisfaction left them with him. That night being in a dangerous fit, taking the Box he prayed to God, that of his goodness, and for the merits of the B. Philip, he would help him: in the midst of which thoughts he falls asleep, and in the morning when he wakened found his disease gone, and in short time perfectly recovered. Lastly his devotion toward H. Relics was eminently seen, what time the Bodies of the holy Martyrs Papias and Maurus were conveyed from the Deaconry of S. Adrian to the Congregation, and honourably interred under the great Altar. For going in solemn Procession as soon as the Good man beheld the Bier draw near to the Church-doors, he began for gladness to skip with his feet, to clap his hands, to lift up his eyes, and to shake all over, melting inwardly, and languishing away for joy. When the Translation was finished, he enjoined Gallonius to compile the History of their Acts carefully and exactly, which he did at large. CHAP. III. He conveys Holiness and Devotion unto others. STrange it was, that not only himself flamed with Love to the Divine Majesty, but through the special gift of the H. Ghost, wondrously inflamed those he conversed with: as on the contrary, those that left his acquaintance, by little and little lost all relish of spiritual matters. Lavinia de Rusticis, Wife to Fabricius de Maximis, had somewhat a mean opinion of Philip, before she chose him for her Confessor; but when she heard him discourse of heavenly things with such zeal and ardent affection, she fell in love with Christ presently, and put herself under the tuition of the Servant of God; yea she, who but now intended matters the world, having once tasted of the Spirit, confessed her sins thrice a week, and as oft received the H. Sacrament. And having learned of Philip to despise the world, and afflict herself, she gave her mind so much to prayer, that she had many times Raptures, and when she died, Philip affirmed that she enjoyed the Glory of the Blessed in heaven. Constantia Draco, Crescentia, and her Maid stood by him once, as he said Mass, and on the sudden they both found themselves glow with such spiritual ardours, and even dissolved into tears, that the Mistress turning to her Maid said, Do you perceive what this is? Yes replied she: for observing more narrowly, they imputed it solely to the merits of Philip. Nerus de Nigris, the first time he heard Philip say Mass, being formerly wont to be much desquieted in his mind, averred, that he felt himself, so well disposed unto heavenly meditations, that he wondered at himself, which thing he afterward oftimes experienced. They that prayed with him were so enamoured on religious duties, that continuing in prayer for many hours together, they thought the time nothing. One of them having spent an hour in prayer, deemed it but as a minute, saying, O that I were always thus piously affected, how gladly would I pray with Philip continually He was at hearing Confessions, many times so enkindled with sacred fire, that divers of his Sons as oft as he held them close to his breast at the instant of Absolution, felt themselves revived with unutterable spiritual sweetness and delight. John Atrina a Campanian, and most intimate with the B. man, hath these words. As oft as I entered within Philip's chamber, though I were possessed with extreme joy, yet I confess I shook all over: as oft likewise as his Sovereign hand either touched my shoulder, took me by the locks, or plucked me by the ear, strait my mind swarmed with holy and devout cogitations; as though some special inspiration of Divine grace had from heaven breathed upon my heart, whereby I was driven in a sort to the Altar of the H. Sacrament to Prayer. Mark Antony Maffa saith thus. Ever since I came acquainted with Philip I always honoured him as a Saint; and, as far as I might, contrived still to be with him. When he gave me Sacramental Absolution, there issued forth almost ever from his body a certain ardour of devotion, that forced tears from me, which never befell me when I Confessed to others: being under any pressures or temptations, assisted by his prayers and counsel I went away replenished with joy, and they were presently dispelled. After his death, I never had recourse to him in my thoughts, in any straits, but I found myself fortified with divine consolation; and when I put on the Vestments, in which he, when he was living, used to say Mass, I cannot but weep abundantly. Thus he. CHAP. IV His Gift of Tears. ADd to this, that the heart of Philip pierced with the Love of Christ became so exceeding soft, that when any one's discourse tended either to grief or pity, he could not hold breaking forth into Tears. He would so bitterly bewail offences committed against God, and the offenders, that by report of Cardinal Frederic Borromeo, you might have seen him weep like a Child corrected by his Parents. A Young Noble man had for shame concealed some sins of his in Confession, Philip observed it; and looking earnestly on him lets fall a shower of tears; whereby he procured of God for his Penitent such hearty sorrow for sin, that he likewise burst out into tears very plentifully: they both wept, were both silent; neither of them left weeping for a good space, at length the young man falls down on his knees, detects all the foul corners of his conscience to him; whom the B. Father affectionately embracing, and accepting his Confession, dismissed, assoiled of his faults, and satisfied in his mind. But Philip, being of a most mild temper, had not wept enough; till hying to his chamber, he there let lose the reins to his sorrows, to the full. After which the young man discovered to his former confessor the sins of his whole life; and within few days comes and tells Philip, how he had disclosed all: to whom the Father answered, Though I heard not the Confession of your life, yet be sure, I exactly know all and every of the faults you have ever committed. Nay more than that, I tell you, now you carry a good face with you: (which kind of expression the H. man used when he saw any of his reclaimed:) he replied, I beseech you, Father, that you would obtain sincere contrition for me by your prayers to God; and had scarce spoke the word, but he was immediately struck from heaven with so profound a grief, as he said, he never felt a greater in all his life. The Good man one time went to a Noble man's Manor with Caesar Baronius, Joh. Franc. Bordinus, Thomas Bozzius, and others. In the afternoon, about the time when usually the sermons begin in the Church, Philip on the sudden enjoined Bozzius to preach to them ex tempore, that those who were there might not be wholly without benefit of the word of God. He did, when strait Philip adding somewhat in confirmation of what he had said, as he was speaking, there fell on him such a trembling all his body over, and such abundance of tears and sobs came from him, that he was fain to break off his discourse. This used to happen almost as often as he spoke of spiritual matters. A certain Prelate surprised him once on the sudden, as he was reading the Lives of Saints, weeping excessively; who ask him, Father, what doth this weeping m●an? he jestingly answered, May not I grieve, who am an Orphan bereft of both my Parents? at which the Prelate smiled, and he both handsomely and wisely smothered the cause of his sorrowing. Another time Angelus Victorius a Physician, one, whom the Father loved, took him reading and crying over the lives of the Saints, when demanding the reason of his heaviness, I lament saith, he, that this Saint, whose story is in my hands, renounced the world, whereas I have never yet done the least good: and added, what, O Angelus, If thou shouldest see me beaten with cudgels thorough the City? Thou wouldst say, spare, O spare that Good Philip, who professed so great Sanctity. Nay rather lay on, Executioner, lay on sound: and as he uttered these words the tears trickled down his cheeks. If he but read, or spoke at any time of the Passion of our Lord, presently the tears ran down. Once in Holy week he read the Passion of Christ at Mass, as the custom is; when perceiving himself Rapt, he strove by all means to divert his thoughts another way; but coming to the Sacred History of Christ's Death, unable to contain any longer, he gave scope to his sighs and groans, all that were present wondering and weeping together with him. Yea very often upon the hearing one word only of the Passion, he would melt into tears: otherwhiles wax pale, either hearing or speaking of that Mystery. Sometimes he could hardly breathe, other times he trembled every joint: So that he was about to forbear preaching publicly; and being asked, Why? his answer was, Because he had not such ready parts: yet he abstained not formerly, for that the number of Preachers being but small, what nature was defective in, God supplied. He went to dinner once to the Refectory of S. Praxede, erected by S. Carlo Borromeo, and with him the Cardinal of Vercellae, a most holy and learned person: and when, according to their custom after meals, the Spiritual Conferences began, each one being to answer in order, Philip, on occasion offered, beginning to treat of the Love of Christ, the Tears and Sighs broke in so fast upon him, that his voice being stopped, he stood stone-still without moving. When he was once very sick, they gave him Cock- broth to drink, but taking the Porringer in his hand, he wept exceedingly; saying, Thou, o my Saviour, hangedst on the Tree, and am I served in my bed, amidst so many delights, so many conveniences, so great attendance? which as he repeated again and again, such a flood of Tears followed, that he was not able to drink. When he administered the H. Communion to his Penitents, the Tears fell in such plenty, that he was often forced to desert the employment. At Divine Service he was so affected with the Melody of Church-music, that he many times cried all the while. Being once in the Choir among the Friars at S. Mary's supra Minervam, he wept so, that he wet all the forepart of his Last of all he was so inclined to grief, that on all occasions of Piety he would shed Tears: and it was reckoned for a Miracle, that by continual weeping he lost not his fight, which he retained perfect to fourscore years of age, without using Spectacles; though he had divers pairs by him, to preserve and refresh his sight, as he said, which after his death were affirmed to have done many strange Cures, being used in diseases. Among others, Lucia Marzana, a Recluse in the Monastery of S. Lucia in silice, in the City, being much troubled with the Headache, applying but the H. man's Spectacles to the place affected, fell into a gentle slumber, and when she risen, her pai● was gone. CHAP. V His Prayers. THis fervour of Charity, and abundance of Tears he obtained only by his frequent exercise of Prayer: which he was continually so much addicted to, that he directed all those Religious exercises he had instituted in the Oratory to this one; and therefore entitled it the Congregation of the Oratory. To this Divine Study he so vigorously set himself, and made such progress therein, that standing, or walking his thoughts were still fixed upon God; more naturally soaring heaven-ward, than the doters on this world tend grovelling toward earth. Many a time, whilst his Scholars were discussing several and serious matters in his Chamber, be disengaged from their affairs, either cast up his eyes to heaven, or crossed his hands, or sometimes fetched groans from the bottom of his heart. As he walked the streets he was so swallowed up of contemplation, that ever and anon he must be plucked by the sleeve, and put in mind to offer, or return, Salutes. After dinner, that he might not injure the health of his body by too much intention of the mind, when he had a desire to slumber or to rest him, he was wont to call Gallonius and tell him, You know what to do, if you would have me sleep: meaning, that he must call off his thoughts from the consideration of things supernatural, by variety of discourse, or some pleasant reading for that purpose. Indeed he felt that in himself, which he used to apply in general to others: to wit, That a man inflamed with the Love of God must arrive to that height of Chariy, as to be constrained to cry out; Let me alone Lord, let me rest a while: for whoever is indisposed to pray even at Noon, and after meals, hath not yet received the Gift of Prayer. He never went upon any business that was not ushered in with Prayer either by himself or his: whence he gained so strong a confidence, that he spared not to say, Give me but time to pray, and I am sure to obtain of God what I ask. And at other times, Hoc volo, Hoc jubeo: This I will, this I command: and as he said, it fell out still. Briefly, by his perseverance in prayer he attained even to supernatural illuminations, that he knew exactly which of his had prayed that morning, and which not. But though his whole life might truly be termed one continued Prayer, yet he prescribed himself some set hours, to increase his devotion there in. For in Summer, except some work of Charity hindered, he retired himself to the top of the house; morning and evening, where he might view heaven and earth: to that end, not only at S. Hieroms, but a Vallicella amongst his own he built him a Closet on the very Roof, a story higher than the rest. And in his latter days he went up to the leads of the Church: where he spent a good space in holy Cogitations: yet if at any time he were called forth to any pious work, he came down strait, and quitted his spiritual exercise, till having dispatched his business he returned again; saying, He did not therefore reject Meditation, but left Christ for Christ; and that the force of Prayer was not hereby diminished, but augmented rather. In the Winter after Sunset, he prolonged his Prayers to the second or third hour of the night: and going to rest, that he might rise again to prayer just at his time, he hung his Watch at the Bed's head, by feeling of which he knew what a clock it was: and hard by his Crucifix he laid the Rosary of our Lady, that when he wakened he might fall to his Prayers. At some special times in the year, as the principal Festivals, and when public or private necessity required, his prayers were both longer and more intense. He watched, fasted, and prayed, on Good Friday all those hours that the sacred Body of our Lord was kept apart by itself in memory of his Burial. He devoutly and attentiuly recited his Canonical hours, for the most part joining a Companion to him, for he could not dispatch them alone, by reason he was subject to rapts. He almost ever had his Breviary lying open, being wondrous careful that no error passed in saying it; and if any chanced, though he seemed as one bereft of sense, he presently corrected the mistakes. When he was fourscore years old, Gregory XIV. remitted him his Office upon repeating the Rosary of the B. Virgin; which favour he at no time made use of. Nay if he were extreme sick, he appointed the Canonical hours should be rehearsed in his hearing at least. To Prayer he added Reading, and the daily perusing Saints Lives, alleging that, There was no better incentive to Piety then the Examples and Rules of Saints. Besides those lives gathered by Lippoman, he commonly used Cassians Collations; the Imitation of Christ, fathered on Gerson; the Life of S. Katherine of Sienna; and above all, the Acts of the B. John Columbine. For the Books of H. Scripture: he delighted much in S. Paul's Epistles. Those whom he designed for preachers he counselled to read their works chief whose names began with S. as S. Augustine▪ S. Gregory; S. Bernard; and the rest. And because he was desirous that People should rise from prayer rather cheered than tired, he wished such, as he thought less able to pray long together, that they should often raise their devotion by certain short Ejaculations: some of which more frequently used by him, are here annexed. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right Spirit within me. O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me. Teach me to do thy will. O Lord, hid not thyself from me. O Lord, I am oppressed, undertake for me. Thou art the way, the truth, and the life. Thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven. Jesus, be thou to me Jesus. Remember not, Lord, mine iniquities. When shall I love thee with a filial love. O Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy upon me. Kindle in me the fire of thy love. As yet I know thee not, because I seek thee not, O my Jesus. What might I do to be pleasing to thee, O my Jesus? What might I do to perform thy will, O my Jesus? Give me grace to serve thee, not for fear, but love, O my Jesus. O my Jesus I would fain love thee. I am distrustful of myself, and trust in the, O my Jesus. I cannot do well, except thou help me, O my Jesus. I will do nothing, but thy most holy will, O my Jesus. I never have loved thee, yet would I fain love thee, O my Jesus. I shall never love thee, if thou help me not, O my Jesus, I would fain love the, but find not the way, O my Jesus. I seek thee, and do not find thee, O my Jesus. If I knew thee, I should also know myself, O my Jesus. If I should have done all the good in the world, what great matter had I done, O my Jesus? If thou help me not, I shall fall, O my Jesus. Cut away all impediments, If thou wilt have me, O my Jesus. Do with me, O Lord, as thou knowest, and as thou pleasest. That shall become of me which shall please the Lord; I put my trust in God. O Blessed Lady, Obtain for me the grace to be alwaves mindful of thee. Maria Mater Gratiae, mater misericordiae, tu nos ab host besiege, & horâ mortis suscipe. But Philip not herewith content, inroduced a custom in most families in the City, of having a private Oratory in every house, where the whole number both of men and women might assemble to Prayers. Nay some had not only Oratories, but followed the same orders and courses observed in the Congregation. The Instructions given by him upon this subject were these. First, he said, The best Preparative to Prayer was for a man to think himself unworthy of so high a Service. Next, the frequent using to master our affections: being wont to say He that went to pray, and could not bridle and subdue his Passions, was like a Bird not fledged, yet offering to fly. Being entreated by one of his Penitents to teach him to pray, Be humble and obedient, saith he, and the Unction of the H. Spirit will teach thee. He advised men to follow those inspirations God gave them at times of Prayer; as if he incited them to contemplate on the Passion of Christ, it were not fit to fly from it, to the Mystery of the Resurrection; no nor to desist from prayer, if their desires were not presently granted; but courageously to persevere, till they obtained their suits. He affirmed, that if in Prayer any one found his mind quiet and at ease, it signified either that what was asked was already bestowed, or without fail would be very speedily. He wished his Sons to be ambitious of performing the greatest services for the love of Christ, not contenting themselves with any mean degrees of Piety; but outvying (in Charity for example) if it were possible, the Apostles Peter and Paul: that so, what they could not attain to in in the work, they might in some sort arrive at, in their intentions. Further, he warned them who gave themselves much to Prayer, not too earnestly or too long to gaze on holy pictures, both because it did offend the brain, and brought on illusions. To such as lay under any spiritual aridity, he prescribed this remedy; that they should prostrate themselves before God and his Saints like beggars, craveing with equal importunity and desires their sacred Alms as the ordinary sort of Poor do corporal food: and therefore they should resort sometimes to one Church sometimes another, as it were to beg men's Charity from door to door. He counselled young Persons to meditate especially on the four last things; saying that, Those who went not to Hell in their life time, were in great danger of going thither at their deaths. He willed his humbly to recommend themselves to the prayers of others: and at no hand to omit Evening Prayer, and the Whip used in the Oratory. A man without the use of Prayer, he said, was to be ranked among the Beasts. When the Physician once enjoined him to forbear his Meditation a while, for his health; after a few days, Wretched I, said he, who am already, me thinks, degenerated into a Brute beast! Lastly he averred, that the devil dreaded nothing so much as Prayer, and therefore laboured to his uttermost to disturbed it. CHAP. VI His Zeal for the saving Souls. AS this H. man was thus inflamed with fervent Love to God, so he burned with vehement desires of assisting his Neighbour; addicting himself wholly to the converting Souls. Therefore he sought to endear every one to him by offices of amity, and affection; and he that once came to him, could hardly afterward be kept from him. Lewd and debauched Persons, he, like a pious Father, first won to leave Mortal sins, so by insensible degrees to bring them to that Mark of perfection he aimed at. One came to him once intending to disburden himself of the Load of his sins, though so ensnared in old habits of evil, that scarce a day passed, wherein he fell not into some offence; him Philip enjoined no other Penance but to come and confess his faults to him, as soon as ever he committed them. He did so; and still as he came the Father imposed no other punishment: and so! in a few months the Penitent took courage, and so manfully resisted, aspiring unto Christian perfection, that Philip himself testified of him, that he came near unto the purity of the H. Angels themselves. With the same spirit of meekness he reclaimed a most dissolute youth bidding him only to salute the B. Virgin a days, with the Anthem that gins Salve Regina; and kissing the ground say to himself, By to morrow I may be dead. Which he performing accordingly, in short space attained to a virtuous course of life, 14. years after dying by all likelihood in a happy condition. Another of a very bad life came to confession to Philip, and after Absolution according to the custom of his country would have given him money but having none about him, Pardon me, Father saith he, I want money: He smiling said, Alas Son it shall serve me instead of Money, that you come again to me next Saturday, The Penitent did so, and won by the Sweetness of the H. man soon proved a good Convert. John Thomas Arena, one steelled with impudence went sometimes to S. Hieroms Oratory, not to receive benefit by the excellent Sermons there, but to deride the Preachers: which they of the Society not endureing complain to Philip, who told them, Sons, let him alone, and ye shall shortly see what God will do. Well, the young continued thus shamelessly affronting them, till on a sudden reflecting on his villainous course, and relenting, he resigned up himself absolutely to the B. Father's commands: soon after in a holy Zeal entering a house of the Dominicans, where he died in his Noviceship. Pet. Focilius a Neopolitan, a rare Wit, but something picquant and excessive in jesting, very difficulty and in a manner by force was brought by his companions to the Oratory; where espying himself eyed by Philip with a look piercing as the keenest javelin, yet he stayed out the whole Service, with which he was so taken, that presently his mind changing, when he came out of the Church he seemed a new man. Afterwards he came often to the Father to confession, who rejecting him, herded others Confessions, but bid him be gone. Two months together he constantly came; at last He took his Confession, and in a little while by the blessing of God reduced him to an eminency in virtue. He foretold him, that he should die in great want; and was not mistaken; for he, who in his youth had a most plentiful fortune, was in his age brought to such scarcity, as he hardly had Bread to keep him alive: yet as he had lived religiously, so he died. A Priest, one honourably descended, had very fair revenues from an Ecclesiastical Benefice, yet went brave and in coloured like a Layman. Him a young disciple of Philip's (as they both walked in the Cloister at S. Mary's supra Minervam) spying tells him, Sir, be pleased to know, there useth to come hither a Priest named Philip, whom if you but once speak with, you were a happy man. The Priest, liking his motion, consents, waits his coming, speaks with him. The good man said nothing to him, save that he should go to S. Hieroms to hear the Sermons: he did; went every day: mean while though Philip conferred much and oft with him, yet not a word passed concerning his Garb, or tonsure, his chief care was, to breed Remorse in him. When behold! some sixteen days after, he voluntarily lays a way his Lay-habit, comes to him shaved, confessed his sins from the first dawning of Reason in him; surrenders himself entirely to the R. Father, and being made one of his Sons traveled apace in his pursuit after Holiness, till at length full of years, he died, a little before Philip's Canonization. With like tenderness of Spirit and zeal of charity did he reduce great numbers to Christ; insomuch that it grew a saying among many; As the Loadstone attracts Iron, so doth Philip, Souls: others cried, Happy the day and hour wherein I was first acquainted with Philip. For, the Reverend and Prudent Man liked not those, who laid down the way of virtue too difficult, and laborious to their Penitents; for that, being thereby discouraged with the tediousness of it, either they would not enter upon't, or soon retreat. And therefore he never much inveighed against those garish dresses worn by women, but letting that pass, laboured chief to make them in love with Christ; knowing that if once the flames of Divine Love were kindled in them, of themselves they would cast off all such lightnesses. When a Noble Lady once asked him, whether it were any offence for her to help her low Stature by wearing Chapines; his answer was, Take heed, you fall not. One of his Scholars wore a Collar plaited in great folds, He gently taking him about the neck told him, I should hug you oftener, but that that these wrinkles hurt my fingers: and by this means both the the Lady left off her high Shoes; and the young man his fine collars ever after. From the same exuberant Charity it was, that his Chamber-door stood always open to all comers, reserving for himself neither time, nor place; yea though he were sick, yet did he admit any and at any hour. Many times when he was a bed disposed to sleep, he refused not to hear the Confessions of as many as came, not enduring that any one should go away from him sad or disquieted. Therefore he charged his Disciples never to say; Philip is asleep, or retired to his Chamber: taking it very ill, if any tarried never so little for his coming, for which he often and sound too chid Gallonius and others. And if the Fathers objected, that he too freely exposed himself to all comers, he replied, I would have you know, that by spending whole days and nights for them, and no other way, have I brought unto Christ, those who at this day are the most forward in his service. Hence was it, that he boggled not at the unseasonableness of weather, rain, cold, heat, nor the hazarding his own life for the saving souls. It was told him once, how a young Noble person went in danger of his life by haunting the company of a principal Lady in the City, on whom he was desperately enamoured; and though some of eminent rank had attempted, but in vain, to change his resolution, yet Philip's diswasions prevailed so with him, that he not only desisted from his purpose, but ever after avoided her house; and if at any time the Coach that carried him made thitherwarap excusing himself to the Company he would leap out, and take another way. Thus the Servant of Christ, becoming all things to all, in a care of every one's Salvation, caught both poor and rich, noble and ignoble, learned and ignorant, young and old, men and women, suiting his baits to each of them till they were drawn to Christ: whereby he so endeared his own to him, that some of them came to him almost every day, some again for 30 or 40 years visited him twice aday, viz. mornings and evenings, all whom he welcomed with large expressions of kindness and affection: so that his Chamber, not without cause, was termed, The School of Sanctity, and Christian mirth. And, though there wanted not some that blamed him for it, men of otherwise able judgement and integrity, yet he both learned by experience and taught it his, That men are more Kindly and more easily brought to Christ by gentle and fair▪ means, than roughness and Severity, Yet when need was, he knew how to show his Authority, and use rigour. For, being sent for to do some good upon a malefactor that was to be hanged, and coming into the Chapel, where he lay roaring on the ground; he, led by a Divine hand, catching him by the throat and dashing him against the floor, cried aloud to him, Peace; at which word he became silent, trembled, and was converted; and soon after confessed twice to one who came to him, dying very patienly. CHAP. VII. His singular prudence in governing Youth. PHilip well understanding that in the Proverbs; Adolescens juxta viam suam, etc. Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not departed from it: bestowed special care and pains in reclaiming young persons, preventing sin in them, and promoting them in the studies of Holiness. For which cause, he was not ashamed, though he were stricken in years, and through continual extreme labour decayed in strength to lead them in troops along with him, and march through the Streets: disputing with them in the several arts and Sciences, they were versed in; that so ingratiating himself with them, he might have them at his beck: oft would he take them to the Highest and stateliest places about the City, where they might best have a most pleasant view. of it; there did he play at Quoits with them, a sport invented by him. After which himself retiring from them to a place more remote, he read with meditation a little Book of the Passion. If any of his neglected frequently the Oratory, or the use of Sacraments, he presently sent for them, and with all tenderness and respective love won them to their wont exercices again; Whereupon they many times proved more zealous in the Worship of God. His successful pains in training up Youth was so famed among the Regulars, that the Superiors would send their Novices to him for directions, as he thought best. Sundry times in the year he led all the Novices of the Dominicans to the 7 Churches; and sometimes to beautiful green Plots where they were merry and dined; He, Good man, overjoyed that they had so handsomely, and withal harmlessly, recreated both their bodies and minds; saying oft to them as they were at dinner, Eat, my Sons, eat and make no scruple now; for it doth me good to see you cheerful and pleasant. After dinner sitting on the ground he excited them to all sorts of Virtue, but especially to Constancy and Perseverance. So the day being spent, he brought them home from their innocent recreations. He was singular in tolerating the sports and pastimes of Children; who played close by his chamber, making a noise both with their tongues, and hands, and that almost every day; yet he an aged man, and full of thoughts about important affairs, endured all with patience. Yea if any reproved them for it, at any time, if it came to his ear, he returned them this mild answer, Go, play; this only I desire of you, sin not. A Noble man that used to come often to him, on a time hearing this bustle asked Philip how he could endured such a stir, who answered, Though they cl●ft wood upon my back, I could bear it willingly, so they will forbear sinning. to which purpose, one of the prime men in all the City, calling to mind how friendly Philip formerly had used him, told his companion weeping; When I was young and went much to Father Philip, I remember I was never polluted with any deadly sin, but as soon as ever I left him, I fell foully into this wretched kind of life, you see me in. Moreover the H. man would have young people by all means cheerful; being offended, when he saw any sad; therefore he would strike them a box on the ear sometimes bidding them, Be merry: saying that, Those who were naturally pleasant were more tractable in the way of virtue, than the melancholic. Two Capuchins, an old and a young man, came one time to him, who looking upon them, and conceiving the younger, to have made farther progress in Piety, he purposed to make trial of his spirit; so, taking occasion, for that he had spit undecently in his presence, he began to reprehend him sharply and looking angrily at him bid him, Hence away Sloven, where were you bred? and taking off his Shoe made as if he would hit him on the head. But he retaining the same cheerfulness of countenance, held his peace, and gave him the hearing. The Elder of them, unconcerned the while, took it heinously, as being naturally sad. But Philip not satisfied with once chiding, went on, Off with your Cloak, for you are not worthy to walk the Streets in such a habit. With all my heart, said he, especially having well dined to day, and being not as yet acold. Philip at that seeming to be more enraged, thrust him forth of the Chamber, who bore all patiently and without show of dislike took his leave and departed. No sooner was he gone, but the H. man calling him again, hugging and embracing him said, Cheer up, my Son, go on in this sprightly and cheerful temper, for by this means you will soon attain to the top of Perfection: and so dismissed him. But though the R. Father approved of plesancy, and alacrity in young folks; yet abhorred he light jests, ridiculous mirth, and the spirit of railing; saying that, Scurrility kept divine inspirations from entering, and by degrees quenched the good Spirit, if any were. He loved to have the younger sort busy still and employed about something, and therefore would bid them either sweep the room, or make the bed, or carry a trunk or table to one place or other; sometimes read, otherwhiles string beads for Rosaries, and such like; that so they might never be assotted with idleness, a vice he was always an enemy unto. He was rather desirous likewise, that they should frequent the Sacrament of Penance, then of the Altar; and gave two reasons for it. First, because-when we receve the H. Communion, saith he, we are subject to more violent assaults of the Devil, which young men are foiled by, as not steady or confirmed in their virtuous purpose, and so do the greater indignity to the Sacrament. A second was; for that the more earnestly we long after and pursue, the more reverently and devoutly we approach to this heavenly reflection. Therefore if any of his at any time desired leave to communicate oftener, he would say, Sitientes, siitientes venite ad aquas, Come ye thirsty, ye thirsty come to the waters. At Shrovetide, the better to restrain them from public Shows, he gave order to have some Religious Acton's of sacred Story represented. And upon this ground wisely instituted that laudable Custom of visiting the seven Churches of the City about that time. And to preserve them unspotted from all impurity, he advised them, not to be alone in their Chambers after dinner; but meet together to refresh their minds with some virtuous communication: affirming that that time was the Noonday devil mentioned by the Royal Prophet. One thing also he seriously pressed them to, that they should avoid the touching of one another, as they would the Plague; under whatever pretence of either kindred or kindness to each other: and that two alone should not be together in a place, especially that were both of an Age; which thing he enjoined to be observed most strictly, principally between the two Sexes. A certain Boy and his Sisters used to play together, which having once or twice discovered to his Confessor, he warned him ever after to forbear it. The Lad knowing his own innocency, was troubled that his Confessor should urge it so much upon him: and being bid to consult Philip, he acquaints him with it: who asked him, what he studied? Logic saith he: Then know, said Philip, the Devil is a subtle Logician, who can teach men craftily to abstract and say, she is a woman, not Sister. He strait acknowledged the inference, and thence forward left to sport himself with his Sisters. CHAP. VIII. His care for the Sick and Dying. WHen any of his fell sick, he constantly visited them; using at his entering into the Room to desire those that were present to join with him in Prayer a while. And if they were dangerously ill, he never left them, till either they died or mended. Sebastian a Musician of the Castle of S. Angelos, one of Philip's Sons, and a very devout religious man, was sick of a disease that killed him; as he lay drawing on, the Devil appeared to him in an ugly and terrible shape, which apparition so affrighted him, that he in a despair of mercy cried out, O miserable wretch that I am! O woe is me! now hath God Of this are four Witnesses upon Oath, who were present; two of them Priests. forsaken me, now am I consigned to Hell's eternal flames, woe unto me forlorn creature! woe unto me! When he had lamented thus sadly some two hours, and found comfort from none▪ they called for the Curate of the Parish, whom the sick party would by no means see or hear, but saying he was undone, protested he gave no credit at all to the Priest. Those of the house dismayed hereat sent for Philip, who hying thither, as soon as ever he set his foot within the Chamber, asked, What's the matter? what's the matter? Fear nothing. He presently being put in hopes at that, cries aloud; Father Philip chaseth the Devils; they fly, and Philip drives them before him. O miraculous power of Philip! Live Christ for ever, Live Philip, by whom I am recovered from the Pit of Hell; let the Oratory flourish. And then filled with consolation he sang some of the H. laud's; at last stretching forth his hands, he broke out into these words, Behold the Angels, behold the Archangels! reckoning up the several Quires; and in September on the Vigil of the Archangel S. Michael, he breathed out his Soul in the arms of the H. Father. Persianus Rosa, Philip's Confessor, being likewise very sick, was grievously assaulted by the Devil, and in the midst of his conflicts and temptations would This was attested by an eye-witness. say, Tu judica me Deus, tu discerne causam meam: Judge me o God, and plead my cause. Lying on his bed, for fear tumbling to and fro. Meanwhile in comes Philip whom Persian looking on, said Holy Philip pray for me; adding, O thou Servant of God drive away, I beseech thee, that foul looked dog that leaps upon me, lest I be torn in pieces, he forthwith kneeling down, desires those that were by to pray with him. Scarce had he bowed the knee, but Persian cried out, God be thanked the dog is gone, the dog is fled, see he stands at the door. So rising from Prayer, he sprinkled both the sick man and his chamber with H. water; and the devils being expelled, the next day he quietly and joyfully died. Gabriel Tana of Modena, one of Cardinal Politians Gentlemen, and of Philip's first Scholars, who confessed his sins twice a week, and received the Sacrament; fell mortally sick when he was 18 years old: and having been ill about Of this Jacobus Marmita writ a relation, who was present; as were likewise divers of Philip's Sons. 20 days, and now about to die; the devil instigating him thereto, he began most vehemently to wish he might recover his health. Philip coming every day to see him, asks him how he did; Very well said he, for I hope I shall out grow this disease. He foreseeing his death, said to him, My son, give me your Will and your Nill, that when the Tempter comes you may answer, my Consent or Dissent is no more in my hands, but Christ's. Gabriel assented; and Philip departed. When Mass was done, he returns to the sick person, and finds his mind changed; insomuch as he that a little while since was too desirous to live, now said with the Apostle, Cupio dissolvi, etc. I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ: and putting the Crucifix to his breast and kissing it: he exhorted them that stood by to contemn the gaudy vanities of the world; Believe me, said he, I disdain life, I desire heaven; Pray therefore, Father, that God would satisfy my long, and before the fifth hour of the night I may fly hence unto my Saviour, You shall, replied the Father, obtain your requests, yet let me advertise you of this, that the Devil will use many stratagems to undo you; telling them all to him; and when he had done went his way, that he might give himself to Prayer. An hour after Philip was gone, comes the Enemy and tempts the Young man to presumption on his own worth; of which this was a mark. The Litanies for the dying, as the custom is, were rehearsing, and when they came to those words, A mala morte libera eum Domine: Free him from an ill death o Lord, Gabriel smiled, and shaking his head said; O he cannot die amiss who carries Christ in his heart; when presently perceiving the wiles of the subtle Fiend, I beseech you saith he, pray to Christ for me, for what I spoke just now, was by suggestion of the devil. No sooner was he rid of that temptation, but the adversary redoubling his blows, labours with all his might to keep him from uttering the H. name of Jesus: thereupon he cries out; Alas, Brethren, I cannot possible express that which I most desire. What is that? said they, doth the Devil hinder you from mentioning the name of Jesus? At which he nodded, as being so: then they replied Keep Jesus in your mind and that is enough. In the encounter he was fain to summon up all his powers, so that what with perplexity of mind and motion of his body, he was all in a sweat. Then was Philip fetched, who showing the B. Crucifix, whispers softly in his ear the most delicious and sacred Name of Jesus; which he oft repeated freely and readily at his pleasure: yet did not the wicked spirit departed; for not long after he sought to seduce him from the Catholic Faith; persuading him, that he should escape this sickness, all which he related to Philip, who bids him, 'Slight my Son, slight those Satanical cheats, and say the Creed with me. He pronounced the words often over, but seemed to himself not to pronounce them; which Philip perceiving bids those that were present rehearse the Symbol of the Apostles, which done, strait the temptation ceased. The sick person the while recollecting himself and resuming courage defies his enemy in these expressions, whether thou wilt or no, O thou damned apostate I do believe. At last the wily Tempter storms him afresh and more fiercely, employing his utmost to engulf him in a Hell of desperation. So assuming a deformed shape, he appears with a dreadful aspect to the sick man, who appalled at the spectacle trembled every joint of him, changing his colour, rolling his eyes, and unable to maintain his standing, roars out in bitterness of Soul, O caitiff that I am! ah what a number of horrid crimes have I committed? Beat away, Father, beat away those ugly Curs. Whereupon Philip laying his hand on the Patient's head, thus bespoke the Devil; And O thou Monster darest thou still oppose▪ I command thee hence immediately, for these very hands have this morning handled the H. Body of Christ; and turning to the sick party, Take courage my Son, said he, and say with me Discedite a me, etc. Depart from me all ye workers of iniquity; which being done twice or thrice, Gabriel for joy cried out, The Dogs run away at Philip's bidding: and pointing to them with his finger, do ye not see, saith he, with what speed they fly? we have overcome, O good God, we have overcome. Then turning his eyes to the Crucifix he began to pray to our Saviour with such devotion, that all the standers by fell a weeping, and taking it in his hand, lifting up his head, he uttered many pious speeches; at length triumphing over the Devil, he upbraids his cowardice; but Philip fearing lest by these intentions of his mind his end possibly might be hastened, bade him, Peace, now peace, and be quiet, let us leave the devil. He was silent instantly, and the bystanders hearing him speak so hearty conceived he would live to the next day; but Philip told them, No, he will not, for as soon as ever he stirs but out of his place, he will departed strait. Scarce half an hour after he turned him on his right side, and naming the B. Name of Jesus, died. James Marmita, one of the forenamed Cardinal's Secretaries, a man eminent for prudence, learning, piety, and of Philip's familiar acquaintance, being now in the last stage of his life, and through the infirmity of frail flesh fearing to die, greatly complained of the violence of his disease. Philip, who was by, bid him, Be of good cheer, and imploring the Divine aid, say, Deus noster refugium, etc. God is our refuge, and strength, a very present help in trouble: he did, adding these words following, Quae invenerunt nos nimis: which as soon as he heard he went to prayer, and continued there not long, before Marmita, b●ing marvellously cheered, peaceaby departed. Nicolas Lilius, Priest of the Congregation, almost at last gasp encountering with the devil, thus obtained victory over This is commonly known. his adversary. Philip was saying Mass, it seems in the little room above mentioned; and praying more fervently than usually, on the sudden great noises were heard over the Dining-room, as if huge stones had been hurled too and fro: Philip then alone in the Chapel, calls Petrus Consolinus, and bids him, Go and bring him word how Nicolas doth: away goes he, and finds him sick, with his hands clasped and lift up to heaven, reiterating these words; Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro; accessit, recessit, victus est. Let us give thanks to our Lord God, he came, he is gone, he is overcome. Consolinus informs Philip of all; who as his fashion was, said, 'Tis enough; and hies him strait to Nicolas, who looking on him wistly, asked him passionately, Ah, Father, why was not I acquainted with you before? Why Father, thus late? intimating hereby, that he had learned sufficiently in that combat, what prevalency and favour Philip had with God. Lilius was a Frenchman by birth, one to be admired for his strange contempt of himself, far from the love of terrene things, from doting on his friends or kindred, insomuch as when their letters were brought him he would throw them unread into the fire. He was of a wonderful patience in hearing Confessions; and foretelling the day of his own death, after he had lived 20 Years in the Congregation, deceased: whom Philip so exceedingly valued, that he kept his goods instead of Relics, as an argument of his incomparable Virtue. Carolus Mazzaeus likewise, one of Philip's Sons being at the point of death, sustained shrewd conflicts by the temptations of the Devil: for an evil angel presented himself to him in his sickness; and that he might sink him in the Gulf of despair, laid open before him all his wickedness committed; whom the sick party answered twice together only thus, I appeal to Philip; and strait the Devil vanished: and Charles soon after very quietly departed. Philip averred his Soul went to heaven: affirming that if a sick person disputed with the devil any while, he was sure to be surprised by his sleights. By this time it was sufficiently known, that as soon as the B. man set but his foot within the chamber of the sick, and asked, Who is here? the devils immediately fled away; so that divers when they lay a dying sent for Him. And not only to his friends and acquaintance, but even to his very enemies did this Good Old man discharge these offices of Charity. Among others, he had one inveterate adversary, whom he was not suffered to visit: so one day after Mass retiring into the Vestry, he said, I felt myself much constrained at Mass, to pray for N. And it was found, that the same hour Philip said Mass, the man fell sick of a disease whereof he died. Him the H. man loved so well that if any chanced to speak of him, he would weep, out of his tender compassion. To this purpose, he in the last place forewarned men of two things; one was, that those who lay a dying were rather to be assisted by the strength of Prayer, than store of words: the other, that men should not spend their Verdicts lightly either about the Patient's recovery or death. He said, he knew some that were mightily displeased at the amendment of such as they had doomed for death. CHAP. IX. He comforts the Afflicted. BEsides the special care He took in helping such as were sick in body, He likewise miraculously raised up such as were dejected in spirit and oppressed with sundry temptations. Marcellus Benejus Politianus was in danger of committing a grievous sin; his Confessor wished him to seek help of Philip: and as he was opening his case to the H. man, he felt himself eased of his trouble, by that time he had ended his relation. Antonius Fantinius a virtuous good man, who lived by Merchandise, and for about 30. years or more confessed almost daily to the H. Father having married a young Wife sharply checked a Nobleman's Servant, for blemishing his honour, and threatened to kill him: the Servant not yet forbearing, he vows to imbrue his hands in his blood. Three days after upon the return of some Festival, as his manner was, he comes to Philip to Confession; shows him the indignities he had suffered, and his purpose of killing the Servant; the Good man laying his hand on him said no more but, Go: and presently all thoughts of committing the murder forsook him; and, which was yet more strange, that Servant never after durst walk near his house. A certain young man, who lately entertained Philip for his Confessor, could by no means be brought to forgive one that had offended him, though the Father used several arguments to change his obstinate mind, but he grew every day more inflexible than other. At last Philip taking up a Crucifix in a holy Passion said to him; Look here, thou wretched creature, and see the blood Christ shed for thee, not only pardoning those who crucified him, but begging mercy also of his Father for them. Fall down therefore upon thy knees: using at that instant some speeches that strangely represented to him the hardness of his heart, and made impression upon him, so that the Youth kneeled down astonished; at length rising up on the sudden, Father, saith he, Paratum cor meum, etc. My heart is ready, my heart is ready, I forgive all the injury, tell me what I shall do. By which means the R. and Religious Father, wisely regained his Son. Petrus Focilius, spoken of elsewhere, being shrewdly chid by Philip for neglecting a business entrusted to him, took it very heinously, and began to mutter to himself, Ha! what's this? Is their never another confessor in this City but he? and away he went and got him another Priest, but the first time he confessed to him he was taken with such a sore Melancholy that he could have no rest, or quiet: till Philip who knew all that had passed, three days after sent a messenger to him, at the news whereof he found himself restored to his former peace; and running joyfully to his Father at the very sight of the B. Old man broke out into tears. But Philip after his wont manner, putting his head to his breast mildly chargeth him with his disobedience, to whom Peter answered, You shall never, Father, hereafter, never find me guilty in this kind again, for from my Soul I promise you, that my actions shall manifest me every way answerable to my expressions. And as he spoke it the temptation ceased. A certain Woman was almost 4 months, miserably afflicted with a violent temptation. Her Confessor advised her to acquaint Philip therewith, who seeing her said, O poor Soul! thou art afflicted indeed: for none can lightly have a sorer temptation, than that thou art tormented with: at which she being amazed that he should know the secrets of her heart (for she had discovered her mind to none) fell down at his feet; he laying his hand on her head, and trembling as he used to do, said, Be of good cheer, Daughter, I must say Mass and I will pray for thee then: and the same instant that he went away her temptation left her. Mutius Achileus, of S. Severines', observing that when he Confessed to the H. man, he knew his very thoughts, became such an exceeding honourer of him, that returning into his Country he would enterprise no difficult action before he advised with him by letters: nay he had so high an opinion of his Sanctity, that he recommended himself to his Prayers, as if being deceased he had been Sainted: and not in vain, for coming up to the City once, and falling into Tiber from a steep rock, upon his devout invocating the assistance of Philip, he was suddenly secured from the danger. The same person testifies, that as oft as he but in thought addressed himself to him, he was freed of all trouble of temptations: as also others witness they were, by bare imposition of his hand, and some, only by calling on his Name. But He not only helped the needy in matters of their Souls, but in secular businesses and things of the World. Julius Petrucius an honourable Person of Sienna, and intimate with S. Carlo, hearing the same of Philip's holiness, being involved in much intricacy of affairs, comes to him, hoping he might aid him some way, and was not deceived, for discovering his condition to him, he found himself quit of his trouble: whereupon putting himself under his obedience, he never after went from him, but continuing in the Religious services of the Oratory, even to a great age, left behind an excellent Pattern of Virtue for his Companions to follow. Bernardine Cotta, and Gerard Caraccio, contended, as for life, to be the Pope's Apothecary; insomuch as Antonia Gerard's Sister coming to the B. man told him all, who answered as he was wont, 'Tis enough, Go, be confident, I will say Mass and pray for you, As he said Mass the Woman stood by him and going home finds the quarrel between her Brother and his Rival peacably composed, and her Brother in possession of the office; all which she attributed to the Father's prayers. John Baptista Magnanus lost a vast sum of Money at Dice, so that he grew into despair upon it, and as he was walking, lighting on Philip, the H. man though he had never seen his face very courteously taking him by the hand, bid him Have a care, do not despair, Confess your sins and God will help you. So, bringing him to S. Hieroms, as soon as he had taken his Confession, laying his hand on his head, he reduced him to his former cheerfulness and quiet; so that considering what had befallen him, he proclaimed it to all he met, saying Philippus vere magnus, Philippus vere sanctus: O right great, right good Philip! Boetius Junta of Senogallia being sore troubled in mind, came to S. Hieroms to cnofession; and seeing Philip fitting there, kneeling down and crossing himself gins his Confession. At which the H. man looking up to heaven said, Indeed this soul is in grievous perplexity: and adding nothing more, he was miraculously released of all his anguish and tribulation. Bartholom. Manticus a Priest of Rome, who revised and corrected the Errors of the Press for Baronius' Annals, hearing that his Father was taken by the Bandits, in his heaviness of spirit repairs to the H. man, relating the hard misfortune of his Father, He bid him doubt nothing, for no harm shall befall him. The next day the Priest tells Philip how the Bandits threatened to kill his Father, unless he ransomed himself at 1500 Crowns; he hearing that pitied the man, bidding him, Go to the Capuchins Covint, and recommend your Father's sad condition to their Prayers. It is saith Manticus, sufficiently presented to them already. What stay you for then? said he, God who best knows how to secure his, will doubtless return you your Father safe. In brief, within a few days Manticus received letters, that his Father had made an escape in a very strange manner. A Lady of Noble extract being much perplexed about living a Recluse, according to her profession made, upon a letter of the H. man's, received such satisfaction, that as she said, she was much pleased with her course of life, and would not change places with any Queen upon earth. Prudentia Diaz, a Roman Matron of quality, molested with multiplicity of cares so that she could neither read nor pray quietly, and, which grieved her more, could gain no comfort from her Confessor; at length by his directions applies herself to Philip who before ever she spoken word to him, told her all she meant to say, and laying his right hand on her head whispers a few short prayers, then signing her with the Cross dismissed her. Scarce had the B. man done, but the woman departed replinished with joy. The like happened to Livia Vestria Vrsina a devout woman, who being sent to Philip for ease of her sorrows had scarcely related This she testified upon Oath. her troubles which for 6 months together disquieted her mind; but at the H. man saying merely, It is nothing, she was freed of those passions not only for that present, but all the days of her life. Camillus Pamphilius studying all night about a certain difficulty, at his going to Philip when day dawned, was quit of his pensiveness in these words, I was with you to night and helped you. This was Father to Pope Innocent X. Last of all Hieron. Pamphilius Cardinal, and brother to Camillus, left upon record this testimony of the R. Father; In all my affairs and anxious solicitude, as soon as I betook me to his Prayers and Counsel, I was assoiled of all my scruples; insomuch as I feared nothing, as oft as he but prayed for me. CHAP. X. He frees divers of Scruples of mind. HE was excellent at removing niceties and doubts, and allaying the several passions of the mind, as will appear upon a Survey of these following instances. A Noble Roman for certain reasons retired into a Monastery of S. Gregory's ad clivam Scauri, who, as a Corpse was carrying to Church to be buried, one that was possessed following the Bier, as soon as the Funeral Rites were ended, taking the distempered person aside, began with an itching curiosity to ask him many questions about certain matters, with whom after he had talked a while, he with a dreadful look, and thundering voice cries out, And you also are possessed. At which the man fell into such horror, that fearing indeed he was possessed by the Devil, he sent presently for a Priest, and had the Exorcisms of the Church read to him: when being adjured of the Priest about his name, he repeats the names of divers Devils, so that many supposed him really possessed. But the strength of the Melady increasing by the continual reciting the Exorcisms, he committed himself to four of the ablest Physicians in the City for cure, who the more experiments they tried, the more his distemper was augmented, that he fell away to a mere skeleton. So leaving the Doctors, and going on a time to Turris speculorum, relating to a Sister in the Monastery there, which was allied to him, the whole story; she willed him to ask counsel of Philip, living then at Vallicella; but he being bashful, and not daring to go himself to the R. Father, she importuned Philip, if the pains were not too much, to repair (of his goodness) to the young man; who frankly consented, and being come, affirmed that he was not at all possessed with any impure Spirit; then commands him with Gallonius, whom he took with him for company, to sing, and drive away Melancholy with some witty recreation: withal bids him come sometimes to Vallicella. The young man did so, when the Father kindly receiving him put his head to his breast, ask him how he did: who answered he was well. Then Philip advised him to disburden his conscience by a general Confession of his sins; which he quickly did, and afterward came daily to Philip, by frequent converse with whom, he attained to perfect health, without either the Physicians medecines, or the Priest's Exorcisms. One thing may not be passed by, that whilst he made his general Confession, unable to shake off that strong imagination settled in him, that the Devil had seized on him, he pressed Philip to Exorcise him; to whom the Father, Doubt nothing, at night I will. Herewith the man was satisfied, and one night as he was asleep, he seemed to himself to disgorge a great multitude of Devils forth at his mouth; and ever after lived quietly, free from any such troublesome apprehensions. Dominicus Saracenus one of the notedst Physicians in the City, falling into a most tedious Melancholy, and having tried all remedies of Art, was strongly opinioned, that by the merits of Philip he should recover his health. To him therefore goes he; the Physician for Physic: to whom Philip as his custom was, said, Doubt not, you will do well again: by which alone without any other help, he was absolutely cured of that distemper of his mind. The same happened also to a noble Personage, one of the Grandees of the Roman Court, who languishing away in extreme heaviness, at his only saying, Despair not, recovered his former courage. No less remarked was he, for removing those anxious Jealousies, arising out of the excess of Religion, termed ordinarily Scruples, Julian Fuscherius a most virtuous Priest of S. Hieroms a Charitate had a certain Penitent that was tormented with these Passions in such wise as he could not use Sacramental Confession for them; and having sent him to divers pious and skilful men for help, but in vain, at length he bethought him of Philip: who at first sight eyeing him steadfastly said, I understand well your case, you are assaulted sore by the Devil: for he discerned that these Scruples proceeded from a secret Spirit of pride in the Penitent. Thereupon he questioned him before Fuscherius after this sort: Have you courage enough to confess your sins to two at once? he answered, I have. Then Philip, Kneel down, and begin the Confession of all your sins. He did, and the Father having taken his Confession, bid him, Kiss the Earth and shame the Devil: which done, he immediately enjoyed his former peace of conscience, and confessed his sins afterward devoid of those fears without disturbance. Cardinal Frederico Borromeo witnesseth, that a certain man, who was molested with many doubtings in the saying his Canonical hours growing every day worse, coming to Philip for cure of his infirmity, He bid him, Go, I will pray for you. And returning to his house without any let he repeated his office, and was never more annoyed with those fond imaginations. Besides these, the prudent Father prescribed sundry salves for such as laboured under this disease. He said, in the first place; that such persons having once discovered that they gave no consent, should inquire no farther as touching their Consent; for the same things oft thought on would take too deep rooting in the mind. And for discerning the assent of the will, he proposed two things to be principally noted. The first, that a man should think seriously with himself, whether in time of temptation he retained the love of the opposite Virtue; for if so, he might then be sure he consented not. The second, whether he would swear that he assented, for if he say he will not swear it, he may certainly believe in like manner that he gave no consent. Further, to that General Rule usually alleged 〈◊〉 men expert and skilled in these matters, viz. That we are to stand to the judgement of a Prudent Confessor absolutely in all things: he added a Special one of his own: That these kind of Scruples were altogether to be slighted, and nether oft, nor yet lightly be arraigned at the bar of Repentance. Therefore whensoever he perceived them to rise in his Penitents at Confession, he would bid them come to the Sacrament even unconfessed. Lastly he concluded with that common Maxim, That this kind of malady might admit a truce for a while, but true solid peace was attainable only by Humility. And not only did His words and advices allay these tempests of the mind, but his holy hands with the very touch thereof afforded ease and relief. Tiberius Ricciardellus, of whom elsewhere, affirms that as oft as Philip did but gently pluck him by the hair, he immediately felt himself sprightly and vivacious. And Cardinal Baronius, that he was much recreated, when being a Youth the B. man did but clap him on the Cheek. Cardinal Octavius Bandinus gloried in it, that the Servant of God gave him a box on the ear, when he was a stripling. And Fran. Puccius of Palestrina avouches, that as oft as Philip laid his hand on his head, his heart seemed to leap and dance within him. The same do almost all others testify, whose Confessions he was wont to hear. Peregrinus Altobellus a Canon of S. Marks Church in Rome, could hardly be kept away from him; for as soon as ever he was in his Company he overflowed with consolations: and one time when the B. man meeting him, asked him, What dost thou here good Peregrine? he was so extremely joyed at it, 〈◊〉 as though in a manner drunk with the delicious gusts of the Spirit, he knew not so much as whither he went. He affirmed also, that the H. man's hands cast forth a fragrant sweetness almost continually. Nay not only himself, and the parts of his Body, but his very , household goods, Utensiles, and his Chamber were marvellously refreshing. ●or which cause, Martius Alterius a Roman said, that Philip's Cell was rather a Paradise than a Cell. The like did Julius Benignius Archbishop of Thessalonica. Cardinal Frederic Boromeo thought himself happy, if he might only stay in his Chamber. Alexander Medici's, (who when he was Pope was called Leo XI.) used to go thither once or twice a week, where he spent 5 or 6 hours, sorry many times that the time went away so fast. Fabricius de Maximis, if he were oppressed with any grief or care, stood still before Philip's chamber-door, and by that means alone was eased of his trouble. Last of all Nerus de Nigris, even after Philip's death, found out this special remedy for his pensiveness and encumbrances, to repair to his Chamber. Neither wanted there those, that merely by looking Him in the face regained their lost joys: for Montes Zazzara by his very Company oftimes was exceedingly revived: and Rodulphus Silvestrius a Physician said, that what time he tarried but with Philip, he was most pleasantly affected and delighted. Some also affirm, that even in their dreams they saw Philip instilling joy and consolations into them. CHAP. XI. His Alms. BUt not only to the Souls of others, but even to their Corporal necessities was He helpful to a ●reat degree. For visiting the Poor he supplied ●hem not with money alone, but all other necessaries for preserving of health; which thing he of●en ●id unsought to, and many times fore knowing their extremities by a Divine instinct, abundantly furnished them with all requisites. He relieved some unasked as oft as they needed: which he knew by supernatural Revelation: so he gave Anton. Fantinius 16. Crowns without ask: and maintained a Nobleman with Diet and Clothes for a long time together, being reduced to extreme misery. He distributed not slight but liberal Alms, both in money and other things; for when a prime Lady sent him a rich suit of furniture for a present, he sold it strait, and gave it all to the Poor. Yea he relieved not private Persons, but whole Families with his Charity: for he kept a poor woman and 4 children with the Grandmother four years together, sometimes sending them twenty Crowns at a time, more or less toward their maintenance. He provided both apparel and victuals for the Wife of Vincentius vulgarly called Miniator, or the Limner, of whom hereafter; she was a woman of rare Virtue, and among other her Acts of devotion confessed every day, who had lately lost her Husband, the care of 6 Sons lying upon her hand: besides he bought all necessaries for her Daughter▪ who was then devoting herself to a Religious life. Further, he maintained at his own charge th● family of Gabrielia of Cortona, a woman of admirable worth, and raised a portion for her Daughter then marriageable at his own cost; and bestowed he● in wedlock. And though he opened his Bowels in bounty thu● to all, yet did he show himself most liberal in relieving Maids. He distributed among the Necee● of Joh. Animuccio, being in extreme want, abou● 600 Crowns, besides diet. Two Florentine Maid● living at Rome to the peril of their Chastity, after their Parent's death, he supplied with all things fitting; till a competent dowry being liberally assigned either of them, he sent them home into their Country to spend their days in a Monastery: he allotted them fourscore Crowns apiece to live in a Nunnery and serve God. Three other poor young Maids he gave in Marriage appointing them portions: and on one of their Husbands besides a portion he bestowed a 100 Crowns: Beyond all this he undertook the charge of twenty Virgins; which a certain Widow without his knowledge had got together, when they were ready to starve; these he kept and brought up, till each of them in time were conveniently and handsomely disposed of. Briefly, the Tables made for his Canonization do amply testify, that by his care and direction almost an innumerable company of Maids were provided for: besides that he is by the testimony of divers averred to be the Author of the Nunnery of S. Katherine de Rosa. And how should it come to pass, think we, that almost forty years after his death, we should behold in this City such Troops of Holy Virgin's warring under the Colours of Blessed Philip, were it not for his sake and merits, who while he lived, was a Patron, and Protector, to so many of them? He went twice a week to all the Prisons, carrying them money, and when he was unfurnished sometimes for such contributions, he would put others, who were richer, upon the office. In like manner he persuaded divers Lawyers and Prelates with much importunity to undertake the Patronage of prisoners causes, or at least to favour them when by others undertaken: he was also very liberal to those who, as it is in the Gospel, could not dig, and were a shamed to beg: for he full well knew, how heavy and sad a condition it is for one formerly rich and Noble to be brought to poverty and indigence. He apportioned a monthly allowance to certain Religious Houses beside the Alms he dispensed every day. Nay more he kept the particular names, of Religious places hanging at his Chamber door, and many times sent them money. It was his custom, if he saw any pregnant youths that for want of subsistence were forced to quit their studies, not only to find them food and raiment, but buy them books too, such as were necssary for attaining liberal Arts and Sciences. Of these two so acquitted them in the profession of Learning, that for their deserts they were advanced to the dignity of Cardinals. And Antony Gallonius affirms no indigent Person ever came to him that went a way . yea some were of opinion that He was many times furnished with money from above, some extraordinary way. This so prodigious bounty, or profuseness rather, God was pleased to approve by most evident miracles. For going one night to carry bread to an honourable but poor man, whilst yet among the Laity, for haste to avoid a Coach that was in full speed, he fell headlong into a deep pit, when an Angel catching him by the hair of the head miraculously preserved him. About the same time an Angel met him in the likeness of a poor man, desiring an alms; to whom He offered willingly all the money he had; when the Angel seeing his good will, refusing the money told him I came but to try what you would do: and strait vanished out of fight. For this his Charity to the poor, and care of saving souls, he was generally termed, The Father of souls and Bodies. And many after his death recounting with themselves the charitable Acts done by him in his life, their hearts melting in them at the remembrance thereof, could not but weep: and divers did frequently and openly affirm, Posterity would never have his equal for liberality and munificence. Therefore Cardinal Robert Bellarmin a man renowned as well for Learning, as virtue and holiness, whom the H. Congregation of Rites commissioned to see him entered in the Calendar of Saints, perusing the evidence of public Testimonies, and seeing such a Catalogue of Charities, did not stick honourably to entitle him a Second john The Almoner. A woman named Mary going to S. Peter's Church that day the B. S. Francisca of Rome was Registered among the Saints, and calling to mind the Alms she had received of the H. man in his life time, the tears running down, And when, saith she, shall my Father Philip be reckoned among the Saints too? for if S. Francis carried faggots on her head about the streets to warm the Poor and needy nigh frozen with cold; my Father Philip hath come to me a hundred times laden with bread and other kind of victuals to keep me from famishing. This woman, the Good man instructed in Mental Prayer, by teaching her to meditate largely, and dilate on the first words of the Lords Prayer; Pater Noster. Nor was He only merciful and compassionate, but exceeding thankful and free. So Cardinal Hieron. Pamphilius reports; The H. Father, when he lived, was even in the smallest matters most grateful to all sorts of men, and so mindful of any good turn done him, that he ever returned more than he received. Marcus Antonius Maffa saith thus; Philip was so civil a Person, that you could scarce ever fasten any kindness upon him, which by mutual offices he requited not more than double. It was once my lot, saith he, to present him with a thing of small worth, for which he sent me a brazen Crucflix of a great value, which I keep by me as a most precious Relic, coming to me thorough his B. Hands. Thus Maffa. Yet although He shown such exemplary charity to the Poor he could not endure to have them go begging about the Church: therefore sometimes would he rise from his Chair where he took Confessions, and make them wait at the Church-doors: as likewise he was very careful there should be no noise to hinder the worship of God, or disturb that silence that ought to be in the Church. CHAP. XII. His Tender-heartedness and Compassion. PIty grew up with him so naturally from his Infancy, that if he saw one in any misery or adversity, it not only grieved him, but out of tenderness of Spirit he could hardly look him in the face: therefore though he loved not to carry money about with him, yet did he not utterly prohibit himself that conveniency, because he m●ght relieve the daily necessities of the poor. He once heard of a woman, who for want of clothes could not go to Church, and presently taking off his cloak, bade it should be carried her. If he at any time saw Boys or Girls in torn or ragged apparel, he forthwith took order for decently clothing them. Again if he knew of any one unjustly imprisoned, he never left mediating for him, till he were released. He so stoutly defended a Roman Nobleman unto the Pope, being wrongfully accused of Murder, that he got him cleared of the Calumny. A Priest falsely impeached of heinous crimes, whereof he knew him innocent; was through his means also delivered from the malice of his enemies. In like manner he in commiseration to certain Vagrants or Gypsies, called by the Italians Cingari, freed them, when they were condemned to the Galleys. He also protected a Roman Lord from the wickedness of his Subjects that came to Rome to implead him before Sixtus V and accommodated the differences betwixt them. He was exceeding charitable to poor Priests, and especially if they were foreigners. In the year 1551, there being a great dearth at Rome, Philip had six loaves brought him, which he immediately carried to a Priest that was a stranger, living himself on a few Olives: and being demanded why he kept never a loaf for himself, replied, Because I am better known here than he, and can shift better than a foreigner. He found out divers ways of helping Mechanics and Artisans, such as earned their living by manual trades, and could neither put of their work nor get employment. There were two Brothers, Frenchmen, very expert Watch-makers, but grown old and having a great charge of Daughters that were marriageable, for whom they could not provide Husbands: the Good man persuades some friends of his who were well-moneyed men to buy those Watches, by which means the Maids had fair Portions raised. This a certain man, one wise for himself, had observed, and seeing a wealthy person buy such store of Watches upon Philip's persuasions, muttered privately, what means this waste? but finding afterward that by these sleights Philip as it were beguiled the Rich to maintain the Poor, he was no more Offended, but thenceforward highly reverenced the B. man. One time one of those that cry Succory about the City came to S. Hierom's to the Service of the Oratory, and being very wet weather, so that it growing now toward night, the poor man could not go about the streets to sell his herbs; the Father out of pity, that he might not go home sad, bought some of his Succory, wishing them that stood by to do the like, and so sent away the man joyful and glad with his money in his purse. This his tender-heartedness and compassion appeared not only to reasonable creatures, but even brute beasts. One of his trod on a Lizard once, at which said he, O thou hardhearted Wretch! what harm did that poor creature do thee? Seeing a Butcher wound a Dog with his axe, he turned away his head moved with compassion, and cried, O thou Barbarous creature! One of his Scholars brought him a Bird to delight him with the fight and singing of her: but he restored her to the heaven where she was bred. When he took Coach he would charge the Coachman to hurt no living creature as he drove on the way: and if any were presented him, he would not let them be killed, but either return them back, or keep them very carefully, if any came into the house of themselves, he let them forth at the Door, or the Windows without doing them any harm. This his goodness and pity even the dumb creatures through the disposal of Providence requited with manifold tokens as it were of gratitude again. Aloysius Ames a Frenchman presented Philip with two fine singing birds which he accepted, upon condition that the donor would every day bring their food: the Good man desiring by this means to contract further familiarity with him. So one day Ames coming suddenly into His Chamber espies one of the Birds▪ got out of the cage, fluttering about Philip's face, and pleasing his ears with her delightful tunes. The Father asks if she used to do so, No, replied he; at that Philip with a stern look beat her from him three or four times, but she would not leave, all the while chanting her pleasant notes till bidding the Cage should be brought to her, she presently flew in, as if understanding the meaning of his command. Divers instances of this nature are purposely omitted. CHAP. XIII. His unstained Virginity. HAving thus entreated at large of the H. man's Charity and Meekness, intending to take a view of his other Virtues in their order, the first that offers itself is his inward Purity, and Virgin-innocency. For the B. man well knowing how greatly God delights in Chastity both of Body and Mind, employed, so soon as he came to the use of Reason, all his art and industry in quenching those sparks of lust that began to kindle in him; and although by occasion of the affairs wherein he was daily exercised all his life long, he met with many temptations to dishonesty, yet preserved he the flower of his Virginity unspotted to the last. For proof whereof, besides the undoubted public Testimony of Cardinal Baronius, to whom the H. Father, with many tears accusing himself of unthankfulness, disclosed the secret a little before he died; and besides what Persianus Rosa his Confessor while yet a young man, averred; yea and besides the common fame that went of him always both at Rome and Florence for his Chastity, that one might serve instead of many, which the Sacred Congregation of Rites gave concerning Him, having duly weighed the Reports of both Witnesses and Records, viz. That they had had proofs of Philip's Virginity more than needed. And it is not to be forgotten, how one time He discovered as much to one of his Penitents at Confession, to procure his love also to this Virtue, and to convince him, that not only the purity of Continency, but Virginity too by the Grace of God might be preserved, as he himself had preserved it. This precious treasure he hid close under the Cover of profound humility, guarding it every way by a most strict watch kept over all his Senses. For in imitation of that Great Antony, he never let any part of his body be seen naked: nor ever let fall a word that savoured of the least immodesty. He turned away his eyes from beholding vanity, insomuch that a beautiful woman, whose Confessions he took for 30 years together, affirmed, he never so much as once looked her in the face. At first when he was Confessor he always looked sour while he spoke to women, not giving them so much as a coutteous word, though in his latter years he forbore that custom. Such and so purely white and unblemished Chastity did the impure Fiend labour by all means to defile. One night forced by necessity, whilst yet a Laique, he lodged at a friends of his, where the Daughter of the house, one of a fair body, but most deformed Soul, watching a fit occasion came into the Chamber where the H. young man lay: thinking by that privacy to entice him to folly, but he Divinely assisted repulsed her impudent assaults, going away victor over the unclean Spirit. About the same time certain debauched persons, not believing his Chastity to be such as the rumour bruited, sent for him on pretensions of piety, and getting him into a private room, where two lewd women were provided to entrap him, locked the door upon him: but he betaking him to his main Fort, his Prayers, expressed himself therein with such devotion and zeal, that they durst neither approach near, nor so much as once speak to him. Being after made Priest, and appointed to take Confessions, he was more craftily assayed, as it were by Ambuscado. For a notorious Strumpet, called Caesarea, hearing of his renowned Continency, and being herself very handsome, proclaims, she would effect her will on him; so pretending a desperate sickness she sends for Philip, as to take her Confession; He at first refuseth, fearing to bring a scandal on himself: for not without cause, being of those years, he always denied to come to women; but upon very much importunity, earnestly longing after the good of Souls, he went; when no sooner was he entered within the doors, but the audacious harlot meets him with a transparent Veil cast over her naked body: he perceiving the subtle wiles of the Devil, crossing himself turns his back on her, and leaping down stairs breaks away. She finding herself cozened of her expectation, takes a stool up and throws after him with all her might to hit him, but in vain: so the Servant of Christ by God's providence escaped the danger both of Soul and Body. This resolution of his for preserving his Chastity God so rewarded, that he never after felt himself annoyed with inclinations to Lust, or illusions of the night. Insomuch as he told Baronius once: Be assured Caesar, if any such thing should befall me, though asleep, I should even die for grief. Yea he had brought himself to that pass, that as though he had been made of wood or stone, his body was in a manner senseless. And Gallonius speaking of his rare Continence writes thus. I do really believe (for he was intimate with the H. man) Philip's Virginity and Purity was no whit inferior to that which by special privilege from God was conferred on Eleazar Count of Arian, and Simon Salo, whose Praises are recounted by the Metaphrast in Surius for either of these led the lives of Angels amidst the Society of Men. Moreover wonderful were the effects of his his unstained Chastity, For first, the brightness of so singular a Purity sparkled forth at his very eyes, which from his Infancy to an extreme Old age continued quick and lively; so that one could scarce look steadily on him, nor was the most exquisite Painter able to portray their glittering beauty. As also his unpolluted Body cast forth so sweet a fragrancy, that such as came nigh him where wonderfully refreshed by it; and many affirm they received increases of Devotion by the odoriferous perfume that breathed out from his Breast and Hands. Fabricius Aragonius a Nobleman of Mantua coming to Philip to Confession, and finding him sick a-bed, was unwilling to approach near, thinking he might smell strong by reason of age; but going nigher him, as soon as the H. man put his head into his bosom he was so amazed at the delicious sweetness of the Odour that issued from him, that he would have imputed it to some perfumes he knew not of, But afterwards learning that, the Religious man was divinely endued with the Blessing of Chastity; Now, saith he I understand the matter more fully; and that this fragrant scent proceeded from that incomparable flower of his Virginity. The same happened to others as they received Absolution. Yea this Maiden-man was so far favoured by God that he could by the smell distinguish who had kept their virginity, and who not. Therefore if any lascivious woman met him as he went, though she were a stranger to him, he smelling a stink presently either put a handkerchief to his Nose, or held it with his hand, saying that Nothing smelled more odious or noisome than uncleanness. He would say to his Penitents that came to him polluted with this filthy sin; Thou stinkest, Son, thou stinkest: so that they who knew it durst not come to him, whilst they stood defiled with such impurities. Nay by the very looking on the visage he discovered the vice; a thing so common with him, that even in beasts, that are without all fault herein, he could discern the like rankness. Further, He obtained of God this privilege that by the bare imposition of his hands he freed divers from sensual provocations, that troubled them; many also by being only acquainted with him were persuaded to Chastity; some he inflamed with the love of Purity by only putting them to his breast: others he made victorious in those strong encounters by but touching them with any thing he used. Antonius Fuccius of Tifernum, a Physician, was determined to leave his Profession, for that when he attended sick women, he found himself violently tempted; but wanting a competent livelihood of his own, he opens his mind to Philip, who pitying his grief reached him his Garter, which Antony taking, and wearing constantly about him, became quit of the like temptations ever after. But what needs there more? the very Name of Philip torments the damned spirits, and abates their fury; for Exorcists adjuring the possessed but by the Chastity of Philip, have been known sundry times to cast out the devil. A young Widow much disquieted with the enticing blandishments of the flesh, who had oft revealed as much to her Confessor but found no help, being sent to Philip, was prescribed a remedy in these words; Daughter, as often as you are molested with unchaste imaginations, bespeak the Devil thus. I will complain of you to Philip, that Ass, the worst of men. The woman did as she was directed, and was rid of those fleshly desires. Which thing also happened to very many, who falling in like sort upon the Devil in the same terms, were strait freed of their temptations, yet he advised them to utter those words with all possible confidence and simplicity, and not discoursing things too much with reason; knowing how much the devil is awed by the harmless integrity and plain dealing of holy persons. Besides, he lessoned his with several Documents for the preservation of Chastity. First, he counselled Confessors not to take the Confessions of Women but through a grate, to shun all discourses with them, not purposely to look on their faces, to show themselves severe in conversing with them, not to be in company with one either in the house or any private place, but upon extreme necessity, and when a third person was by. Therefore when a certain Priest one time entered the Church, unknown to him before, he forthwith by a Divine impulse, calling the man to him, said; It befits not a Priest, though otherwise devout, to converse so familiarily with women; therefore see you forbear it utterly hereafter. He astonished hereat wondered how he should enter so far into him, being either of them strangers to one another. Being also one well experienced, He dissuaded them from too much confidence in themselves, either by reason of age or the constant exercise of the habit of Chastity; and that they should propose him for their pattern: For said he, God hath bestowed some things on me, which he useth not to dispense to all. He had short Rules for Youth to learn; as, to avoid bad company; not to pamper their carcase too deliciously; to fly idleness; to be much in prayer; lastly, to keep up the frequent use of Sacraments, of Penance especially. And generally he would say, That Christian Humility was the safest Guardian of Chastity. Therefore if he chanced to hear of one that had fallen into that sin, he said, We ought rather to pity than to scorn him; for he that cannot truly compassionate his fallen brother, hath reason to fear lest himself likewise fall ere long: adding, That no peril is greater, than dangers unfeard. A young man that had long frequented the company of a lascivious woman, but at length grown stayed, conceiting it no hard matter to reclaim his Mistress too, resorted to her still upon that ground: but he that went to convert, came away debauched, by a lewd harlot; and so relapsing durst not return for shame to Philip: till at last he forced himself and came; Philip presently placing his Scholars in a Ring, and the young man among them took occasion thus to bespeak them, there are amongst you my Sons, who think, as soon as ever they have begun to walk in God's way, they can convert the whole world, and yet after they have fallen are ashamed to return to their own Confessor. At which the young man changed colour, but Philip without discovering that he meant him, laying his hand on his head, and making much of him reduced him to his former course of Piety. He alleged also that it conduced much to the preservation of Chastity to disclose one's whole mind to his superiors, not concealing from them the least matter. For wounds laid open to the Physician are most easily cured. He greatly commended for removing this kind of temptations the Ejaculatory Prayers, so highly approved by the Ancient Fathers, such as that, Deus in adjutorium meum intend, Domine ad adjuvandum me festina; i. e. Hast the o God to deliver me, make haste to help me o Lord: and that, Cor mundum crea in me Deus; Create in me a clean heart o God. Above all, for the subduing all the allurements to the flesh, he principally exhorted Christian Soldiers to flight, saying, That in the battles of Chastity, to run away is to win. CHAP. XIV. His Abstinence. BEsides, he brought under his body by perpetual austerities, and abstinence, the chief preservative of Chastity. For above what hath been already spoken of his rigid course of life, after he was made Priest, he either did eat nothing at all a mornings, that is, for his breakfast or dinner, or else, without sitting, a morsel of bread dipped in wine. At evening he was content with a Salad and an egg for supper, or two at most. He had no bread brought him at night, but the pieces he left in the morning at breakfast: he had fruit according to the season of the year; he scarce ever eat any thing made with milk or furmety, seldom fish, but more seldom flesh: and though he kept thus mean a diet, yet he always left something. When the Physicians prescribed him some nourishing broths, he complained he was surcharged with overeating; and in his latter time having received the H. Eucharist, he left of breakfasts, being asked, why? he said, He quite forgot it. He did most what eat alone, shutting himself into his Chamber, and laying a napkin over a stool used the attendance of no servant, he came not to the Refectory with the rest, both to colour his purposed abstinence the better and for his health's sake, having for so many years together used so slender a diet at S. Hieroms. For his drink likewise he was very sparing, the Pot he used not holding above one draught; besides his Wine so dashed, that it tasted most of water, and sometimes he drank only water. Indeed he was so abstinent, that by the joint opinion of Physicians he could never have lived so long by the strength of nature, and therefore many thought him rather nourished be the Bread of Angels, then fed with the ordinary food of men. But though he lived this strict and retired kind of life, yet would he not let his do any thing unusual about their diet, but willed them to be content, with the meat which was set before them, and especially abhorred to hea● one say, This I like, this I dislike. He forbidden making any private entertainments, or special exceed, save in cases of necessity; and was against the eating any thing between dinner and supper: telling one that had offended in this kind; you will never get a fervour of the Spirit till you mend this fault. He slept but little, some four or five hours at most, all the rest of the night he spent in Prayer: his bed and Chamber suited with his Christian simplicity; much-what like those used ordinarily by Secular Priests: he commonly went to sleep about midnight, and though last in bed yet he was first up. As for his apparel, he always followed the garb of other Secular Priests; neither sumptuous nor sordid in his attire; but observing S. Bernard's rule, he hated slovenliness and loved cleanliness, though he never wore Silks. His course of Fasting he left not so long as he lived, yea the older he grew, the more still he abated of the conveniences of life: and if any counselled him to favour himself now he was old, he either turned his discourse to some other thing, or smilingly answered, Heaven stands not open for sluggards. Yet though thus severe to himself, to his Sons none more tender and indulgent always: persuading them rather to feed a little too freely, than too sparing: it being easier to subtract somewhat from too full a diet, then to repair with nutriment the body well nigh pined: affirming that, sometimes Religious Persons had been instigated by the devil to inflict too sharp chastisements on their Bodies, that so being disable by sickness they might i'll in holy duties; or dismayed through the violence of their disease recede from the way of salvation. Therefore this Rd. Sage person made more account of those who with moderation tamed the wantonness of the flesh, rather teaching the chief Powers of the Soul, as the Understanding and Will obedience; than of those who were overrigorous to their bodies, taking little or no care of regulating the unruly affections of the Mind. CHAP. XV. His Contempt of Riches. TO the Virtue of Temperance he annexed a most profound Contempt of Riches; for though he had not vowed Poverty, yet kept he his mind lose from the love of wealth: So that to let pass his refusal of inheriting his Uncle's estate; and that slender provision which he found, being then young, with Galeottus Caccius: when he was ordained Priest and Confessor, though he were offered divers thousands of Crowns by some Noble Persons, he ever refused to take any part thereof. He had some goods at Castle-Franco a Town of Tuscany, whence his Ancestors were descended, and being much solicited by a friend of his to recover them out of the hands of those who wrongfully detained them, he made answer, You will do me a courtesy to forbear speaking of them any more henceforward. When he lived at S. Hierom's without any allowance or pension serving the Church, hearing that his Father Francis Nerius was dead, and had left his Sister Katherine his heir passing him by, and therefore the Will was void; he nevertheless confirmed all that his Father had disposed of by will, readily and willingly giving place to his Sister. His other Sister Elizabeth wanting issue writ to him often to accept of being left her heir, which he also denied, by Letters sent her. For threescore years together, he never received the smallest matter of his kindred, while he was at Rome. When his Sister sent him a couple of shirts for a token, he never so much as took care to have them fetched from the Messenger's that brought them. At S. Hierom's, where he lived thirty three years he refused the money that was wont to be paid by the Governors unto other Priests, and contented himself with a bare Chamber. He was so averse from having to do with men's Wills or Testaments, knowing that those, who intermeddle in such matters, give secular persons occasions of offence or suspicion, that when he visited the Sick, as soon as he heard but a word of making a Will, he would immediately be gone, and scarce come any more to see them, unless they had done settling their estates. Vincentius Teccosius bequeathed Him one hundred Crowns and some other Vtensiles: but when the Testator died, He becoming an Executor rather than a Legacer, gave all his share to the Testators Nieces. Constantius Tassonius left him a great sum of money; but when the Schedule of the Will was brought him, he in sport made it serve for a cover to a dish, never after mentioning word of the money. Prosper Cribellius was once sick, and out of his exceeding affection toward Philip, purposed to make Him his a This is testified upon oath by Card. Tarugi, the same Prospero and divers others. Sole heir: which He scenting out left coming to see him. But growing worse and worse, and having newly received the H. Unctions the pious Father moved with compassion comes to him not forsaking his Penitent in apparent danger of death: Prosper as soon as he saw him he so wished for, cries out; Ah, Father, why come you so late? He replies: Though I be late, yet have I omitted nothing, which had I been present, I could have done for you: but because it was noised about the City, that you had made me your heir in your Will, I forbore coming to your house thus long. The truth is, I will none of your Estate; and that you may be sure I speak from my heart, I am now going to S. Peter's in the Vatican to pray for your recovery; which if God deny to grant, I shall most earnestly request him, to lay this very disease on me: so laying his hands on the sick man's, he went away weeping; and when Prosper had slumbered awhile, awaking, he found himself perfectly well. From this his Contempt of wealth proceeded that most vehement desire of Poverty wherewith he burned continually, for though he could not exercise the Virtue of Poverty in that state of life wherein he then was; yet was he so inflamed with the love thereof inwardly, that these expressions oft fell from him; Would God I were forced for to beg my bread from door to door! Would God I had never a penny, nor none to give me! O how great a favour should I count it, to end my days in an Hospital! and many the like speeches did this passionate Lover of Poverty often utter. Yea and that small pittance of meat (as hath been said already) which he did eat, he begged sometimes of one, sometimes of another of his Sons in the name of Christ, Yet we affirm not that Philip at no time kept any thing for himself; that being both contrary to the condition of Secular Priests, and the Institution of the Congregation; only the Reader may see by what hath been spoken, that he was far from the love of wealth, and likewise most ambitious of this Virtue. And as he himself thus despised riches, so did he desire that his should scorn and contemn them too. Therefore understanding that one of his had hoarded up a certain Stock by himself a little too greedily, Son, said he to him, before you gave your mind to this same money, you had a face like an Angels, and I was taken with your looks; but now your visage is quite altered, and all that beauty of your countenance withered, and sadness sits upon your brow. See I beseech you, what you do, and beware. Whereupon he blushed, and changing his mind, employed all his pains and industry in purchasing heavenly treasures to himself. Once He asked a Scholar of his, whether he loved money? who answered, No, he abhorred it. Be it so, be it so, replied Philip, we shall go into the house of the Lord; for look how much love is bestowed on the creature, so much is withdrawn from the Creator. A certain young man, out of an aim to be rich, and get a reputation in the City, applied himself to the study of the Civil Law; him the H. man began to accost and extol, saying, O happy you! you study hard now, and within a while will proceed Doctor after which by your Law practise will gain a Mass of Money, increasing both the wealth and honour of your House, and who is there but expects you to mount to the Highest and most eminent dignities? O what a happy man are you! and then being made a great man you will scorn to look upon me a mean shrub. The young man thought all this had been spoken by him in good earnest, when Philip embracing him whispers in his ear, But what after all this? That word sunk so deep into his mind, that going home he did nothing but repeat to himself, but what after all this? which weighing seriously in his thoughts, he resolves thence forward to labour only in search of celestial Riches and Honour. So putting himself under Philip's institutions attending his pleasure in every thing, he enters himself as a Servant into his family, and at last, Philip being dead, was admitted into the Congregation of the Oratory. This was Franc. Zazzaro a Priest one of singular Virtue and exceedingly beloved both of pious and honourable Persons, who deserved well of the Congregation, and being entrusted with the managing the Canonization of the B. Father, pursued it with such rigour and pains, that at last he brought it to the wished-for period: when having obtained of the H. Congregation of Rites that the office for him being approved should be recited at pleasure, and performed the obsequies for the most R. Father in the year one thousand six hundred twenty six, on the twenty sixth of April, being fifty years old, he died in peace. The like befell a certain Merchant, who bragging what huge store of money he had got together, and much more he would gain, upon Philip's only whispering in his ear, But what after all this? laid aside his employments, and entering into H. Orders betook himself wholly to the service of God. But though the B. man desired to have all his free and unspotted from the love of Silver and Gold, yet did he mainly wish those of the Congregation to outvie others herein. Therefore as soon as they were allowed to hear Confessions he warned them especially to receive no money from such as came to them, oft using to say; If ye aim at the good of Souls, never seek the gold in their purse: and frequently repeating that of the Apostles; Non vestra, sed vos. Not yours, but you. Nor did he only thus advice and counsel Confessors, but all of the Congregation; and that they should by no means have to do in making Wills; as understanding how easily some jealousy or displeasure might hence arise. He hated avarice, as one would the plague; calling it an incurable vice: therefore he affirmed, That incontinent persons were sooner brought home to Christ, than covetous: for which reason he enjoined his Penitents whom he perceived most addicted to money, not Fasting, but Alms, as a proper and befiting Penance; saying, Let the young man keep himself from the mire of uncleaness, and the old from the filth of covetuousness, and we shall be all holy. And again, Pick me out but ten men free from all love of worldly things, and I will undertake to convert the whole world. To them of the Congregation he would say; God will hereafter enrich you with temporal goods, but take heed, lest while ye increase your fortunes ye lose the Spirit. CHAP. XVI. His declination of Honours and Dignities. NOr was the B. Father less averse to Honours and Preferments than he was to Riches. For having lived in the City sixty years, and gained an opinion of rare sanctity, not only with the Plebeians and private Citizens, but among the Nobles, and with the Popes themselves, yet did he continually retain very low and mean thoughts of himself. He never would take any Churchliving, stipends, or preferments, though freely offered him, nay, he used such cunning and art in refusing and declining them, that one could scarce tell that he at any time refused them: yet is it evident and apparent that the H. man both cautiously and modestly had divers times rejected the wealthiest Prebendaries and Bishoprics in the City, ye and the sacred Purple too, as shall appear. Gregory XIV. whilst yet a Cardinal loved Philip entirely; whereupon being newly preferred to the Popedom, the Servant of Christ came ●o kiss his feet; the Pope strait running to embrace him, tells him he had a purpose to make him Cardinal. At which the Good man whispered somewhat in his, and putting it off with a jest went his way. Yet was not Gregory removed a whit from his intended resolution, but within a while sends him a trusty messenger to confirm it to him, and carry him a Cardinal's Hat; he returns the messenger, praying him to present his humble thanks to the Pope, and acquaint him, that he would certify his Holiness further what time would be fittest for the reception of such an Honour. And by this means he defeated the Pope's intent and skreened off the Lustre of the dignity proffered him. And that none reckon this a mere Compliment of the Popes, and no real offer, it is attested by those who were admitted to all the Pope's privacies, and by Philip himself, who oft related the same to his Sons, to dissuade them from the Ambition to Honours. But this truth became more illustrious under Pope Clement VIII. for Philip's requesting the Pope's Bull for a certain Maid, and by indisposition of body unable personally to attend him, he sent him a petition to this effect. Most Holy Father, who am I that even Cardinals should come to me? and much more the Cardinals of Cusa and Florence who were with me yester evening: the latter of which, I then needing a little Manna, such as is gathered off leaves, caused two ounces to be brought me out of that large store which he had sent to the Hospital of Santo Spirito; and the same day he stayed with me till the second hour of the night, who so highly and so frequently extolled your Holiness, as he seemed to me too immoderate therein; for as much as a Pope should be all Humility. At the Seventh hour of the night Christ came to me, and fed me with the Sacrament of his own Body; but you never vouchsafed to come so much as once to our Church. Christ is God and Man, yet he disdains not to come to me as oft as I call on him; you a mere man, descended of a holy and virtuous Father, but Christ of God the Father; your Mother Agnesina is a devout woman; but Christ had the Virgin of Virgins for his Mother. I want not cause of complaint, had I not rather repress this passion of Anger. I do therefore command your Holiness to obey my pleasure concerning this Maid the Daughter of Claudius Nerius, who I am very desirous to have admitted among the Devota's of St. Francisca: you long since engaged your word to take his Children into your care; remember it is beseeming a Pope to keep Faith. Therefore your Holiness may refer the business to me, to make use of your Authority so far as is requisite, the rather, for that I am not unacquainted what the resolutions of the Maid are, being most certain, that she is now hastening to the solitude of a call of God. And in the mean time with all due submission I most humbly kiss your Holiness' feet. Hereunto Clement writ back in the same leaf with his own hand thus. The Pope makes you this answer: He saith your paper in the very front savours of a spirit of Ambition, while you certify him of your being so frequently visited by Cardinals, except you did it, that he might know they were holy and religious persons, which no man ever questioned. As to that, that the Pope never visited you, he retorts it upon you, who never deserved it at his hands, having so often refused him the acceptance of a Cardinal's Hat when freely tendered you. For the commands you lay upon him, he gives you leave, if the Nuns oppose, to check them according to your accustomed jurisdiction: and he commands you to have a care of your health and not to take any more Confessions without his Permission. And that when Christ shall come to you next, you remember to pray for the Pope, and for the urgent necessities of all Christendom. Thus Clement. Whereby appears evidently that Philip had oft avoided the dignity of the Purple. To the same purpose was that which fell out some three months before the Servant of Christ died; when speaking to Bernardine Corona, one of the Congregation, with whom Philip was familiarly and frequently conversant; The Pope saith he, will make me one of his Cardinals, what think you on't? He replied; You must needs accept of it, if it be but for the good you may do for the Congregation. At which Philip lifting up his cap and looking to heaven cried out, Paradise, Paradise. Yea the H. man did so constantly refuse dignities and promotion, that somtims he broke out into such expressions as these; In truth I had rather die, nay to be struck with lightning from heaven (pardon me my Children) than be entangled in the love of these worldly things: I do indeed desire much the Virtues of Cardinals and Popes; but their Riches and pompious splendour I tremble within myself to think of. So he. Not without cause therefore did Marc. Antonius Maffa the Abbot utter these words: It may be said of Philip, as S. Hierom doth of Hilarion: Let others admire the wonders he did, his incredible abstinence, learning, and humility; I admire nothing so much as that he should so nobly spurn reputation and fame; especial seeing Philip living in the City, and in the throng of honours even scorned honour. So Maffa. But the Right humble man rejected not only the preferments offered him by such as were Strangers; but even those honours presented by his own, as Father and Founder of the Congregation. Insomuch as being chosen perpetual superior, two years before his death, he was extremely importunate that they would let him lay down the Office, but they strongly opposing it, he by assistance of the Cardinals Borromeo and Cusanus procured of Pope Clement VIII. that the Fathers should condescend to his entreaty. So on the twenty third of July in the year One thousand five hundred ninety three, Caesar Baronius succeeding him, did this vowed Lover of Obedience, to the great joy of his heart, resign his Superiourship. Yet neither did his abate any thing of their duty and observance toward him, nor again did he in the least withdraw, so much as for a minute, his care and providence for the benefit of the Congregation. And as he demeaned himself herein, so would he have all his to behave themselves; those peculiarly of the Foundation of the Oratory, being much displeased when any adventured but to step into the Courts of Princes, except only in cases of necessity: so that he oftimes severely reprehended Germanicus Fidelius for frequenting so much company of Courtiers, saying to him, Unless you quit the Court, you will be made a Courtier, and yet shall you never attain unto the dignity of a Prelate; and he spoke true. For Clement VIII. committed his Nephew Silvester Aldobrandinus for his instruction in manners to Germanicus, and conferred on him a Canon's place in the Vatican, which he at last resigning died, as Philip had told him, without any degree of eminency. Besides the Servant of Christ would not willingly suffer any of his to hold above one Ecclesiastical Benefice; and on no terms would take the Confessions of such Prelates, as, contemning the Refidence due unto their Sees, without colour of Canonical excuse, lived in the City; a thing wherein he would not dispense with Cardinals themselves. In his discourse he would so sharply reprove the counterfeit Pageantry of the world, that he was often repeating such say as these: Vanitas Vanitatum, & omnia vanitas. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. There is nothing at all in this world good. The contempt of Riches and honours is in all places necessary, but at Rome most of all. I find nothing in this world that pleaseth me, but this pleaseth me most that nothing pleaseth me; and the like. At which divers being awakened and roused made after heaven with all their might. CHAP. XVII. His Humility. THis so matchless Contempt of wealth and honours had its rise from his profound Humility, which being deeply rooted in his Soul made him with S. Francis hearty and without hypocrisy profess himself the greatest of sinners; which he spoke with such powerfulness of expression, as witnessed that he really meant what he said. Therefore if he had heard of any horrid crime done, he used to say, Pray God I have not committed worse! And for this cause he read the Life of S. Marry the Egyptian much; whose austerities he practised with great rigour, though not guilty of heinous offences. He every day complained in this manner to God; Lord do thou beware of me, for except thou assist me with thy help, I shall this very day undoubtedly betray thee. Sometimes he would say; The wound of Christ's side is wide enough already, but unless God prevent me, I shall make it wider. When he received the Body of Christ in the Eucharist, he said; I confess, Lord, I confess, I am inclined to nothing but evil: he prepared himself in this wise to say Mass; I offer up myself to thee, O Lord, of myself prone to all manner of evil. When he was a young man, if at any time he were sick, he used to say; Lord, if I recover, I will lead a better life: but bethinking himself better in his latter time, he used this saying; If I should chance to grow well, I shall, as far as in me lies, be but the worse, for I have so often failed in performing what I have purposed, that I dare not trust myself hereafter any more. He had so firmly imprinted it on his Spirit, that he had never done any good, that when he saw young men, thinking on the time they had for their progress and advance in God's way, he would say O Blessed, o happy you, who have time before you for the doing good in! sometimes he broke out into this speech, I despair: so that meeting once two Dominicans, and making his way on purpose between them he said, Sirs let a despairing man pass quietly by you: they, supposing him to be indeed hopeless concerning salvation, laboured to repair his confidence, but he smiling told them; I despair of myself, but I trust in the Lord: and so went on his journey. Yea he had so fixed his mind on the sense of his own baseness and unworthiness, that on a time a woman requesting of him a piece of his garment, as reverencing him for a Saint, he in great wrath bid her, Away I am no Saint, but indeed a Devil. Another time being asked by the Embassadress for Spain; How many years since he had renounced the world: his answer was; Truly I know not that ever I renounced it. Being once sick and desired by some holy persons to repeat those words of S. Martin; Lord, if I may be useful to thy people, I refuse not the Labour: he made this ●t art reply. Alas, I am no Saint Martin, nor ever thought myself such a one: and should I esteem myself useful, I should account that I were undone. Another time being sick, and requested by a Noble man to pray for the continuance of his life, that he might not leave his so soon without providing for them, he angrily replied, He never judged himself worthy to provide for any. A Person of quality seriously reflecting on the daily wonders done by him, said, Father, Saints do very strange things; speak not so, replied he, but say rather with the Prophet; Mirabilis Deus in Sanctis suis: God is wonderful in his Saints. Another telling him, I am tempted to be believe you are not the man the world takes you for: saith he; Know, that is no temptation but a truth; for I am nothing more than other men. In this Humility of Spirit he used to commend himself to the Prayers of all; and was wont to send to divers Houses of the Regulars to desire the Religious, the Novices especially, to remember him in their Prayers to God: he likewise requested such as were Priests to afford him a share in their Suffrages when they said Mass in their Churches, and chief on their prime Festivals. In like manner he entreated that he might bear a part of the Penances enjoined Penit●nts in Confession; the Humble man hoping by this means through the prayers of others to obtain what he least expected from his own. He also took it ill that any accounted him a virtuous or holy man: and if he heard himself called Saint he would say; wretched I! how many rude Clowns, how many silly wenches shall go to heaven before me? One of his telling how he was held a Saint by all, he cried out Alas, Alas! He was always averse to estimation among men: for when being young the Arms of his Ancestors were brought him, as a memorial of his family, he presently tore them. A little before he died he caused all his papers to be burnt. He would suffer none, were they of never so mean quality, to stand bare to him. Nor would he ordinarily let any kiss his hands, although he permitted some, that they might not go away sad. He never used to discourse with Spiritual men about Spiritual matters. He could not endure that any of the Congregation should call him Superior or Regent, but took much delight in the title of Father: that name importing rather Affection than Authority. Hereupon being afterwards Superior of the Congregation, he was by his still called Father. For this cause also he would not be styled Founder or Institutor of the Congregation: professing that he never intended the erecting a Congregation. He was far from all contention and emulation, abhorred complementing language and fine . He extremely disliked some Court-fashions, but approved Christian simplicity ever in every one. He retained no familiarity with the dissembling and worldly politic, and above all deeply detested Liars. In determining matters appertaining either to himself or the Congregation, he always asked the opinion of others: advising not only with sage and prudent persons, but even those of inferior rank, desirous they should tell him plainly their opinion. He was much pleased when he heard himself undervalved as a weak Person; remembering that of S. Paul, Si quis videtur, etc. If any man among you seem to be wise, let him become a fool, that he may be wise: so that of Philip it may be truly said, as Gregory Nissen of S. Ephrem; He had rather be, than seem holy. If it happened, that God did any thing supernatural by him, he took such care to conceal it, that none or very few came to know it: for as the B. Francis de Paula used herbs and the like in curing diseases, thereby to disguise the miracles he wrought; so Philip as it were jestingly used to do strange effects; what he thus did seeming to the beholders quite another thing then indeed it was; in such wise as divers believed that like another Simon surnamed Salo, he by his prayers obtained of God, that the many Miracles daily done by him should pass undiscerned by the eyes of lookers on. Hereto belongs that he once told Baronius, when he commended him, though sparingly and discreetly; Know Caesar, that I am extremely grieved, when I am in any esteem with men, and therefore pray, that God would not suffer any thing at all whereby men may account me better than I am: since if he hath effected aught by me beyond the ordinary course of Nature, that is to be ascribed unto the faith of others. Therefore being desired on a time to lay his hands on the sick for their recovery, he said something angrily; These people would certainly have me work miracles, which I am altogether unfit for. In fine the Servant of Christ shone most glorious in his Christian Humility toward all and on all occasions, being gentle in commanding, moderate in tasking, pleasant in behaviour, affable in converse, at no time offensive to any; as appeared in that he wore woollen socks in his Chamber, lest he might disturb them under him with his walking. So far from self-conceit, that, as 'tis reported of S. Thomas Aquinas, he never in his life felt any provocation to Vain glory. He took all care possible, that his Sons likewise might ascend the top of this Virtue: and as S. John the Evangelist oft inculcated those words unto his Disciples; Filioli diligite alterutrum; My little Children love one another; so did Philip often ingeminate this one thing still; Humiles estote Filii, humiles estote. Be humble, Sons, be humble. Whereupon as Taurusius was preaching once, with such zeal and vehemency that his Auditors applauded him, Philip on the sudden steps forth, fearing the man might affect popularity, and falls to thumping the wall with his fist, till he drew the eyes of all upon him, by this means diverting Taurusius from being puffed up with applause. Then going into the Pulpit cries out, There is no reason (o ye Auditors) any of us should boast, who as yet have not spilt the least drop of blood for the love of Christ; nay rather have gained much honour and estimation by being in his service: and enlarging thereon a while came down. He said, none should mention his own praise openly either in earnest or jest at any time. And that a man should rejoice, at least not take it ill, if he did aught worthy commendation, though another had▪ the credit of it, forasmuch as he should be a double gainer thereby; to wit, for the work, and the Humility. He also advised his, to beg earnestly of God, if he bestowed on them any Virtue, not to discover it unto them; lest they took occasion of growing proud thereby; oft repeating those words; Secretum meum mihi, etc. My secret to myself, my secret to myself. Withal he affirmed, it was a token of apparent danger wilfully to incur a danger: and therefore wished his often to say, Trust not unto me Lord, for except thou help, doubtless I shall fall. He forbade them to vaunt of themselves at any time, saying, If I were tempted this would I do or say; but rather, What is to be done, I know, what said, but what I should say, or do, I know not. In general he counselled Penitents, at the very entrance upon their confession to disclose their foulest crimes: saying this was the way to shame the devil: but he exceedingly faulted the mincing a sin, and transferring the blame upon others: adding, that he who meant to reach the highest degree of sanctity, must never stand to excuse himself, save in cases excepted by the Canons of the Church; calling them Eves who still I excused themselves from being faulty in every thing. He further affirmed, the best course to keep one from sin, was to lay aside all haughtiness of mind: again, he that is reproved for a fault, should not be too much disquieted at it: for, faid he, it oft falls out that the grief is more blame worthy, than the offence itself, insomuch as such excessive sorrow most commonly proceeds from nothing but Pride. Therefore if one had offended, he wished him to upbraid himself thus; Had I been humble, surely I had not sinned: but he neither readily nor generally liked their opinion, who over-confident of their own strength desired to be afflicted by God, whom he willed rather to beg Patience. Nothing was more perilous, he said, then to carry themselves like Masters in their spiritual Apprentiseship. That divine consolations were to be expected in the privacy of the Closet, not in the society of men: that a Spirit of singularity was especially to be avoided: and good works were at no hand to be omited for the suspicion of Vain glory. Therefore consonant to the Doctrine of the H. Fathers, he divided vain glory briefly into three heads. The first he termed the Mistress, namely that which not only precedes a good work, but likewise disposeth that Action to a vain end: the second he named the Associate, for that it accompanies the deed, not without a kind of fond complacency: the third the Maid; when a man hath temptations to vain glory but extinguishes or abates them presently: hereupon he bade them Take heed that vain glory become not your Mistress. But hereof enough, not to cloy the Reader. CHAP. XVIII. His Mortifications. TO the virtue of Humility he added Discipline and Mortification, wherein he so transcended, exercising both himself and his therewith, that justly he was reputed the Great Master of this Virtue. For himself; his whole study and endeavour was to be disesteemed and vilified of all; for which cause he used to do, and many times put others upon the doing of, such things as carried with them a semblance of a fickle or rather frantic mind. In the first place therefore he was most vigilant in depressing all haughtiness and exaltation of mind, as far as he might and could, both publicly and privately, at home and abroad. To descend methodically to some particulars. He would sometimes dance with much eagerness, and that not in corners, but open Courts, in Porches, Highways, Streets, Market-places, and where the thickest crowds of people were gathered together; in the presence of Princes, Prelates, and Cardinals. Insomuch that he was seen dancing publicly before all on the first of August in the street of S. Peter ad Vincula, where the whole City was solemnly convened, and when one of the spectators cried out, away old fool, he rejoiced extremely, dancing and leaping so much the more for very gladness. One time going about his occasions he happened on a man that sold water in the City, whose beast being laden with vessels, as the manner is, he desired him, Prithee friend, let me drink a draught of water out of your Tub. He consented; So Philip setting his mouth to the Barrel drank what he pleased, all the standers by gazing on him, and wondering at him. Meeting by chance the B. Felix of Cantalicium a Capuchin in the Street called the Bank, then full of people, saluting each other, he asked him, if he were athirst? who answered, Indeed I am. Felix replied, Now will I try whether you have truly learned the habit of Mortification: and strait reached him the bottle that hung at his back, bidding him, Take it and drink: Philip took it and drank, the multitude looking on, and saying, Look ye one Saint drinks to the other. But now, said Philip, I will see whether you have this virtue too, or not: when pulling his Cap off, he put it on his head, and bade him Go. See, I do replied the other, but if any body take away your Cap, look you to that, the loss shall be yours. So Felix going away with the cap, Philip soon dispatched one after him to fetch it back. Which done, each went his way; the beholders being in suspense whether of them had shown greater self-denial. Cardinal Alphonsus Jesualdus presented him with a coat of Sables conditioning that he should wear it, Philip promised him, and wore it a full month within doors and without, stalking with a stately gate as being brave and gallant, on purpose to be derided, looking first on this side then on that, as one proud of his attire, till taken for a frantic he was laughed at by all. The Cardinal of Alexandria, Nephew to Pius V of B. Memory, had invited Philip to dinner: who boiling a few Lentils first, put them in a pot, and gave one of his to carry to the Feast with him, for trial of their mortification: as they were all set, he commands the pot to be placed in the midst of all their dainties; himself tastes it first, then invites the rest, and distributes it; that neither the Cardinal nor the Company, knowing the holiness of the man, could refuse his proffer, but all fed very hearty on it. The day that the Bodies of the H. Martyrs Papias and Maurus were translated to the Church of Vallicella, both Streets and Church thronged with the concourse of people, Philip attending the coming of the sacred Relics nigh the gate, falls to complementing with a Swisser, a Soldier belonging to the Pope's Guard, pulling him by his large broad beard, they that saw it partly wondering, partly laughing thereat. Another time to expose himself the more to scorn, he made half his beard be shaved of, and going immediately into the Street began to dance and caper, as his guise was, very pleasantly, that so like another David, becoming more Vile thereby, he might erect the Trophies of victory gotten over himself. And not unlike to this was it which he did once or twice in a great company of people causing one of his to cut his hair and beard; by this one invention for the subduing of his spirit, both He, and that his Barber learning the contempt of themselves, The Humble man likewise went often thorough the City with a huge train of Disciples accompanying him, carrying a large posy of flowers in his hand, and sometimes without his Cloak, by this means attracting the eyes of all unto him, that he might be scorned as an Idiot or Natural: yea oftimes in reading, he for the nonce used barbarisms and incongruities, especially when able or skilful persons were by, that they might take him for one not only void of judgement, or profound learning, but unable so much as even to read right. At home he was ever contriving ways still to make himself contemptible; of which among several others that occur, the Reader may take these few examples. In the first place, you should ordinarily have seen him, when he was private in his Chamber, with a Crimson shirt on reaching to his knee, huge big shoes, and those white too, upon his feet, a strait Cap on his head; in which Dress he would entertain Noble Personages, and men of quality, to make himself hereby ridiculous unto them. Yea he would sometimes go to Church in this habit, and that upon Festival days. It once happened that he came abroad thus attired, on the Anniversary of the B. Virgin's Nativity (to whose honour the Church was dedicated) as Vespers were a singing, where were present many Cardinals, which all rising up at his entrance, in reverence to one of so rare holiness, honourably welcomed the Good old man, entreating him he would be pleased to sit down with them; who smilingly answered, It was enough for him to find room below at their foot-stools, among such as bore up their Trains. For the same reason he had by him Romances and books fraught with fables, that he might be taxed for his levity and vanity; and when either Noble, Sage, or Learned Persons resorted to him, he would make one of his read them; showing both by looks and gesture that he was exceedingly pleased therewith. Once Clement VIII. sent some of the most eminent of the Kingdom of Poland to him, that they might behold an example of Virtue for their imitation, and by his conversation and conference in things spiritual might also conceive a due estimation of his great sanctity: He having notice of it aforehand, that they were a coming, calls one of his Sons to read him one of those books, and not leave, till he bade him. Anon they came, when without ceremony or respect he tells them; I would have you hearken till this Tale be ended: to which they willingly yielding; Mark ye, saith he, whether I be not choice to have books of a grave subject read to me; without mentioning one word of spiritual matters. So having tarried a while, looking one upon another, and wondering at what had passed, they said nothing but went their ways; Philip bidding his Scholar; lay away the book now, for I have done what I would with it. An honourable Roman going once with the Physician Angelus Victorius to Philip, observed him somewhat too sportive and light in his behaviour, and wondering one so highly reputed should demean himself so vainly, at his departure told the Physician; Your Old Man (my Angelus) hath, I must confess, not a little offended me. He did it replied he, to dissemble his sanctity. So the next time the Physician went to Philip he desired, if that Noble Person came again, he would carry himself more gravely. What, saith he, would you have me set myself in an artificial posture and tone? and pour out fine smooth sentences of Rhetoric? that the bystanders may cry, This is that wise, that holy Father Philip: I tell you, if he come to me again, I shall use him more scurvily, and play the fool worse. Afterwards it chanced the Noble man often visited Philip, and by daily conversing with him found such vast wisdom in him, lost & shrouded under the disguise of levity, that thence forward he was wholly addicted to him. Not to mention how sometime he challenged his Scholars to run for a wager; sometime to try which should run fastest up stairs: some he admitted and talked with in a red cap: and divers like things he continually did, Which designs of his, tending to Christian Mortification even in such petty matters, are therefore offered the Reader, that men, too much addicted to the reputation of humane wisdom, might both by the doctrine and example of Philip learn to suppress these haughty passions of the mind, and bridle their affections. CHAP. XIX. The Mortifications he exercised on his Sons. BUt forasmuch as he not only endeavoured to advance forward in God's way himself, but to further others in the same, like a wise Master he continually disciplined his in the School of Mortification. Examples whereof there are innumerable, those which were most usual with him shall here suffice. First therefore, he sometimes enjoined them (although of Noble extraction) to stand at the church-doors, and there beg Alms of such as came; sometimes to sweep the church-porch, and carry away the dust; one while to go from door to door for a crust of bread; otherwhiles to be at Divine service in the Choir among the Monks lying flat on their faces all the time; sometimes, the Juniors especially, to walk up and down the City with Spectacles upon their noses. He once sent a young man, one well descended, through the City ringing a little Bell, whom the Tradesmen and Children supposing to be drunk, or distracted, hooted at with insolence and clamour. He caused a Paper to be affixed to the back of another, wherein was written in Capital letters, how he had eat up certain sweetmeets, and sent him with it so about the City. One time he went with some of his to the Cardinals of Alexandria upon business, and at taking his leave said, Mylord ●ord, have you nothing to bestow out of your bounty on me and my Sons? The Cardinal perceived his drift strait, so opening a Chest takes out a good big Cake, and gives him: Philip, as soon as he was without the Palace, divides it into pieces, distributing each Scholar his share; bidding them eat it as they went, telling them, Sons, do but in these trifling matters use to pull down a high mind, and you will more easily master yourselves afterward in things of greater moment. One of his asked him leave once to wear a little hair over his fore head, whom he not only denied his request, but likewise enjoined he should be Cut every where alike, and to cross him the more; Go to Friar Felix of the Capuchins Order, saith he, who will do you that service for nothing. He did so; Felix, having agreed with Philip before, cut off all his hair to the very Skull, which he patiently endured. A Carpenter named Albert desired the H. man that he might wear haircloth a days, I am content, saith Philip, on condition you wear it over your . He consented, and every day put on his sackcloth over his coat, which he used to his dying day, insomuch as he was ever after called Bertus a Cilicio for that reason. A certain Noble man was very fond of a Dog he had, which it chanced a Courtier carried along with him to S. Hieroms where Philip lived, whom making much of him the Beast so affected, that he could never after be got away from his Chamber. Being by force had home, he stayed no longer than he was tied, and when he could slip his chain presently returned to Philip: at first the Lord took it ill, but understanding that the Dog ran of himself to him as soon as ever he wa●●●t lose, he pleasantly asked; What is it not enough for Father Philip to inveigle so many of my Attendants, except he get away my Dogs too? for the H. man had persuaded divers of his House to a Religious life. This Dog would Philip make some of his carry in their arms, and sometimes comb him carefully with a soft comb, and then wash him; many times lead him in a string about the City, and the like; which kind of Mortification he used almost twelve years together: so that Taurusius termed that Dog, the Plague or scourge of Rational minds. When he went from S. Hieroms to Vallicella, he left a Cat there, and for six whole years he every day sent one of his Son's morning and evening to give her meat, and when they came back, would ask them before all, even Nobles and others, how the Cat did, whether she did eat and rest well, or no; as though it had been a matter of huge consequence. He delivered a Flagon once to Baronius, holding well nigh a Gallon, and sent him with it to the Tavern for a small quantity of wine, bidding him be sure the Drawer washed his Pot well first, and that he went down into the Cellar with him, and stayed till he had drawn his wine, then give him a piece of Gold to change, but that he be careful he made the Vintner pay him his due again to a farthing: all which when Baronius had done, they of the house thinking he came to jeer them, not only railed at him, but threatened to cudgel him: yet Philip oft thus employed him. He also many times enjoined him to carry the Streamer with the Cross before the Priests, as the Dead were publicly had forth to Burial. Othertimes he took him to Weddings with him; making him, as they sat at Dinner, sing out the whole Psalm, Miserere: which things the H. man did, to keep down in him the affectation of an empty name. He commanded Bernardine Corona, one of Cardinal Sirletus' Gentlemen, perceiving his virtuous inclinations, to take his horse's bridle, and walk him in sight of his Lord's Palace. Which, though it made him blush, he refused not to do. He enjoined also the same Bernardine, for that he had a neat and large beard, to shave it half off, who presently going about it, Philip charged him to forbear. And to what an eminent purity this Person arrived by such kind of Mortifying, those who lived a long time with him in the Congregation, can sufficiently testify. Once in the heat of Summer he was seen openly in the Church clad in a furred Coat; which being put off, he dressed up one of his Sons in, with the wrong side outward, and sends him on an errand so to Caesar Baronius, as they were singing Vespers: the young man ashamed to go in such a habit skulked privily behind the Priest's seats and delivered his message. Philip who at a distance saw the carriage of the business, as soon as he returned sent him again, bidding him go thorough the midst of the Choir; he observed his commands though much against his will. He made Anton. Gallonius wear a furred garment over his Coat a Summer together, although he was of so hot a constitution, that in the depth of Winter he used only a Cloak. He would also not only civilly entreat, but imperiously compel him to sing before such Noble or Honourable Persons as came to Vallicella; for that he knew he could tune certain Ballads as the Balladsingers use, though otherwise he were a very serious man. He invented a smart and witty Penance for Austin Mannus a Priest of the Congregation. He had, it seems, made a choice sermon to his Audience, which Philip observing, commands him to preach over the same word for word six times; he obeyed him; insomuch as those that were present looking one upon another and laughing, cried; Look there is he that always sings the same note. Besides, as one that could dive into the in most recesses of the Soul, he used, for the subduing high-mindedness, to enjoin them (though seldom) openly to disclose the secrets and cogitations of their hearts. Which special Antidote he made use of for reducing troubled and oppressed consciences to a tranquillity and calm. One of his had entertained some thoughts against Philip himself, which the R. Father caused him particularly and openly to discover upon his knees in the Hall: who having done so was eased of all his disquiet mind. But this course he took with none, but such as he found very tractable and obedient. A Dominican Friar, who before his entrance into that Religious order, was assailed with violent and strong temptations having this one remedy of Philip, but to make known his grief, was cured in his mind of all those perturbations. But forasmuch as Philip mainly exacted of all his, that they should submit the internal motions of their Understandings and Wills to the direction of another, it will not be amiss to recount here that which befell Baronius to this purpose. The Pope had allotted him a certain pension for the completing his Annals; which coming to Philip's ear, He thereupon injoyn● him to pay out of the moneys assigned him such a yearly value, as the rest formerly used to defray toward the benefit of the Congregation. Baronius thought it hard measure, and was much troubled at it, especially not having wherewith to discharge the Transcribers of the Vatican Records. Therefore he alleged many and several Arguments to alter the Father's intention; but he being peremptory and resolved on it, could by nothing that was propounded be brought off, whereat Baronius began to be much dejected. So sending for Thomas Bozzius he entreats him to deal with the Father effectually and to change his resolutions, protesting that he would rather leave the Congregation, then bear that charge. Bozzius gratifies him herein, but finds Philip more resolved than before, requiring him in plain terms, either to pay or to be gone, for God needs not the help of men. At that, Thomas counselled Caesar, and earnestly besought him to yield himself up in every thing to the commands of the B. Father; remembering that next under God he was indebted unto him both for his Spiritual and Secular knowledge. At length he, following his good counsel, repairs speedily to the H. man, and falling down at his feet in most humble manner begs his pardon, offering not his money alone, but himself, and all he had to his service cheerfully. To whom Philip; Had you but done your Duty we needed not your money: only learn henceforward to yield more ready obedience, and soften the hardness of your refractory mind. For his greatest desire was, that his should enure themselves to suppress the too nice inquisitions of the Intellect which he called the Rationale: and therefore he said, All virtue was comprised within the compass of three fingers; putting his hand upon his forehead while he spoke so, and adding, This is the abridgement of all Spiritual life, to lay aside Reason and arguings. And withal he diligently trained up his Sons in the daily and constant practices of Mortification. For many times when one of them was a preaching, he would command another to go up into the Pulpit, and bid him hold his peace: sometimes he made them speak ex tempore to the people, who at his command did much better on the sudden, than if they had premeditated. Otherwhiles he would send them to the Booksellers, bidding them ask aloud for the Jests of Plebanus Arlottus, or the Sonnets of Matthew Boiardus, or if they had Esop's Fables to sell. He made them more than once go backward and forward from Vallicella to S. Hieroms without a Cloak, or else in torn and ragged : whereupon it once fell out, that one of his wearing by his appointment tattered Sleeves, met one that offered him a newer pair, which he refused, Philip hearing thereof presently dispatches him to the man, to tell him, how he denied to take them then, as not lacking them, but would willingly now accept them, for that he needed them: the Scholar did so, and having gotten the sleeves wore them till they were all to pieces. Lastly, he would make them dance in the presence of Prelates and Cardinals; sing divers Songs; wear a linen Bonnet on their heads openly; walk the streets in a broad old-fashioned Hat, tied under their Chin; carry Rosaries, made of the biggest sort of Beads, hanging about their necks, like Hermit's; tie silk Scarves edged with gold athwart their breasts, like Soldiers; and many things of the like nature, thereby to cross their inbred pride and thirst after estimation; telling them often, My Sons, accustom, accustom to Deny yourselves in small things, that ye may be able to do it more easily in greater. Yet although he disciplined them daily by these exercises, he treated them not all alike: for some at the very first he clogged with sundry and severe Penances; on the otherside he enjoined others no such thing at all. For being Divinely inspired he knew who were fit to undergo them, who not; and what kind of Austerities every one needed. He also made such account of this Virtue, that he had often in his mouth that of S. Bernard: Spernere mundum, spernere nullum, spernere seipsum, spernere se sperni: to which he added, Et haec sunt dona superni. Despise the world; yet despise none; Despise thy worthless self alone; Despise this too, to be despised: Gods gifts these, highly to be prised. Concluding; I am sure, I am not yet come to this high pitch of Mortification. But though he were at first more frequent in chastening himself, and his, yet in his latter years he seldom used these external exercises: alleging, that inasmuch as the use of this Virtue became now sufficiently known, as in some it might beget Humility so to many it might prove an occasion of pride and ostentation. CHAP. XX. His Patience. LEt us descend now to the virtue termed by the Saints the Touchstone of the rest, to wit, Patience: and we may truly affirm of Philip's whole life, that it was a daily and continual exercise thereof. For first, omitting what hath been already spoken on this subject, He was the mockery for Courtiers in every Nobleman's palace; who in de●ision enquired of his Scholars how Father Philip did; what Regalos he had eaten that Morning; how many Capons had been presented him; what delicate Cawdles the women his Penitents had sent him in; prating every day divers such things of him: So that the idle people throughout the City, in all the chief shops and Streets, talked of nothing else almost, but Philip and his Sons. All which came to his ear again, who not only bore it patiently, but even joyfully, that he leapt thereat; and many astonished and admiring his mild deportment, others, who with the Rout had abused the B. man, all repenting of their rashness, magnified and renowned his rare sanctity. But some out of spleen, having an evil eye at the Institution of the Oratory, watched all occasions to defame and and asperse him, under colour of pretended Piety and Religion. It happened that one, Philip living at S. Hieroms, in Service, was for his Society with a woman clapped up in prison by the Sergeants, whereupon his Enemies gave out in the City that F. Philip was cast into Prison about a matter of women. This the B. Father hearing of pitied the men, and in patience and silence passed it over. He went to a Prelate one time, to mediate for a Noble Roman that lay in durance, unjustly charged with a Capital crime. He not only refused to hear the truth, but so despitefully reviled the Servant of God, that they who were by could not but admire at the malice of the one, and meekness of the other. The like happened betwixt him and a Cardinal, who abused by the tales of informers, had an ill opinion of the H. man: and meeting Philip in the City, sharply reproved him in the hearing of all He Good man undisturbed therewith, quietly laughed to himself, and coming a little nearer whispers the Cardinal in the ear; at which abating his former roughness, he used him, whom before he looked on as an offender, with civil respect. There was at S. John's Church of the Florentines, a Servant of some Noblemen, who on a sudden, without any cause offered, began with so much impotency to rail at Philip, that a Canon of S. Peter's in the Vatican accidentally being by, not able to brook his incivility, would have laid hands on him, but that he saw Philip take all so cheerfully; concluding, he was a very holy person, however he were unknown to him. Yea the Servant of God was not only affronted by strangers, but even those to whom he had done favours. There fell out once a business of importance in the Congregation, and a Letter coming to Philip (at that time Governor) about it; one of his Scholars, fearing it might carry with it somewhat concerning him repugnant to Philip's liking, took the paper by force out of his hand; which indignity he endured with such moderation, as he never discovered any tokens of displeasure for it, as long as he lived. Yet when he was near his end, imitating herein the Royal Prophet, he gave charge that the party after his decease should be rebuked, yet in love, that so he might both acknowledge his fault and obtain pardon of God. In short, that one commendation of his Patience might suffice, which Francis Rosanus an able Divine gave him in these words: Very suitable it was that Philip had his Residence at S. Hieroms'; seeing he sustained no less brunts of opposition, than S Hierom did from his detractors. And here it will not be unseasonable, to show how almost all those, who most bitterly maligned him, either out of remorse of conscience soon desisted from their malice, or became spectacles of Divine Vengeance very shortly. A certain man one time spoke contemptibly of him, and indeed out of no ill will to him; the next day going abroad he fell headlong into a Ditch, and broke his Leg miserably, with the hazard of his life: confessing, that he had certainly died, if out of hatred he had inveighed against the H. man; of whom ever after he could not endure any should speak ill. A Lady of great Quality was dangerously sick, whom the R. Father resorted much unto, being her Confessor: hereupon her Nephew, fearing she might leave the Congregation her Heir, forbade Philip coming any more to see his Aunt; yet did not the Devout man abstain from his charitable service. In such wise, as he enraged thereat charged, none of the Servants should let him in: He still neglecting all discourtesies he met with, continueth to visit the Matron. The Priests of the Congregation, in the mean time doubting lest any mischief should befall him, were instant with him to forbea● going thither: whom he answered; Brethren, ye know I have no other ends in going, save only the good of the Sick Persons soul; and for that, as oft as need is, I shall not spare to lay down my life: for what can fall out more gloriously for the Servant of Christ, than to die for Christ? But because they urged him so importunately; See, saith he, I shall indeed avoid the danger, for she who is now a drawing on, shall perfectly recover, but her Nephew, that is well, within fifteen days shall assuredly die. And not a tittle of his say failed, for fifteen days after he di●d. He went one time to the Seven Churches of the City with his Sons; which a profane fellow hearing of spoke on this wise to his Comrade, one, of the same stamp: Do not you know that the Hieronymians (for so the Fathers of the Congregation of the Oratory were at that time called, especially by strangers, from S. Hieroms a Charitate) go this morning to the Seven Churches, and have taken with them seven Asses lad●n with several sorts of Junkets? with these and the like fancies of their own, pleasing themselves and slandering the Servant of God. But within few days, by the secret judgement of God, he that belched out these impious calumnies was slain with the sword; and he that listened to him sickened and died. A certain Prelate, whose name for modesty's sake is omitted, had most foully accused Philip to one of the Cardinals, to the intent, that the matter being publicly taken notice of, the Order of the Oratory might be utterly ruined: and so heinous were the imputations, that the Cardinal made the Pope acquainted with them. But Philip, though he knew all this, said never a word; Yea went often to the Cardinal, and though he were shrewdly and frequently reprehended by him, yet bore it patiently ever. In the mean time it happened that the Monks of the Order of Mount Olivet impeached that Prelate of Apostatising from their Order, which he took so to heart, that for very grief he fell sick, and in short space deceased. Yet Philip forgetting all injuries visited him much in his sickness, and hearing of his death lamented, bidding the H. Bible should be brought him, and presently opening the Book light upon those words in the Proverbs: Homo Apostata vir inutilis etc. A backsliding person, a wicked man walketh with a froward mouth, he winketh with his eyes, he speaketh with his feet, he teacheth with his fingers, frowardness is in his heart, he deviseth mischief continually, he soweth discord; therefore shall his destruction come suddenly, suddenly shall he be broken without remedy. To mention others, who persecuting the B. man accordingly felt Gods revenging hand, is not thought convenient, in regard it may distaste Posterity, and is therefore omitted. But to proceed in the relation of Philip's Patience: this Virtue had taken so deep rooting in his mind, that he not only quietly sustained injuries, but even loved his Adversaries with all his heart, praying most fervently to God for them. Besides he was of so sweet and affable a nature, that he was never known to be angry in good earnest, except against notorious debauchery, and the habits of Vice: for albeit he carried a stern countenance toward his Scholars, the better to further their progress in piety, yet as soon as he, whom he had chidden, had but turned his back, the meek-spirited man cleared up again and looked as cheerful a sever. He checked Ant. Gallonius somewhat severely, and perceiving him troubled at it, coming nearer him, pleasantly said to him, Give me a kiss, Antony, for so it is my will and pleasure: which the Good old man did, to remove from his mind all sadness and grief. He never looked sad; nay his excellent company pleased all: he was of so settled and untroubled a mind, that his Sons would say: Do what wrong so ever to Father Philip it never moves nor disquiets him a jot. When it was told him, how some called him an Old bearded Dotard, he laughed, and even capered for joy. Another time hearing one inveigh against the Order of the Oratory, as he preached, he shown not the least sign of dislike thereat. His Meekness and Patience appeared also in sustaining infirmities and indispositions of Body; for being often sick, and that for no little while, but sometimes fifty or threescore days together, insomuch as he was four times anointed with the Sacred Oil, yet he always shown cheerfulness in his looks without any discovery of pain at all. So that once when the Doctors had given him quite over, and he perceived his Sons to be in great heaviness for him, with a stout heart and loud voice he cried out, what is the matter Fathers, what is the matter, I say, that you are disquieted so? Eqidem paratus sum, & non sum turbatus; Truly I am Ready and not dismayed. All the time that he was sick, he never spoke of his disease to any but Physicians. He was never known to complain; though his malady grew upon him, yet he scarce changed the tenor of his voice; such as came to him he entertained with his wont courtesy; rather administering comfort to such as visited him, than receiving rom them. He ever took the Confessions of Penitents, except he were prohibited expressly by the Physicians. If his Sons at any time wished him to forbear for a time, for his health's sake, his answer was; Let me alone, nothing is more pleasing to me than to hear confessions. It was ascribed to a miracle also, that being on the sudden freed from his disease he returned immediately to his charge; lying sick almost to death, as it might be to day, and to morrow betaking him more vigorously than before to the wont offices of Religion. Which he attributing to a Divine hand, told the Physicians oft; Not you, but that same Box of H. Relics (pointing to it with his finger) hath recovered me. They were given him by S. Carlo. At S. Hieroms he was like to die once, and being very thirsty modestly entreated julius Petruccius, a Nobleman of Sienna that was by, to give him a cup of water with juice of a pomegranate in it. And as julius was about to sugar it, to abate the sharpness of the pomegranate, suddenly appeared a young man whom he had never seen before, or after, who offered him a lump of Sugar, and so vanished. Julius gives Philip the drink, who, having drunk it up and slept a while on one side of the Bed, awaked, and said, I am well: Julius thinking of the Boy, and seeing none known him, concluded it was an Angel sent from heaven to take care of the H. man: and Philip the day following went about his Spiritual affairs in as perfect health as ever. Another time he was sick in the same House, so that the Physicians said there was no hopes of life, and they had newly given him the H. Eucharist, and prepared him by Extreme Unction for his departure hence; there was present Pet. Victricius of Parma, an honourable Person, and one of the special and most intimate friends of Cardinal Boncompagnus, who afterward being Pop● was called Gregory the XIII. he of his own accord was assistant to Philip: who desiring him to reach him the Cup to wash his mouth, he did so; when Philip, Hezekiah like, turning his face to the wall, lay still for the space of a quarter of an hour, not stirring; at length changing from that posture, he found himself well, and recovering his full strength rose, and followed his employments. To come at last to his Rules of Patience, which he laid down. First he said, Nothing was more Noble or becoming a Christian, than to suffer for Christ; and that it was the sorest affliction, to want affliction. Therefore if his Scholars at any time complained, that they could not bear tribulations courageously; Say rather, quoth he, we are indeed unworthy of such an honour; for know, God's love is to be measured by our sufferance. He alleged, that there was no speedier way to attain to a Contempt of the world, than by suffering adversity, and misery: styling those unhappy men, that were not admitted into the discipline of this School. Moreover he affirmed (yet in a good sense always) that there was no Purgatory among the living, but either Paradise or Hell: for those who contentedly endure afflictions, enjoy the felicity of Paradise; but such as are impatient under them, feel after a sort the torments of Hell. He said likewise, the unusual joys and favours of the Spirit were the forerunners of a future temptation; that man's life is interwoven of comforts and tribulations; and that such as avoided one cross, should light upon another worse; that Virtue, as 'tis said, was to be made out of necessity; and for the most part men create themselves troubles. By these and the like wholesome sentences the B. man did both animate himself and his to the pursuit of Patience. CHAP. XXI. His Perseverance. TO conclude at length this Argument of the Virtues of Philip; He knowing, that no work be it never so laborious, never so laudable, unless it be consummate and crowned with Perseverance, may be rightly termed an act of complete Virtue; resolutely persisted in a constant and even tract of Piety to his End. So that as soon as he came to Rome, and understood that he was called thither to Labour in the Lord's Vineyard, for the space of threescore Years, he went not so much as once without the City walls, except out of devotion to visit the Seven Churches. And though his friends often urged him to go to this or that place for his recreation, and especially his kindred, that he would come to Florence; yet could he never be persuaded to leave the City. Being in obedience to his Superiors, made Priest and Confessor, he said Mass every day, and constantly to the last heard Confessions. When the Congregation afterward was instituted, he would not take upon him any other charge but that, to the end he might more carefully and effectually intent the Services he had set up in it; nor did he introduce a multiplicity of Exercises in the Congregation; contenting himself with three principally, as he said, to wit, Prayer, Administration of the Sacraments, and the daily Repast of the Word of God. He did ever and anon inculcate that lesson to his; Non qui inceperit, sed qui persever averit usque in finem, hic salvus erit. Not he that gins, but that endureth unto the end, shall be saved. And the better to excite them to so excellent a Virtue, he instilled into them that Golden Mean of Discretion, saying; Every thing must not be attempted in one day; nor all the Stages of Holiness be posted over in three: adding that it was a harder matter to regulate such as were too venturous, than to quicken the timorous or sluggish: also, that the external work was not so strictly to be stood on, nor the means so eagerly to be pursued, as to forget the chief end and scope thereof. Again, that the body should so far be kept low as that the Passions of the mind might not rebel. He further affirmed, that the exercises of Piety were not lightly to be omitted, whereto a man had formerly obliged himself; therefore those that tasked themselves with too many duties of Religion did not wisely: for they who so over-burdened themselves either desisted as being tired therewith, or dispatched them too fast. Therefore he wished his to choose a moderate course for Spiritual matters, which having once entered upon they should never lay aside: inasmuch as the subtle Enemy of mankind, if once he can interrupt one duty of Piety, will not surcease his assaults, till he have destroyed all. Therefore he oft repeated this document to his; Nulla dies sine linea. No day without some stroke. He exhorted them likewise to reinforce and strengthen their resolutions of Holiness every day; never despairing under trials, seeing God first suffers him, whom he intends to advance to eminency in any Virtue, to be assailed with encounters from the oposite Vice. He taught them, that the Spirit of devotion was conferred plentifully at the first, but afterward God made show of withdrawing himself, that the Soul, thus bereavest of celestial consolations, might learn to grow and feed on more solid meat. Moreover he said there were three kinds of spiritual life. The first he called the Animal; wherein men are attracted with a certain sensible devotion as beasts are by their fodder. The second he termed the Rational; when without any allectives of pleasure, men contend for virtue in continual opposition of the Passions. The third he entitled Angelical; when the heat of Passion being allayed, they enjoyed a quiet serenity and peace in the contemplation of God. Of these three be bid his chief aim at the second assuring them, that in time they should by God's grace attain the third. He counselled young people to be as cautious of avoiding the society of lewd Persons, and of consorting with the civil, as they would be careful of receiving the Sacraments, yet he trusted not much to young Persons; for if he heard of any such who were reputed in their youth very forward in the ways of God; he would strait reply; Let them be fledged first, before you judge of their flying. Those who intended themselves for a Religious House he tried first with several sorts of Penance; that they might better persevere in their vowed retirement. Whereupon divers of them, which upon his approbation devoted themselves to that course of life, have, when occasion served, avouched, that had not the H. man first proved and examined them thus, they should not long have kept their Cloister. He was always jealous of those, whether Laics or Regulars, that kept not their Stations, but shifted to this and that and then to a stricter kind of life: for the devil, quoth he, transforming himself into an Angel of light, labours under the false disguises of a more perfect life to seduce men from the right path. Maximianus Burgus of Verona was by a certain Lord entertained into his House, on conditions he should not be put to some employments, that he might have the more leisure to serve God. But the Nobleman breaking his word with him once or twice, Maximianus purposed to leave him; whom the B. man with many and several arguments persuades to stay, telling him at last; If you run away from this cross, you shall certainly fall into another worse. And so it was; for when he went from his Lord he wandered up and down in continual unsettlement. But though in general he wished to all this gift of Perseverance, yet did he more especially recommend it to them of the Congregation. Therefore in the first place, he seldom suffered any of them to go out of the City: as may appear by that which follows. A young man of a very good family was admitted into the Order of the Oratory, he being of excellent parts had raised huge expectations of himself among all. But, growing somewhat sickly, his friends advised him for his health to change the air; which thing the H. man liked not of, but overcome with urgent entreaties gave him leave to go, the rather for that another of the Congregation was to travel upon earnest business into those Quarters. But he whispered some in the ear which were by; Two indeed shall go hence, but there shall come back but one of them. And his prediction proved true, for the one having dispatched his business returned to the City, but the young man settled himself in his Country: as may be seen by Philip's letter sent him, part whereof was to this effect. Indeed I could have wished, N. you had not parted hence so soon, that so you might have conversed the less-while amongst flesh and blood distracted between the love of your Mother and Brethren; taught by the example of S S. Marcus and Marcellianus, who valiantly resisting the tortures inflicted, yet moved with their Parents prayers and cries, had well nigh denied Christ, but that the B. Sebastian fortified them in the faith with his pious exhortations. And at the bottom of his letter he added; But now 'tis in your choice, either to stay, or return, since we detain no man against his will. John Antonius Luccius, intending to go from Rome into his own Country, asked the H. man's consent, who would by no means yield to it, nay opposed it; using that of S. Paul; Puto ego quod Spiritum Dei habeam. And I think that I have the Spirit of God. Yet he went, and never afer returned to the Congregation. The same happened in like manner to others, who going to their Countries without his liking, either died there, or else deserting the Congregation betook themselves to some other course. Nor could he willingly suffer them to go from the City so much as to found Congregations in the neighbouring Towns, or to settle such as were already erected: but by his good will would have them abide constantly at Rome. Which besides that our Fathers do often inculcate this to the Juniors of the Society, may be gathered from his Letters writ to S. Carlo Berromeo; for the wise Prelate desiring one of Philip's Sons to labour in his Vineyard, he made this answer. In regard some of them (speaking of the Priests of the Congregation) are but newly entered upon their Studies, and are yet raw, it passeth my understanding to conceive how it can be convenient, to take them from their Studies without a fault. And a little after, such as are fitly qualified we can in no wise spare, for we ourselves need their help most of all; so that if at any time I be forced, upon occasion, to send one away: I even tremble to think on it, and humbly commend myself to the Lord Christ. Whereby may evidently be seen, what his opinion herein was. THE THIRD BOOK. of the LIFE of PHILIP NERIUS. Of the Gifts bestowed on him by God. CHAP. I. His Ecstasies and Rapts. ALmighty God, having thus adorned his Servant with the embellishments of so many and so rare Virtues, was not wanting to him in those unmerited favours, called by Divines Gratia gratis datae, Graces freely given men, which he also most liberally conferred upon him. First he had many Ecstasies and strange Raptures, bathing himself daily in the delicious pleasures of celestial contemplation; though Good man he laboured to avoid them all he could, out of his deep Humility. There was once a weighty cause to be debated before the Pope, whereupon the Fathers Dominicans who were concerned therein exposed the B. Sacrament of the This is averred by three sworn witnesses, all Priests. Eucharist for the space of forty hours, within the precincts of their Monastery, where Philip and Franc. Maria Taurusius with some others met. And as the H. man was in most fervent prayer, on the sudden he fell into a Trance, his eyes 〈…〉 fixed on the Sacrament, and his who●● 〈◊〉 unmoved. They run presently to him, call him by his Name, and feeling his hands, face and b●est find them as cold as ice; so that suspecting some dangerous disease had seized him, they carry him between their hands to his Chamber. Wh●●●e had continued so a pretty while, coming at length to himself he cries out, Parta est nobis victoria, exaudita est oratio nostra: The victory is ours; our prayers are heard. At which they being amazed ask the reason of his Trance, and what victory he meant. He at first wa● shy of declaring himself, but at the earnest instance of those which were present, Know then, quoth he, the business that was prayed for shall succeed well. And being questioned about his Ecstasy, he answered, That he saw Christ Jesus in the H. Host stretching forth his hand and blessing them that prayed and therefore they ought to render unto God all bounden thanks. And that very instant in which the servant of God recovered his senses again, news was brought, that the Pope had given sentence for them. Paulus Recuperatus, Referendary of either Seal, and one whom the Father much esteemed, went one Evening to Confession, he then living at S. Hieroms; and found him at Supper with Joh. Animuecius a Scholar of his, whom he loved exceedingly; He entertains the Prelate very courteously, and hears his Confession, but laying his hand on his head as the manner is, to give him absolution, fell into a most pleasing Trance, that deprived him both of sense and motion; in which posture both of them surprised with wonder and delight, atentively eyed him. Philip at length recovering finished the form of Absolution and quietly dismissed the Prelate. Fabricius de Maximis likewise repaired to him to Confession, and finding his Chamber-door not quite shut, opening it softly espies the H. man standing on Tiptoes, with his hands and eyes lift up to heaven in several kinds of gestures: he stays, he looks on a while, and observes what he did. Then approaching nearer salutes him as he used to do; Philip neither seeing nor speaking to him. So Fabricius with great content views the Good old man standing in that manner: till at last he returning from his Ecstasy, and seeing Fabricius there, asked him how he got in? who told him, he found the Door half open and so came gently in. Philip sits down, and takes his Confession but without mentioning a word of the Trance dismissed him. The like happened to divers others, who coming to Confession to him, found him senseless. Once Antonius Gallonius took him in bed like one that had been dead, and presently sends for the Physicians, who through mistake judging it to be an Apoplexy caused his head to be opened with a hot iron, and several caustics to be applied to him: John Franciscus Bordinus, supposing he was a drawing on, anoints him with the H. Oil. When coming to himself again he demands of them why they used him so; they replied; O Father, you are in a dangerous disease. He smilingly told them; Sons, know, a worse mischief could not befall me than this you have now done. By which they gathered, that it was a Trance, not a disease, that fell upon him. As he was at Mass he was often in Raptures; as, besides others who aver as much, Cardinal Octavius Paravicinus can testify: who attending on him when he was about Twenty years of age, was an eye-witness thereof. When ever he addressed himself to the Pope, fearing he might be surprised, whilst he was with him, he would say to his Sons; Look, that during the time I am with his Holiness, I commit nothing preposterous, or unbeseeming such a presence. Some there were likewise that saw his whole body hoist up into the air; among others Paulo Sfondrato, Cardinal, Priest of the Title of S. Cecily, saw him raised up to the roof of his chamber at his Prayers: a See the twentieth chapter of the Life of S. Teresa, where she hath these words. [And so extreme is the violence of these Rapts, that many times I have endeavoured to resist them, and have put all my strength to it, and especially when they came upon me in public, and often also in private (fearing lest I might be deceived) but seldom could I prevail, and that also but very little. And it cost me a very great deal of harrassing and toil to myself, just so as if an ordinary person had been fight with some strong Giant; and afterward I should find myself very weary. But at othertimes it was altogether impossible for me to hinder it; for my Soul would be carried absolutely away, and (ordinarily) even my head (as it were) after it; yea and this sometimes so far, as that my whole body would be transported so, as to be raised up from the ground. This last hath happened rarely to me; but once it was upon the very point to arrive, whilst we all were assembled together in the Choir; and I being then upon my knees (and at the point of going to receive the blessed Sacrament) it put me to an extremity of trouble, because it seemed to be a very extraordinary thing, & that instantly there would be much notice taken of it, and so I commanded my religious women (for at that time I was Prioress) that they should not speak of it to any creature. But at other times when I began to discern, that our Lord was going about to do the same again (and once, in particular, when divers principal Ladies were present; and it was upon the Feast of our Patron when there was a Sermon) I did even spread myself all along upon the ground, and though the religious women came then about me, to keep my body down, yet the thing was easily perceived. Upon this I humbly prayed our Lord in most particular manner, that by no means he would do me any such favours, as might carry any of these exterior demonstrations with them; for already I was very weary of being continually so wary and watchful over myself: for that such kind of favours could not possibly be done me by his Divine Majesty, but so that every body would come to know it. And it seems that through his goodness he hath been pleased to hear my prayer; for since that time I never had any Rapts of that kind, and to that proportion; but it is true, that it is not long since I had the last. Moreover when I endeavoured to hinder such a Rapt, so strong a hand and power from under my feet seemed to lift me up, that I know not what to compare it unto: for it was done with much greater force, than in those other things that belong to the Spirit: and therefore I remained as it were bruised and dismembered with it.] which he, as a spectator thereof, related again to Pope Paul the V. Joh. Baptista Modius being sick and speechless, so that they thought he would die, was visited by Philip; who after some expressions of piety and affection, retired to prayers in another private room. At Midnight some of the house seeking for him, whither he was gone, found him in a Chamber, his body elevated, and darting forth Rays of light, they seeing This Bernardine Corona a Citizen of Rome, & others witnessed upon oath. it shrieked out, the rest at the noise hereof came running in, and beheld him hoist up from the ground, that his head almost touched the Ceiling, casting a glittering brightness round about him. Returning to his senses he visits the sick again, as though nothing had intervened, and laying his hand on his head, bade him; Be of good cheer, for you shall not die of this sickness. He had scarce said so but the bed rid person recovered his speech, spoke to the B. man, and within a few days after grew perfectly well. He was once at Prayer in the Vatican, before the H. Co●fessionall, as they call it, of the Prince of the Apostles, when on a sudden he was seen upon his knees caught up into the air, his body and habit remaining still in the same posture, as if he prayed kneeling upon the earth; till by degrees he came down and took his former place. But fearing the praise of men he stole away thence privately: & that the like might not befall him again, he was wont, at his entrance into the Church with his Sons, to rise up and to be gone, so soon as ever he had kneeled. He was seen, as he said Mass, not only in almost continual Ecstasies, but many times born up on high, as the Religious women of Turris Speculorum had oft observed: some of whom affirm, that they have seen him taken up into the air four handfuls high. A Girl likewise saw him lift up two handfuls from the ground; who being somewhat silly, turning to her Mother, said, See Mother the Priest is possessed, do you not mark how he is taken up on high? who answered; peace fool, that Priest is a Saint, and therefore is entranced thus. Sulpitia Sirleta, seeing the Servant of God raised about a handful from the steps of the Altar thought with herself; Certainly this man is moved by some evil spirit: but coming afterward to Confession to him, and being ashamed and afraid to discover as much, she gins in a low voice to mutter thus; Father I said; and her voice stopping there, she uttered no more. To whom Philip; Go on thou Madling what troubles thee? hast thou conceited any ill of me? That is it, replied she. What was it then? said he. Sulpitia answered; Some three days since as you were saying Mass and I saw you lift up into the air: at that, he putting his finger to her mouth said, Peace. But she went on; I said in my heart; This man sure is led by some evil Spirit. With that he smiled and told her; 'tis true daughter; 'tis true indeed, I am moved by an evil Spirit. Another time Aurelius Baccius of Sienna beheld him with a celestial splendour shining like a Crown about his head. He was celebrating Mass at the high Altar, and as he came to that part of the Canon where the Living are commemorated, Aurelius saw him surrounded with a bright Glory like a Diadem: and suspecting it might proceed from some indisposition of his sight, to refresh them he diverted his eyes to some other object, lest they should dazzle, and looking on Philip again sees him in like manner encompassed with a golden lustre; then a third time wipes his eyes with a handkerchief and his fingers, marks the heads of others that were present, but sees no such thing. And fixing his eyes on him again espies the very same splendour as before, which lasted till he had done Mass: but when he had communicated, presently the light disappeared. Mutius Achilleus also, a Priest of S. Severines', living at Rome, observed him at the celebration of Mass to dart forth glittering beams from about his face. Vincentius Lanterus, Archbishop of Ragusa, kissing Philip's hand once, whilst yet a youth, perceived it all gilded with resplendent Rays; so that his eyes dazzled with the brightness thereof, and being astonished at it went forthwith to his Confessor, Thomas Bozzius to acquaint him with it. Who bid him, Not think strange for that divers had beheld Philip's hand like burnished gold. Last of all a Maid of some twelve years of age had many times seen the H. man at Mass enveloped in a bright cloud, and though he wore a Cope of a different colour according to the diversity of the season, yet she had never seen him but arrayed in white still. These and divers other Rapts and Ecstasies he sustained, of which enough at present. CHAP. II. His Visions. FUrthermore God honoured him often with celestial Visions; such as these that follow. First, while he was yet a Laic, and desirous to understand the will of God, having not yet determined what course of life to take, he earnestly besought God to make known his mind to him: when lo! about Sun rise, S. john Baptist appears to him, who having first comforted and refreshed him by his presence, tells him (as Himself afterward certified Cardinal Frederico Borromeo) that he must dwell in the City, no where else, and laying aside all business whatever, should addict himself wholly to the conversion of Souls at Rome. The same was intimated to him in a Vision by the Souls of two Saints, Citizens, that were in Glory; one of which pretending to eat a Crust of dry bread, broke out into these words; The will of God, O Philip, is, that you live in the very heart of the City, as in the solitude of the Desert. By both which apparitions, and what Augustinus Ghettinus, as is before rehearsed, told him at Aquae-Salviae, he was sufficiently advertised concerning the choice of his condition. He prayed once in Christmas time at Church, his sons Constantius Tassonius, and Sebastian the Musician being with him, and while he was in deep meditation on our Lord. behold! Jesus appeared upon the Altar in the likeness of an Infant. And supposing his Companions had also seen it, he said; Do not ye see the Child Jesus standing on the Altar? They saying No, he perceived the Vision was not discovered to the rest, so quietly went on in his Prayer, without any more words of it. One time saying Mass, after he had shown the people the Body of Christ, laying the Host down, he stayed a good space ere he elevated the Cup; so when Mass was done, as he went from the Altar, he was discerned going to the Vestry to look merrily as one that laughed. Being asked thereupon, why he paused so long between Elevating the Host and the Chalice; and why he returned to the Vestry so pleasant; he smiled and laying his hand on his head that put the question to him, hushed up the matter in silence. Yet afterward wearied by urgent entreaties, he at last answered him; Son, when I say Mass, I oftimes behold the Glory of Paradise; but be sure you never open your mouth to any concerning it. He was divinely favoured with the sight of the Souls of divers, as they went to heaven. Marinus Tosinus, one of the first of the Fraternity of the Most H. Trinity, a Person of great Virtue, whose Life was writ by Bonsignorius Cacciaguerrius, as soon as he departed this life appeared to Philip, calling him twice by his Name; who looking up saw his Soul ascend to heaven wrapped about in light. In the morning he understood that the man died about the same hour the Vision happened. Vincentius the Limner, as he was called, a Holy man, and one of the first of the same Society, presently after his death shown himself to Philip all glittering with light, who beheld him as he went to heaven; and going the next day to comfort his Wife, Your Husband, saith he, knocked at my chamber door to night, and came and recommended you and your family to me: at which words the woman was revived, whom together with her Children, Philip thenceforward relieved with all things necessary. Marcus Antonius Cortesellus of Como, one whom Philip loved well, died; a man devoted much to Prayer and works of Piety, the Depositary for the Alms conferred on the Capuchins, who had presaged of the H. man thus: This man is known to but a few as yet, but hereafter it shall appear to all, how great a Saint he is. When his Coarse was laid forth on the Beir in S. Katherine's Church, nigh unto S. Hieroms a Charitate, Philip went with Antonius Gallonius another Priest accompanying him, to see the body; and having viewed it a while sends for a Painter, and wills him to draw his picture to the life: The other his companion wondering at it; Gallonius bid him, Think not strange of it, for the R. Father had related, how the night before he had seen his Soul in great Clarity appearing to him, holding discourse with him about four or five hours, and passing thence into the heavens. Fabricius de Maximis had a Daughter of some thirteen years of age, named Helena, a Virgin deeply wounded with the Love of Christ, and rigidly obedient to her Confessor; thrice aweek she received the Body of our Lord, having more appetite to her Prayers than repast: she would bitterly weep over the Passion of our Saviour; and did so much endeavour the vilifying of herself, that she made it her ambition to be a Servant to all; and was exceedingly desirous to suffer for Christ's sake, that at least in part she might testify her gratitude toward him; in her last sickness, after that Baronius had given her the heavenly Viaticum, she saw the Lord Christ besprinkling her Soul with blood; and foretelling the hour of her departure piously deceased. Her Philip saw, as she hastened to the heavenly mansions, Angels singing and attending on her. His Sons knew likewise, that the state of Penitents in the other world was revealed to him, as soon as they were dead. When Virgil Crescentius died, going to comfort his Children he said to them; Be of good cheer: for your Father is received into Glory by Almighty God; I know well what I say: repeating it again and again. All had so strong an opinion, of his knowing by Revelation whither the Souls of His went, that divers resorted to him for satisfaction therein. John. Antonius Luccius had lately lost his Mother; and requesting Philip to pray to God, and to acquaint him whether his Mother were in a state of Bliss or no; he bid him, Rejoice, for your Mother is certainly in heaven adding; the same thing in a manner befell me, that happened at the Funeral of my Father as I was praying. By which it would seem, Philip's Father, in all likelihood obtained a place of Blessedness at the Prayers of his Son. There died Joh. Animuccius Master of the Music in the Vatican, who came every day to the Oratory, and when the sermons were done, ordered the Music, for he was excellent in that Art, a man of so unblemished a Chastity, that after he had begun by Philip's directions to serve Christ, he lived with his Wife as with a Sister: and obtained of God such favour that having all his life been much tormented with scruples, toward his latter end he was absolutely freed from them. Now it happened, that three years after his death 〈…〉 Sermons were ended on a certain day he appeared to one Alphonso a Portugese; and as they walked together questioned him on this wise: Is the Oratory newly broke up, It is, replied Alphonso. Then I pray saith he, entreat Philip from me, to pray to God for me: and therewith vanished. At that Alphonso calling to mind, how Animuccius had been dead long since, stepped back to see if it where he, but finding no body comes trembling and quaking to Philip and relates to him the whole story, who enjoined him, the day following to draw it up into a brief Narrative, and recite it in the Oratory. Next he gave order that in several Churches of the City, Masses should be said for the deceased Soul. When all was thus performed, He tells them publicly. Our Animuccius is now gone by: intimating that he passed from Purgatory to Paradise. And hence was it that having oft beheld the Souls of Holy Persons, he affirmed, the Beauty of them was unexpressable. Besides, being one full of Divine Light, he was able to discern an excellency and lustre in Souls whilst they were yet in their Bodies. And therefore speaking of the incomparable brightness of S. Ignatius' Soul, Founder of the Society of Jesus, while he was yet living; he said, it was so illustrious, that sometimes he could perceive beams flash from his countenance: and that the like happened to him as he looked in the face of S. Carlo Cardinal Borromeo. He also saw a young man's face sparkle in like manner, who being afterward admitted into the Order of the Dominicans, and called Peter Martyr, was made their Vicar General, dying in great reputation for Holiness. Some of the Carthusians also he beheld with shining visages, as they went by couples out of the Choir from Prayers with the rest. Yet was not He thus only recreated with celestial apparitions, but, for the instruction of others, many times terrified with the sight of Devils. He had given charge once to Anton. Luccius, to read the Exorcisms of the Church over a woman that was possessed, and, to shame the Devil the more, whip her; which he presently did. Whereupon the proud Fiend, enraged at this scorn put upon him, appears the next night to Philip in a horrid shape, vomiting forth a most loathsome stench, which filled the Room, and lasted for a long time after. Another time, while he lived in S. Hierom's Oratory with his Sons, among whom was Gabriel Paleottus (after ward honoured with the Purple) and, as his use was, conferred about spiritual matters, on the sudden he cries out; O my Brethren, take heed, the Devil stands there. At which words they all kneeled down, but He defying the wicked spirit with the sign of the Cross, roared aloud; Thou shalt not enter here: and strait the Fiend vanished. He went sometime to the Baths of Dioclesian, to see the Church of S. Maria Angelorum and looking a This was published by Vincent Daffabriano who was present. up he spied on part of an old stone wall an evil spirit, shifting himself into several forms, now of an old, then of a young man, one while handsome, by and by ugly. Philip knowing that he assumed those shapes to delude him, imploring the Divine aid commands him to be gone, at which he immediately departed, polluting the air with noisome vapour: for the impure Spirit used, as oft as he shown himself to the H. man, to annoy him with these filthy stinks. It was most what a smell of Sulphur, and continued long, and only he smelled it; yet sometimes, though but seldom, some of his were affected with it. He once laid his hands on a woman that was possessed, as the Priest's manner is, and it seems they retained that filthy sent, so that though he washed them in sweet water, and scoured them with Nitre, yet they would not be clean; he made his Penitents smell sometimes to this stink, that so being offended with the lothsomness thereof they might more carefully learn to abhor and avoid the filthiness of sin. As he was on a time at Church, a devil in likeness of a Boy came and mocked him, blowing his Nose with a handkerchief; but Philip with a menacing countenance looking on him, put him to flight and shame. Then ask Gallonius, if he saw the Boy, he answered; yes, Know, quoth Philip, it was no Boy; but the Fiend, that came to tempt the faithful who were at Church. Indeed the Envious spirit was so malicious against him, that he continually wrought him mischief: appearing to him in hideous and ugly shapes; sometimes fouling his apparel; otherwhiles removing huge Logs and Beams of timber to and fro; then putting out his Candle, and making a noise; lying in wait perpetually for him night and day. All which by the help of the B. Virgin he easily overcame with undaunted courage. By these frequent apparitions, both from God and from the Devil unto him, it came to pass, that as oft as he spoke to his Sons of this Argument, he constantly asserted that Doctrine of the Saints; That they were not things to be stood on. Neither could he by any means approve their spirit, that eagerly sought after such things; neither did he think it sufficient, for one to say: I regard not Visions; therefore such as are illusions shall not befall me: because these many times happened also to those, who are no ways desirous of Visions. That it was a hard matter, not to be puffed up with them; a harder, to count one's self not worthy of them; but most difficult of all, to judge ones self utterly unworthy thereof, and not to prefer such Visions before Virtues and a solid piety. He said likewise, those Visions were to be rejected, at least, with much caution to be received, that neither profited the Church, nor ones self, promoting neither the public nor private good of others. He forewarned Confessors, that they should make but light account of the Revelations of Penitents, of women especially, for that women presently imagine themselves at the top of perfection, but in process of time you will find the Sanctity they pretend to, savours either of vanity or hypocrisy: and that many such have fallen foully, and ended unhappily. Therefore going once into the Pulpit to preach, finding himself beginning to be in an Ecstasy and labouring by all force to suppress it, he struck his hand upon his thigh, saying, He that pursues after Visions and Trances, knows not what he doth: so bursting forth into tears he departed. Another time when a Scholar of his preached about some such subject to the People, getting up into the Chair on the sudden he began thus: I know a Religious woman, that had many Trances, at length by the Divine Providence so it was, she never had any more. When think ye, O my Auditors, that I prized her most? Then certainly when her Ecstasies ceased: and having so said went out of the Desk. Some had told him, how a Virgin of the third Order of S. Dominic had seen Christ divers times, but frequently the B. Katherine of Sienna; his answer was Doubtless women are easily seduced: therefore bid her from me as oft as she sees the like shadows again, spit boldly in their faces. The Maid observed his directions, and acknowledged she received much benefit thereby. One night the Devil, in the likeness of the Mother of God, came to Franc. Maria, called Ferrariensis, one of Philip's first Sons. Which relating early in the morning to Philip, he told him; That was not the B. Virgin, as you thought, but the Devil which appeared to you: therefore when you see him again, spit in his face, and fear not. The cafty Devil coming again, he confidently spat upon him, which the proud Fiend taking in scorn vanished strait into air. When forthwith behold the H. Virgin indeed discovers herself to him from heaven; and he assaying to spit at her; Spit saith she, if thou canst. Which he trying to do felt his tongue so dry, that he could by no means spit. Then she added farther You did well in obeying your Confessor; and therewith departed, leaving him affected with exceeding great joy. Ant. Fuccius a Physician, formerly named, had the charge of a certain Nun much famed for piety. She on a time fell into an ecstasy, he watching, her till she came again to her senses: when waking suddenly, saith she to him; O with what wonderful light did I see thee encircled in the heavens! All which Antony diligently observing relates again to Philip and the same day sickened; his disease increasing on him, the Father of Lies like a Physician comes to him to deceive him, promising that he should speedily recover, and live a long time after. The patiented acquaints the H. man with what had happened who being enlightened from above tells him it was not a Physician, but Satan, who had vainly assured him his life. Fuccius understanding the Devil's subtlety hereby, resigns up himself to the Divine pleasure, dying very happily soon after. So that Philip used▪ upon occasions still, carefully to admonish his, not lightly to credit Visions, such especially as promised longer life; saying, It was far less danger not to believe true, than to believe false o●●s. He affirmed it was a pernicious error, to give credit to the events of Dreams. Mathias Maffeus', a Priest who beyond the power of Nature, being restored to health, upon the B. man's prayers, dreamt a dream, which he came with a purpose to tell Philip as a pleasant and regular one, and much conducing to encouragement in virtue: the Father preventing him, asked, Whether he believed Dreams? He taking that opportunity presently relates his dream: but the B. man looking sternly on him demanded, To what purpose is all this? Away with it: It is necessary, he that would be reckoned among the celestial Saints should be a good man; but not, that he heed any Dreams, that he shall be so. CHAP. III. He foretelleth the Deaths of divers. MOreover also was he enlightened with the Gift of Prophecy, by the Father of lights. For to begin at that first, which men fear most, He foretell the Death of sundry persons. Constantius Tassonius, oft mentioned above, being called from Milan to Rome by Pope Pius the V of B. Memory, coming directly to S. Hieroms alighted off his horse, whom one Of this Cardinal Taurusius, and Germanicus Fidelius are sworn witnesses. of Philip's Sons, spying out of a window, informs the H. man, how Tassonius was at the Gate. He commands Octavius Paravicinus and Germanicus Fidelius, both at that time Young men, to lie at the Threshold of the Door, where Tassonius was to pass, as though they were dead. They did so, and Tassonius seeing them laid all along in that fashion was something troubled, and stopped: at length desired of them room to pass by, they lay still, till the Father bid them rise; when Constantius ran to the embracing of Philip. And shortly after sickened and died; as the Good man by that passage had hinted to him. a This was testified by three witnesses of credit. Joh. Angelus Cribellius, being very well, came on a Maunday Thursday to the H. man to Confession; who looking wistly on him said. Prepare yourself; for God requires something of you. Let him replied he, do whas seems good in his eyes: my heart is ready for all. What if God, saith he, should in the highest manner afflict you? I should willingly undergo all, by the grace of Christ; answered Cribellius. Then be ready, quoth Philip, for this Easter God will call you. So departing he was taken that Evening with a Fever, of which he died within four days. He once called to Franc. a Molaria upon the sudden, ask him; What would you do, if your Wife should die? her Name was Fulvia de Cavaleriis. I know nor, saith he, Then consider on't with yourself: quoth he. Away went the man; and his Wife, though young and lusty, within ten days was seized with a violent Fever, and the fifteenth day died. Hieron. Cordelius' Wife sent the Good man word that her Husband, one whom Philip loved, and an able Physician, This was attested by sworn witnesses was sick. And while one of his Sons went down to the Gate, to know what the Messenger would, Philip said to himself; O Hierom Cordelius! alas be will certainly die; his hour is now come: repeating it often over. Those who were by admired at it; for he that went to the Gate had not yet told him of Hieroms being ill; but the news of his sickness coming to him soon after, he continued in the same Note still: insomuch that they who were present, said; Then Father if the body be past hope, let us at least take care for the Soul. At which he; True indeed, let us take care for the Soul; About eight days after, one bringing him a light, as he used to do, before day: What saith he, Cornelius died to night, at such an hour did he not? but perceiving, that he knew nothing of it; he talked of something else. In the morning they found, that Hierom died that very hour the Father mentioned. Yea once, in some words that passed between him and Cardinal Augustinus Cusanus, He averred, that he was miraculously present, as he lay a dying; saying Though when Cordelius died, I stayed in my Chamber, yet was I by him at the instant of his departure. Orinthia, the Wife of Pompeius Columna, one eminent for her Noble Extract, but much more, for the accomplishments of virtue, visiting frequently the sick women in Hospitals, especially the Incurable, and doing them all charitable offices, fell dangerously ill. Her chief Doctors told her, it was but a slight malady; but she sends for Philip, as relying more upon him; He after a long discourse about divine matters, as he was about to go away, dipped his finger in a little Holy water, and crossed her as she lay; recommending to her Meditation the Passion of our Lord. Going from the Palace the Physicians met him, He tells them, Orinthia is very ill. They laughed, Do you make a jest of it saith Philip take it from me, she will die such a day. At that they burst into a louder laughing. But the day Philip had named, Orinthia died. Helena Ciba, and her Husband Dominicus Mazzeus fell both sick. When Tamiria Cevola, Helen's Mother, going Of this Tamiria is a sworn witness. to the H. man about them, told him I fear Father I shall lose both my Daughter, and son in Law. He answered, One is enough: and said no more. The event made good his words; for Dominicus died, and Helena recovering forsaken the World, and betook her to a Monastery. Her Sister Victoria came once to Philip to Confession; and being asked, how long it was since she saw her Sister This Tamira publicly affirmed. in Turris Speculorum; she answered, Not a great while. See quoth he, you visit her ofter, for she will die ere it be long. And within few days after, she that was so healthy and strong, took her Bed, and in Eighteen days space died. Marcellus Ferrius had appointed to accompany the Cardinal of Gambara, that was to go from the City on an Embassy; Philip bade him; Do it not, for your Father will shortly die. Marcellus took his counsel, and some twenty days after, h●s Father, who was then very well, debased. The like befell Alexander Crescentius, and Joh. Franc. Bucchius; to the former he said; Fit yourself, for you will Of this are two sworn witnese. suddenly die: to the other; Your brother shall not out live this sickness. And so it was, for the first died, soon after, and the others brother never recovered. Virgil. Crescentius fell sick, and though at first his disease was made light of, yet the H. man, coming to see him, said to his Wife Constantia: you must rest contented with the will of God. She being a discreet woman apprehended what his speech did portend: and taking him aside kneeling and weeping together she begged of him, that he would be pleased to pray for her husband's health. Then the Children, coming all This three sworn witnesses attested. about him, together with their Mother requested the same of him: He plainly tells them; It is best for Virgil, to die now; and therefore you must be satisfied. A few days after he died. Philip afterward affirmed, that, as oft as he went to pray for his recovery, he found no access, but it was answered him from within, that he must needs die, for his Soul's good. The like happened to Patricius de Patriciis, who seemed to be but slightly ill, and said, he would rise next day; whom Philip commanded to be forthwith prepared with the Sacraments, which having received he died, his Will scarce finished. The B. Father so highly esteemed of this man, that, after his death, He recommended himself to his intercession. Desiderius Consalvius, of the Order of Predicants, was sick of a violent Fever, which drove him into a Frenzy, and he This Desiderius and J. Comparottus, with two eye-witnesses more publicly attested. now lay a dying. At the same time Franc. Bencinius fell ill in the same Monastery, but in less peril: Philip visits them both; presaging death to Bencinius, to Consalvius life; and so it happened; for this, recovered, the other died Last of all He foretold the Cardinal S. Carlo Borromeo's death; long before it came. Ceccolinus Margaraccius of S. Severines', the Pope's Protonotary, whom the R. Father preferred to the family of S. Carlo, writ to Philip to procure him leave of the Cardinal, to go into his Country for four months. He writ him word again thus: It shall not need to move the Cardinal herein, for there will an accident happen, which shall forbid your return to that family. Margaruccius knew not then, what Philip meant, but the death of S. Carlo following soon after, he fully understood the purport of his Letter The H. man wrote his Letter a full month before the B. Cardinal died; when, as yet, there was not the least suspicion of any disease. CHAP. IU. He foretelleth the recovery of divers ANd lest any, should think Him a bringer of ill news only, and a Messenger of death, 'twill be worth the while, in a few instances to observe, how he oftimes proved to many the welcome Harbinger of life and health. A high Fever, with a Flux of blood, had seized on Cardinal Franc. Sforza, then retired unto his Countryhouse, which in two and twenty days so increased, that he could take no sustenance, but discovered very desperate Symptoms of approaching death, for which he was prepared by the Sacramental Refection. His Mother Katherine dispatches strait a sure messenger to Philip. to desire him, to remember her sick Son in his Prayers to God. He sends word again, the Cardinal should not die of that sickness; upon which answer he began to mend, and in short time was restored to perfect health. Pet. Mercator Miniatensis the Physician judged that his Son Michael was in great danger of death, who was also well skilled in Physic: Philip affirmed the contrary. The next day Peter pronounced, his Son could not escape; but Philip cried: Believe, thou of little faith; for God hath reserved him to a longer time. In short, Michael not only regained his former health, but, was many years after Physician to Clement the VIII. and chosen into the number of Prelates. Whose recovery now, and afterward his end was foretold him by the H. man. Joh. Baptista Altovitus lay sick, whom the Doctors affirmed to be past cure. But Philip, after he had prayed for him, This Cardinal Taurusius publicly attested. calls Franc. Maria Taurusius, bidding him; Go tell Altovitus from me; you shall not die of this sickness, but to morrow you shall mend, and in a short time be well again. He went, and did so; and he recovered. Bartholom. Dottius, of Modena, was ill of a Fever once, and having an office at Court, being one of the Guard, his Nephew desires Philip to pray for his Uncle, chief upon this intention, that so he might confer his office on him. The H. man told him; Your Uncle shall not die now, but upon his next sickness shall, and yet not leave you his place. So Dottius got rid of that malady, but died a few years after of another; without conferring his Office on his Nephew. Olympia de Nigris. the wife of Marcus Antonius Vitelleschius, fell dangerously ill, being taking with a successive triple Fever. Hieron. Cordelius, who attended her in her sickness; told her husband, none ever recovered of such a disease. But Philip, going to see her, said, he would by no means Olympia should die, for that, her death would turn to the great detriment of that Family; adding, that he would so effectually solicit God that she should be perfectly restored. No sooner was Philip gone, but Olympia found her disease gone too; and herself in a short space well, beyond the opinion of the Physicians and those about her, Hierom. Pamphilio, not yet Cardinal, lay sick unto death, whom the H. Father visited twice aday; but the violence of his disease growing upon him, moved thereunto by the H. Spirit, holding the sick man's head in his hands, He prayed over him, trembling every joint. When he had done praying, Now quoth he, be of good courage, for you shall not die, having said so, the patiented soon after re-attained his former strength. The same Cardinal also hath left in writing, that the like befell his Nephew Alexander. Faustina Cencia, Wife to Car. Gabrielius, having been long sick lay a drawing on. Philip coming to see her lays his hand on her head, saying, Doubt not, for you will not die of this sickness, She replying O Father, I am even dead already: he answers; Be of good cheer; I warrant you, you shall not die of this disease. And his promise was not in vain, for the fury of her malady having spent itself, and being assuaged, she grew as well in health as ever. Constantia Draco as it were breathing out her last, saith Philip to her; Doubt not; for ere long you shall grow Of this are two sworn eye-witnesses, besides Constantia herself. strong and lively again, and come to S Hierome's. She finding it so indeed, thereupon chose him for her Confessor. The like happened to the wife of Joh. Franc. Bucchius, who being at the last gasp, the Brothers of the Confrateruity of the Florentines being sent to, about burying the Corpse, Philip bade her Husband; Cheer up, your Wife will not die of this disease. He believing him, was not disappointed of his expectations; for to the astonishment of all, she that lay nigh dead was restored to longer life. Joh. Anton. Luccius, oft mentioned already, aged about threescore going to Rome, his Horse fling him, and with the fall put his shoulder out of jont, leaving him for dead to all men's thinking, upon which followed a Fever. He strait sends for Philip, both to give him Absolution for his sins, and to pray for him, withal that he might not die intestate, his malady growing so fast upon him. Philip lovingly embracing him saith; Doubt not, you will have leisure enough to make your will in, and dispose of your estate to your own wish. So when he had made an end of his Confession, he began to mend and in a few days was very well; who surviving the H. Father distributed well nigh his whole means upon the Poor. Upon his pronouncing the same words, Doubt not, Joh. Franc. de Bernardis, Priest of the Congregation, presently revived, This the same Francis, and Alexander Alluminatus, who attended him in his sickness witnessed upon oath. beyond the apprehension of all, when he had been anoined with the Sacred Oil as he lay a dying. Agnesina Columna, one of the most eminent Matrons in Rome, both for Nobility and Piety, recovered of a disease, in which the Physicians judged her past all hopes, upon his mere saying, Doubt not, as he used to do. So likewise did Joh. Babtista Cribellius, in a Fever; and divers others, in the very pangs of death recovered, whom he had foretold should live. As is attested by the experience of Montes Zazzara and many others. CHAP. V Sever all other Predictions of His. SUndry other Predictions there are of Philip's. Sulpitia Sirleta, the Wife of Pet. Focilis, had a Daughter, of some four years old, which was very sick; the Mother sends for Philip, beseeching him again and again with tears, to procure her Daughter's recovery; Forbear your weeping, saith he, now God calls her, 'tis sufficient for you, that you have nursed her up for Christ. Sulpitia paused at this, as loath to assent to him: to whom Philip; are you not contented? you shall have a Son, but shall be unhappy in him, he will so vex you. Two years and a half after, she was brought a bed of a Boy: who when he was grown up, never left disquieting and grieving his Parents, till he came to an ill end. Helena Ciba, being in violent throws of Childbirth, sent for the B. man to confess to; and after Confession, desired him to be Godfather to her child when it was born; it will not need, quoth he, any Godfather: and so departed. That night Helen was delivered of a stillborn Child. A Brother of the Congregation was earnestly importuned by his Father to leave the Oratory; for that he had got four or five thousand Crowns by wagers and Bets, a thing then in use; and he hoped to procure some fat Benefice for his Son being a Scholar. He to avoid his Father's solicitations, desires Philip, to let him retire to Naples, for a time who assented to it. So packing up for his journey, and hiring a horse, when he was ready to go, Philip better considering of it, denies him leave, bidding him Doubt not, And some three months after, his Father, having lost all the money he had won at play left troubling his son. Olympia de Nigris, having had seven Daughters, desired a Son; so coming to the H. man, confident of speeding, she said; Father I have seven Daughters: Doubt not, quoth he, you shall have no more Daughters. And within three years, she had three Sons; who, thinking her Charge too great, comes again, and tells him; Now Father, I have three Boys. Go, saith he, hereafter you shall neither have Sons nor Daughters: and it fell out just as he spoke. He went one time to the Religious House Turris Speculorum, and out of Devotion visited the old Church, seated in the innermost part of it, four of the Nuns attending him. As he went, he bids one of them; Go to Prayer: who answered, she had no leisure, by reason of her many employments. One of the four, Maria Magdalena Anguillaria, then in her Prime, asked him; Father what say you to me? who neither follow my Prayers, nor do any thing else. You, quoth Philip, indeed do nothing now; but yet you shall be an Abbess: at which the rest burst out in laughing. The Good man merrily asked; What, do you laugh? one of these days you will say, Philip long ago told us as much: and turning to Magdalen, who laughed louder than the rest, he said frowning; And do you laugh? Remember Philip told it you. So it fell out, forty years after this, in the year one thousand six hundred thirty five. Those that had been Abbesses all dying, Hieronyma Taschia, who then governed losing her fight they were forced to choose another; which was Maria Magdalena Angaillaria, as Philip had presaged. Marcus Antonius Columna, that renowned general, and Felix Vrsina his wife, were in a great heaviness, because Fabricius their son had no Issue: whereupon Anna Borromea his wife, Sister to S. Carlo Cardinal Borromeo being very desirous of Issue, recommended herself most devoutly to the prayers of Philip, who bid her, Be contented, for shortly you shall have two Children. Within a year after, she bore a son named Marcus Antonius; and next year another, whom for the blessing obtained them by the H. man, they called Philip. Yea being no less reputed for holiness, than for her extraction, she termed them both Philip's Sons, on the same grounds. Thomas Minerbettus and Pet. Anton Morellus, came to him once, from a Priest of the Society of Jesus, to advise with him about matters for the Soul. Pet. Antonio had a mind, to go into a Monastery of the Cassinenses; Thomas to be a Priest: and both expecting his answer. Philip touching Morrellus with a staff he had in his hand, told him, You shall not be a Monk: then turning to Thomas, Nor you, quoth he, a Priest. And so it proved; for Thomas married, and Peter Antony died an Ordinary Priest at S. Flora's. Othonellus Othonellius a Commander came from Modena to Rome, to consult with some there, about instituting a Nunnery in his own Country, but meeting with many rubs, at last Germanicus Fidelius brought him to Philip: who, though he never knew him, yet at first sight said to some Priests that were by; Take notice of this man, he shall be one of your Fraternity. Then ask him, What Profession he was of: he answered, a Soldier. You shall not long be a Soldier, replied he, but a Brother to these here: and laying his hand on him dismissed him. He was then a Soldier, and Married, having divers children, both Boys and Girls; yet after the B. man's death, his Wife, Sons, and most of his Daughters dying, and the rest going into a Monastery, in the year one thousand six hundred and nine, he entered into H. Orders, and soon after putting himself into the Covent of the Scholae piae, as he had lived very virtuously, so he made a holy end. In the year One thousand five hundred siventy six, four of the Congregation went to Milan, upon some business for Of this (to omit others) Cardinal Taurusius is a sworn witness. the Oratory: and while they stayed there, Philip on the sudden sends for Taurusius, bidding him, Dispatch and write to them at Milan, to make all haste to Rome presently. Taurusius answered, it was not for certain reasons convenient, that they should just then return: the H. man replies leave Disputing, and without demurs, do as you are bid. Strange! the Letter was no sooner come to Milan, but the City began to be infected with the Plague, which raged so sore, that two of those four, though they stayed but a very small while, were scarce able to get to Rome; yet when the Letters were writ, there was not the least suspicion of Pestilence at Milan. A certain Priest had a suit in the City about the Title of a Living, and because he could not carry it against This himself (whose name was Peter Philip Lazarettus) witnesed upon oath. his adversary, who overbore him, he intended to Pistol him; upon which resolution omitting both the saying Mass, and the recital of his Office, he comes one time to the Church of the Oratory, where beholding Philip he perceived himself so sensibly attracted by him, that he could not choose but go to him; Philip, twitching him lightly by the left ear, said; you are tempted, are you not? I Father, saith he, I am; and so violently, that except God prevent me, I am like to commit a heinous crime. Doubt not, saith Philip, you will be freed of that trouble within these fifteen days. With that the man startled, and at the time appointed, his Adversary meeting him, said, I yield you the cause, for he that was my chief Friend is displaced. The Priest admired at i●, and calling to mind, what Philip had told him, thanked God, for keeping him from so foul an act. The like befell Horatius Riccius a Jerusalem Knight, an intimate friend of Cardinal Frederic Borromeo's. He being much displeased at some Courtiers, that had touched him somewhat too near in point of Honour, risen very early to walk, and by chance met Philip, who asked him, whither he went; he answers, to recreate my mind a little: Philip understanding the reason by Divine illuminations, takes away the Knight with him, to some other business he had; but coming too soon, they were fain to tarry there two hours; in which space the Father falls a reading to himself in a devout Book. The Knight who came out to walk, chafed extremely, that he should in courtesy be kept there against his will, when Philip coming to him, bids him; Doubt not: all shall go well; say I told you so. The Knight hereupon took courage, out of a confidence he had, upon the H. man's words: and fifteen days after, Cardinal Borromeo, being informed of the proceed, discarded them his Court who had wronged him, and in favour to him, preferred him to be one of the Bed Chamber to Pope Clement the VIII. Dominicus Rodulphus, a Regular Priest, travelling through Rome from Naples to Cremona, and hearing of the great sanctity of Philip, repairs to him: so taking him attending on the hearing Confessions, he salutes him, to whom the H. man, Go on, whither Duty of Obedience calls you; and there watch for the good of Souls; and know, in due time you shall be a Bishop: but let me forewarn you of an eminent danger that awaits you in your journey, which by God's Blessing, and the Virgin's Aid, you shall escape. So as he went to Cremona, coming to the Alps, which looked toward Florence, he sunk into a Bog on the sudden, with his horse under him, where he stuck fast mired up to the throat. In which peril, those who were by, unable to help him, commended his soul to God, as the manner is: then Rodulphus, remembering Philip's words, craved his assistance; bestirring him with his hands, and etching out by degrees, till at length he by little and little crawled halfdead out of that clammy mud: his horse they could scarce draw forth with the strength of four Oxen. When he came to Cremona, he addicted himself to the exercise of Piety, and devotion, till the year one thousand six handred nineteen, in which, as Philip foretold of him, he was elected Bishop of Auria. CHAP. VI He foretells others of their being made Popes and Cardinals. ONce Peter Aldobrandine, James Abbot Crescentius, and Marcellus Vitelleschius, with some others were together at the B. man's chamber, who commanded Peter on the sudden, thus to bespeak his companions. Philip wills me to tell you, I must shortly be honoured with the Title of Illustrissimo, (which was then given to Cardinals) and that hereafter ye shall hardly have access to me. Peter out of the reverence he bore to the H. man, did so, yet not without blushing. A while after, no man suspecting aught, Pope Innocent the IX. dies, Hippolytus Aldobrandinus being elected Pope, and Peter made a Cardinal with the Title of Illustrissimo. A little before, Philip had said to him jestingly; See to what straits I am driven, that must be forced to call you, the Most Illustrious. John Francis Aldobrandin, General in chief of all the Ecclesiastical Militia, seeing one time in Philip's chamber two Cardinals Escutcheons hanging against the Wall, whose bearing was Two Deaths-heads, he asks what those Death's heads with the Cardinal's Hats beto ened. They signify, saith he, that when I am dead, two of my Congregation shall be chosen Cardinals. And indeed after his decease, Francis Maria Taurusius of Monte Pulciano, and Caesar Baronius of Sora, Priests of the Congregation of the Oratory, were by Clement the VIII. dignified with the Purple. Yea twenty years before Philip told Francis Neri as much, who ask him further, whether Baronius should be Pope, he answered; He should not. And upon the vacancy of the See, by the death of Clement the VIII. when Baronius was by all saluted as Pope, Francis stood stiffly in it, that it would never be, for Philip had so assured him long before. In like manner he foretold Hierom Pamphilio of his being Cardinal, as he himself testified in these words. Going once to the B. man, as he lay sick in bed, to disburden my conscience to him, he thus spoke to me; You are desirous to be a Cardinal. I answered; I never had any such thought he replied; Indeed you shall be one: at which I laughed to myself. And he often with an asseveration affirmed; You shall certainly be a Cardinal. Thus Hierom. who long after the Father's death was advanced to that dignity by Clement the VII. Innocentius Cardinal de Bubalo avouched this upon oath. The B. Father oft told me I should be chosen one of the Canons of the Vatican, which I, as being unknown to the Pope, and seeing no liklyhood for me to expect such a preferment, put off with a jest: and the more he averred it, still I the less believed it. When lo! in the year One thousand five hundred ninety four, If I mistake not, about the first of August, Cardinal Aldobrandi●us unexpectedly comes to me, and tells me the Pope had conferred a Prebendary of S. Peter's that was vacant on me, at that time neither seeking, nor so much as thinking on it. Some few days after, as I stayed with the B. Father, he seeing me very joyful upon the obtaining my Canonry, said; These are but petty matters, you shall be taken into the College of Cardinals, at which I laughing aloud, because it seemed not only unlikely, but to me impossible, yet Philip daily had it up still. And when afterward I was by the Divine Providence▪ and the favour of Clement the VIII. made Cardinal, I perceived the H. man had oft presaged this my advancement unto my Sister Silvia, a Devota in Turris Speculorum: who when I once lay sick in France, would still confidently say, I should not die of that sickness, forasmuch as the B. Philip's prediction must be first fulfilled. Cardinal Francis Diatristano left written in Latin to this purpose. When I lived in Rome at Pope Clement the Eighths' Court being one of his Bedchamber, and his Gentleman, the Most Illustrious and R. Cardinal Peter A'dobrandin, the Pope's Brother's Son, at that time Governor of the Castle of S. Angelo, took me with him one day to the famous Church of S: Mary's of the Oratory, and so to the House. Where after he had visited the Father, the now Blessed Philip Neri, I was brought in to him; so soon as the Venerable old man beheld me, presently stepping aside into another Room, he takes out of a Chest a Cardinal's red Hat old and worn, which laughing he puts upon my head, and looking on them who were by, he said in Italian; O i bell Cardinalino: O what a brave Cardinal he'll make! I not knowing the Illuminations by which he afar off discerned things to come, blushed, and was a little displeased, that I, because a youth, should thus be mocked by the Old man, (I confess my folly and infirmity herein) but my own modesty, the authority of the Person, and the respect due unto the Company, gave check to my Passion: and not long after, the success hereof confirmed the action of the Religious Father, and condemned my heat: yea I myself condemn it, who▪ now requested thereto, have, to thy honour Most B. Philip, with my own hand subscribed this relation, and do declare it for true, witness my hand and seal. And for Popes; He, as oft as the See was vacant, still used to hear a Voice, that distinctly told him, which of This Cardinal Taurusius (to o● it others) testified upon oath. the Cardinals should be Pope. Insomuch as when Pius the iv died, about. four or five. days before a new Pope was created, on the sudden Philip looking earnestly up to heaven, said, in a kind of Rapt: On Monday we shall have a Pope: one of his Sons asked him, Who? I will tell you, saith he: On Monday toward evening, the Cardinal of Alexandria shall be elected Pope. Which was Pius the V of B. and Glorious Memory, whom long before he had said should be Pope. After the death of Pius Quintus, in the vacancy of the See again, the foresaid Penitent, remembering, how the Cardinal of Alexandria was nominated by the H. man, to be the next Pope, asked him Who should now be Pope: Why, quoth he, whom do the people talk of? Moronus, saith he; It is not Moronus, replied the Father, but Boncompagno. Who was Gregory XIII. of Pious and Happy Memory. Again, when Xystus Quintus died, Cardinal Nicholas Sfonderato coming to Vallicella, the Father sent one to desire, that he would be pleased to tarry below in the Hall, till he came down to him; for there were with him Pet. Paulus Cresentius, afterward Cardinal of the H. Church of Rome, Abbot james, his own Brother, Marcellus Vitelleschius and others. As soon as Philip came down, before he did any thing else he made them all humbly Kiss the feet of Sfondrato: a day or two after, the same Cardinal coming to the Oratory again, Francis de Molaria acquaints Philip that he was come; who asked; Who, the Pope is it not? for the H. man by Divine Inspiration saw him as it were sitting already in S. Peter's Chair. And not only when the See was void, but even in Xystus' life time, as Sfondrato was with him in his Chamber, he said to one of his Sons; Open that Trunk there quickly, and give me out thence the Pope's Hat (being one of Pins the Fifths of Glorious Memory) which when he had taken of him, he reached forth his hand, to put it upon the Cardinal, saying; Let us try how well this Pontifical Cap fits your head. And Vrban the VII. dying, Sfondrato stepped up into the Apostolical Chair by the name of Gregory the XIIII. But strangely remarkable was his Prediction of Cardinal Hippolytus Aldobrandinus' being Pope: for the said Cardinal being with Augustine Cardinal of Cusa, in Curtius de Maximis his Gardens, by the Way Septimia, where Philip by chance was; Curtius coming a little nearer said; Father I would entreat you to prefer me to the acquaintance of Cardinal Aldobrandine. That I will, answered Philip; and I tell you further, Aldobrandin shall not die a Cardinal, And some four months after Innocent the Ninth dying, Hippolytus was advanced unto the See. And which is more yet to be wondered at, he not only affirmed he should be Pope, but told his Name too,; for speaking to Abbot Maffa one evening, Aldobrandin, saith he, shall be made Pope, and his Name shall be Clement. That of Leo the XI. who succeeded Clement the VIII. in the Popedom is also observable. He was then a Laic, and Ambassador for the Pope to the Great Duke of Tuscany, whom Philip told openly; You shall be both Cardinal and Pope, but soon after shall die: comprising a threefold Prediction in those words concerning him; that he must be Cardinal and Pope and not live long: for he was Pope but twenty six days. These things although this B. man most evidently and clearly discerned, yet he uttered them most what in a jesting way: charging his Sons, at no time to give credit, or very rarely, to such things as these in regard they so extremely tended to, and opened a gap for, Illusions. CHAP. VII. He beholds things absent, as if present. FUrther, this B. man, full of Divine Revelations, beheld things far distant, as though they had been near at hand. Once Baronius came to him to Confession whom he This Cardinal Baronius affirmed upon oath in no wise would hear, but bid him; Go to the Hospital of Santo Spirito, and visit the Sick; he answered; that the usual hour of ministering to the Sick was passed. Break off these delays replies the Father, and do your Duty. So he went, and prying among the Beds of them that were Sick, he found one having a Crucifix, and a Taper burning by him, as being in the pangs of death, who, by reason that he came into the Hospital at the hour, when the Confessor of the place had newly performed his office, and was gone, lay there without having made his Confession. Baronius, coming nearer, demanded, whether he had confessed his sins? he answered No. Thereupon he took care for a Confessor to come and hear his Confession, give him the H. Eucharist, and administer unto him what was requisite; which was no sooner done, but he departed: Baronius returning and acquainting Philip with what happened, saith He, Caesar, hence forward learn more to prise the Virtue of Obedience. Taurusius came once to Confession to him, who asked him; Ho you, what's become of that honest and virtuous This Card. Fr. Maria T●urusius himself avouched upon oath. woman? how long is it since you saw her? Make hast quickly, for I am much troubled for the saving of her Soul. She was ● very diligent and careful Attendant on the Hospital of S. james of the Incurabili. Away ran Taurusius, and finds the Woman with a Cross at her Beds-hed, breathing her last: whom, what by his Prayers, and Exhortations, he greatly relieved in that her last Agony. The like befell a certain Commander, to whom Philip dispatched some to look him out, who found him a drawing on, and were assistant to him in his last Conflict. As Antony Fantinio was going to Vallicella one time, something happened to him by the way, for which Philip chid him shrewdly, so soon as he came home; telling him the whole carriage of the business, and the particular circumstances. At which he was exceedingly appalled, as being confident, Philip could no ways come to the knowledge thereof, but by Divine Inspiration, both because none saw what was done, and likewise because he could not possibly, in so short space of time, have learned so large a story from any one's Relation. Once the Servant of God was going along with his Scholars, among whom was Marcellus Ferrius, who attests this. As he went, on a sudden the Spirit excited him, he put his hand to his mouth, and asked Ferrius; What Guests were those you entertained at your house of late? He told them who they were: Take heed, saith he, for they came to do so●● outrage, and except you remedy it speedily, there will murder ensue. Marcellus looked pale at that, and hastening home, narrowly sifts into their counsels, and discovers it to be as Philip certified him, so rendering thanks to God, wisely dismissed them, and secured his house. Paulus Recuperatus Referendary of both Seals, had spoken privately over night with a Residentiary of S Peter about business, who going next morning to Philip to S. Hieroms on some other occasions, He immediately repeated the whole discourse, word for word, that had passed between them the evening before. Paul, admiring greatly at it, asked the Residentiary at his next meeting, if he had broke the business to any, which the day before they had privately conferred on. He said No: whereupon Paul concluded the H. man had notice thereupon by some Revelation. Mutius Achilleus, of S. Severines', returning from the City into his Country, inclined to the believing Dreams, and Visions, and began too greedily to affect spiritual Favours, and sensible devotions, so that, though he had neither writ of it at any time to the Father, nor acquainted any therewith, Philip notwithstanding, after a friendly and Fatherly sort, counsels him by Letter, to cease his ambition unto that Spiritual Dotage, rather than Delight; it being possible, that the Devil might delude him, and likely, he thereby incur some notable inconvenience to his health: advising him, by all means to forbear a certain usage he had lately taken up, not so much out of lewdness, as indiscretion; adding, that such as aimed at perfection, must especially beware of those Rocks. All which, Achilleus alleges upon oath, could not be known to him but by some supernatural means. John Baptist Lambert, understanding by letters from his Father, that his Uncle died at Messana, having an estate of some Forty thousand Crowns, which he had often promised to leave him, hereupon repairs to Philip; and after his confession, tells him in short his business, desiring his leave, that he might go to Messana. At which, the Servant of God catching him by one ear, pulled his head into his bosom, where he held him awhile, then letting him go again, with a cheerful aspect, fixing his eyes on him, said: Be not troubled, for you shall not need to go hence, your Uncle is well again; and will write to you by the first, and with his good wishes, send you a token of his love. All which came to pass accordingly. Not unlike hereto was that which befell John A-trina of Marsico, who receiving letters of his Mother's death, whom he continually commended to Philip's prayers, for grief scarce able to speak; For shame away, saith Philip, your mother is well. And soon after he had news, she was in health. Julius Savera one of the Bothers of the Congregation came one time to him to Confession, and as he was in the way, letters were brought him signifying his Mother was dead, though he had not heard word of her being sick. Having read his letter he comes to Philip, who before ever he informed him of aught, taking his cap off, puts it on his head and hangs the Rosary of our Lady about his neck; wishing him not to mourn for his Mother; For she is gone to heaven before, saith he, and therefore you should rather rejoice, then give way to a vain sorrow. Savera was amazed hereat, being confident, that he could not know this, but by Inspiration from heaven; which he the less questioned, in that he held him to be a Holy man: so that he not only refrained weeping, but exceedingly joyed, that his Mother was received into the number of the Saints. And here it will not be impertinent, before the close of this chapter, to recite a pleasant passage, not unlike that related by the Great S. Gregory, in his Second Book of Dialogues. Marcellus Vitelleschius, heretofore mentioned, had sent Philip two Bottles of Orenge-flower water. But the servant that brought them, either by mischance or carelessness, broke one of them, and giveth Philip the other, who smilingly said to him, Ho you have drunk up one of the two as you came, have you not? At which he blushed, and having no other answer ready, confessed how it was. When he came home, he asked His Master, whether he had before hand acquainted Philip with the sending those Pots to him; Marcellus said, No: so telling him what had happened, they both concluded, it must needs be made known to him from above. CHAP. VIII. He understands men's Thoughts. BUt he grew so famous for discerning the innermost Thoughts of the Heart, that he became a Wonder and a Prodigy to all. For he could so subtly penetrate Of this (besides the oaths of the Cardinals Fred. Boromeo, Fr. Maria Taurusins, and Caesar Baronius) are threescore witnesses upon oath persons of known integrity. into the mind of his, that he exactly knew not only whether, and how long, they had prayed, but even what sins, and how oft, they had committed in places most secret and retired: which they were so well acquainted with, that as oft as their consciences accused them, they were not able to endure his fight: on the contrary, the innocent thought themselves in Paradise. So that if at any time they talked misbeseemingly, they would strait say one to another; Away with this discourse; for the Father knows all. And himself, upon occasion, of times affirmed, that he could tell when his served God hearty or dissemblingly. For example. Raphuel Lupus, a Roman youth, one very much estranged from the way of Virtue, was by his Friend once brought to S. Hieroms to the Sermons: which being ended, he at last hath him to Philip, that so this Wolf might become a Lamb, telling him; This young man, Father, intends to frequent the Oratory more; but would first disburden his Conscience of his sins. At which Raphaell grew extremely enraged at his companion, as being so far from any intention of confessing, that he was most averse from it. But that he might not displease his Friend, nor render himself suspected for his lewdness, he pretends a kind of Feigned Confession to the Father; who holding his head gently betwixt his hands, as his manner was, told him, I understand by Revelation from the H. Ghost, that you have hitherto made a false Confession of all you have said. Whereat the young man, being cut to the heart, within a while after made an entire Confession of his whole life to him; and by his directions entering himself into a Religious house piously lived and died there. Once there 〈◊〉 woman to him to Confession, He looking on 〈◊〉 ●aid; Bethink yourself seriously of your sins. She going aside a while, and making a strict scrutiny in her conscience, having called to mind divers sins, returns to, Philip, and confessed all, adding, For as much as you Father, know the most inward thoughts of the heart, I beseech you tell me, whether I have done any thing else, which I should confess. He replied, Be at rest, for there is nothing more. From that time she began to doubt, whether really or conjecturally only he discovered such things: so divers days after, coming again to him though she had mentioned nothing of her doubt to any, saith he, Hold thy peace, for I will recount thy faults myself: and named them all particularly to her, as she had intended to relate them. So being quit of that temptation, she ever after honoured him as a Prophet. A Noble Roman, whose most intimate thoughts Philip had sundry times detected, ask him once to help him, if he omitted aught in his Confession, the H. man answered; Be of good cheer, for as oft as you leave out any weighty matter, either through defect of Memory, or ignorance, besure God will make it known to me. Another Noble man of Rome likewise, made his General Confession to Philip, and returned, as the custom is, to be absolved after the usual Form, He asked him, Have not you committed such an offence? Yes quoth he. Why then did you not reveall it? said he: I had thought I had confessed it before. Know for certain, replied the H man, you never informed your Confessor of this fault. And searching more diligently, he remembered, he had never disclosed it to any. Joseph Zerlius, a famous 〈◊〉, who entered the Congregation in his old age, an● there died, affirmeth that the B. Father hath not only told him his thoughts already past, but told him likewise, what he should afterwards imagine; saying, that none knew the secrets of his heart, next God himself, more than Philip. Theus Guerrius of Sienna, a man of singular piety, coming to Rome about business was hospitably entertained by This Guerrius witnessed upon oath. the Fathers of the Congregation, toward Evening he spied Philip playing somewhat merrily with certain Prelates and laughing, when thinking such behaviour to argue too childish levity, he was tempted to call in question, whether he were in reality one of such sanctity, as the common people surmised. So coming next Morning to him to Confession, he concealed his former conceit he had of him; to whom he, Take heed O Theus, that you dissemble not your Confession, or for secular ends conceal the very lest offence: and why did you not confess, that Yester evening you entertained ill thoughts of me? Theus stranged at it, confessed it, and reverencing his Holiness, had a high esteem of him. A poor Woman came to him once, as he was hearing Confessions in S. Hieroms, and kneeling down feigned a kind of Confession, that she might get one of the Alms-loaves. But Philip bid her, Away, for you shall have no bread given you: and would not take her Confession. For the Prudent man was exceeding Vigilant, lest any for temporal advantages and respects should abuse or profane the H. Sacaments. Thence was it, that he did not ordinarily give Alms to Penitents himself, especially when he sat in the Chair ●● Penance, but privately furnished some Religion Persons with moneys, who, as need required, supplied their wants, they not knowing whence. Hector Modius was used to leave out of his Confession unchaste thoughts, in suppressing whereof he was too neglective, This Hector Modius witnesses upon oath. whereat the H. man was much displeased. So coming one time to Confession, and as he had formerly done, burying them in silence, saith Philip; Why do you not confess such and such impure cogitations? and which is worse to be endured, you have not hitherto so much as accused yourself as guilty herein. He wondering and repenting of his fault, became more careful for the future. A certain Youth, being one night assailed with strong temptations which he resisted not as he ought was in the Morning ashamed to go to the Father, so deferred his Confession to some other time: but coming to the Oratory This was confirmed by the person himself. after dinner, and skulking close in a corner, Philip seeing him called him, and asked Why he avoided him: then taking him aside, after he had mildly rebuked him, reckons up in order all his thoughts the night past, making him thereby both sorry and ashamed. Another confessing to Philip smothered out of mere shame some notorious crimes, that none knew of; when he had done his Confession saith he to him, Wherefore hast thou lied to the H. Ghost? rehearsing particularly all his sins, which he craftily had hid from him. Whereupon he acknowledging his Sacrilegious offence, began bitterly to bewail, and in time made a General confession of the actions of his whole Life. Once a Priest came to him to Confession, who being conscious of a very heinous crime, as he kneeled down, intending to express his sin, was taken with such a trembling, that he could not speak a word: the Father asked why he was silent; I am ashamed, said he, to utter the Villainy, I have committed. The H. man then taking him by the hand, bid him; Fear not, I will repeat your fact for you: and declared to him the whole passage, as it was, and he went on Cheerfully, the rest of his Confession. The same befell another, who, for very shame, betook him to another Confessor, but at length returning to discover what remained, said Philip to him, Son you have committed a fault which you would not have me know, and have disclosed it to another Confessor, but God hath manifested it all to me. At which the Penitent was struck with great remorse, acknowledging it was true and with the tears of unfeigned Repentance, washed off the stains of his polluted Conscience. But what needs any more? huge numbers might be produced, that out of bashfulness concealing their offences, and temptations, at times of Confession, were by him convicted thereof. But we go on. Vincentius Begerius went forth one day, not thinking at all of a Religious life, but as he was going, perceiving himself inwardly moved to enter into the Order of the Dominicans, he repairs to the Monastery of S. This Begerius himself witnessed upon Oath. Mary's supra Minervam, and there conferred with the Master of the Novices about his Call. He bid him; Go to Father Philip Neri at S. Hierom's, and impart to him all you have told me: and if he say, you are called to this kind of life, come again to me and I will take all care, to make you master of your wishes. Vincentius presently makes such haste thither, that none could prevent him. Philip, who was then talking to another, as soon as he saw him; willed him to stay a while, for I know, said he, what your business is. When he had dispatched what he was about, coming up to him, he gently plucked him by the hair and by the ear, saying, I know well enough, you were sent to me from the Master of the Novices, to have my opinion, whether 'twere best for you to enter into some Religious Order or no: therefore tell him from me, that your Call thereunto was from God, He in a great wonder returns to the Monastery, and relates the Story to the Master; adding, how he had found a man, that▪ as Christ to the Samaritan woman, had discovered to him well-nigh all the privacies of his heart. At which he smiling, and crossing him on the forehead, saith, I well understood the man I sent you to. And not long after, in the presence of Philip, he took the habit of a Regular, and was named Hierom: the Master of the Novices afterward assuring him, that he had never dealt with the B. man concerning him, but that he came to know it all from above. Dominicus Scopa, going to Rome with a purpose to become a Clerk Regular, at the persuasion of Taurusius, consulted Philip; who plainly told him he should without delay put himself into that Order, and as he was speaking on, whispers in his car; As touching the obstacle you stick at, take no care, for when once you are admitted into their Religion, it shall trouble you no more. Dominicus stood amazed to see one discover to him the secrets of his own breasts; and which was more, foretell, that what he thought an impediment, should prove none at all: which yet fell out punctually as the B. man had said. Blasius B●ttus a Clerk Regular, being for above a year perplexed with certain scruples in mind, and having often prayed God to free him of them, chastising his Body with scourge by direction of his Confessor, and yet finding no ease at all, at length determined to go to Philip, whom, b●ing then busy, he expected, walking in the Court. Blasius had not walked above three or four turns, but Philip, before ever he spoke word, told him, I understand what you come about, do as your Confessor bid you, and that is enough. He departed silent, and as he returned was discharged of all that perplexity of his mind, to the joy and wonder of his heart. Lodovic Torres, Archbishop of Mount-Royal, and Cardinal of the H. Church of Rome, being then but young, yet very well acquainted with Philip, seeing his Cloak torn one time, meant to bestow a new one on him, so taking a sum of money with him, he goes to S. Hieroms, and it being Sermon-time in the Oratory, stayed till the Sermons were ended; which done Philip knowing beforehand what Lewis had designed, brings him into his Chamber, and unlocking a Press; Look, saith he, I want none of your . Whereat he was surprised with wonder, as having made none privy to his purpose: and being afterward Cardinal, was wont to recite this passage in his discourse, as an argument, that Philip could dive into the most reserved thoughts. Claudius' Neri a Roman was so distracted with some anxious cares, that for the trouble thereof he was forced to omit many works of Piety, contrary to his own inclinations, & even to forbear the H. Eucharist; & intending divers times to acquaint Philip herewith, yet he was fearful & durst not. But visiting him once, as he lay sick, after a great deal of discourse, Philip asked him; what was that you meant to tell me? nothing, saith Claudius; but the H. man still urging him to a Confession, and he still denying it, at last Philip taking This Claudius, his Wife, and Children, all affirmed upon oath. upon him a third person, continued his speech thus; There was a man, whom I am well acquainted with, that was much infested with cares: and so began by a fiction of the Person to reckon up all the grievances which molested Claudius; upon which he not only perceived that Philip meant him, but for that he applied a Remedy suitable to his Sore, he accordingly making use thereof, was ever after rid of the like vexation. Another such purpose of his also Philip discovered to him. He had a mind to place his Daughter with the Nuns of Turris Speculorum: but was loath to make his intentions known to the B. Father, for that the Maid seemed unwilling thereto. Philip understanding by Revelation his Penitents desire, without his knowledge procured his Daughter's admission among the Nuns, and obtained likewise of Almighty God, that she changing her mind most contentedly put herself into that House. Francis de Rusticis a Noble man rested not all night for musing how he might compound a certain difference with his Sister's Husband, and being minded to consult with Philip about it, the Good man said, as soon as ever he saw him; I know what you would, come again two days hence, He did so, and found the business transacted, and concluded of according to his wish, having neither spoken of it to Philip, nor any else. Joh. Andre. Pomius Lucatellus of Bononia, Priest, a Divine of much account, read oft in Philip's hearing Books of School-questions, and as he read, the Father would many times tell him; Lucatellus, thy mind is upon something else while thou art reading, and such and such things distract you; naming them to him; so that the man for very astonishment had like several times to have gone beside himself. Constantia Draco, as the H. man. came to comfort her in her Widowhood, thought with herself; This decrepit old man lives, when as my Husband died a young man. He smiling, as apprehending what she imagined, said; Indeed I am alive, who have lived to old age, and your Husband is gone in the flower of his youth. The woman wondering, that he should utter the same words, she had been thinking on. The same person meant to attempt a matter, which she imparted to none, but afterward changed resolution: and coming to the Servant of God to Confession; Why, quoth he; are you so soon gone back from your purposes? The woman was amazed, which way he could enter into her secret imaginations, and reverenced him still more and more. A Nun in the Monastery of S. Martha, named Scholastica Gazia, had an earnest desire to open her mind to Philip, being at the Grate, who before, ever she spoke word to him about it, said, How dost thou Scholastica? how dost thou? Paradise is undoubtedly thine, Nay ●eplied she, I fear the contrary, for in my own apprehension I am already consigned unto Damnation. Yea, said Philip, Paradise is sure thine own: which I thus prove. Pray tell me; for whom did Christ dy●? For sinners, said she; And what are you? A sinner, quoth she. Therefore, inferred he, repenting of your sins, Paradise is yours, 'tis yours. Upon which argument of his she regained her former Peace, and was disturbed no more with the like fears. Nay she thought she always heard that expression of confidence sounding in her ears, Paradise is thine, 'tis thine. Two other Nuns likewise in the same Monastery the Servant of God helped by this means. Discovering to one a secret pertaining to the direction of her Soul, whom he with good words encouraged: to the other an impetuous temptation which happened before her entering the House, whom he antidoted against the fury of it, for the time to come. Before the Constitutions of the Council of Trent were in full force, a certain young man of some sixteen years of age, meets the Father, in the habit of a Laic, his name was Thomas a sancto Geminiano. Philip looking wistly on him said, Pray tell me are not you a Priest? At that he wondered, confesing he was, and briefly told him on what occasion he was made Priest, his kindred compelling him thereto by force, that so they might get to themselves the inheritance, amounting to Six thousand Crowns. Philip commiserating his ill hap, took care both to have him well taught in point of learning, and made his friends allow him a constant annual Provision: and after a certain time sent him into his own Country abundantly well satisfied. He afterwards told Taurusius that he knew, him to be a Priest, because he saw the Sacerdotal Character shining in his forehead. Now that it may appear, what hath been hitherto said, was rather sparingly mentioned, than with design of amplifying aught; it will be worth the while to view the Testimonies avouched by sworn Witnesses before Judges. The first is of Cardinal Frideric Borromeo, in these words. Philip was a man so famous for his discerning secrets, that at first sight he could tell, who had passed over from a state of sin to Grace; and again, who had fallen from Grace to sin: insomuch as he once said to one that came to him, Son you have not a good look. He strait withdrew himself, and exercising some Acts of Contrition, returned to Philip again, who eyeing him said; I since you went hence you have bettered your look. Cardinal Taurusius saith: divers times Philip seeing me would nam● me the sins that lay hid in my heart, before ever I disclosed them to him, saying, Son, you have been in such a danger, or have fallen into such or such a sin. Cardinal Octavius Paravicinus thus: I can witness upon my own frequent experience, how miraculously Philip would enter into the thoughts of standers by, having admired with myself, which way he should come to know the inward conceptions of my mind, which I remember I have heard, hath befallen divers others. Cardinal Hieron. Pamphilio thus: Being on a time desirous to reveal to the B. Father a purpose which I had kept from the knowledge of any; he taking me by the hand in the Vestry before ever I spoke of it, said, I am willing we dispatch that business. And repeats to me beforehand, what I came to inform him of, at which I stood amazed. Besides as oft as I came to the Servant of God to Confession, he understood at first glance, what I had to say and sometimes inverting the Order, changed parts with me, He being the speaker, I the hearer. Cardinal Pet. Paul. Crescentius affirms: That Philip could penetrate into the very thought of the heart my own experience confirms to me, since he hath manifested things to me, which no man could possibly know besides myself, the same have many others asserted too. Marcellus Vitelleschius hath left upon record thus: As I was once in Confession, it chanced, I felt some difficulty, I know not how, In the mentioning some sins; whereupon he, before I had expressed them, questions me particularly about them: as he did oft. And whensoever I was troubled with scruples in Conscience, if he but looked pleasantly upon me, I was strait rid of them all. Nay if any thing, either through ignorance or inadvertency, much disquieted my mind, I was sure to have all discovered to me by him. Paulus Magius saith the same: it fell out that as I went to the Good man to Confession, he would say Before hand to me sometimes, Son you have committed this or that offence. And I was many times possessed with admiration, because none was able to acquaint him with it. Marcellus Ferrius hath these words: As I was disburdening my Conscience in Confession to Philip, he fixed his eyes steadily upon me, and related to me in order, as though he had ●ayen in my bosom, all the sins I had done. And as oft as he laid his hand on my head, either giving me Absolution, or dismissing me, I was abundantly replenished with pious affections. Mutius Achilleus asserts this which follows: I found indeed upon trial, that the B. Father was wont to pry into the most secret recesses and every corner This Mutius himself testified upon Oath. of the Conscience, and one thing I well remember, which I noted down in my Book, as than it happened. In the year One thousand five hundred seventy three, living at Rome, I concealed some sins, which I was ashamed to confess to him. It chanced on time, that he sharply reprehended a certain old woman in my hearing, out of Confession, and said, The pains of hell do even wait for thee, at which I out of a foolish lightness laughed to myself, but he turning to me said; And you likewise shall be damned in Hell. Which as I suppose, the Wise man threatened me with, to bring me to repentance, but being young and foolish, I least minded what most concerned me. And afterwards when I came again to Confession, he openly and distinctly rehearsed the faults I had purposely before kept close. So acknowledging my heinous crime there in, I resolved for time to come to lay open ingenuously and sincerely my faults, without the least dissimulation. Mar. Anton. Vitelleschius testifyes the like in these words: I oft resorted to the H. man, who declared to me things, which none but God and myself could possibly know, except by miracle. And as oft as I had come to him with any guilt upon my Soul, I trembled every joint of me, for fear he should discover any thing openly, that I had done in secret. As on the other side, if no sin lay upon my Conscience, me thought his presence gladded me like the joys of Paradise. Angelus Victorius the Physician added this: When I came to Philip upon occasion, to desire his prayers for me, he would pleasently forewarn me to beware of such and such a fault, or business; and would orderly recite the very sins of my thoughts, which he could not come to know, being none of my Confessor. Pet. Focilius affirms: many times hath Philip recounted to me all my hidden thoughts, and the devious inclinations of my heart, and that a● soon as ever I came, before I had begun my Confession to him: all which were so reserved and secret as they were known to none but God and me. A Woman named Cassandria, Sister to Antonia Raida, whose Virtue is else where recited, saith, I ever accounted Father Philip as a Saint, because coming to him to Confession, he would reckon up all my private thoughts to me, which it was impossible for him to know, had he not been a Saint. Yea he hath repeated my Prayers, and related the very drift and scope they tended to. Antonia de Pecorillis thus: Two years before the B. man died, as he spoke one time to me, he discovered some of my thoughts, which I had made known to none; at which I was struck with amazement: this certainly he could never have received but from heaven, for they were the very secrets of my heart. Lastly, not to cloy the reader with a huge Mass of Allegations, the whole Book of the Acts containing the Canonigation of Philip, compiled by public Authority, is full fraught, with dispositions of witnesses to this purpose: from whence it may sufficiently be evinced, what Grounds the H. Congregation of Rites had, to testify of him, that in discerning the hidden thoughts of men's hearts, non sit inventus similis illi: his like was not found. CHAP. IX. His Prudence and discerning of Spirits. HOwever Philip always loved to be thought foolish and ridiculous amongst others, yet was he always reputed one of the Sages of his Time, not only in things pertaining to the Soul, but in matters of Government, whether of Domestic or of State-affairs. Hence was it, that not only people of inferior rank, but even Persons of highest dignity repaired to him as the Living Oracle of profound Wisdom. Yea and divers Popes themselves have highly prized his counsel and advice. Gregory the XIIII oft used his help in weighty and difficult cases, and in business of great trust; and Clement the VIII reposed in him so much, that upon his persuasions he reconciled Henry the FOUR King of France to the Church. When Leo the XI was Cardinal, he would often in the week come to Philip's Chamber, and spend four or five hours there with him; both to recreate and revive his spirits, and take counsel of him in matters of great concernment: who, being a man of singular prudence, and called to give in his Testimony of Philip, among other Eulogies wherewith he honoured the H. man, testified his eminence in this Virtue. S. Carlo Borromeo, besides that he would tarry with him in his Chamber many hours together, to confer of Spiritual matters, such especially as concerned the Pastoral Office, committed to his care his most Dear Sister, Anna Borromeo, willing her to observe his counsel and directions in every thing, being one whom he had on all assays found to be a most Prudent Person. Claudius' Aquavipa, the fifth Superior General of the Society of Jesus, a man of rare Prudence and sagacity, never came to the H. man, but he stayed four or five hours, conferring both of public and private matters. Yea the Regulars, and chief of all Orders flocked to him for his advice. Insomuch that Theius, a Siennese forecited, used to say; I have indeed been acquainted with many, especially the Regulars, but never met with any, that gave so safe; so pious, and so prudent counsel as Philip. And which was most remarkable in him, his Answers seemed to be made casually as it were, and yet the event sufficiently demonstrated, that they proceeded from the greatest depth of Reason, and maturity of Judgement. Hence was it, that in his transactions he was searching, not precipitate; courteous yet not too flexible; and though by nature very respectful, yet no way farther, than was fit, officious. So that being moved once by a Noble man to mediate with the Pope for him, in a certain business, he plainly answered that he would not, both for that another might better effect it; as also, lest he might lose an apportunity of helping others that stood in greater need. But to come to that branch of Prudence called by the H. Father's the Discerning of Spirits; he was so divinely illuminated from above, that he could distinguish what best conduced to every one's condition. Hereupon it came to pass, that as many, as by his means or directions turned Religious, for the most part persevered therein with great approbation; when such as against his mind be took them to the Cloister, soon returned again to the pompous vanities of the World. Which was constantly observed by those of the Oratory: they who with his full consent were admitted into it, persisting gloriously; those few which were not, being either discarded by the Fathers, or voluntarily forsaking the Congregation. The like befell such, as he, herein questionless Prophetical, out of any special motives persuaded to a Secular life; and they proved eminent amongst others in the practice of Virtue. Among whom, besides those already named, John Baptist de Fulginio became famous. Who being very desirous to know, what course of life he should lead, repaired to Philip, whose piety was much famed throughout the City; so kneeling down, to make a General Confession, as they term it, of his sins unto him, Philip taketh the paper wherein he had marked down his faults, and tears it, which he patiently endured: and much admiring the wisdom of the man, ever after was directed and led by his conduct in all the actions of his life, as if he had been, as himself said, a mere carcase: neither after made he any more words, concerning the General Confession. Meanwhile he put up his prayers to God, that what he pleased to appoint for him, Philip▪ might discover to him: and lo! as he was in prayer at S. Bonaventures Church under Mount Quirinall, he heard a voice bidding him; John Baptist return to Fulginium, return to Fulginium. At the hearing of which, although he were wont to communicate all things unto the H. man, yet would he not presently acquaint him with this, lest he should suspect him to long after his Country. But Philip, who knew all by Inspiration from God, said to him: I command you, that you return into your own Country, for thither Christ calls you, yet be in a readiness to come hither, whensoever I shall remand you. Whereupon he travels to his Native soil, where he made such Progress in Holiness and Virtue, that while he lived he was commonly termed a Saint. With no less advantage, both to himself and others, did he detain Caesar Baronius among the Seculars, when having oft desired Philip's leave, to enter into the Order of Capuchins, he could never get his consent; insomuch as some hearing how the Father opposed it, and diverted him from it, not duly weighing things were scandalised thereat, that he should discourage any from a Religious State. But the sequel evidenced how much they were deceived, and how judicious his caution was: seeing every one knows how renowned for his life and learning Baronius was in his Secular course; and what incomparable service he did the Church of God both by his Writings and Example. He persuaded Franc. Puccius of Palestrina to live a Secular too. For he contemning the specious vanity and emptiness of the World, was most passionately desirous to become a Capuchin, so that he minded nothing else day nor night, and whensoever he saw any of that Order, he thought him an Angel. So advising with Philip, he tells him what he had been designing; You, saith Philip, are not fit for a Religious life; therefore live at Palestrina, where you are like to be most beneficial. Puccias was not satisfied with this, but wearied the Good man with continual requests, to procure an answer to his mind. At last he bade him; Go, but withal know you shall not stay long among them. The young man posts away to Viterbium, to accomplish his desires, but by the way fell so desperately ill, that after a tedious languishing sickness he was fain to return home again; where growing more resolved, and supposing it ill done of him to return into his Country, he vowed if he recovered, he would assay once more to put himself into the Capuchins Order. So when he was well again, he comes to Philip, tells him, he had lately made a Vow; the H. man cries; God forgive you, did I not foretell you, that a Religious life would not suit with you? Therefore look you get a dispensation of your Vow, as soon as may be. He did so, but not resting there, the Father repairing to the General of that Order, first instructs him what answer to give Puccius, then sends him to him. The General asks him; what I pray, Good friend, have you vowed our course of life? I have so, quoth he. But, replied the other, though you have sworn our Rule, yet we have not sworn to receive you in, therefore go some whither else, for here is no room for you. At that Puccius was quiet, and returning to Palestrina, being first made Priest, than Archpriest of that City, performed such, and so many services tending to the good of Souls, both in his Country and at Latium, and the Frontiers of Campania: that he was generally styled the Apostle of those parts. He prevailed likewise with a Noble young Roman, that came to ask his advice, about taking a Religious habit, to live quietly at home, saying, Some evil Spirit would amuse you with these kind of thoughts that he may ruin you and your whole Family. But I tell you further, you not only shall be none of the Religious, but in time shall marry. All which to a syllable came to pass, though out of respect to the party, his name be concealed. Yea the B. man was so Divinely illuminated in the discerning and determining each man's condition, that he many times would say to his Sons; Do this, or that, for this is the will of God: which when Cardinal Fred. Borromeo heard, he would say, Few or almost none can use this speech, and not be mistaken. Otherwhiles he was wont to say; you indeed shall persevere, but not he: and the success in tract of time shown his predictions were true. Two of his, the one named Francis, the other joh. Baptista Saracenus, intended to betake them to S. Dominic's Order; to whom Philip, john Baptist indeed shall be taken into this Institution, and there continue: but Francis though be enter upon it, shall ere a year come about, return to a secular life. And so it happened. Some of the Fathers had a desire to have a certain Youth admitted into the Oratory, Philip was unwilling, yet, being desirous to gratify the Society, permitted him; but a while after, the young man, out of a kind of Levity, left the House of his own accord. There were two, whose Confessions the H. man used to hear, the one an Italian, the other a French man, but the Italian seemed the more devout. Of these Philip This is delivered in upon oath by four persons. thus divined: The Italian, that appears so zealous, shall cool in his piety, but the Frenchman who is flower to spiritual things shall bold out to the last. And so it was. Another young man also came sumptuously attired to S. Hieroms to hear the Sermons, not to gain benefit by the Word of God but to jeer at the Preachers. Where one time he made such a noise, that he disturbed those that were near him; who not enduring his sauciness and impudence, spoke to Philip to reprove him. He smiling said to them; Let him alone, for he will prove a better and devouter man than any of you. So, when the young man came to understand himself, he entered into the strictest of the Religious Orders, where persisting in Holiness, and abounding in Virtues he ended his days. He had a certain Penitent a Portuguese, about 17. years of age, who was well known to the Cardinal a Monte Politiano, one that had attained to such a measure of devotion, and that spoke with such a Gust of heavenly matters, that he made even the most learned This Cardinal Taurusius witnessed upon oath. stand amazed at him. This man begun to be very zealously affected unto a Regular life; and though Philip approved not thereof, yet tired with his uncessant importunity, he became unwillingly willing to his admission. But as he was putting on his Religious habit, the Servant of God being by went aside a little, and turning to the Wall wept exceedingly. Taurusins seeing it asked why he grieved; who answered, that he deplored the Virtues of that young man. Taurusius then knew not the meaning of those words, but after some revolution of time plainly perceived it: for the Portuguese did not indeed quite throw of his Regular habit; but degenerating, and abandoning all piety, spent his days wand'ring, becoming the burden of the earth, and a Scandal to all. Moreover it was so known abroad that Philip excelled in the Gift of Discerning, that Gregory the XIII desirous to prove a certain Virgin named Ursula Benincasa, which came from Naples to Rome, and was in almost continual Ecstasies (for she was Entranced thrice before the Pope, to whom she had addressed herself upon business) judged none fit than Philip for that purpose. Who at his Holiness' command undertaking it, tried her by severe injunctions and several afflictions. First debarring her the B. Sacrament; seeming to slight all her trances and raptures, calling them illusions: then dealing more rigorously with her, till he had made divers experiments of her sincerity. After all which he gives the Pope a very good account of her, commending to him her virtuous simplicity and innocent conversation. She afterward returning to Naples, remembering how the B. man had treated her, both in word and deed was wont to say, that none knew her heart bet●er than Philip. She died the Sixteenth of January, in the year One thousand six hundred and sixteen, leaving fresh the memory of her exemplary piety behind her. He used almost only the experiment of Mortifications, to try whether the Spirit were of God or no, supposing that where there was not the greatest demission of mind, there could be no grounds of true religion laid. Alphonsus a Capuchin surnamed Lupus, an excellent Preacher, and of known Virtue, was to go into the Pulpit, when on a sudden in comes Philip, who without any Apology or Preface, as one having Authority, asked; Are you Lupus, that famous Preacher, who by reason of the airy applause of men, conceit yourself above all others? Are you he that Peacock-like displaying the bravery of your painted tail, vauntingly boast, you have preached in all the eminentest Assemblies of the City? and so went on upbraiding him with such bitter language, that those who were by admired at it. Hereupon prostrating himself on the earth, he with many tears and great remorse cried; O Father, you worthily admonish, and reprove me justly. Whom Philip forewith laying away his severity, and clearing up his countenance, with his wont affection embraced and kissed, biding him, Go on, Father, go on, as you have begun, and publish the Gospel of Christ. And when he had done speaking went his way. He went once to see a Good woman that had lost her sight, and lay Bedrid, being highly honoured at Rome for her piety. Her the B. man divers ways makes trial of, by word and deed, who bore all cheerfully. He to show those that came with him the rare Virtue of the woman, ere he departed, taking a Priest that was then present by the ear, bids him kneel down before her, and then saith he to her; This man is possessed by the De vill, and therefore hath need be adjured by the H. Exorcisms: to that end let us pray, that the poor wretch may be freed. She having paused awhile, kissing the Priest's hand that kneeled, said; This man is not possessed, My Father, but a Priest that said Mass this Morning, to whose Prayers I humbly betake me. At which Philip departed silent, not so much as bidding her Farewell. One Philip of the Third Rule of S. Francis' Order, for his many works of Charity and austerity of life reputed a man of great Holiness and integrity was sent to the B. Philip by Cardinal August. Cusanus, at that time Protector of the Franciscans that he might throughly search and examine the Spirit of the man. When he was come, the H. Father knitting his brows and looking with a sour aspect on him, as though he scorned him, asked what's he? and strait calling for his Box in which his small money was kept, bid him, Take as much as you please He, making as if he would have emptied the Box, took but a half penny: whereat Philip cried out; Ho sirs, this man hath more need of meat, than money, bring him a Loaf. When he saw the bread come, pretending to have more mind to that, he bites it before Philip, as though he had been almost famished, and puts it up into his ●ouch. Then the Father asked him what life he led, and what prayers he made to God. He chattering his teeth, and knocking his feet together, answered that he knew not how to make any other Prayers but such. Philip seeming to take that answer ill, thrust him away in displeasure; who said at his departure; This Old man hath much of the Spirit of Mortification. And Philip afterward told Cusanus, that he was no contemptible Person. For his Scholar's instruction and information, he was wont to give them many Precepts and Advices. Fir●t he counselled such as were Confessors, not by violence to guide their Penitents the same course which themselves had taken; since some Holy exercises are beneficial for one, which to another become pernicious: for said he, they must not be suffered to try at pleasure what ever comes into their heads, it being sometimes most advantageous to interdict them the practices of Devotion, both for relaxing the mind, and to enure them by the exercise of Mortification, to master their own desires by little and little, if they affected any thing overmuch. He would not have Penitents for every cause change their Confessors; as on the otherside, he was offended that Confessors admitted other Penitents besides their own. For he would not entertain Nerus de Nigris, one whom he loved exceedingly, for his Penitent, but always remitted him to his own Confessor, while he was at Rome. He also made Peregrine Altobell return to his former Confessor again, in whose absence he for a year together had taken his Confession. And for preserving peace and union between Man and Wife, and the better governing of Families, he greatly commended the having but one and the same Confessor: so that it were done▪ voluntarily, not out of any motives from fear or awe, as knowing full well, how free the use of Sacramental Penance ought to be. For the reclaiming any one fallen, to his former state of piety, he affirmed no better remedy could be found, than to discover his offence to some one of approved sanctity that was his confident, it being not impossible, by this one act of Humility, to repossess himself of his formerly lost Virtue. He likewise advised Confessors, not to permit such of their Penitents as were Novices to practise all kind of Penance they perhaps requested; that so they might proceed with more alacrity in the Service of God, neither overburdened with multiplicity of Penances to weary them, or make them grow desperate and careless, and so withdraw their hand from the Blow. He wished Penitents not too violently to urge their Confessor to yield to them, wherein he was unwilling: and said, it was very expedient, when they had not the benefit of a Confessor, to imagine him directing them, and to square their actions, as they conceived he would enjoin them. He disliked, that any should whip themselves with Scourges or small Chains, or do any such thing without acquainting their Confessor: that who so did otherwise, would either suffer in their health, or likely were seduced with a spirit of Pride. He would not have Vows made without the advice of Persons discreet; for fear lest what is lightly promised God, be as lightly recalled. He could not give way that any of his should leave any Virtuous course of life they had once chosen; desiring much, that every one should abide in his own calling: adding that even Secular men might attain the state of Perfection, for that Trades and Arts did not hinder the acquisition of Virtue. Whereupon though he sent innumerable companies well-nigh to several Orders of the Religious, and especially to S. Dominic's; insomuch as the Fathers thereof styled him a Second Dominic: yet was he most pleased to see people Religious in their own houses. And for this reason, he would hardly consent that such as lived in the Courts of Nobles, with good example unto others, should departed thence; saying, that a man to alter from evil to good needed no directions, but he that intended to ascend from good to better had need of Time, and Counsel, and Prayer. For the conservation of quiet and concord betwixt Neighbours and Friends, he advised never to speak of men's natural defects: as also in admonishing Princes, or Great Personages, not to proceed directly; but in the third person still, so tempering the reprehension as, Nathan to David. He likewise counselled, that if any had received discourtesies or affronts by Persons of Quality, they should not bewray any signs of displeasure, but look affably as though there had passed nothing of discontent between them; that by this means all jealousies and surmisings of malice and revenge might be removed. He wished women to tarry at home, not to go much abroad, nor gad to other folk's houses; but upon necessity, and urgent occasions. So that one time as he was highly extolling Martha Spoletana, a woman of that Age remarked for her holy conversation, some of his asked him, Why he so much commended that Woman? Because, said he, manum suam misitad fortia, & digiti ejus apprehenderunt fusum: She layeth her hauds to the Spindle, and her fingers take hold of the Distaff. This woman was a great honourer of Philip, kneeling and prostrating herself at his feet, as often as she came to Rome; and resorted to him: having that Privilege granted her by God, to discern the Beauty of the Soul: and seeing the brightness of this B. man's Soul, she was ravished therewith into an Extaticall joy and delight. Much more to this effect was He wont to allege, which to avoid prolixity, is here omitted. CHAP. X. He freeth Persons Possessed by the Devil. THough Philip were not very forward to make use of Exorcisms, yet he obtained of Our Lord that singular Favour, as by his Prayers and commands devils were cast out. a Testified upon oath by Car. Tarugi and divers others. A Maid named Katherine was brought from Campania to Rome, that by His means she might be released from the Devil. For she spoke both Greek and Latin, as though she had been brought up in an Academy, whereas she was ignorant and illiterate, without the least smattering of learning: besides she had such an incredible strength, that many stout men at once were scarce able to master her. By help also of the Devil she many times foresaw at what hour Philip would send to adjure her, saying, That Priest hath now sent one to bring me by force to him: and presently ran away, and hid herself in the secretest by-places of the house. Her did Philip free of those unclean Spirits, by only Praying to God for her, at S. John's Church of the Florentines, and returned her safe again to her Parents. Lucretia Cotta, a Roman, being bewitched, was so tormented by the Devil for eight years, that the Balls of her eyes were drawn down to her Nose and she almost wholly deprived of her sight; besides that she had such a pain at her heart, that the Curate of the place, finding her sometimes halfdead, meant to anoint her with the Holy Oil: otherwhiles she felt her Bowels so torn and wrung, attended with such a trembling; that many women lying upon her breast could not stop the motion thereof. In these tortures of body and mind she could neither eat, nor sleep, nor stand, nor walk at all, but as she was held up betwixt two. At last, brought to this extremity of misery, she repairs to Philip, who pitying her condition bids her kneel down, and applieth one hand to her heart, the other to her eyes, in this sort continuing his Prayer the space of half an hour. Which being ended, she was released of her pain at the heart. A while after coming to Philip, much troubled still in her eyes, for that she could not use them about women's works being herself poor, he said to her: Doubt not, for by the grace of God your eyes shall he well again. And, laying his hands on her eyes, he prayed for a quarter of an hour: then asked her, How she did? she cries out; Alas Father, you have made me quite blind. At that he laughed; saying, Be not afraid, for you shall not go away without your sight. About an hour after, the Woman perceived a kind of film fall from her eyes, and strait regained her sight, never afterwards being ill of her eyes; yea she could thread a Needle, and perform the finest Seamsters work. In the Church of the H. Cross of Jerusalem, a Woman, descended of a Noble House in Germany, was to be adjured by the Exorcisms of the Church, Philip being present. And as the Wood of the H. Cross with other Relics were shown the party possessed, she began to be so troubled with Convulsions, that they said, now the Devil was gone; but saith Philip; Know ye, that the Woman is still possessed with the Devil, chief for that one of them, who are here, doth not believe. The H. man approaching nearer constrained the Fiend to certify him, what day he would be gone from that Body: which when he had set according to Philip's, appointment, he the very day that was prescribed departed from the woman, at the command of the H. man, in the Church of S. Maria ad Martyrs. He went another time to S. John Lateran's, where, as the custom is, the Heads of the H. Apostles Peter, and Paul were shown to the people: and the Body of the Church being filled with the confluence of such as flocked thither, on the sudden a Woman, whom those Sacred Relics had provoked cries out aloud. Philip perceiving her moved by the Devil, catching her by the hair, in derision of Satan spit on her, saying; Ho, do you know me? Would I did not, replied she; immediately falling into a swoon, was perfectly quiet of all annoyance from the Devil. But Philip, seeing the people coming in apace to him, instantly skipped a way, thereby to decline all popular applause. Moreover the Servant of God had such authority over the Devils, that if the possessed were by them hindered from the Sacrament of Penance, or receiving the Eucharist, he could so master them, that they should no further retard them from such holy Duties. Once a Women of the Capuchins Order came to the Church at Vallicella with some others, her Countrywoman; and as she approached to participate of the B. Sacrament, the Devil so disturbed her, that she was not able to receive it, when it was reached forth to her. At which the B. Father, who from the Seat of Confession had observed it, coming nigher laid his hand on her head, and she presently received it without any difficulty. There happened another like example. Two poor old Women came one day to the Oratory, one of them ask to speak with Philip. The Sacrist answered, He was old and feeble, and could not come down so low; Pray, call Him; said she again; for this woman my Companion is troubled with an evil Spirit: and I would fain have her make her Confession to that Holy Priest. The Sacrist again refused, she redoubles her requests and reinforces her suit again, till at last she prevailed with him to go, who relating, what had passed, to Philip; he bid, Turn her out; for what have I to do with them that are Possessed? Yet afterwards pitying her, went down into the Church to her; the Woman, as soon as ever she saw him, shook, and was unwilling to come nigh him, but as she was brought by force; to whom the Father only said in a still Voice; Woman kneel: she quietly kneeled down & confessed her sins. After that she received the H. Communion of him: and thenceforward came often to him, and devoutly received the Sacraments of Penance, and the Eucharist, without the least molestation from the Devil. But the proud fiend, unable to bear this Vassalage unto the H. man, bewrayed his rage and madness against him sundry ways, whensoever he was either commanded to come forth, or be silent. Joh. Anton. Luccius at Philip's appointment had adjured one that was possessed, and, in scorn to the foul spirit, scourged her sharply; which mockery so offended him, that he appears to Philip that night in a black and hideous shape, threatening to mischief him; but, when he could not hurt him, went away enraged, filling his Chamber with most a stinking Vapour. Besides, the Wicked spirit could not abide, that, when Philip was sent for, he should depute another to the Exorcism, counting himself much undervalved thereby. Thereupon the Servant of Christ sending a Priest one time to adjure a Maid that was possessed, and he doing it accordingly; when the Priest came home, as he was knocking up a nail in the Wall, the Devil overturned the stool he stood upon with such a force, as had like to have cost him his life; and at the same instant spoke out of the mouth of the Maid, and said, I thought I had killed him. But though God bestowed on him this prerogative of dispossessing Devils, yet he seldom, except upon necessity, would undertake that employment, affirming that many times those who seemed possessed by the Devil were not so indeed: adding, that these kind of fits proceeded oftimes from nature; as from the excess of Melancholy, or distemper of the Brain, or such like causes. And in Women frequently from infirmities peculiar to them, and sometimes counterfeited, for certain reasons and ends they purpose to themselves. For example, once he was sent for to a Maid, that was thought to be possessed by them that lived with her; for she would run up and down a nights, and roar out, break the earthen Vessels, and throw the householdstuff about: He looking on her, and finding her not possessed; but transported with strong and corrupt affections, told her Brother: Would you have your Sister cured of this disease? whenever she is thus mad hereafter tame her with whipping. He did so, and she soon left playing her pranks. Another time a young Wench was in like manner brought to him, who dissembled: as soon as Philip saw her, he told her Parents; This Maid is not possessed, but feigns herself so. And so it proved in the conclusion, for when she was married she left her counterfeiting. It chanced much about the same time, that another Woman named Sidera, whose friends thought her possessed, was removed from Sabini to Rome, that by the visiting those Holy places, and by the Exorcisms of Holy men she might be regained from the Devil's power. So her friends appointed to have her one day to S. Peter's Church; that she might be present at the Solemn Benediction of the Pope; but she stealling away privately fling herself headlong into a Well, whence the people of the house took her out, without any harm, bringing her safe to S. Peter's, and back again. Many Priests had oft Exorcized, and torn her flesh with scourge, almost suffocating her with continual somentations and perfumes, but nothing succeeding, she was at last had to Philip, who looking upon her, and praying to God, said; This woman is not possessed, but Lunatic: therefore use her gently, and do not torture the poor wretch with Exorcisms. They followed his directions, and conveyed her home again: who continued a kind of Idiot ever after, as long as she lived, and though she did not rave so much afterward, yet she doted still at certain times. Hereupon the Father advised his Sons, not to believe too hastily that people were Possessed, and that, except in extreme necessity, they should forbear Exorcizing, for many and great inconveniences that usually ensue thereon. CHAP. XI. He appears to Persons far remote from him. THis favour also was by the Divine Donor conferred on the H. man, that, whilst he lived hereupon Earth, he appeared in several places to them that were absent, and remote. A certain P●●est of the Congregation, that dwelled at Vallicella was afraid of incurring the hazard of a sin, in some kind of employment enjoined him by Philip, then This the Priest himself witnessed upon oath. living at S▪ Hieroms. And being one night much troubled at it, on a sudden he heard his Chamber-door open, which was bolted on the inside, and presently beheld the B. Father, who asked him, How he did? not well, quoth he. Philip, laying his hand on his Breast and crossing him, said, as his manner was; Doubt not, and so departed. The Priest immediately took courage at it, and became cheerful, ever after unmolested in that matter; and in the Morning, when he risen found his Chamber-door fast shut, as if none at all had ever come in. One of his Sons being in suspense, whether he had best pass over to Naples or no, consulted with the Father, who wishing him, by no means to go for he would be in danger either of being taken Prisoner by the Turks, or drowned. But the young man slighting the Old man's advice shipped himself: by and by the Turks board the Vessel in which he was bound, and divers of the Passengers, for their own safety, threw themselves into the Sea; he following their example did so too. When being not able to swim, and seeing himself in apparent danger of death, he remembered what Philip had for ewarned him of: and cries out, beseeching him to deliver him from that so imminent peril, and anon the B. man appears to him on the waters, and calling him, bid him, Doubt not, so taking him by the hair of the head, brought him safe a shore. An old man, one of his Scholars, was coming out of Egypt into Italy, and as he crossed the Sea, two Turkish Galleys surprised the ship he was in, and bound him in chains; who betaking him to his Prayers, with a holy affiance besought God, for the merits of his Confessor, Father Philip, that he would be pleased to deliver him from those Pirates. And the same instant he thought he saw the H. man saying after his usual manner; Doubt not, you shall certainly be loosed of your Bonds. He had no sooner done praying, but some of them told the Master of the Galley, they thought it better to release the old infirm man, than detain him almost dead already. The Master pitying the poor creature freed him strait: who coming to Rome was informed, that at the same time when he was taken Prisoner at Sea, and in Prayer, the H. man said; Let us pray for N. who is now in great peril of Slavery. A Noble Roman Lady, being very angry with her Husband, in somuch as she would not speak to him, and for the same reason abstained from the Sacrament of Penance; Herself testified this upon o●th. about three days after toward Morning felt a blow given her, between sleeping and waking, at which starting she hears Philip saying to her; Ho you? how long shall anger possess you? Whereat she trembled, and forthwith rising and acknowledging her fault, goes to S. Hieroms Church, where she relates the whole proceeding to the B. man, who dissembling the matter gave her never a word. Once he enjoined Lucretia, Wife of Joh. Animuccius, a Woman of singular Piety, to rise at a certain hour of the night to Meditation, who ever and anon favouring herself slept out her Prayer-time, hereupon he chid her, saying, Unless you amend this fault, I will raise you a nights her after to your Prayers. And so it came to pass; for whensoever she overslept her time, she heard the B. Father calling her; Lucretia rise. Yea many times when she came to Confession, he would ask her; Was not I fain to waken you to your prayers to night, as I promised you? When Caesar Baronius lived at S. John's of the Florentines, he fell so desperately ill, that being void of sense, they procured him to be anointed with the H. Oil; when falling into a sweet sleep, he sees Philip standing by him, who then dwelled at S. Hieroms, and praying for his health to Jesus Christ, at whose right hand stood the Virgin of Virgins, shadowed with a pure white Veil, and saying; Save Caesar; give me Caesar; restore me Caesar; I must needs have him well again. When the Good man had prayed awhile in this manner, he perceived Our B. Lord to turn away his face from Philip's prayers. Whereupon Philip addressing himself to the Virgin humbly requests her, that what of himself he could not procure from Our Lord, by Her intercession he might obtain; she piously inclining to his Petitions never left entreating her Son, till Philip having his wish granted him, left praying. Meanwhile Baronius waking found himself secure from all fearof death, and in short time recovered; which being not unmindful of, he gratefully acknowledgeth in many leaves of his Book, that both his life and learning were all owing to the Prayers of Philip. Mathias Maffe●s Priest lay sick, and the Physicians being hopeless of him, Philip comes to see him, bringing along with him two little Boxes of Relics, and, as his custom was, bade him; Doubt not, you shall recover: then laying his hand on his heart, pressed it hard, and giving him his Blessing went away. The Patient herewith greatly cheered falls asleep, and hears Philip in his sleep call him thrice; Mathias rise. The Voice was so strong, that it somewhat affrighted him, and as soon as he was fully awake he found his Fever quite gone, and two days after got up, and was very well. Cardinal Frederic Borromeo relates how one had a Vision in this wise. A great Mastiff, or such like beast, seemed to lie about the Bed, at the sight whereof being greatly dismayed, as soon as he was awake, he felt himself bruised and sore all over as if he had been cudgeled, in the Morning coming to Philip, he informs him of all that happened the Night before. To whom the Father; know Son that I was with you last Night, and fought for you; and God for the good of your Soul sent you this prodigious sight; yea I desired you might meet with some such accident, and therefore think not scorn to benefit thereby. A certain Abbot, whom Philip entirely loved, retired from the City to a place belonging to his Abbey, where for two years together he was so troubled with a phlegmatic humour, that his Limbs becoming useless to him, he was fain to keep divers Servants to help him. His disease was by Physicians held incurable, yet were there almost infinite applications made to him by Physic, which proving ineffectual, by direction of the same Physicians he was in a Litter carried to Rome, where he was so impaired by sickness, swooning, and fainting away oftimes, that he seemed to suffer many deaths in a day. In this plight he earnestly prayed to God, that, if he saw it good, he would now let his Servant departed in peace: mean while one of the Oratory comes to see him, telling him, Philip would visit him toward Evening, and afford him present ease and refreshment. After he had supped, his wont pains coming upon him with extreme violence, about Midnight falling into a quiet slumber, he sees Philip putting his hand on his face as he lay, standing by silent. At that the Abbot wakes; and struck with affrightment and terror, could not speak a word; but was the more afraid for that he observed, he came into his Chamber, the door being shut. Philip asks him, How he did? the Abbot made him answer, taking notice of the H. man, withal desiring him, if it were expedient for him to live, he would pray for his restorement. Then Philip taking his hands in his own, placed them across: the Clinic, not knowing what it meant, awaited the success, when at last he heard the Servant of Christ cry out aloud; Rise. At which he, sitting up in his Bed, which for divers months before he could not do, presently thrusts his feet out of the Bed to rise? Philip asks him; Do not you see now that you are restored to health? look you revealy it to none and vanished away. Upon this apparition the Abbot grew so in health, as that Week he went abroad. Joh. Animuccius. of whom before, travelling to Prato in Tuscany, visited Katherine Riccia a Florentine, one of the Nuns of S. Dominic's Order, commonly called S. Katherine de Prato, whose life is written by Seraphinus Razzius, one of the same Order: and in discourse asked her, If ever she knew Philip Neri? She answered, by bearsay she had, but by face never; yet she desired both to see, and speak with him. The next year Animuccius came to Katherine again, who confidently averred, she had both seen and spoken with him; though neither she had been from Prato; nor Philip from Rome in all that time. Which likewise Philip affirmed to be true, at A●imuccius coming back to Rome. yea and after her death, some talking of her Excellencies, and Virtues, in the Chamber of the B. Father, he exactly described to them her Physiognomy and features: and yet, as was said, neither had he been at Prato, nor she at Rome. CHAP. XII. He raiseth a dead Boy to life. NOr was Philip only accomplished with all sorts of Virtues and dignified with sundry kinds of Gifts, but conspicuous likewise for the fame of his Miracles. Which, though by what hath been said, it be sufficiently manifest, will yet, by what is still behind, more evidently appear. Suffice it here, to instance how he raised the dead to life: referring his Miracles to be hereafter exemplified in two distinct Books by themselves. Fabric●us de M●xi●●s, having already fi●●● Daughters by L●v●nia●d Rusticis, who was again big, and in the pangs of Childbirth, went to the B. man▪ to desire his Prayers to God for her safe Delivery; He musing a little to himself, tells him; Your wife shall be brought a This Fabricius Maximus a Noble Roman and Violantes his wife; and Francisca wife of Antonia a Castro, who were present, testified upon oath. bed of a Boy, whom I would have you name according to my mind: are you content? He assented; then replied the H. Man; You shall Name the Child Paul. When Fahricius came home, they bring him news, that his Wife had boar him a son, whom as he had promised Philip, he Christened Paul. Lavinia dying, the youth, being some fourteen years old, was taken with a malignant Fever, of which he lay sick threescore and five days, till he was even at death's door. Philip loved him exceedingly, both because he had taken his Confessions from his Infancy, and because his carriage amongst his equals was so innocent and amiable, and his Patience extraordinary: for he endured his sickness, with so rare moderation, that being asked, whether he desired to be restored to health he answered, No. In this condition he continued so weak, that, being at the last gasp, his Father sent for Philip; who could not possibly come, being then at S. Hieroms saying Mass. Meanwhile Paul dies, his sad Parent closing his eyes; and the Priest, that applied the Extreme Unction to him, and commended his Soul to God, having performed his office, went away: then the Servants brought water to wash the Corpse, as the wont is, and raiment to array it in. So Mass being ended, Philip comes, whom Fabricius meeting tells, Our Paul is dead. Philip goes directly to the place where he lay dead, and resting against the bedside, continues in Prayer about half a quarter of an hour: then sprinkles the face of the deceased with Holy water, and taking a little into his lips breathed it into his mouth: which done, putting his right hand upon his forehead, he cried twice with a loud voice, Paul: who, as though he had been awaked from sleep, immediately opened his eyes, and answered; What would you Father? adding soon after, I had forgot a sin, which I desire to confess. Philip bid the standers by withdraw a while: and holding forth a Crucifix to him received his Confession. When the people of the house came in again; the Father discoursed with him familiarly, and he in like manner answered him, as though he had been well, in a distinct and strong voice, yea his face and cheeks so ruddy, that those which saw him thought him not sick. They spoke one while of his Mother, another, of his Sister who were dead. Having talked some half an hour, Philip asks him; whether he were willing to die? very willing; replied he. He asks him a second time; are you willing indeed? Most willing; quoth he, the rather that I may see my Mother and Sister. Whereupon Philip, giving him his Blessing, said, Go then, my Son, and pray to God for me. And as he spoke it Paul expired in his arms. But haply it may seem not less strange, for one by virtue of his command, to bereave a living man of life, than to restore one dead to life again: both which Philip did, even as in the Acts of the Apostles we read, the Prince of the Apostles did to Ananias and Sapphira. A Noble Roman Matron fell sick, and having continued so a month together and more, to the great peril of he● life, Philip coming to see her, labours as well by his persuasions with her, as his prayers for her, to cheer her up, being exceedingly troubled both in Body and Mind. At length He with his departed to return to Vallicella: he had gone but a little from the place, when stopping he bethinks himself, saying, I am forced to go back to the sick woman. So returning and coming to her Bedside, he dismissed the Matrons that were about her. Anon some of his standing by he laid his hand on her head, saying, I command thee, O Soul, in the Name of God that thou presently leave this Body. He had scarce said it but strait the woman surrendered her Spirit. the Women being afterward called in, Philip told them; Unless this Woman had died as she did, she would certainly have consented to the temptations of Satan; therefore it was but necessary to hasten her End. CHAP. XIII. The opinion Men had of his sanctity. PHilip thus enriched with these so many and signal Favours by Almighty God, procured himself such admiration and esteem amongst men, that almost all who knew him judged him a Saint: not only those of inferior rank, but even Nobles, Princes, and Popes themselves. For first: Paul the iv made such account of him, that he not only commended himself frequently to his Prayers, but professed, that he was sorry his Pontifical dignity detained him from being present at the Exercises of the Oratory. Pius iv honoured him so, that in his last sickness, as he lay a dying, he would have him by him to commend his soul to God, as one who knew his singular Merits: besides that he always testified very frankly his respect to him in several particulars. Pius V of B. and Glorious Memory, being well assured of the benefit and advantage accrueing to the Faithful, from the Foundation of the Oratory, was, as he said, exceeding glad, that in his days there should be men in the City, that should appear so forward to promote Religion and Holiness in Devout minds. As on the other side, Philip, to quit the Good Pope, had so firm and settled an opinion of his Sanctity, that he kept his Pontifical Slipper among other of his Saints Relics: which the H. man applying once to a Sick Person, he began to mend, and perfectly recovered. Gregory XIII. much used his advice in difficult matters, and for his Piety so esteemed him, that he would never suffer him to Stand in his presence, but made him both cover his head, and sit very familiarly with him. Sixtus V. highly prized him, as appeared by his constant liberality toward him. For he freely bestowed on him the Bodies of the H. Martyrs Papias and Maurus: annexed a Rich Benefice among the Samnites to the Congregation; granted them many Priviled Sesse, and Immunities, with other Acts of Graces. Gregory XIIII. not only advised with him in matters of importance, making him sit covered before him, but so respected him, that upon his Entrance to the Popedom, the H. man coming to kiss his feet, as the manner is, he by no means would suffer it: but meeting and very lovingly embracing him, burst forth into these expressions: Although, Father, I be greater in Dignity, yet in Sanctity you are far the more Eminent. Clement VIII. in almost all his affairs of moment recommended himself to his Prayers; and when he was pained with the Go●t in his hands, he used to say; Sure Father Philip doth not pray to God for us: intimating that if he did but pray for him, he should not suffer those tormenting pains. Besides, as oft as the Father vi●i●e● h●m he, like his Name, in his affable and mi●d deportment, courteously embraced him; and as his predecessors had done, made him sit covered in his Presence. To say nothing of his choosing him for his Confessor, and when he grew aged, substituting Baronius in his Room. Again when he was Auditor of the Sacr●d Rota, he said by way of Prediction; Philip is questionless a Holy man, and in due time shall be inserted in the Catalogue of Saints. And in how great Veneration he was among the Cardinals of the H. Church of Rome, is apparent both by what they have written of him, and by their public Testimonies. Aug. Valerius Cardinal of Verona, made a Book, and entitled it Philippus, sive de Laetitiâ Chritiana, Philip yet living. Cardinal Gabriel Paleottus, the first Archbishop of Bononia, whose Confessor Philip was, proclaimed him, then alive, to the World as the Exemplar of a Virtuous and Pious Old man, in a Book which he writ De bono senectutis, to this effect. And truly it were easy to produce, out of the Ancient Records of Story, especially of Ecclesiastical Antiquity, many old men renowned for Holiness, and adorned with those Eminencies, which in their proper places are mentioned. Nevertheless, since those things make deeper impression on the mind, which occur to sight, and ●re much in our hands, the truth being hereby made more evident and invincible: I thought good to offer to your View, as an express and lively Precedent of an excellent Old age, a Man yet living, and conversant in the eyes of all, who hath dwelled at Rome, the Theatre of the Universe, above fifty years in much reputation, animating and promoting others strangely to a good and virtuous life. I mean Father Philip Neri a Florentine, who now fourscore years old, like a tall and goodly Tree sheds the various fruits of his Virtues among the people. He was the First Founder of the numerous Congregation of the Oratory in the City; whence sundry others have very happily been propagated in several places and religions unto this day. Whom heretofore many Popes particularly Gregory XIII. and XIIII. of B. Memory, and at this day Our H. Lord Clement the Eighth of times were wont to call to their assistance in matters of Religion and Spiritual conference. To whom the Most Illustrious Cardinals, Bishops, and Prelates daily resorted, with others of all Ranks both for performance of Penances, & other weighty affairs, as for his pious discourses & communication with them. Who despising all terrene felicity, aspires after only celestial honours and dignity: although he hath born a great sway with Popes, and the Prime Cardinals, and been in esteem with them. Lastly, one in whom the Images of Prudence, Piety and Devotion, joined with a rare mildness, cheerfulness, and Christian simplicity, do so gloriously shine, that whoever hath once beheld this Venerable old man and observed his long confirmed Discipline and Life can have no grounds left to doubt ●● question the Benefit of Old age. Thus Paleottus. Augustine Cardinal of Cusa was so devoted to him, that he loved to be continually in his Chamber. Who speaking of his Holiness saith: Indeed I never knew any, whether Regulars or Seculars, that were both by Plebeians and Nobles so highly reverenced as Philip; not only for a real opinion they had of his piety, but for his huge success in reclaiming such as went astray to a holy life: and I ever wonderfully prized his incomparable Virtues; which by so much were the more conspicuous in him, by how much the more concealed. Cardinal Frederic Borromeo, who together with the forenamed Cardinal Cusanus were called Father Philip's Soul, speaks of his extraordinary Sanctity in this wise. All the time I conversed with the B. man me thoughts he was so divinely qualified, and endowed with such admirable Gifts by God, as I doubt not, but he might be compared with most of those admired by the ancient Writers. For he was so well experienced in the knowledge of Spiritual things, that he may truly be said to have perfected all, that either Cassian or Climacus, and Richardus de S. Victore have writ on this argument. Besides of all that ever I knew, there is none hath answered my expectations as he: yea he so satisfied me herein, that bethinking me sometimes, what I could wish more complete in him, I could find nothing. So far Borromeo. Cardinal Octavius Paravicinus thus. By the Merciful Providence of God, I have been acquainted with Philip from about six years old, till I was twenty eight when I went into Spain, being present at his usual conferences, and one of his intimate familiars: in all which time, and after my return from Spain, as long as he lived, upon an exact Scrutiny of all his actions, expressions, & behaviour, I found him indeed flaming with an ardent love of God. And a little after▪ I render Eternal thanks to God, that I had a Master, whose Virtues are diffused and famed all the World over, and whose Glory no age shall ever impair. Hitherto Paravicinus, one who was so passionate a Lover of Philip, that he could scarce live without him, spending frequently whole days and nights with him; and whensoever he lay sick, attending him, as if he had been his Servant, though he were a Cardinal. Once when he was ill, being one of his last sicknesses, sending away them that were by, he called the Cardinal saying; Octavius, I desire much to talk with you, but when my Cough comes, that I must spit, I would have you put the Basin under me as you have used to do. Good Humble Soul he did not in this despise the Purple but satisfied the impatient longing of the man. Thereupon Octavius; be pleased to know, Father, that I account it a special honour and privilege to do you service. Again, I so willingly did attend on Philip, that though sometimes I suffered great inconveniences thereby, yet I was always requited with far greater content. Yea whilst I recount them, I am so delighted with the offices I heretofore did him, that nothing troubles me, but that I could not further serve him. Cardinal Octavius Bandinus esteemed it a high honour, that, while he was yet a Boy, he waited on him, as he said Mass: and, speaking of his estimation for Holiness, hath these words: The opinion of Philip's Virtue was such, as not only most honoured him for it, but divers conceived it necessary, for their better progress in the Service of God, to use his conduct. Therefore to him, as to an Oracle, resorted men of all degrees, for direction in a Spiritual course. etc. And after: He that hath been acquainted with the B, Philip, and accurately observed his procedure in the way of God, and what a life he led for so many years in eminent Holiness and Religion, shall not need to doubt, but that those marvelous Benefits, which so many obtained by his Prayers, were indeed so many visible and real Miracles. And for that they were both so numerous and notorious, I always reverenced him as a true Servant of God, and do at present repute him as a Saint worthy of all honour. Cardinal Franc. Maria Taurusius, then Archbishop of Avignon writes thus in a Letter: I should be glad to be one of them that have the first place in the Chapel, where the H. Father saith Mass, although it be so small (it is the same that is at this day removed to the other side of the Church, as was formerly said) for how ever I seem so far distant, yet, by the Blessing of God, I am always there, both by Faith and the Love I bear to my Most dear Father, and by the peculiar Seat I reckon myself to have in his Soul. For whilst He there displays his Mind in the Contemplation of things Divine, I deem myself ranked in not the lowest place within it. Katherine of Sienna built herself a Cell in her heart, where she would sit alone with Jesus amidst the concourse of a Multitude: so would I erect me a Lodging in the middle of Philip's heart; not fearing but I should find Jesus there, and behold at once all the Progress of that his stupendious Life, which he hath led here on Earth with us now this thirty three, years: and so as often as the Father exults, and his swollen heart danceth, out of the plenitude of his Love of Christ, I also there should dance and exult together. Afterwards again: Enjoy ye therefore, while ye may, that Bliss, which I long since enjoyed and long together; but, unworthily neglecting my best use of so happy a time, am now by the just judgement of God unwillingly deprived thereof. Cardinal Hierom Phamphilio, one most intimate with the B. man, thus reports of him: Philip out of his exuberant Charity, would so endear, solace, and assist every one, that none ever went from him but he was cheered, and confirmed in the opinion of his sanctity: Myself especially have accounted him always, and confidently held him for a Saint, and adjudged him absolutely furnished with all the Virtues, that can be desired in a true Servant of God: yea I have found by experience in all his actions that he was every day better than other, to his very death. Cardinal Lud. Madruccius was so addicted to him, that he not only frequented his Chamber, there conferring with him a good while together, but was so much taken with their Method of Preaching, that he often came to the Oratory at S. Hieroms to Sermon. Michael Bonellus Cardinal of Alexandria, Nephew to Pius V knowing how much his Uncle tendered Philip, loved him entirely; whom for his singular piety he revered, often going, or sending to him for his Company. Alexander Medici's, Cardinal and Archbishop of Florence, afterwards Pope, under the Title of Leo XI. visited Philip at least once a week, and spent the whole day in courtesy and friendly familiarity with him. Cardinal Pet. Donatus Caesius was also a great observer of Philip, and conferred many Favours upon the Congregation. Cardinal Guil. Sirletus so much both loved and honoured him, that he seemed wholly taken up in his commendations. As also Cardinal Antonio Caraffa, and Julio Antonio Sanctorio, Cardinal of S. Severines'; and divers others for brevity omitted. The Regulars likewise held him for a Saint, and especially the Fathers of S. Dominic's Order, insomuch that, whensoever he went to any Monasteries, the Religious flocked to him by troops, kissing his hands, and humbly craving a Blessing on their knees, and entertaining him as an Angel of God. And not only the ordinary Friars, but the choicest among them, famous for learning and piety, and those the most Eminent Preachers too, did thus reverence him: among whom was Father Francischinus of the Order of the conventual Minors, a knowing and devout man. For he advised much with the H. Father concerning his affairs, and came to the Sermons with great delight, many times preaching in the Oratory himself. Father Evangelista also surnamed Marcellinus was an admirer of him, being a noted preacher, who died in the Monastery of S. Maria de Ara caeli, and lies buried in the Church there, well esteemed of for his good Life. Franc. Panigorala, an excellent Preacher of the same Order, and Bishop of Asta, had so high an opinion of the Servant of Goa that he called him a Living Relic. Alphonsus' surnamed Lupus a Capuchin, prized him so exceedingly, that he depended on his very looks, and as oft as Philip met him, would fall down at his feet. Magister Paulinus, a Dominican, one of extraordinary Virtue and Parts, did so repose in him for his Counsel, whom he held divinely inspired with Truth, that on a time refusing to undertake a principal office in his Order, yet when Philip urged it, he immediately obeyed. In fine, how great a value his own Sons, set on him, besides what hath b●n above related, may by that which follows apparently be seen. For first; they honoured every thing that was his as Relics; yea they secretly and Religiously pilfered a way the hair of his head and beard, when he was barbed, to keep for Relics: which once the Good man spying he commanded them presently to be fling out of the Window, yet they, privily gathering them up, had them in great estimation. Some of them very carefully preserved in Glasses his Blood, which, toward his latter End, issued forth at his mouth in abundance: and some, herein perhaps too zealous, tied themselves to say privately every day threescore times, Sancte Philippe ora pro me; i. e. Holy Philip pray for me; whilst he was yet alive. Others had his Picture hanging in their Chambers, he yet living, which they daily bowed unto, before they went abroad: others appointed to go to him every day, either to ask his Blessing, or kiss his feet; or at least to tarry by him in his Chamber. Moreover they reposed in his Prayers so much, that they would sometimes say; I hope undoubtedly to obtain whatever I shall beg of God by Philip's Intercessions. Others; If I look on the guilt of my life past, I even despair; if to Philip's Prayers, I am already in the Harbour of safety. Some again; Though I should hear, that he had raised the dead, or were myself present and beheld them raised, I could not have a higher esteem of his Sanctity. Yea I can witness, that I have heard many say, that the publication of his being Sainted, nor yet his Canonization, added nothing at all to their opinion of his Holiness: for they said; Whatever the Pope hath designed concerning Philip, our hands had handled long before. But the Eulogies afforded him, extolling him to the heavens, may seem perhaps incredible to such as read them; styling him an Angel, Moses, a Prophet and Apostle. One friend was heard to say to another, going to Rome to see Philip: You shall see the Apostle, you shall see Peter, you shall see Paul. Who then thinking the expression too hyperbolical, after once he grew acquainted with Philip in the City, said My friend did not speak a jot too lavishly. Franc: Cardonius, a Dominican well known to Philip for some forty years, gave H●m this testimony; Philip was great in Humility, rich in Poverty, in Chastity an Angel. Further the fame of his Piety was such and so divulged, that many did not stick to affirm, that he had arrived to the highest pitch of every Virtue; yea, and that he had the perfect command of the first motions of his Mind, as they call them. Insomuch that the Chiefest of the Nobility thought it a dignity and privilege to serve him, to make his Bed, to sweep his Chamber, to wipe his shoes, and perform such like offices for him. His say were reputed by most as Oracles. In the Public Tables drawn up for his Canonization, there was not one Witness, but with most ready suffrages would write him Saint. They jointly agreed in this, that in due time he would be Registered in the Calendar: and some of them affirmed that his very looks had a kind of Holiness with them. Mark Antonio Maffa writes thus: I indeed, though the vilest of sinners, ever since I came acquainted with Philip have respected him as a Saint. And as oft as I went to him to the Sacrament of Penance, I perceived, as it were, a breath of Holiness come from him, especially as he gave me Absolution, which never happened, when I confessed to others. So Massa. Lastly, even by Saints was Philip deemed a Saint. Carlo Borromeo when he came from Milan to Rome, used to visit the H. man first of all, and stay oftimes four or five hours with him: when he was away, to consult him by Letters: otherwhiles to kneel down at his feet, kiss his hands, and repeat the Canonical hours with him. And that he proposed him as a Saint to all his, is most notorious; so that he sometime said, Philip is a man of admirable sincerity, and rare Purity. And those which knew them both can testify, that he frequently recommended himself to his prayers. Withal he was extremely pleased with his Rule; and once spent a whole day at Vallicella, one S. Francis Festival; where after Mass, he administered the H. Communion from Morning till Noon, to almost infinite numbers of the Faithful; among whom Martin Navarrus abstained from saying Mass, that together with the rest he might, after the manner of Laics receive the Body of Christ from him. Besides he would needs view the new Fabric of the Church, take notice of the Foundation and Rule, go to the public Sermons after Dinner, come into the Orntory toward Evening, sup with them, Lodge with them, and strictly observe every thing; and at his departure in the Morning said; O happy you! that have light on a man, who hath fortified you with so Noble an Institution. Felix a Cantalicio a Capuchin, whom urban the Eighth Canonised, besides that which is above said, was so extremely devoted to the H. man that he would often come and ask his Blessing on his knees. Once spying Philip a far off walking on Mount quirinal, he ran & overtook him and kneeling down kissed his hand, where mutually embracing each other in most friendly sort, they stood mute there for a long space together; at last also parting each from the other silent, like S. Lewis the French King and S. Giles. Another time Felix kneeling, as he was wont, Philip kneeled too and begged his Blessing: which contention lasting awhile they parted. Yea almost always both Felix and Ra●nerius his Companion, one of approved Integrity, when ever they met Philip fell on their knees. The H. Woman Katherine Riccia de Prato, elsewhere recited, sent simdry Letters to Philip as to a Saint, recommending herself to his Prayers. Ursula Benincas● a Virgin of Naples well reputed, of whom before, so honoured him, as she uttered this Elegy of him: By command from Gregory XIII. I was consigned to Philip's Fuition, and though I was not much skilled in spiritual matters, yet I knew the Charity of this H. man, and that his heart was transfixed with Divine Love; for one might perceive, when he spoke he did not only wish, but passionately long for the conversion of Souls. And he took no small pains to make trial of my Spirit: for first; after he had sound rated me, he enjoined me at the same instant, as I kneeled, to retort those very expressions back upon himself: which he again and again requiring of me I clearly discerned his profound Humility. And being sometimes in Ecstasies before him, as I am wont, and profess it to be my Cross, although in such Trances I never could hear the Voice of any, albeit he cried to me, yet when first he called me by my Name, his Blessed Voice so pierced my breast, that I strait awaked from my Ecstasy; by all which I understood the Finger of God was with him. Again once at S. Hieroms a Charitate, as I received the B. Body of Our Lord at his hands, and, after my wont manner, fell into a Trance, when Mass was done, he commanded me to walk a long with him in the Church, and though I could very difficultly do it, being so weak and withal abstracted from my Senses, yet at his command I walked to and fro with ease. Thus far that Holy Virgin. Francisca a Serrone, of S. Severine's in Marca de Ancona, whose Life one of the Oratory hath accurately writ, coming to Rome in the Jubilee under Gregory XIII. and discoursing much with the H. man affirmed that Jesus Christ resided in Philip's Soul, and that he had drunk of the same Spirit with the B. Katherine of Sienna. She treasured up his say as the choicest Pearls: and out of reverence to him, would not wear but laid up the Veil, which his hand had touched while he gave her absolution. Lastly, the Sanctity of Philip was so blazed abroad every where, that People resorted to him, not from the City, nor out of Italy alone, but from all Quarters of the World. And even Infidels, after once they had conversed with him, reverenced him with great Veneration. THE FOURTH BOOK, of the LIFE of PHILIP NERIUS. CHAP. I. Philip's last Sickness, and the Apparition of the Virgin. THe B. Father filled thus with years and merits, and drawing now to a Period of his Life, about a year before he died, in April fell into a Fever, of which he was scarce quit in May; but began to be troubled with such pains and torture in his reins, that his pulse left beating, yet he bore all with an invincible Patience. No complaining, no stir, no groans were heard: only these words came softly from between his lips; Adauge dolorem, sed adauge patientiam: Increase my pains, but increase withal my patience. The Physicians coming and feeling his Pulse pronounce him a dead man. So they that stood about him drawing close the Curtains, sadly bewailed the approaching End of their most Dear Parent. Yet smothering it to themselves they held their peace, when This whole fact was witnessed upon oath by those five who were present, Angelus Victorius, Ri-Alexand. Alluminaty, Franc. dolf. Silvestri, Zazzara, and Anthon. Gallonius. on the sudden Philip cries; O Fairest Mother, B. Mother, who am I, that thou shouldest honour me thy most unworthy Servant with thy presence? which word he spoke with such vehemency, that the very bed shook under him, whereupon they drew back the curtains & came about him, whom they saw lift up into he air above a Cubit high, with his hands, spread abroad, one while stretching out his arms, anotherwhile putting them together, as though he were embracing some body with great joy: repeating often over the same words; Ah Sweetest Mother, which way have I ever deserved, that thou shouldest condescend to visit and restore me? I am not worthy so high a Favour; Holy Mother I am no way worthy. Hereat all wondering, some out of a pious affection wept, others more inwardly grieved, the rest expected the event of so strange an accident. Then the Physicians coming nearer, inquire what news? He lying in his bed overjoyed asks them; Did ye not see the H. Virgin, who came down from heaven to mitigate my pains? But perceiving a great many about him, he covered himself in the Bed, and melting into tears continued a while so: the Physicians fearing lest by immoderate grieving he might heighten his disease told him. It is enough, Father it is enough. To whom he replies; You may go your way, for I have no need any more of your help: since the B. Virgin hath restoed me to my former health. They presently feel his Pulse, and find him not only rid of his Fever, but perfectly well: and the next day he went about his ordinary employments, as if he had not been at all sick. And all that Evening the Religious Father exhorted his Sons to apply themselves in their devotions especially to the Virgin Mother, saying, Believe it, there is nothing more effectual for the procuring favours from God, than a Holy affection to the Mother of Our Lord. The Physicians, when they were gone noised abroad the strange Apparition of Our Lady, so that it came to the hearing of the Cardinals, Cusanus, and Borromeo, and at last to Clement the Eighth, And lest any part thereof should be forgot, Angelus Victorius carefully writ down the whole passage. The next year, that is, in One thousand five hundred ninety five, on the thirty one of March he fell sick again, in so dangerous a manner, that the Cardinal of Verona coming to see him, he was not able to answer him a word: he lay ill of this sickness all April, and on the first of May he earnestly besought God, that for the honour of the H. Apostles Philip and James, whom he had chosen for his Patrons, he might celebrate Mass, and God hearing his requests he immediately recovered, and not only said Mass, but communicated the B. Sacrament to some of his. Yet that he might not seem refractory to his Physicians, he forbore Mass three days, & that time expired, on the twelfth of May he continued to say Mass daily. Afterwards on the return of the Solemnity of the H. Martyrs, Nereus, Achilleus, and Flavia Domitilla, whom the Congregation honours with a more peculiar Veneranion, He bled so extremely at the mouth, that all gave him for dead. Whereupon Baronius then Superior of the Congregation, upon a strong suspicion of his near approaching End, duly applies the Sacrament of Extreme Unction to him: by the administration of which Sacred Remedy he presently seemed to be somewhat better. Then Cardinal Frederic Borromeo, being there, purposed to give him the H. Communion: and as he was bringing the Celestial Bread to his Chamber, the Good ol● man, who a little before lay hopeless, forthwith opening his eyes, and raising his voice, wept and said En amor meus, en utique omne bonum! Lo there my love? Lo all that good is! Whereat all that were by fell a weeping. Afterward when Borromeo came to those words Domine non sum dignus; i. e. Lord I am not worthy: Philip repeating them added; Nor ever worthy was; nor hitherto have I done any good at all: but as the Cardinal put the B. Viands into his mouth he said; Come Lord come; and so with inflamed devotion received the H. Eucharist saying; Now indeed have I ententained the true Physician of the Soul: Vanitas vanitatum, & omnia vanitas: Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity; He that seeks any thing but Christ knows not what he seeks, and thus spent the rest of the day joyfully. About Evening he was taken again with his wont bleeding, and through extremity of pain three or four times vomited blood in abundance, yet unappalled at it, looking up to heaven, Thanks be to thee O Christ, saith he, that at least this way I can repay blood for blood. This loss of blood was attended with such a Cough and Asthma, that he could scarce breathe, but looking cheerfully repeated oft, I die, I faint; and though many remedies were tried yet none availed. In the morning when the Physicians came to him, he told them; Now I need none of your help, for my medicines have proved better than yours; and since break of day, when I sent my offering to the Monasteries of the Religious, to say Mass for me, I have not bled at all; but find myself mended, I breathe freely, and am so well, that I seem fully restored to my former strength. The Doctors by his Pulse finding him to be as well as he gave out, amazed thereat, affirmed it was done by Miracle from Almighty God. And from this day to the twenty sixth of May he continued in good health, repeated his office every day, said Mass, heard the Confessions of his own, gave them the H. Sacrament; and performed his duty in everything as he used to do: so that all imagined he might undoubtedly live yet some years. CHAP. II. He foretells his own death. PHilip had long before presaged not only the time and day, but even the hour, and kind of his death; and the place were his body should be interred. Therefore This Francis Zazzara witnessed upon oath. first was he in all his former sicknesses peremptory that he should not die; as in the year One thousand five hundred sixty two, being suddenly taken with a violent pain and a Fever, insomuch as it was determined by his to prepare him for death, by the B. Sacrament and Extreme Unction, he calling Taurusius said, Know I am most willing and ready to participate of those Holy Mysteries, yet I shall not die of this Sickness, for the Most Merciful God, who hath bestowed on me already so many blessings, will net suffer me to departed out of this life thus devoid of the Gusts and Fervour of Devotion. So they confirming him with those Divine Remedies, strait his grief was assuaged, his Fever left him, and regaining his former strength, he followed his employments. In the year One thousand five hundred ninety two on the twentieth day of November he again fell into a Fever that continued upon him, and so raging, as Hierom. Cordelius, one of the principal Physicians, affirmed it would end him, but toward break of day coming again to see the B. man, he told him; I shall not die, My ●ordelius, of this disease, as you imagine. And the next day he was seen going about his occasions sound and perfectly well. His Sons also, having desired his leave to confess themselves to other Confessors, because of the Festival of Our Lord's Nativity approaching, he answered, I will take your Confessions myself: and being fully recovered, did so. Three years after, on the thirty one of March, he caused Letters to be writ for remanding Flaminius Riccius of Firmo, Of this Germanicus Fidelius is a sworn witness. who was then at Naples, being desirous to see him ere he died. He was on whom Philip dearly loved, who was the Third Superior of the Congregation next to him, a great despiser of himself, having refused a Bishopric offered him. He writ back, that he was very willing to return, but, for certain reasons was forced to defer his journey till September following. Philip by Letters urges him to lay aside all business, and return speedily: he answers that some principal Persons of Note, and in special the Archbishop impeded his coming. He commands him to be writ for the third time, but added, that he should come too late. And so it happened, for when Flaminius was come to Rome, Philip was newly dead. Twelve days before his death Nerus de Nigris coming to congratulate his recovery; Indeed, saith he, I am now very This Nerus himself delivered upon oath. well, and have no bodily pain upon me, yet know, that within these few days I shall die. And for that he was confident he must shortly die, he would often say to his every day; Sons, I must die, I must die: which he frequently reiterating to them, they were troubled at it, and replied; We know, Father, you must die, but what of that? he, as his manner was, answered; It is enough, I say I must die, and you do not believe me. About the same time that he bled so much, above mentioned, Mark Antonio Maffa exhorted him to cheer up, saying he should live many years yet, and save many Souls: he jestingly answered; If thou canst but make me live out this year, I promise thee I will give the something. He had engaged himself to Francis Zazzara, than a youth, to tell him before he died, what he would have him do after his death: and he had oft importuned the R. Father to perform his promise; who bid him; Be not disquieted, for I pray to God for you every day I say Mass, and will reveall to you ere I die, what I shall receive from above. Meanwhile, though Philip had been often sick, yet he never declared, what it was he would request of Francis: but the nineth day before his death, calling him unexpectedly, told him what he had promised; whereupon he burst out into tears, as conceiving the B. man would shortly die. In like manner, Ten days before he deceased he called Joh. Baptista Guerrius one. of the Oratory, and asked him, This Jo. Baptist himself testified upon 〈◊〉. what day of the month it was? he answered the Fifteenth. Ten and fifteen, saith Philip, make Five and twenty, and then we pass hence. Nor did he speak amiss. He had a little before told Germanicus; You have taken a great deal of pains thus long for my sake, but hereafter you shall have no more toil and trouble about me. Then holding him fast by his right hand, as loving him most affectionately asked; What O Germanicus, what wilt thou see a few days hence? at which he began to fear some Calamity might befall Christendom; but the B. man dying soon after, he understood the meaning of those words. The same Germanicus being to go to Carbonianum a Town near the City, on the ninetenth of May, a place where is These things were witnessed upon oath by Germanicus. a Manner belonging to the Oratory said to Philip; I am unwilling to go, Father, except you can assure me, at my return, I shall find you alive. How long will you be away, saith Philip, But till Corpus Christi Eve, at furthest replied he: at that the Father paused a while, and then bid him, Go. So Germanicus departed, and the night before that Vigil, he dreamt that he came to Rome, and sound the B. Father sick a bed, and that he said to him; Lo I die. When he awaked, fearing the H. man was dead indeed, he posts to Rome, and finds Philip well, who told him; You did well indeed to return at the time appointed, for you had miss if you had tarried longer. And the night following he died. The same day he sent to Pet. Consolinus, Priest of the Congregation, and bade him put his hand on his breast, and feel his Ribs sticking out, with all desiring him to say a Mass for him. He told him he had just 〈◊〉 ●aid Mass. But said Philip, the Mass I desire of you is none of those you mean, but one for the Dead. That very day a Woman, almost fourscore years of age, lay a dying, the Priest, that attended her in her extremity, besought Philip to pray for her. He answered; This dying woman shall recover, but I shall departed out of this life. And that instant she began to mend, and the night ensuing Philip deceased. His place of burial he thus foretold. He had said to Franc. Bozzius, that he would take up his Residence with him: who answered; Father my Chamber is not fit for such a Person as you. He replied, What needs there any more? I am resolved to dwell with you. After the H. man's death, it happened that his Body was interred in a place which lay next Francis' Chamber, of which hereafter. This was the last Priest that died, of Philip's old acquaintance. Joh. Baptista Guerrius forementioned, being Overseer for the building, came and told Philip, that the Buryingplace both for Priests and the rest of the Society was finished; the Father asked, whether he had reserved a place for him or no? he answered Yes. Saith Philip; you will not let me lie there. Yes there quoth he. Philip rejoined; Indeed you shall lay me there, but believe it, you shall soon remove me thence. Guerrius said little then; but the event shown, whither those words tended; for when the B. man died, Guerriis interred the Corpse in the foresaid place of burial but the next day conveyed it thence, by appointment of the Cardinals, Alexander Medici's, and Frederic Borromeo, into a Chapel which was nigh Francis Bozzius' lodging. CHAP. III. His Death. WHen the H. Festival of Corpus Christi was come, which that year fell on the twenty fifth of May. the B. man gave order betimes in the Morning, that as many of his Sons, as came should have admittance into his Chamber: whose Confessions he took, as one in perfect health; and desired divers of them to repeat the Rosary of the B. Virgin for him, after his death. Withal he exhorted them to frequent the Sacraments, to be present at the Sermons, and to read oftener the Lives of Saints: then Caressing them more than ever. When he had done hearing Confessions, he attentively and devoutly rehearsed the Canonical hours: after that he said Mass in the Chapel almost two hours before he used to do it. And as he began, he fixed his eyes, as though he had seen some strange sight, on that part of the Janiculum where was a Monastery erected to S. Onuphrio, which place is seated directly opposite thereunto, and when he came to the Hymn, Gloria in excelsis, he sang it out with a loud Voice to the end, which thing he never had done before. As soon as Mass was ended, he administered the H. Eucharist to some: and having given thanks; drank a little of a Potion which they brought him, and said; These think me very well, but they are much mistaken. Then he again applies himself to the hearing Confessions. But upon the return of the Cardinals Cusanus and Borromeo from the Pontificial solemn Procession and supplication of Christ's Body, he passed the time till Dinner in pious discourses. After he had broke his fast, he rested a little, as he used to do, and soon after with a more fervent devotion than ordinary, reciting the Vespers and Compline, he divided the rest of the Day partly in receiving such as came to visit him, partly in hearing the Lives of Saints: above the rest he would needs have the Life of S. Bernardin of Sienna read to him, and made them repeat over and over his Passage hence. About two hours before Sunset came Cusanus, Hierom. Pamphilio, and some others; with whom he said the Matins, ready now to complete the rest of his Office in Heaven with the Holy Angels. Meanwhile comes the Physician, who feeling his Pulse said Really, Father, I have not found you better these ten years. So taking Cusanus' Confession at his going away he accompanied him, which he never used to do, as though he would give him his last Farewell, & gripeing his right hand at his departure, dismissed him, The remainder of the time till Supper he employed in hearing Confessions. Then as his custom was, he Supped alone; after Supper again he took the Confessions of those of his own House At the third hour of the Night he gave his Blessing, as he was wont, to those about him, and, having concluded his usual Devotions, went to Bed very well, without the least sign of distemper, repeating still those words; I must suddenly die. And knowing the last Act of his life was now at hand, he asked, What a clock it was? they that were by said, Three. So, counting the hours to himself, he infers Twice three makes six, and then we shall go hence. Then, turning to them that stayed about him, he bid them; Go you to sleep: For the B. man was desirous to spend that little of his Life that was behind only with God, whom with all his Soul he longed for. Anon at the fifth hour of the Night he risen out of his Bed, and walked about his Chamber; Gallonius, perceiving him to walk, strait gets up, and finds him laid in his Bed, and that some blood and phlegm together had fallen down into his mouth: he asks; What ailed him? I die saith Philip. At that Gallonius calling in some other of the Fathers to his aid, sends strait for the Physicians. They thinking it to be his wont flux of blood, try their ordinary remedies; when the course of the blood stopping for the space of a quarter of an hour, he spoke freely, & seemed to return to his former strength and vivacity. But knowing himself now with in the borders of death, he desired them to forbear their medicines, as it were only staying his departure till they were all come: who when (every one kneeling down,) they had made a circle round about his bed, fell a bewailing the loss of their Most Tender Father with sad laments. Caesar Baronius Rector of the Congregation solemnly recommended his departing Soul to God: who seeing the B. man even ready to expire, exalting somewhat his Voice, Father saith he, do you leave your Sons thus, and not spend one word at least, in praying in some good thing for them. I beseech you bestow your last Benediction on your Sons in Christ. Then he lifttng up his hand a little, continued with his eyes fixed upward to heaven. And when he had remained so awhile, letting down his eyes, as though he had obtained of God the Blessing that he prayed for, without any other sign or gesture, he quietly surrendered up his Spirit. CHAP IU. He appears to divers after his Death. NO sooner had He given up the Ghost, but he visibly appeared to divers of his Sons. At Sienna in Tuscany Theius Guerrius thought he saw Philip between This he himself publicly attested sleeping and waking, with rays glittering about him, saying; Peace be to thee Brother; for I am now wafting to those spacious and delightful Mansions of Heaven. When he waked he heard the same words again; and strait the Vision ceased. A few days after he understood by Letters from his Friends, that about the same time Philip departed. In the City at S. Cecilia's a certain Virgin in her sleep saw him clothed in white, and sitting in a bright Chair This the Virgin herself witnessed upon oath. between two Angels born up to heaven; saying, I go directly to the joys of the blessed but that you may come whether I am now hastening, see that you keep close to the Injunctions of our Rule: and doubt not but I will pray to Our Lord for you, much more than heretofore I have done. The Nun meanwhile awakes, glad and amazed, casting in her mind what this vision might betoken; at break of day comes a Messenger with news that Philip died that very night. Much about the same time; another of the Sisters of the Monastery dedicated to S. Mary Magdalen on Mount ●uirinall, saw him likewise in her sleep, and being very desirous to have his direction about some things, prayed him to stay; who answered; Let me go, for I have been kept too long already by others: and so ascending up on high disappeared, In the morning she had word, that the B. man was dead. In the Monastery of S. Martha in the City too, he appeared to an other Nun, and said, I am come to you, to give you my last Farewell. You are hastening to Paradise; saith she. With that he shows her a field beset with thorns on every side; telling her; You must pass this way, if you intent to come whither I am going. She startling out of her sleep cried, O my Father, my Father whom I shall never see again. And so weeping sore recommended herself to his Prayers, believing confidently she should hear of his death by the Morrow; as it happened. In Morlupo, a Town that stands about a days journey from the City, a Religious Woman of the Third Rule of S. Dominic, receiving the H. Communion, before Philip's Body was buried, imagined that she saw an Old man in a Surplice sitting among the Saints, in a Chair curiously adorned, whereon his Virtues were displayed in Golden Characters: she saw besides a huge number of Souls, and heard a Voice saying to her; These are the Souls of them, that have attained Salvation by the Merits and means of this Blessed Man. And with these words the Sight vanished. The Nun relating this to her Confessor, he demanded of her; What age the Old man seemed to be of; or what a Physiognomy he had? she delineates him forth exactly. Whereupon her Confessor showing her Philip's Picture; The Old man I saw, said she, was just of this favour. Soon after came letters, purporting that Philip died the very day before. And here may not be forgot, what a little after the H. man's death was spoken by a Maid, hearing her mother commend Philip, to this purpose: Truly I esteem Philip a very worthy Servant of Gods, but if I should see him restore life to the dead, sight to the blind, limbs to the lame, I should then indeed with a loud voice proclaim him a Saint; for there are many things reported of him, which I never beheld with my eyes. The night following betwixt sleeping and waking, she conceived she saw a high Scaffold in S. Peter's Church, that reached up to the top of the Roof and Philip sitting upon it; and a little higher toward the Roof she observed a most exquisite fine round Table, and hears him saying to her; Look thou incredulous Woman, what I will do now: and strait raising himself from the Scaffold upon the Table went out of sight. The Maid when she risen, told her Mother what passed in her sleep; and in humble manner asked God forgiveness. The Vision haply imported, that the B. man should in time be Registered among the Saints at S. Peter's as the sequel manifested. CHAP. V The confluence of People to see his Corpse. THe Body being according to the custom washed, and vested in a Priest's habit, was at the seventh hour of the night brought to the Church, attended by the Priests and the rest of the Congregation. In the Morning, as soon as the Church-doors were opened, and the rumour of his death spread, there resorted a vast multitude of People. The aspects of the sacred Corpse carried with it a great deal of Majesty and devotion; drawing the eyes of all to the beholding of it; so that the Hearse was not stuck with so many flowers, as the spectators, out of their zeal and affection to him, were ambitious to have carried away with them. At a convenient hour, having duly concluded the Office for the Dead, they sang Mass, many Prelates and Nobles being by. While this was a doing, Antonio Carratio, coming into the Choir among the rest in his Surplice, having formerly been long troubled with Scruples of Conscience, was immediately released of them, upon his pious recommending himself to Philip. Afterward came some of the Cardinals, and among them Aug. Cusanus, and Frederic Borromeo, with many tears kissing the hands and feet of the Servant of God. Gabriel Paleottus beholding him breathless, whom in his Book he had set forth as a Pattern of an excellent Old age, for Old men to imitate, lamented him with great affection and veneration. Octavius Parav●cinus seeing the H. Father dead, whom he so entirely loved, fell a weeping and bewailing his heavy loss. Besides Princes and Ladies flocked thither, kissing his hands and his very clothes, and calling him Blessed. Yea the Spanish Ambassadors Wife, coming to do her Reverence to his Body, publicly and often termed him Philip the Saint. It is also worth the nothing, that Caesar Baronius, bethinking himself, what kind of Prayers she should say for Philip, whom he doubted not to be in Glory, lifting up his heart toward heaven, and opening his Breviary; pitched upon those words; Respice de Caelo, & vide, & visita vineam istam, quam plantavit dextera tua. Look down from heaven, and behold, and visit this Vine, and the Vineyard which thy right hand hath planted. So taking that occasion, he wished the Fathers of the Congregation from thence forward to use this Antiphona unto h●m, as oft as they commended to God the affairs of the Society: which they accordingly observed a long while after. The like befell Marcellus Vitelleschius, who hearing of Philip's death, instead of the 129 Psalms, De profundis, sang the 116. Alleluia, Laudate Dominum omnes gentes, etc. used to be sung at the Funerals of Children. Hierom. Begerius, a Preacher of S. Domin●c's ●rder, being in his Sermon that very day the H. man died openly proclaimed that he reigned among the Saints in Bliss; affirming, That the Masses said for his soul, should not benefit him, but the Souls in Purgatory, many the meantime crying out, as he was speaking that Philip should be inserted in the Catalogue of Saints. For two days together, while his Corpse lay uninterred in the Church, there resorted abundance of people, many touching it with their Rosaries; kissing his Hands and Feet; reverently handling the Hearse, by stealth pulling of pieces of his garment, secretly clipping hairs from his Head and Beard; with sundry other like arguments of their Piety and Devotion to him. Yea some of the Nobler Ladies pulling of their Rings, and putting them on his finger, would devoutly kiss them, and put them on their own hands again. You should here have heard some applaud and enumerate his rare and solid Virtues; some aver, that the Lively Example of true Sanctity was gone; others, observing the good he did both at Rome, and in other parts of the Christian World, complain that the Church of God was deprived of so stout a Labourer; some extolling him up to heaven, that living among so many Nobles at Court, and being familiar with so many Popes, he notwithstanding had not the least Ambition after honour or preferment; divers with admiration speaking of his profound Humility, who with such Wisdom, and reservedness could conceal so Holy a course of life, and such numberless numbers of Miracles; as many more magnifying and commending him, for modelling so Noble and pious an Institution, as was that of the Congregation of the Oratory; lastly, here should you have seen the indigent and necessitous on all hands lamenting, that the Father of the Poor was taken out of the Land of the living; with divers more, who beholding the liveless Corpse, and calling to mind how friendly, in his life time, they had been treated by him, wept, that the Tears ran down their Cheeks. CHAP. VI The strange Cures wrought before the interring his Corpse. FUrther the Celestial Donor was pleased to honour his Servant with evident Miracles, even about the time of his death, while his Body was yet unburied. Aug. de Magistris, a youth of some twelve years of age, who, Six sworn eye-witnesses attested this for seven years together, had been troubled with the Evil, and a dangerous Ulcer in his Mouth, hearing of his Schoolfellows that a Holy Priest at Vallicella was dead, which had done many Miracles, presently repaired to the Sacred Corpse, and praying a while before the Hearse, put the B. man's hand to his throat, and strait was healed: for before he got out of the Church the Cerecloth, that was laid to his throat, fell off of it self, the sore skinned, and there was not the least appearance of any swelling at all. So that Cardinal Paleottus, having intelligence of it, both viewed the part affected with his own eyes, and felt it with his hands for his further satisfaction. Upon this, the Boy going home tells his Mother what befell him; she strait brings her younger Daughter Margaret to Vall●cella, who had been six years diseased with the Evil in her neck. And for that the Maid could Six eye-witnesses affirmed this. not come near the Corpse, her Mother carried her, & strokeing one side of her neck with the B. man's hand, she was well immediately; she had not time to do as much to the other side, in regard, the Spanish Ambassadors Wife with a great Train was approaching to the Hearse. Besides, her Daughter being weak in her legs, the pious Mother, when she came home, boiling some of the Flowers she had taken from the Bier, washed her legs twice or thrice therewith, and the Child walked as readily after it, as if she had never had any such feebleness in her joints. Alexander, Father both to the Boy and Girl, a man of above seventy years old, seriously weighing what had thus Himself and three more eye witnesss testified this upon oath. miraculously happened to his Children; and having been troubled with sore eyes▪ for about two months, so that they ran continually, and he feared exceedingly that he should lose his Sight, came at last to Philip's Corpse, and rubbing his eyes with his hand, presently found himself eased of his grievance, and in short time was thoroughly cured of his distemper. About the same time another Youth lay ill▪ of a Pleurisy, whom the Doctors all despaired of, his Brother taking some of the flowers from off the Hearse, wherewith the H. Body was strewed, devoutly placed them under his head as he lay; meanwhile comes his Mother, who seeing her Son's face look black, supposing him to be dead, runs up and down crying. The Brother follows his Mother, and tells her of the flowers he had put under him; she forthwith returning finds that dead colour all gone, and he who had lost his Speech, and knew no body, on the sudden spoke, laughed, leapt out of his bed, and played. Anon comes the Curate to anoint him with the H. Oil, who thinking him even at the point of death, finds him restored to his former health. A Woman of Recinetum, that had been seven months sick of an Asthma, so as she could hardly fetch her breath, by Three that were present affirmed this upon oath. no means go up stairs, nor take any manner of rest; comes to Vallicella, Philip's Body lying yet above ground; where, being strongly persuaded of effect, she puts to her breast some of the Flowers that garnished the Coffin, and presently was freed of her difficulty of breathing. About the same time, the same Woman being tormented with an Itch, so grievous and loathsome, that her flesh looked like Ink, as soon as she did but apply the same Flowers to her, on the sudden her whole body became as clear as ever. Maria Justiniana had her head broke out into such foul blisters that no Medicines could cure her. Her Mother, This was a vouched by the oaths of eywitnesses. hearing of Philip's death, hath her immediately to Vallicella with her; where, having done her Reverence to the Body, she with her Scissors clipped off some of his hair, and went home, not doubting but she had gotten a sufficient Remedy for her Daughter: so rubbing her head with his hair, she said; I beseech thee, Blessed Father, by those heavenly cogitations which lodged in thy Mind, whilst yet alive, heal my Daughter. She thereupon began to mend, and in a while after her head grew perfectly well. Dorothea Brumana had a Son about three years old, that had crooked legs, his knees bending so inward, that he must sit or lie continually, or be carried about in Arms. And though they tried all means to make him set but one step forward, yet they could not effect it. His Mother had a long time wished, that Philip, when he lived, would have laid his hand on him, but never obtained it but so soon as news of his death was brought her, she bid the Nurse carry the Child to Vallicella; whither she herself also went: and taking the Boy out of her arms, put his bare legs to the H. Corpse, and then made the Nurse bring him home. So, having prayed a while in the Church, she returns to her house, where the Nurse meeting her, shows her her Son walking, who from thence forward could use his legs, and go very well. CHAP. VII. His Body is opened and Buried. TOward Night the Physicians and Surgeons came to open him: many of the House being present. And as they were diffecting him, there fell out a strange Accident; for while they turned the Cor●s to and fro, He This seven eye-witnesses attested upon their oaths. with his own hand covered his Secrets, a● if he had been sensible and alive. Which Angelus Victorius observing, cried out; O Admirable Chastity of a man! Mark and consider, I beseech you, how much he prized and loved Purity in his life; who being dead still retains such Virgin Modesty! They of the Society had taken notice of the like passage, when the Body was washed. When they had opened him, they discerned the Tumour, that risen from his left side, proceeded from the two Spurious Ribs, which were almost broken, and thrust forth about the bigness of ones fist. His Inwards and Bowels were all entire and sound; only the Vena arteriosa was twice as big in him, as natutally it uses to be: the Membrane about the heart was found without water. So his Bowels were put into an earthen Pot, and buried by themselves in the common place of Burial. But, before any thing be said concerning the Interring of this sacred Pledge, it may haply seem pertinent, to describe the Person and Favour of the B. Father. He was of a middle Stature of Body, his Complexion somewhat pale, a pleasant Aspect, his Forehead broad and high, yet not bald; of somewhat a hooked Nose, little eyes and something sunk, but quick, and grey: his beard not very long, and black, yet in his latter years snowwhite. When they had emboweled his Body, it was laid again on the Bier, where it was exposed to be seen all the day following. Soon after on the twenty seventh of May by the unanimous consent of the whole Congregation he was, toward the shutting in of the Evening, buried in the usual Buryingplace of the Priests, Which coming to the knowledge of the Cardinals, Frederic-Borromeo, and Alexander Medici's, they considering that a Common Grave suited not with the Eminence and Sanctity of so worthy a Person, ordered that He should be laid by himself, till it further appeared, how God would dispose of him. Then they caused his Name, Age, and the mention of his Excellent Virtues to be engraved on a Tablet of Brass, enclosing his Body in a Chest, made of Nut-tree: which they decently placed in a little Chapel, that looks full upon the Organ, on the left side of the Chancel. All the time he was taking up again, no putrefaction, no corruption, no ill Scent breathed from him. His face kept its comeliness, his joints were pliant, and limber, his hands especially, so that you would rather have said he was asleep, than dead. As soon as the Body was translated hither, instantly there gathered multitudes of people about it, Offerings were brought, Tables hung up, & a most fragrant sweetness was by divers perceived to come forth of the Grave: which among others Julia Vrsina Rangonia testifies she smelled, as she was in Prayer, and that it was like the Scent of Flowers, and Roses, wherewith both she and others were exceedingly delighted. This Noble Lady Gallonius terms a Second Paula, both for her charitable offices to the Poor, and for her extraordinary proficiency in the Worship and Service of God. Innumerable more besides there were, that only coming to the Sepulchre of the H. man felt their Spirits cheered, and inflamed unto the practices of Holiness And it is not be buried in silence, how Augustine Cardinal of Cusa, desiring to have some small part of the Bowels, made them be taken up; which were found as fresh, and as white, as if they had been buried the same day. So after they were well washed and dried, he took what he thought good of them: and the Fathers likewise very honourably preserved a reasonable Quantity of them in a Silver Casket of a rich Value. CHAP. VIII. His Body is Translated unto a Chapel built to his Honour Seven years after his Death. IN the mean time Nerus de Nigris, one who always honoured and highly respected Philip, having a fair fortune, and no Issue Male, intended to have a Silver Coffin made to keep the Corpse in. Acquainting therefore the Priests with his purpose, they judged it meet, to see first in what condition the Sacred Relics of his Body were. So, on the seventh of March, four years after his death, breaking down the Wall, and opening his Tomb, they found the Corpse covered all over with Rubbish, his clothes so mouldered and consumed, they looked more like a heap of dirt, than apparel: yea the plate of brass, wherein was contained a Memorial of the B. man, had taken rust: and every thing that was but touched fell in pieces strait. Insomuch as the Fathers thought all was vanished into Dust. But when they had taken away all that was decayed, they disovered the Body not only unconsumed, but the Breast especially so clear and whole, the skin so tender and soft, that they fell into extreme admiration and joy together: the Physicians confidently maintaining it to be done by Miracle. After all this, Abbot Crescentius, oft heretofore mentioned, procures a Cypress Coffin to be made; into which, being decently provided, with a Purple Silk Counterpoint over it, taking the Body out of the old one, they laid it, about Evening on the thirteenth of March. All both Priests, and others of the Congregation came to do Reverence to the Body of their deceased Parent. Thither repaired also Alexander Medici's, and Frederic Borromeo to render all bounden thanks to God, that the Body of their Master was seen so fresh and lively. But on the thirteenth of May following Alexander commanded it should be attired in the habit of a Priest, and the same Cope put on him, wherein he said Mass, that day he died. Then the Cardinal put a Chaplet on his head, made of Gum-Flowers, and pulling off his own hand a Ring that had a Saphire set in it, puts it on his, strewing the Body over with Silk-flowers. At his Breast they placed a Silver Crucifix: his Face which the Dampness of the Grave had a little touched, they covered over with Silver. And so it fell out, that what the B. Man in his life time said; in the end proved true: namely, That his Head should be covered with Silver, and Body be worshipped with no less Veneration, than the other Relics of Saints. The Coffin thus made was placed in the same Chapel with great state, being hard by the Organ on the left side of the Chancel: where it continued to the twenty fourth of May in the Year One thousand six hundred and two. Meanwhile Nerus de Nigris, having chosen the Servant of Christ Patron to him and his Heirs, adopted himself and his into Philip's Family by Legal Process: quartering his own Coat, whose Arms were a white Dog, with Philip's in a Field Azure three Mullets Or. But as was said, Nerus having never a Son, betaking him to the Intercession of the H. man, soon obtained a Boy, whom in memory of the Blessing received, he named Philip. Thereupon altering his mind about making a Silver Coffin, he resolves to build a Chapel in honour of him, beautified with those Ornaments, and that Costliness in Jewels, as is at this day seen. The first stone of the Foundation was laid by Cardinal Francis Maria Taurusius together with XII. Brass Coins, and one Silver one; every one stamped with the Image of the B. man, and this Inscription following. Beatus Philippus Nerius Florentinus, Congregationis Oratorii Fundator, obiit Romae Anno, 1595. Th● B. Philip Nery a Florentine, Founder of the Congregation of the Oratory, died at Rome, in the Year 1595. And on a larger Medal of Lead were graven these words, Sacellum hoc in honorem Beati Philippi Nerii Florentini, Congregationis Oratorii Fundatoris, Nerus de Nigris Nobilis Florentinus ob singularem in Beatum Virum pietatem à fundamentis, suis sumptibus magnificentissime extruendum curavit, anno Jubilei 1600. mense Julio, die octava, Festi Sanctorum Apostolorum Petri & Pauli, Clement VIII. Pontifice, Pontificatus anno nono. This Chapel, in honour of the B. Philip Neri of Florence, Founder of the Congregation of the Oratory, Nerus de Nigris a Noble Florentine out of his singular affection unto that B. man, caused to be most magnificently raised from the ground, at his own charge, in the Year of Jubilee 1600. in the month of July, the eighth day of the Feast of the H. Apostles Peter and Paul, in the nineth year of Clement the Eighth, than Pope. As the Chapel was a building, Nerus' Son fell sick of a disease incident to Children, called by the Italians Variolae, or the Measils, which took away both his speech and breath at once. The Father unable to endure the sight of his dying Son, went aside into a By-Room, and flinging himself on the bed expostulates with Philip in this manner, Is it possible, Blessed Father, that I should lay my Son my only Son in the Chapel, which I have but lately built to thy honour? Scarce had he spoken these words, but the Child called his Father three or four times, as Children use to do; at which, the Countess of Pitilian, the Child's Sister, comes and acquaints her Father, how her Brother called him. He running presently to him, the Child cried Babba I am well, for my Grandfather hath made me well (so he used to term Philip, because the people of the house, showing him Philip's Picture, would say This is your Grandfather.) They ask him, who, his Grandmother? the Child cries out aloud; No, not my Grandmother, but my Grandfather. And showing him his Picture, This said he, this man made me well. They asked him how? the Child putting his right hand on his head, signified that Philip cured him by the touch of his hand Afterward falling to suck, and so into a pleasant sleep, there came out of his ears such a deal of corrupt matter, that they perceived an imposthume was broke in his head: and the purulency of the disease purging for divers days together, at last the Child recovered beyond all expectation. Nerus, upon the receipt of so eminent a mercy, finished his Chapel: into which, thus every way completed the Venerable Corpse was conveyed with great solemnity and devotion, out of the forenamed Chapel, on the twenty fourth of May in the year One thousand six hundred▪ and two being full seven years after Philip's death. There were present at this Holy Translation, though privately, some Cardinals, divers Prelates, with all the Priests, & Brethren of the Oratory. The next Morning Cardinal Taurusius said the first Mass there, and from thence forward was the daily Sacrifice offered here to God, with great resort of the Faithful thereunto. CAHP. IX. The Eulogies and Titles of Honour given him after his Death. THe fame of Philip's Holiness, who while he lived was for his great Merits, and the Glory of his Miracles, the Wonder of his Time, became after his death so general and confirmed; that immediately Votive Tables were brought unto his Sepulchre. The first whereof was hung up by Marc. Antonio Maffa the Abbot, and Apostolical Visitor, being likewise Chief Overseer for the Examination of Bishops. For a little after Philip's death being taken with a Putrid Fever and growing every day worse than other, the Physicians affording him no relief, he dreamt, that he saw, as he lay, the House all on fire the Walls utterly demolished by Carpenters, and two men, that were with him, crushed by the fall of a Wall, lying for dead. The Abbot affrighted hereat on the sudden hears Philip's Voice, chiding those that destroyed the building, and Saying; Servate Abbatem: Save the Abbot, O Save the Abbot: and forthwith he found himself out of all fear of danger. Nor was it a fond imagination, as the sequel manifested; for when he awaked he was better, and, the day after, as well as if he had never been ill at all. Whereupon, as a Testimony of his Gratitude to the Servant of God, he presently hung up the foresaid Table at his Monument. The same Abbot also hung up the first Lamp before his Tomb: which when the Priests, to lesson the Pomp, caused to be removed, he, complaining to the Pope, had it placed there again; which a Nob●e Lady hearing of, strait gave another Silver one of a great Value. The same year by Permission from Authority was his Statue erected at Rome, with the Title of Blessed to it, and a Glory round about it, and speciously set out with figures of his Miracles on the Sides. Besides divers others of Plaster, which Noblemen and Ladies kept privately in their Chambers; of which Clement the Eighth had one upon his Desk, and another hanging on the Wall, among the Images of the Saints, As soon as ever he was dead, his Chamber began to be in much honour among all; and to have the Veneration of a Consecrated place; being frequently resorted unto by Cardinals, Prelates, Nobles, Plebeians, and men of all orders. But the Chapel where his Body was, had so great Reverence done it by such as came thither, they kissed the very Walls, and plucking pieces of stones out of them, carried them in devotion home with them, yea some gathered up the Dust off the Pavement to keep. There you might have seen some striving to get the Flowers that bedecked his Grave; others daily visiting the Chapel, some ; all which affirmed, they had received many Divine Blessings through his means. The Year ensuing on the return of his Anniversary, in the presence of many Bishops and Cardinals the Mass for the day was in solemn manner, and with their costliest habits on, sung: and after they had done singing the Vespers, a Panegyrique was made in honour of him. Many were the Eulogies published in praise of Philip, by men remarked for both knowledge and Piety. First, Cardinal Gabriel Paleottus, in his Book, De ●ona Senec●ut●s, gives him these commendations: These things, O Religious and well-affected Reader, were some while since not only written, and digested into this Method by us, but together with the whole work perfected, so that nothing else was wanting, but to Print them. But see the Eternal counsel of the Grand disposer of All! The B. Man, who a little before had been somewhat distempered, yet not so, as to keep his bed, or intermit his ordinary employments was snatched from us in an instant, and on the twenty sixth of May fetched from this his Banishment here below to his Celestial Country. Whose so sudden and unexpected End notwithstanding, we have held our former purpose of proposing this Excellent Old man, as the lively Mirror wherein to behold the advantages of Age. Since although to our Eyes he seemed to die four months since, yet as by his Religious and renowned actions we have cause to hope, in the region of the Living he still lives. He lives no less upon Earth in the Memory of Virtuous and Holy men. He lives especially in the City of Rome, where he left a numerous Issue of Spiritual Children of all degrees, whom he begot in Christ. He lives among the Sons of the Congregation severally dispersed abroad; of whom some are sent into remote Lands by Christ's Vicar and Supreme Pastor on Earth, to govern his Flock. And a little after: Which his so Noble Acts being to spread farther daily, and as is to be hoped, to come to the knowledge of all, we have here portrayed him to the Life, to revive such as loved him as their Father in Christ; and that others, stirred up by the Glory of his Name, might be awakened to the imitation of his Virtues: last of all that Posterity might have a perpetual Monument in their view, whence they may learn to know the happiness of Old age, and to reverence it also, as is due. For of his Death and departure to the Lord, the End of his Pilgrimage being agreeable to the whole course of his most holy Life foregoing, and he, as he had led, so concluding his life, not without undeniable arguments of his Sanctity, let others, to whose care that is committed, make report. Thus Paleottus. Cardinal Frederic Borromeo in a Letter to Ant. Gallonius writes thus: ' You best know, how great respect I have always born to this Person, and I cannot believe you ignorant of my love to him, which since his decease is so far from being lessened, that I would most willingly sacrifice my Blood to his Memory, if need required. Cardinal Aug. Cusanus thus: It hath pleased Almighty God to take unto Glory that Blessed Soul, adorned with so many Christian Virtues, after well-nigh fourscore years spent in the service of Christ; concerning whom that saying of H. Scripture may be applied; Qui ad justitiam erudiunt multos, fulgebunt quasi stellae in perpetuas aeternitates. And they that turn many to righteousness, shall shine as the Stars for ever and ever. And that Longitudine dierum replebo eum, & ostendam illi salutare meum: With length of days will I satisfy him, and show him my Salvation? So Cusanus, whose devotion to Philip was such, that not long after his death, being to make his Will, he next God himself, and the B. Virgin, the Princes of the Apostles, and S. Augustine, recommended his Soul to the B. Philip. Cardinal Octavius Bandinus thus: In Philip alone me thinks the Summary of all Virtues was comprised: and all those Excellencies met as concentred in him, which we wonder at apart in other Saints. Cardinal Caesar Baronius, in his Notes on the Roman martyrologue, the twenty one of August, speaking occasionally of the B. Philip, Benitius a Florentine, thus falls upon the praises of Philip Neri. Nor is that Noble City of Florence famous only for one Saint Philip, there being another of that Name, the Founder and Father of Our Congregation of the Oratory in the City: that B. Philip surnamed Neri, renowned for his Purity of living, and incomparable Charity towards God and his Neighbour; whose frequent Miracles sufficiently testify, that he now enjoys the the Society of the Saints in heaven. Cardinal Hierom Pamphilio: Farneze and wide doth the fame of this B. Father daily spread, by reason of the apparent Miracles which the Lord showeth on such as fly for help to him. Indeed the continual favours he hath done me, make me hope for his aid on all assays: therefore I resign up myself to him, to his Tuition I wholly commit myself, and beseech him daily, not to deny me at any time his Protection. But of the Virtues and Accomplishments of Philip have divers written: the chief of which are, Rutilius Benzonius Bishop of Loretto, in a Book which he put forth, Of the H. Year of Jubilee: John Baptist Tuphus Bishop of Cerra, in his Annals of Clerks Regnlar, Silvanus Razzius in his Lives of the Saints in Tuscany: Alphonso Vilegas in his Flos Sanctorum: Archangelo Giano in his History of the aforesaid Philip Benitius of Florence: Thomas Bozzius in his Book, De signis Ecclesiae Dei & de Ruinis Gentium: and Francis Bocchius, in his Treatise Of the Praise of the Citizens of Florence: with sundry others here omited. Several Monuments also were set up in Memory of him, here and there; but especially at Rome, Julius S●ncedonius, before he was Bishop of Grosseto, had his Picture drawn, and set in the Gallery at S. Hieroms à Charitate, with his Sons in a Ring about him, and this inscription on it: B. Philippo Nerio Florentino. ubi triginta tres annos eximia Sanctitatis & miraculorum laude claruerat, innumerisque ad Christi obsequium traductis, prima Congregationis fundamenta jecerat; ibi aliquod ejus rei monumentum extaret; Templi hujus domus, ac Sacerdotum Deputatus, annuente piissima Congregatione Charitatis, Parenti in Spiritu optimo bene merenti posuit. Kalend. Septembris. 1605. That is: To the B. Philip Nerius of Florence. That where for thirty three years he had flourished, in great reputation for Sanctity, and Miracles, converting vast numbers to the obedience of Christ, and laid the first Foundations of the Congregation, there might remain some Memorial of the same, the Deputy of the Church, and Priests of this House, with the consent of the Religious Congregation of Charity, erected this for their Best, and Best deserving Spiritual Father. September 1. 1605. And it is memorable, that when, some years since, that House was fired the to ground, so that another was fain to be built, the Gallery, where that Picture was, had no hurt at all. Besides, presently after the death of the B. Old Man, abundance of Offerings were brought to adorn his Sepulchre. Cardinal Augustine Cusanus bestowed a Canopy curiously wrought in Needlework▪ Cardinal Alph. Vicecomes, one of the Congregation gave a Rich Silk furniture for the same purpose. Withal a decree was made by the People of Rome, whereby they were bound every year to bring a Silver Chalice and some Tapers on his Festival to him The Duke of Bavaria gave a Silver Lamp of a thousand Crowns value, to burn continually at his Altar. And Charles Cardinal of Lorreign hung up another Lamp of Silver: yea & daily after that, divers rich Presents were brought thither by Persons of Quality, both men and women. Five years after his death, Ant. Gallonius writ and published his Life, being one intimate with him; it came forth backed with the Pope's Authority, and the Title of Saint: Clement the Eighth made it often be read to him. Besides that five Illustrious Cardinals approved it with their Suffrages subscribed thus: J. N. do avouch that whatsoever is here written of the B. Philip Neri, I have partly seen with my own eyes, partly have received from the sure Testimony of very Credible Persons. N. etc. Clement the Eighth dying, his Successor Leo XI. was requested by some of the Nobility to Canonize Carlo Borromeo: to which he answered; Indeed I am content to Register the B. Carlo among the Saints, but will at no hand omit Philip Neri: though, being prevented by death, he did neither. What esteem of the H. Man Pope Paul V had, appears by this, that he Sainted him by his Bull: and gave leave for the Office to be said, and Mass to be celebrated in honour of him: yea and by sentence from his own Mouth proclaimed a Plenary Indulgence to such as on his Holy day devoutly visit the Church of Vallicella. Gregory XV. likewise expressed his abundant love, respect, and esteem of Philip, in that being yet Cardinal, he gave out, not only in words, but by letters, that if ever it pleased God to call him to S. Peter's See, he would without delay enter him, among the Saints in the Calendar. Which so falling out, he afterward performed; for in the Year 1622. on the Feast of S. Gregory the great, he with the liking and joy of all, Canonised Philip, together with Isidore, Ignatius, Xaverius, and Teresa. After his Canonization People's piety, and devotion toward him began to grow, and diffuse itself farther daily; so that not only throughout Italy, but even in France, Spain and Germany, public Prayers and Orations were made in honour of him. Nor may it be concealed, that Elizabeth Queen of Spain caused Philip's effigies, set forth with most costly Jewels, to be carried about with the rest in Procession, the same day the other four were Solemnised at Madrid. Temples likewise were built, Altars erected, Images set up, and Decrees passed by divers Towns and Pityes, which had made choice of Philip for their Patron, that his Festival should be as regularly observed by the Inhabitants, as if enjoined by public Edict. And the Order of the Dominicans in a General Ponvocation decreed, that on his Anniversary they would say their Office for him every year. Last of all, to what a reputation and fame for holiness, his Name is at this day arrived, the numberless Vows hung up at his Grave by Suppliants, and the frequent evidence of Miracles testified from all Parts do abundantly show. THE FIFTH BOOK, of the LIFE of PHILIP NERI. Of the Miracles which He did whilst he lived. CHAP. I. Miracles done by him with the Sign of the Cross. HAving in the preceding Books spoken of Philip from his Birth to his Death; and brought down the relation of his Virtues thus far, intermixed with many strange Occurrents; it now rests, that we particularise, which on purpose was before ommited, the rest of the Miracles wrought by his means: not doubting, but they that read them, may again no less, than by perusal of his Life. That so those who read and see the Sanctity of the B. man confirmed by so many and so manifest signs and wonders, may be the more easily won to the imitation of his Virtues. First then, to begin with our own, Prometheus Peregrinus a Priest of the Congregation was so miserably wrung with the Colic, as if his Bowels had been pulled asunder from him. His pains increasing still, Philip comes to visit him, and laying his hands on him, crossed This Promotheus testified upon oath. the part affected, saying in a jesting srot, it is nothing: easing him thereby of all his grief and torment. Antonia Caraccia was desperately ill of a Putrid Fever, and a pain of her sides, whereof she lay sick fifteen days This Antonia and her Husband witnessed upon oath. and was now not able to stir, her Husband, desirous of his Wife's health, acquaints Philip with it who bid him; Go we will pray for her. But, her disease still growing upon her, she could neither rest, nor eat: her Husband returns to Philip and tells him; Antonia is a dying, I bid you quoth he, not long since, doubt not, it will come to nothing, go, and I will follow: and strait way coming to her he asked, Where is your grief? she shown him her right side. He laying his hand on it, and crossing it, told her, This is nothing, it is gone. Scarce had he turned his back but forthwith her disease left her. The people of the house would have noised the Miracle, but Antonia bid them; Hold your peace, lest the Father take it ill: for he charged me to keep my Bed two or three days, that I might not seem to recover so quickly. Angela Lippea for divers years had been troubled with a pain in her Shoulders, so that she could scarcely breathe, and was so disabled in her right arm, as she had no use of it. Her Daughter Julia told her, Mother, pray go to Philip, and entreat him, but to say't he Lord's Prayer once over you, or the Angelical Salutation, and you will be well. She did as her Daughter counselled her. Philip asked her; Why doth not she that sent you do as you say? at which the Woman went away sad; but he pitying her said: Go to, let us pray together; and gripping her hand hard, where her gteatest pain lay, he made the sign of the Cross upon the place, and presently the Woman was restored to her health. Virginia Martellia had very sore eyes, and coming to Philip she desired him to procure her help from Almighty God. The Servant of Christ, dipping his finger in a Basin of water that was by, & stroking her eyes, made the sign of the Cross on them, and they were instantly cured. Maria Paganella affirms, that she was many times cured of the Headache, with Philip's crossing her forehead only with his finger: insomuch as passing thorough the Church, she would come to him, and desire to be marked with that sign, and saying nothing at all to him of her malady, was healed strait. The like she said befell her, as oft as she was ill at her Stomach. In Turris Speculorum, Isabel Mareria had a Chamber hard by a Lime-pit, which had been newly watered: and it chanced, about midnight the steam of the Lime evaporating filled her Room all over, so that rising to Matins, as she used, a Dizziness in the head took her, that she fell backward, and trying twice or thrice to stand up, she failed still. So being had to bed, she lay there for a Month; and as oft as she ventured to rise that Giddiness seized her. Her Physician, fearing she might go away on the sudden, gave order, she should be watched: in the meantime the H. man comes thither on some other occasions; which she hearing of, got up, and went to him, acquaints him with her disease: saith Philip to her: Be of good cheer, you will do well: and holding her head hard betwixt his hands made a many Crosses on it: whereupon a filthy matter issued out at her Nostrils, which afforded her present ease, and in short time she was perfectly well. CHAP. II. Miracles wrought by the Touch of his hands. A Noble Roman had an Ulcer broke out upon him, that put him to such anguish and torture, as he could not rest for it; and fearing it might prove the disease called S. Antony's fire he in a fright comes to Philip for direction, who looking at him, as he made toward him, before ever he had spoke a word to him, said: Shut the doors and show me the part affected. he did so, and the H. man lifting up his eyes to heaven, and praying, fell a trembling, as he was wont, then stroking the Boil with his hand twice or thrice, healed him immediately of his pain. Whereupon he cries out; Thou art a Saint indeed, Father, I will into in the City, and proclaim thee Holy in every Street. He clapping his hand upon his mouth enjoined him silence; and would not let him stir thence, before he promised him, that he would not speak of it. The Noble man engaged to him: but Philip dying, he declared the whole proceeding, and that upon Oath. Peter Victricius of Parma, while he was Servant to Cardinal Boncompagno, who was afterward Gregory the Thirteenth, fell so dangerously ill that the Doctors left him, as despairing of his Life. To him comes Philip, and after he had done praying in his Chamber, he lays his hand upon the sick party; who strangely and suddenly recovers, publishing it to all, where ever he came, that at the Prayers of Philip he was made whole. Whereupon, he was so addicted to the B. man, that he chose him for his Confessor; using to disburden his Conscience to him thrice aweek, and receive the B. Sacrament: he died rich in good works, in the ninety seventh year of his Age. Mauricius Anerius also lay very desperately sick, being so grievously pained at his Stomach, that he was bereft of his speech, and his Pulse had left beating, the Physicians giving him over. To him repairs Philip, who kneelling down at his bed side, and praying, as he used to do, said to them that were by, I pray repeat the Lords Prayer once, and the Angel's Salutation, for I should be sorry he should die of this disease. Having so said, laying his hand on the Patient's head and stomach, he went away silent; scarce was he departed, when Mauricius felt himself quit of all pain, recovering his Pulse and his Speech, and the next day risen, and was perfectly well. Before he was acquainted with Philip, he was much encumbered with Secular business; and seldom going to Confession himself, had interdicted his Wife the so often going to Confession; yea he forbidden her particularly to repair to the H. man. She relates all to Philip, who wished her, not to give over her course begun; for her Husband should shortly become a most Religious and devout Person. And so it proved, for not long after Maurice chose Philip for his Confessor, and was most ready and forward to works of piety all his life after. Maurice had a son, named John Francis about fourteen years old, who fell into so violent a Of this were four sworn eye-witnesses (beside Jo. Francis) of whom one is that Noble Lady Julia Ursina Rangonia pestilential Fever, that the Doctors would come no more to him. Lying thus for seventeen days without either eating, or stirring, or any sign of Life, save that he was discerned to breathe somewhat softly, Julia Vrsina Rangonia, the Marchioness, hearing of it comes to the dying Person, desirous, as she said, to see this prodigious Miracle. Philip foresaw all this, who anon coming into the Room, and praying after his usual manner, requested the standers by to say the Lords Prayer once, and the Salutation of the Angel. Then putting his hand upon the Child, and squeezing his forehead hard, he calls his Mother, and after a jesting way said to her; It is well done, to let your Son perish for want of Victuals, bring him some Wine. They did so he puts a little into the Boys mouth, which as soon as he had tasted, he drank up a whole cup full: and instantly came to his senses again, grew better, and some few days after got out of his bed, and was as well as ever. Carlo Vrsino, of about thirteen years of age, was sick of a Pleurisy, whom the Physicians gave for lost; his Mother This Carlo and his Mother Livia Vestria both publicly attested. comes to Philip, desiring he would take his Confession, as he lay a dying. He went and approaching near his Bed side, dismissed the Company, and asked the Youth, where his pain lay? he answered, on the left side of his stomach. The Servant of God kneeling down pressed the part with his hand, that it seemed to the patiented to go to his very entrails. Then after his Confession taken, Philip perceiving his disease more violent, the Penance which he had enjoined the sick party he undertook to perform himself; and bid him; Doubt not, for you shall not die of this sickness; so went his way. He was no sooner gone, but the youth, calling to his Mother, said; O Mother I am well: she would not believe him: he tells her a second time; Indeed I am well they bring him meat, he eats, and slept sound. And the Physician coming to him found him in perfect health. Fabius Vrsinus likewise fell into a pestelentiall Fever, which brought him so low, that he was deprived of speech, and being anointed with the sacred Oil lay drawing on, but having before hand told his Aunt, the Marchioness of Rangonia, that he reposed much in Philip's prayers, she desirous to satisfy her Nephew, caused him to be sent for. He came, and taking the sick party's head in his hand, held his breast to his own, the patiented asked who is it? Philip answered, it was he; ask, Where his pain was? At my heart; quoth he. The H. man laying his right hand upon the place, pressed it hard, which Fabius felt colder than Ice, and presently told his Aunt, He was well: so he risen from his bed quite cured, to the admiration both of the Physicians, and the Neighbours. John Baptist Boniperto was extremely tormented with the Headache; Philip coming to him laid his right hand upon his Head, and fetched a great groan from his Heart twice together, when immediately he was quit of his pain, without using any other Remedy. In the year One thousand five hundred and ninety, Mark Antonio Maffa, oft heretofore recited, disceases being at that time rife, by reason of Tiber overflowing, was in great danger of death, from a malignant Fever, and a pain in his head together. The B. man, coming to visit him, and as he used joining his breast to his own holds his head hard between both his hands, his heart leapt, and prayed a while and went his way: at which the Abbot forthwith was released from his grief. John Baptista Crescius was in such a burning Fever, and violent pain of the head that he thought his Temples even This himself testified. beaten in pieces with hammers; insomuch that he was minded to throw himself out of his window into a well, The B. man being sent to, came, and as soon as the sick Person saw him, he earnestly besought him, since he was not able any longer to endure it, that he would obtain for him either a mitigation of his torment, or speedy death. With that, Philip laid his hand on his head, counselling him, to recommend his condition in devout manner to the assistance of the B. Virgin and forsake his sins; as soon as he had done speaking to him, his pain was gone, his Fever abated and he within few days restored to his former strength, him had Philip cured of sore eyes, when he was an Infant, by the mere touch of his hands in like manner. Livia Vestria, Wife to Valerius Vrsinus, being very subject to a dizziness in her head had lain above a Month in grievous Testified by herself. pains of her head, and being something eased one day, she forced herself and went to Vallicella. Where as she was in Confession, she felt her head on a sudden run round, insomuch as He that Confessed Her scent for Philip. He coming, and laying his right hand on her Head, said, No harm; and instantly both her dizziness and her pain left her, and she was never after taken so any more. Sigismunda de Rusticis, the Wife of Alexander Vitelleschius, was pained with a continual headache; the H. man at that time used, after the exercises of the Oratory were over, to resort, together with his Sons, to the Gardens belonging to this Family, there to recreate themselves: where it so fell out, that as he came, Sigismunda was in the place, and being more vehemently tortured then, than at other times, she ran toward Philip, and humbly craved help of him. He taking her head betwixt both his hand, and squeezing it, cured her, who never after complained of the Headache more. Katherine the Daughter of Hieronymo Ruissio, some five years old, had certain Scabs grew about her Nose, and having tried several Medicines, her malady, that Of this (besides Katherine herself) are three sworn eye-witnesses. seemed to be lessened at first, in a while returned worse than ever. Her mother hereupon brings her to Philip to be healed, who seeing the Child in such a miserable case, struck with compassion, toucheth her infected Nostrils, saying Doubt not, it will be nothing; and strait that Scurf began to fall off, and in short time she was restored as whole as ever. Peter Ruissius, Katherine's own Brother, had a grievous headache, his Father importunately requested Philip to cure him of it, he told him; It were bet-for your Son to die; but because I pity you, I will do all I can that Almighty God may restore him his health; and immediately laying his hand on his head, he freed him of his pain. Hereupon Hieronymo began to attribute such honour to him, that he confidently sent another of his Sons, who was exceedingly troubled with the same pain and other infirmities, to be healed by him. And his hope was not frustrate; for as soon as Philip but touched the Child with his hand, he became presently well. Victoria Varesia was taken with a pain in her left shoulder, which so disquieted her, that she could neither sleep, nor Herself witnessed this. lie in her Bed. And remembering how she had formerly been cured by the Holy man, she repairs to him, acquaints him, how afflicted she was. He pleasantly answered; Away, you are always troubling me; and presently asked her; Where is your grief? she touching her Shoulder, shown him there her disease lay. At that Philip thrusting out his Arm, struck the part affected with his Fist saying; Never doubt it you are well. And presently the Woman found ease, and before she got home, was wholly freed of her distemper. Ersilia Bucca lay desperately sick, by her Physicians doomed to death, and by her family lamented as already dead. This was received from her husband; & witnessed by Ersilia herself upon oath. Her Husband requesting Philip, to vouchsafe to come and see his sick Wife, he consented, and when he was come said; Ersilia shall not die of this disease; then approaching to the Bed, laid his hand upon her head, saying; Put away your fear, you shall not die. At which she was very joyful, and her sickness abating presently, within three days she was quite well. Lucretia Garzia had such a dreadful Ulcer broke out upon one of her Breasts, that the Physicians determined to sear it with a red hot iron. She dreading the torment of fire though she were enjoined to keep her Bed, goes to, Philip, and tells him the whole passage. He pitying her asked, Where was her sore: the Woman shows him; who touching the part with his hand, said, as his fashion was Doubt not, for hereafter you will do very well, When she was come home, as she sat at table, on a sudden she cries out; What is this? my pain disturbs me no more, and, if I mistake not, me thinks I am perfectly recovered. She looks, and tries, finds herself completely cured, and the Surgeons coming, to sear her, were amazed to see her well. Laura Hier. Moronus' Daughter, about thirteen years of age, fell so dangerously ill, that her Parents bewailed her Of this (besides Laura herself) are three sworn eye-witnesses. as dead. So, being prepared by H. Unction, the Habit, and all things else provided for her Funeral, it came in her Father's mind to send for Philip, to assist her by his Prayers, as she lay adying. He comes, and she, having her eyes shut, was not able to speak a word, when the B. man exulting in the Spirit, and shaking with his wont trembling, breathes in her face, and as it were sportingly hits her a Box on the ear and taking her by the hair of the head jogs her to and fro, bidding her recite the Venerable Name of Jesus: at which she, that was ready to die, opens her eyes, and pronouncing the Name of Jesus, gins to mend, and in short time regained her former health. Julia Lippia for almost two years was woefully tormented with pains in her head; which, when they came, held her two or three days together. And going to Mass one to day to Vallicella, she was suddenly so surprised with them, that she could not stir from her place; therefore she sat; and when Philip went by, she said; Father, I am taken with such a huge pain in my head, that I am not able to return home. Then he, holding her head betwixt his hands, being seized with his accustomed trembling, asked, How she did. Better, replied she, but yet not quite well. Then the B. man held her harder, and asked her again, How she did. who answered, She was very well; and so returned to her house without any pain at all. Katherine Corradiana lay sick of a most dangerous disease, and being already anointed with the H. Oil was now drawing on; Philip coming thither lays his hand on her, and made certain Singers which he brought with him, sing some pious Verses wherein the Name of Jesus was oft repeated. They did so, and upon their singing the Woman felt herself eased, and in a short time recovered. As she was beginning to mend, the Devil annoyed her ever and anon, and appearing to her asked; Why doth this Paltry fellow Philip come to you? But she wisely answered him never a word, and merely by her Prayers vanquished the wily Adversary. The B. Father one time had heard, that Clement the Eighth than Pope kept his Bed sick of the Gout; so to him he This was taken from the Cardinals, Cusanus, Borromeus, Taurusiu, Baronius: who had it from the Pope himself. went, whom as soon as the Pope saw entering his Chamber, he charged him not to come near him, as not enduring, that the very sheets should be touched, by reason of the anguish of his disease. But he notwithstanding passing along the Room, the Pope cried out again, Touch me not. Philip replied, Doubt not Blessed Father: and therewith taking him by the right hand, where lay his pain, he gripped it hard, trembling as he used to do. As soon as the Pope felt him; Go on Father, saith he, and touch me so again, for I am extremely pleased wi●h it: so his pain left him. This Clement himself often attested, and especially in the Congregation for the Examination of Bishops. It pleased Almighty God to renew the same Miracle again, by his Servant Juvenall Ancina, Bishop of Salucioe, of whom we have formerly spoken, and written his Life in Italian some years ago. For in the year One thousand six hundred and two it chanced, in the City of Fossano, Thomas Bava then Governor of the place, and after a Senator of Taurini, was sick of the Gout; whom Juvenall coming to see, without any Ceremony presently tells him; This disease, Bava, was thus cured by my Father Philip: and att he same time labours to take hold of his hand that was diseased; but the Patient pulled it away, fearing he would pain him worse. Juvenall bids him, Be of good cheer; for thus, said he, catching him by the diseased hand, my Father Philip cured Clement VIII of his Gout. He had no sooner said those words, but Bava was quit of his pain, and could use his fingers at pleasure, clutching his Fist divers times together, being never after affected with that Malady. The like happened to Attilius Tinozzius; who being pained so with the Gout, that he might not be touched, was visited by Philip, who asked him, How he did; Very ill, saith he, but have a care you do not touch my foot. Doubt not, replies Philip, and on the sudden taking him by the foot, crossed it, and immediately he was cured; yea he who had been often troubled with the Gout before, never had it after. John Manzolius affirms, that whensoever he was ill of the Gout, he used no other Remedy but to go to the H. Father, and entreat him to touch the distempered part but with his hand, and thereby was instantly healed: the same divers others do testify to have befallen them. In brief, it was so usual for him to cure diseases, by the bare touching the sick with his hands, that Cardinal Taurusius was wont to say, That Sacred and Soveragin hand of his, by the mere touch thereof did both comfort the sad, and cure the sick. And Angelus Victorius, Philip's Physician having been oft freed of the Headache by him, said; That he rather gained Remedy from Philip, than gave any to him. CHAP. III. Cures wrought by his Prayers. LAurentius Christianus a Priest Beneficed in the Vatican Church, whose Confession Philip was used to take, had a most violent Fever, which brought him so low, that being fortified by receiving the B. Sacrament and Extreme Unction, he lay a drawing on. The H. man being assistant to him, falling into his wont tremble, and exultation of Spirit, knelt down by him and prays: which done, Laurentius, saith he, shall not die now; and coming nearer, lays his hand on his head, calling him by his Name. He strait opens his eyes, knows Philip's voice, and by and by lost his Fever. Barth. Fuginius, a Roman, lying desperately sick was anointed, and by the Physicians left as past hope. Philip Of this are two sworn eye-witnesses, besides Bartholomew himself. asked Angelus Vellius, who was his Confessor, before many that were by, how the ●linick did; this was about Evening: he answered He is a dying; for the Physicians said, he would scarce live till Morning. At that saith Philip to his Sons; Will ye have the Man live or, die? they all answered, Live, if it be possible. Then quoth he; Let every one say five Pater Nosters, and as many Ave Maria's: they did so, and in the Morning Fuginius was perfectly recovered. Barsum Archdeacon of Alexandria began to be affected with a consumptive Fever, for he spit blood, and the Doctors This is attested publicly by two eye-witnesses, besides the Archdeacon himself. gave him over. Hier. Viecchiettus, who brought Barsum from Egypt to Rome, repairs hereupon to Philip, desiring him to recommend the sad condition of the Archdeacon to God. And as Philip was at Mass, they perceived Barsum in a quiet sleep, who for three days and nights had not so much as slumbered: afterward the B. man appointed Barsum should be brought to Him; Hierom tells him, he must get up, and take Coach, for saith he, Philip hath commanded so. He answers, He could not possibly. Hierom was urgent with him to rise, if it were but only because Philip required him. So Barsum takes heart, and riseth, and is had in a Coach to Philip: the Good man goes to meet him, kisseth and embraceth him, where they spent some time in mutual Caresses. Barsum meanwhile, finding his strength come to him, entreats Philip to continue his prayers for him hoping by this means to obtain health from the Most high God, as he called him. The Father promiseth him, and bids him go to Cardinal Frederic Borromeo upon some certain business: and as they went, See, saith Barsum, I am perfectly well. For so he was, and in few days became so lusty, that those who had seen him sick, not knowing him by his looks, said in merriment; This is not Barsum, but some other like him. He not long after returning to Alexandria, when Philip was dead, came again to Rome, where in an Oration to Clement VIII. recounting the particular Favours, he had received in the City, he made a large and honourable mention among the rest, of his Health restored to him at at the prayers of Philip. John Manzolius, being about seventy years of age, was taken with a Flux, and Fever, and anointed with the H. Unction, as unlikely to live, who calling his Nephew to him, bade him go to Philip, and pray him from me to send Of this (besides Manzolius) are witnesses sworn of those that were present. a Priest, to commend my soul to God, now I am a dying, and to assign me a place of Burial when I am dead, as he shall think fit. His Nephew did as he bid him, and Philip sent Mathias Maffeus', a Priest whom he loved entirely. Now the Physicians had declared, that within two hours he would certainly die, and his kindred had provided Mourning ready; nay the Brothers of the Society of Misericordia were invited to his Funeral, and Montes Zazzara, one of them, in the Morning told Philip, that Manzolius was dead. The B. man replied, Manzolius neither was dead, nor would die of this sickness: and therewith sends for Maffeus', and asks, How he did; be times this Morning I hear he died, says he. You are much mistaken, replied Philip; go again, and be sure you see him yourself. He goes and finds him alive, and well. For that night the H. man had put up long and most fervent Prayers for him, and knew very well what he had obtained of God. Manzolius had long before desired Philip to be with him at his death; who answered; I shall die before you. And so it proved, for Manzolius survived Philip two years. Alexander Corvinus a Noble man, who had lived much in the Court of Rome, fell dangerously ill; whereupon says Philip to his Sons; We must take some care of Alexander. So he presently repairs to him, as he lay and says Mass with him, for there was a Chapel there; but whilst he was celebrating those Divine Mysteries, he began to be transported with such a Fervour of Holy Love, showering down such plenty of Tears, and sending forth such Volleys of sighs, that you would easily affirm he must needs procure health to the sick Person. So soon as Mass was done he bid the Clinic cheer up, and assuring him of his recovery went away: two days after Corvinus left his bed, and came to the Court and shown himself in as good plight as ever. Pompeius Paterius Priest of the Congregation falling into a violent Fever, Philip comes to him, hears his confession, and Himself witnessed it. being seized with his wont trembling, having prayed awhile, laid his hands on his head, saying as his manner was, doubt not: at which very words he was instantly eased, eat his meat with his usual appetite, and regained his Former strength. Another time going into ▪ S. James'▪ Hospital of the Incurabili, He found a sick man senseless, and speechless, with a Crucifix, and a lighted Taper set by him, according to the custom, adrawing on. Philip fervent in Spirit, falling on his knees prays, and excites all that were present to do the same; whereupon he forthwith returned to his senses. Then He made the Sickman be lift up, and fit upright in his bed and meat to be set before him. The next day one of his went to see the man and found him perfectly recovered. Victoria Varesia was unsufferably tormented with an Humour that fell down into her right hand, and swollen it, which, though she had tried several Medicines, yet every day grew worse, insomuch that the Sinews and Nerves waxed stiff; so coming to Philip, she told him. This Rehem that troubles me, runs almost all over my body, and I am afraid my right hand will be benumbed. He looking up to heaven, and shaken with his wont trembling, presseth the grieved part with his hand, bidding her hope well and so dispatcheth her. As she went home, she bethought herself, whether it were best to chafe her hand with Ointments, as she used to do, or throw away the Cerecloth; as she was thus in suspense, she said to herself; What dare I not trust the Sanctity of Philip? Have I not placed all the hope of my recovery in him? Why do I yet stick at it? And immediately pulling off her Cerecloth, she fling it into the fire, and presently was able to turn her hand as nimbly, and follow her employments, as she did formerly, in a short space regaining her lost strength. John Baptist Guerrius, a Brother of the Congregation, as he was one evening putting up Silk Hang in the Church, Of this are nine sworn eye-witnesses; among whom Angelus Victorius is one who ascribed the cure to a miracle. fell of the Ladder which was some twenty five handfuls high, dashing his head against the Marble Pavement, where he lay for dead. The People running in, take him him up, lay him into his Bed, send for the Physicians, some of which affirm, he was past cure; others, that hi● wound must be searched; and his Skull opened. Meanwhile it comes to Philip, who immediately be takes him to his Prayers, and bids the rest do so too. After this Angelus Victorius the Physician sends for him, telling him the wound was mortal: at which Philip smiled, saying; I would not have him die now, therefore I will beg him of God, by fervent and effectual Prayer. And he made good his words, for that night Guerrius slept well, and in the Morning risen, and went about his occasions, though they would have had him keep his bed, and when the Physicians came thinking to find him with his Fever and Convulsion upon him, he was in firm strength. Bertinus Riccardus of Vercellae, one of the Congregation too, was taken with an acute Fever, which brought him into a Frenzy, and extreme peril of Death; whom, for that he had neither received the Sacraments, nor ordered his affairs, Philip pitying, earnestly besought God, that he might partake in the Sacraments, and settle all other business. After Prayer the man instantly returned to his right mind, confessed his Sins, took the H. Eucharist, made his Will, and having disposed of every thing relapsed into his Frenzy, and duly prepared by H. Unction ended his life. The like happened to one that was sick in the Hospital of Santo Spirito. Philip coming thither with his Sons, said; Let us go, whither God calls me: and went directly to a man, whom he found speechless and a dying. So he betook him to his Prayers, and in a little while the sick party recovered his Speech, disburdened his conscience, received the Celestial Viands; and rendering thanks to God, peaceably died. For he came to the Hospital, but was not able to make his Confession, for the violence of his disease. In short, what ever the H. man by his Prayers and Supplications procured for others, he ordinarily obtained, when he was in dangers, for himself. Whereof take these two of many instances. He sometimes went with his in a Coach to the seven Churches, when on a sudden fell such a fierce storm, that he was forced to go back; And as they came to the Bank of Tiber, beneath Mount Aventine, the Rain had so overflown the ways, that the Coach fell into a deep trench; but before they were far sunk into it, through the Mercy of God they all got out at the hinder end of the Coach: Philip going to his Prayers at the next Church, the rest to get Oxen, to draw their Horses forth. But no sooner had the H. man kneeled down, but the Horses with the Coach came out safe of themselves. Another time, going with his in a Coach to the seven Churches, those that were with him leaping out, he alone stayed in it. In the way was a Narrow Bridge, where as the Coach came, the Wheels of it were seen carried upon the air by the side of the Bridge, which they that went on foot beholding cried out, O Jesus! but the Coach went over secure; they all attributing it to a Miracle. Afterwards a Gravell-pit in like manner was in their way, which he passed over without any harm, beyond all expectation: and yet some Noble Matrons, presently after falling into it, were shrewdly hurt, their Coach breaking, one of the Horses killed, and one of the Ladies having her Arm, the other her Leg broke. CHAP. FOUR He drives away diseases by his Command. ANna Morona lay very ill, and her disease proceeded so far, that those about her dispaired of her life. To her comes Philip trembling, as he used to do, and lays his hand on her, calling her by her name, and saying; Anna, say with me, Lord, Philip bids me live still. And as she repeated the words, she revived, and immediately grew well. In Turris Speculorum, Maria Felix a Castro had been sick of a Fever about one hundred days, and being even at last gasp almost, sends for the Servant of God, who coming in hastily asked, what was her disease. A Fever; saith she. Cheer up, quoth he, doubt not, and withal laying his r●ght hand on her, said; I command thee O Fever, to departed from this creature of Gods. He had no sooner said so, but the Fever went away, and never troubled her more. In the same House, Sigismunda Capozucchia for five Months together had a Quartan Ague, and Philip accidentally coming thither, she desired his Prayers to God for her health. He lifting up his hand said; I will not have the, any more tormented with thy Ague. Philip departs, and with all the Fever strait. He was once in company with his Scholars, when on a sudden comes a man, earnestly recommending to him one that was sick. The Good man smiled and turning to those that were by, asked: Will you have this sick man well? they all answer, Yea. Then quoth he to the Messenger, Go tell the party, Philip forbids you to die. He went and did so, and the man believed him, and recovered. The same many confess hath befallen them. The Cook of the Congregation one time fell sick: a man so virtuous, and so favoured of God, that when ever he dressed any fish, and went away in haste from them, he would leave them to the Cats to keep, who punctually obeyed his commands. Philip bearing much affection to the man, wished Caesar Baronius to take care of him, and be with him, who by reason of the continual pains he took, fell into a Fever. The Father bids him, command the Fever in his Name to be gone; he relying on the B. man said; In the name of Philip, I charge thee, O Fever, to departed from me. And as he said those words, he put on his , and rose, diligently attending the Cook, as well as ever. Once he said to Anto●ina Raida that good woman Look you be not sick, before you ask me leave first. Insomuch that as oft as she felt any grudge of a disease on her, she would go to Philip, and say: Father, is't your pleasure, I should be sick? if he answered, It is: the disease increased; If he said No: it went away presently. Which she affirmed, she had often tried. Another Woman, alike virtuous, had many days kept her bed, whom Philip visits, enjoining her to go to the next day to Church to hear Mass; & lo▪ that night her fever left her, she was well, & went to Mass in the morning to S. Hieroms Church, being never after troubled with her disease. Alexander Illuminatus, a Brother of the Oratory, one appointed to wait on the H. Father, had a vein sprung in his Stomach, that he spit blood. So Philip one day calling to him said: I will not have you molested any more with this malady: upon the very uttering of which words he never after voided blood. The like betided Pet. Focilius, to whom Philip came, as he lay a dying, his Mother coming to meet him, said; Father, help me: he answered; Doubt not, for your Son shall not die; for I would not have him die now. And strait way he began to mend, and recovered. One Ambrosio that lay Bedrid, insomuch as he could not sit up in his Bed, but as he was lifted by others, Of this Julian Fuscherius a Priest, who was present, is a sworn witness. upon Philip's coming to him, and saying, Ambrosio, Rise; presently sat up, and within a while after was restored to his former health. CHAP. V His various Miraculous Cures wrought on divers. TOrquatus de Comitibus lay sick of a grievous disease, so that Taurusius persuaded him to confess his Sins to Philip, hoping by that means he might recover his health: he followed his counsel, and thereupon the H. man was sent for. When Torquatus, being in the middle of his Confession, perceived himself presently cured. A Country man, that was in a very sad disease, came from Palumbaria, a Town not far from Rome to Philip, desiring him to pray to God for him, either to procure him health, or a mitigation of his pain. To whom the B. Man only prescribes Sacramental Confession, upon the performance whereof he soon recovered. Going home into his Country, and proclaiming abroad what had befallen him, his Country men seeing him so well, being themselves affected as he was, came divers of them up to Rome to Philip: saying; And we likewise would gladly be healed by you, as you cured our Countryman of late: the Good man, taken with their Simplicity, hears their Confession, and sent them home joyful to Palumbaria. Eugenia Mansueta was exceedingly afflicted, almost a year and a half together, with a grievous Boil; which so Of this (besides Eugenia herself) are two sworn eye-witnesses. swollen her Nose, that she not only could not go abroad, but was even ashamed to be seen at home. And having used many Medicines could have no ease: but being wont to wash the Clouts and Rags which Philip used for an Issue; and taking one of them, more bloodied than the rest, she put it to her face with great confidence of help, and immediately her Ulcer left her for ever after. Lucretia Citara, a Roman having been four Months with child, grew so ill by reason of an Issue of blood, that no Remedies she tried would help her. Cassandra Raida, who had the H. man's Linen by her to wash, hearing of it and pitying the Woman brought her a Cap of Philip's, without his knowledge, telling her: This Cap is Father Philip Neri's, and if with faith you do apply it to your grief, I doubt not but you will find help. Lucretia did so, and was instantly freed of her Malady. Philip knowing by Revelation what was done, and hating humane Applause, sharply chid Cassandra, and made her presently fetch him his Linen. Steven Calcinardus, for about a Month, had a continual Fever, at last his Stomach grew so weak, he could retain no nutriment, but being anointed with the H. Oil lay for dead. Francis Zazzara coming to him, and bringing him some of the B. Father's hair, then living, said: If you think you may recover your health by the Merits of Our Father Philip, I will lay these hairs to your breast: So I do; quoth he. When the hair was applied to his Stomach, he presently fell asleep, and after he had rested an hour he waked, and eat his meat with a good appetite, and it stayed with him, his Fever strait left him, and within four days after he was in perfect health. Hercules Cortisinius of Carpium, living at Rome with Montes Zazzara, and hearing so many and Marvellous things of Philip, had a huge desire to see and confer with the H. man. Francis Zazzara takes him with him to the Father, who as soon as he saw the Old man, shaken with a pious awe, and kneeling besought his Blessing, hearty betaking him unto his Prayers. Departing thence after Philip thus seen, he was so in love with him, that he said; To day have I seen a Holy man indeed. And being to return into his Country a while after, out of devotion to Philip, he desired some of his clothes with him, whom some of the House presented with a pair of his Socks, and Philip also gave a Rosary of Our Ladies. So he returned to Carpium: and in August, as he was walking, a pain in his head took him, that he was not able to stand for the very anguish of it: and remembering that he brought some things of Philip's from the City with him, he calls to his Wife, and bids her, Fetch me that I brought in a bag from Rome. She laughed, when she saw the woollen Socks, and asked; Husband, have you any need of such things as these? Hold your tongue, quoth Hercules, only do as I bid you. She obeys him, and he putting the Socks to his forehead made this prayer; I beseech thee, O Lord, for the devout affection I bear to Father Philip, free me of these pains. No sooner had he said so, but his headache was gone. Not long after the Nephew of Hercules being in a Pleurisy was like to die; the Servants of the House did but apply one of those Socks to him, and his Pleurisy ceased, the Fever left him, and he was restored to his former health. Patricius Patricius, else where named, kept his Bed, being ill in his Stomach, and troubled with the Colic, Germanicus Fidelius going from Philip to see him, courteously salutes him: who presently tells him: O Germanicus, harken to a strange but true Story; this Night being in great torment, destitute of all help or direction, Our Philip came in my mind, to whom commending myself, as if he had been present, I said: Father Philip help me; pray for me. I had scarce spoke the word, but my pain quite ceased, and I was well. Germanicus himself being troubled with a Rupture, and having used many Remedies, which made him rather worse, at length coming to Philip, like him in the Gospel, he said, Father, if you will, you can make me whole. He answered, Doubt not, you shall be healed. He depending on those words of Philip without any Medicine was cured strait. CHAP. VI He helps divers Women in Childbirth. THe like Audience had he, when he prayed for such as were in Childbirth, freeing them ofttimes from the perils thereof. At Novaria, John Baptist Boniperto's Brother's Wife, having gone eight Months of her time, miscarried to the hazard of her life: which Boniperto hearing of by Letters, he went to Philip and acquainted him with it. He bade him; Writ to your Sister in Law, that I will not have her bring forth any more abortives: she upon the reciet of those Letters, not only escaped the danger wherein she was, but in her whole life after was very happily delivered still, although she had no less than twelve Children. Delia Buscallia, of Vicenza, after having been with child more than seven months was half delivered of a Stillborn This Delia herself, and Gaspar her husband affirmed upon oath. Child, and falling into a Swoon her body grew stiff, only her heart panted a little; the Midwife hearing that they sent for the Physicians, cries out; What for? help must be fetched from heaven, and not from men; and this I assure you of, if ye pluck away the Child by force, it must necessarily be torn in pieces, and then the Woman is irrecoverably lost. Above two days was Delia tortured with these pangs, at last her Husband sends for Philip, who, as soon as he came into the Chamber, put his Cap on her; then kneeling down, and looking up to heaven, wept and said: Ho, you there, repeat the Lords Prayers, and Angelical Salutation five times. Afterward rising he put his mouth to her ears, and cries out, Delia: she asks Father, what is your will with me? That all study Holiness; quoth he: God grant it; replied she: but Father, I am very ill. Doubt not, you will do well again: says Philip; and signing her with the sign of the Cross went his way. He was not quite at the bottom of the stairs, but he bid her Husband, that followed him, Go back, for your Wife is recovered. He returns, finds her in health and that Night she went about her business in the House, as if she had never been ill at all, & left her bed. The same Delia, when she was sick of a Pleurisy, at another time, was by the H. man restored to health. Faustina Capozucchia, the Wife of Domitius Cecchinus, having been with Child now seven Months, fell into such a violent sickness, that after twenty two days, she seemed past all hope of cure. The Servant of God coming to her, lifts up his Eyes to heaven, and lays his right hand on her forehead, saying: Lord, I will have the Soul of this Child, I will not be denied it, Lord; and so went away. By and by he returns, and saying the same words again, departs. Meantime Faustina was brought a-bed of a Daughter, which being Regenerate by Baptism, both It, and the Mother after died. Olympia Trojana lay for dead, in the throws of a hard travel, her Servants all bewailing her; and there remaining no expectance of aid from men, she made Philip be sent for, whom she reverenced for his Holiness, having heard of the many Miracles done by him. The H. man pitying her, and especially that the Infant might not die unbaptised, m●de haste to her, and being come into the Room, having prayed, he only laid his hand on her, and went away. Being gone, the woman had a very quick delivery, and was well; the Child also, being Christened, was added to the Number of the Heavenly Quire. Ersilia, formerly spoken of, was strongly conceited, she should die of the Child she then went with, wherein she was so peremptory, that none could persuade her out of her opinion. Being much perplexed about it, as she was going out of the Church one day, she light upon Philip, who said softly to her; See what a silly Woman fancieth to herself! and laying his hand on her, bade her hope well: and immediately she became cheerful, left grieving, and in a few days after had a very easy Labour. Besides divers others by the Prayers of Philip became joyful Mothers of Children, which are here omitted, Yet may it not be passed over, that though Philip used to crave Temporal Blessings of ●od under a Condition, he would say absolutely in the case of Women in Childbirth; Lord I will have this granted me, namely, that these Infants, which are to be born, be likewise Born anew by H. Baptism. He was wont also, that the Miraculous effects, done daily by him at the Labour of Women, through the Blessing of God, might not be ascribed to his Merits, to carry about with him a certain Pouch very helpful to Women in Travel, saying, that there were Relics in it, and that he never applied it to any in Childbirth, but it availed much either to the Mother, or the Child. Cleria Bonarda, the Wife of Claudius Neri, had always very difficult Labours; and being near her time, she was exceeding fearful. Her Labour coming on her, Philip sent her that Bag, which she devoutly applying, had so easy a Delivery, that she scarce knew she was brought a-bed. The like is reported of many more. When the B. Father was dead, some of his Sons, desirous to see what was in that Pouch, pulled forth a great many Beads, but found nothing at all, save a Handkerchief, in the middle of which was a little Cross, wrought with purple Silk, and a small Medal of S. Helen's, such as they use to hang about children's necks. Whereby they perceived, that the Holy Man carried it to Travelling Women, to the end they might not attribute, as is said, the Miracles to him, but to those Holy and Sacred Relics. FINIS. The Testimony of CARDINAL BARONIUS concerning PHILIP NERI. Lib. Annal. Tom. 8. after the Dedicatory Epistle to CLEMENT VIII. FOr what concerns the first Original and progress of my writing the Ecclesiastical Annals, I have as yet scarce had the freedom to glance at some few particulars; and those rather huddled up in obscurity, than manifestly declared, forasmuch as He, of whom we were to speak, was then alive: who, not only contemned, but professedly opposed whatsoever tended to his own praise. He having (since) exchanged Earth for Heaven, our discourse, now disengaged of those ties then upon it, may freely traverse the spaces of that most copious subject; the Munificence and Favours received from Him. Indeed we are often admonished in Holy Scripture, that in general, whatsoever prosperity or happiness befalls the Children, is all of it to be ascribed unto the Parents: particularly, in that signal Blessing, which the Grand Patriarch Jacob bestowed on Joseph, among other oracular truths contained therein. Sedit in forti arcus ejus, etc. His Bow abode in strength, and the bands Gen. 49. 24. of his arms and of his hands were broke asunder, by the hands of the mighty Jacob; from thence went forth the Shepherd, the Stone of Israel. Seeing therefore all joseph's felictiy is attributed to the puissant hand of Jacob; who, not only was far distant, but had already wept for him, as one dead, and bewailed him, as slain; what may we say of this Father, who being present and assistant unto all, first in his Apostolical spirit, traveled oftimes of us again; and checking our younger years with the reins of government, restrained the precipitancy of that in constant age, Gal. 4. 19 which hurries fast to ruin, till he made the untamed Ass-colt obedient Matt. 21. 2. to the Laws of God, and fit for Christ to back? But in regard we are many ways deeply obliged unto him, let this public Thanksgiving remain as a perpetual and lasting Monument, ever living, ever speaking for him: at leastwise touching whatever appertains to compiling the Annals, which we have now in hand, He being the sole Author of all our pains and labour undertaken therein. For, by the oft-redoubled commands of this our Father, did we adventure on so difficult a work; and however loath and unwilling, as distrusting our own strengths, undertook it though, in obedience to the Divine Will, whereto he did so vehemently enforce, that if at any time, surcharged with the weight of so heavy a burden, we desisted from our purpose, he would with his severer reprehensions spur us forward. When You, Blessed Father (for unto you do I direct my speech) inflamed, inflamed I say, with zeal for the declining Church, did with the eyes of your mind divinely irradiated, and inspired with a Prophetic spirit (for so it was) foresee the Bands and Musters of Satan going forth at the Gates of Hell, for the destruction of the Church; You on the other side, standing up for the House of Israel, to fight the Battles of the Lord, were not minded to determine it by a pitched field, wherein were equal, or greater, numbers; but, well knowing, that God chooseth the weak things of 1 Cor. 1. 27. the world, to confound the things that are mighty, selected one of your Children, the least among his Brethren, and of a shallower capacity, to confront even single and unarmed so many armed hosts. And pretending to do something else, prepared no spacious field for the Encounter, but a narrow place for wrestling (in, as it were to try the Mastery) S. Hieroms Oratory; where amongst the daily Conferences about Spiritual matters, it was given me in charge, to rehearse the Acts and Monuments of the Church. Which being once begun at your appointment, was for thirty years together happily continued; the whole entire order of the affairs, as they were related, having been seven times repeated in the Oratory. You were continually assistant to the design; promoting it by your presence, encouraging it by your exhortations, always a rigid exactor (pardon me for saying so) of my daily task; so that you accounted it a heinous offence, if I never so little digressed to any other matter; not suffering me in the least to decline my intended course. Many times I confess I was somewhat troubled, when not yet understanding that the business was transacted closely between God and you by Prayer, but Measuring my own strength, I complained, that I was too hardly dealt withal, not only for that none of the Fraternity was joined with me, in bearing the same yoke; but that although no Straw were given, as the labour increased, the double task was still required: when I say greater loads of employment Exod. 5. were yet added to the charge I had undertaken, as the Cure of Souls, Public Ministry in preaching the Word of God, Governing the House, besides sundry other affairs and encumbrances unexpectedly thrown upon me every day by the importunity of those that resorted to me: so that whilst you either did, or permitted others to do such things as these, you seemed to intent nothing else, than what you most of all intended. Wherein you followed the Precedent of Elias, in his contest with the Priests of Baal, who when he would convince them by 3. Kings 18. fetching fire from heaven to consume the Sacrifice, contrary to the imagination of all, caused it to be drenched three several times with four Barrels of water, that the Sovereign power of God might more eminently appear. Yet on the other side, when you were pleased to lend your helping hand, by affording the assistances of your Prayers, you imitated the Prophet Elisha, who laying his hand upon the King's 4 Kin. 13. hand in shooting the Arrow, made him Conqueror of Syria. Semblably hereunto did you in your dealing with me, putting your victorious hand to my feeble one, turn a blunt Pen into the Arrow of the Lords salvation against the insolent Assyrians. An observation no less true, then pleasing, and delightful to me in so known a case to profess. You fought indeed, but with the hands of others, after your wont manner, who would never suffer yourself to be remarked, when you did things most worthy of praise; avoiding nothing with so much caution, as to hear aught spoken in favour of yourself; under covert of folly many times shrouding profound wisdom, according to that famous, known, Apostolical Paradox firmly seated in your breast: Qui vuit sapiens esse, stultus fiat. He that will be wise, let him become-a fool. 1 Cor. 3. 18. Insomuch that not all the Smiles of a fawning world could ever ensnare 1 Sam. 21. you; who, David-like, changing for a time your behaviour, concealed your extraordinary Spiritual Gifts, making show only (abroad) of humane infirmity, as one that knew, according to the Apostles speech, to abound, and suffer need; that so you might say with Phil. 4. 12. him, Whether we be besides ourselves it is to God; or whether we be sober, it 2 Cor. 5. 13. is for your sakes: and by the Example of the Deacon of your Name, Philip, Act. 8. as occasion required, you could sometimes consort yourself with men for their good, sometimes with full sails in retirement receive the Gales of the Spirit blowing strongly on you. But the Glory and honour, which you so abundantly brought into the Treasury of Christ, he repaid after your decease with large Interest. For as soon as the Earthen Pitcher was broken the Lamp that lay hid within it appeared Jud. 7. in its resplendent brightness; and the burning and shining light, which was covered under a bushel, being set up in the high Candlestick of Eternity, became conspicuous to all, dazzling their eyes with the glory of its Miracles. Then the wonders and signs, which had been done in your life time, but yet concealed by you, were manifest, and many others lately wrought came to light. Your Sepulchre, though yet but mean, as being but made for the present, is famous for the Votive Tables, and Memorials affixed of the choicest metal, intimating your Miracles, which make it more illustrious than Pillars of the most curiously polished Marble, or Egyptian Pyramids and Obelisks could do; it daily receiving greater increase and accession of beauty from them, who upon the obtaining new Favours add new honours still unto it. Yea, let me also find room, O ye my brethren (for I speak to you that encircle his Monument with a Round of your sacred and Religious Persons as with a Crown) that this my Thanks giving, albeit far inferior to the Bounties received from him, may have admittance to his Grace; but so, that likewise where ever throughout the world these Annals shall be transported, it may pass too. Let this be a movable, and vocal, yet graven Column, proclaiming him in large Characters the first Author and Architect of these Annals, and what benefit soever men reap thence, let them thank him chief for it, let thi● my acknowledgement, I say, serve as a lasting Epitaph upon his Tomb, never to be razed out. Yea and I myself desire to remain fixed there, as a living Tablet, that limned by the Pencil of his Prayers, I may represent the perfect Image of his Sanctity. Do ●. Fath●● (for once mo●e I will bespeak you as present, seeing you behold him who is present at once to all places) do, I say protect your own work: and that the Victory in all things be attributed to you alone, (as Joab writ to David) come and dispatch the War that is yet behind; 2 Kings 12. excite that heavenly Militia above by your Prayers, till at last, having totally vanquished all enemies, we may sing the triumphant song of Deborah: They fought from heaven against them, the stars in their courses Jud. 5. fought against Sisera. And for me your Son, whom with your continual protection you have guarded, fortified by your vigilance, conducted by your counsel, sustained with patience whilst you sojourned here upon Earth, defend me with your much more powerful Patronage now resiant in Heaven: and let me receive more copious supplies from that now perfect and completed Charity of yours. Yea what Gregory the Divine affirms he obtained of Basill Greg. Naz. in land. Basil. the Great, who after his decease became his Monitor, that do you in a more eminent manner for me; that so, through your managery of my life, I may inoffensively pass the remaining stages of this old age, and in fine, after my labours happily achieved, attain that Blessed rest, which you now possess with the Father, Son, and H. Spirit: to whom in perfect Unity be Everlasting Praise, Honour and Glory for evermore. Amen. Certain PIECES of S. AUSTIN Communicated To the Reader for the Vindication of the continuance of Miracles, in the Church; wherein he relates the many Miracles, done in his days within his own Bishopric, and certainly known to Him. August. de Civit. Dei. 22. l. 8. c. Etiam nunc fiunt miracula in ejus nomine, sive per sacarmenta ejus, sive per orationes vel memorias Sanctorum ejus. Retract. 1. l. 13. c. Non sic accipiendum est, quod dixi, ut nunc in Christi nomine fieri miracula nulla creduntur, nam tam multa etiam istis temporibus fiunt, ut nec omnia cognoscere, nec ea quae cognoscimus, enumerare possumus. De Civit. dei. 22. l. 8. c. Multis (quod nobis certisssimum est) non datis libellis de iis quae mirabiliter facta sunt, illi ipsi, qui dati sunt ad septuaginta fermè numerum pervenerant, quando ista conscripsi. August. De Civit. dei. 22. l. 8. c. Epist. 137. Clero & plebi Ecclesiae Hipponensis. De cura pro mortuis, 12..16, 17. Cap. S. Augustini De Civ. Dei. Lib. 22. Cap. 8. Of the Miracles, which have been wrought, and are not yet ceased, that thereby the World might believe in Christ. WHy, say they, are not those Miracles wrought now adays, which ye brag of in former times? I might indeed answer, they were necessary before the World believed, that so it might believe. He that still requires Miracles for his Faith is a Grand Miracle himself, for not believing when the World believes. But this they allege, that it might be thought those Miracles were not then done. No? whence then is it, that Christ's Ascension into heaven in the flesh is so publicly, and so religiously averred? Wherefore in those learned Ages, which would at no hand admit of Impossibilities, did the World without any Miracles at all, too too miraculously believe things so incredible? Will they say, haply they were credible, and therefore credited? Why then do not they themselves believe? Our Argument is briefly this. Either this incredible thing, which was not seen, was confirmed by other incredible things both done and seen; or being so credible, as needed no Miracles to enforce it, it condemns their gross incredulity. This I would reply, to silence such shallow Persons. For, we cannot deny, but there have been many Miracles done, which attest that one signal, and saving Miracle, of Christ's Ascension into heaven in that flesh wherein he a risen again. Which are all written in the same Records unquestionable for their truth; both what was done, and in confirmation of what: being divulged for the propagating the Faith, and by the Faith propagated are so much the more divulged. They are solemnly read, that they might be believed, yet should not be read solemnly, but that they are believed. Yea even now are Miracles wrought in his Name, either by his Sacraments, or by the Prayers, or Memorials of his Saints: which, being not commemorated in so public a Register, shine not altogether with so bright a fame. For, them the Canon of Sacred Scripture, which was to be generally published, causeth to be read in every place, and imprints in the memories of all: whereas these are hardly known to the City where they are done, or to any the adjoining Quarters. And commonly they are few, that know thereof, and many that do not, especially if it be a large City; and oftimes, when they are related to others, the Authority, that recommends them, is not such, as that they should be believed without scruple or demur, although they be conveyed from one believing Christian to another. The Miracle done at Milan, while we were there, what time one blind received his sight, might be taken notice of by divers: both for that it is a vast City, and the Emperor at that time being, there, the matter was transacted in the eye of a numerous multitude, which flocked unto the Bodies of the Martyrs Protasius and Gervasius. Which lying concealed and unknown to any, were in a dream discovered to Ambrose the Bishop, and found; in which place the blind man, freed from his former darkness, beheld the light of day. But who except a very few, knew of the Cure done at Carthage upon Innocentius, Advocate to the Deputy Governor, at which I was present, and saw it with mine Eyes? For, being himself very Religious, as likewise his whole house, he had entertained me, and my Brother Alipius, coming from beyond sea, not yet Priests, but Lay-Christians, and at that time we dwelled with him. He was under the Surgeon's hands for certain Fistula's, of which he had many, and very painful to him, arising in his hinder parts, about the bottom of the Trunk. They had newly lanced him, and tried other experiments of their Art upon him: who endured both continual, and horrid tortures in the Cutting. And yet one Cavity, among so many, which should have been lanced, escaped them, lying so undiscovered that they never touched it at all: and, all the rest that had been searched being healed up, that one remaining only defeated their pains. He, jealous of their delays, and very much dreading a second incision (as a Physician that lived in his house had told him beforehand, whom they would not suffer so much as to see how he was cut, when they did it; and himself in a rage had thrust out of doors, and with much ado admitted again) burst out into these words: Will ye cut me again? must I come to his saying, whom ye would not permit to be by? They scoffed at that Physician as a Novice, allaying his fears with fair words and promises. Thus several days passed, but all they did availed him nothing: the Surgeons still persist in their promises, that they would perfect that Cure by Plaster, not by Incision. They called in likewise to their assistance one Ammonius, then living, an ancient, and eminent Surgeon, who, having viewed the place, warranted, what they out of their practice and experience had affirmed. Hereupon confident, upon his assurance, as though he were out of danger, he jeered the Physician that lived with him, for saying he must be lanced anew. In short, after they had trifled away divers days to no purpose, they were fain, wearied and ashamed, to confess, it was not possible to cure him, but by Incision. Struck with the extreme horror hereof, he trembled and grew pale, but recollecting himself, when he was able to speak, he bid them be gone, and come no more at him: when, drowned in tears, and fettered in an insuperable necessity, he could think of no course, but to send for a certain Alexandrian, who was at that time reputed for an excellent Surgeon, to do, what for mere anger he would not suffer them to go about. He, when he was come, and Artist-like had by the remaining scars observed their endeavours, doing the part of an honest man, advised him, to let those have the credit of that Cure, who had been at so much trouble already about it, as he both saw, and wondered at: adding, that unless he were cut, it was utterly impossible, ever to heal him: that it was exceedingly contrary to his nature, to defraud them of the glory of so great labour, for a small matter that was behind, whose skilful pains, industry, attendance he saw even to admiration in his very scars. Then by his appointment they were fetched again, and he requested to have the Alexandrian by, when they lanced that head, which in the judgement of all was otherwise thought incurable. Which business was deferred to the next day. No sooner were they gone, but there arose such a doleful lamentation throughout the House, out of immoderate grief for their Master, that, as though they had mourned over his Hearse, we could hardly pacify it. Holy persons daily resorted to him, the then Bishop of Vzala Saturninus of B. memory, Gelosus Priest, and the Deacons of the Church of Carthage. Among whom was, and he the only one at this day alive of them, the now Bishop Aurelius, not to be named by me, but with all honour and respect; with whom I had often conference hereof, recounting the wonderful works of God, and found that he remembered very well, what I am now mentioning. Who coming usually to see him about Evening, he bitterly weeping besought them, they would be pleased to come next Morning to his rather death, than torment: for the former pains he had undergone so terrified him, that he made no question, but to die under the Surgeon's hands. They comforted and animated him, bidding him trust in God, and courageously bear his will. Then we went in to Prayer, where we, as the manner is, kneeling down upon the ground, he with▪ such violence threw himself prostrate all along, as if one had fling him down, and began to pray after such a sort, with such vehemency, such fervour of spirit, such a flood of tears, such groans, and sobbings, shaking every joint about him, and even stopping his breath again, as what man living is able to express? Whether the rest prayed, or in their thoughts were taken up about these things, I minded not; for my pa●t I could not pray at all, only thus much I on the sudden uttered within my heart: Lord what prayers of thy Servants wilt thou hear, if not these? For, me thought it was not possible to have added aught thereunto except he should have died praying. At length we risen, and having received the Bishop's Blessing, withdrew; he entreating them to be there in the Morning, and they exciting him to Patience. The day so feared was come, and so were those holy men, as was agreed on, In came the Surgeons, all things suitable for the occasion were in readiness, the fatal Instruments are brought out, all continuing silent and amazed. The while, the graver sort of them, and more considerable raising his dejected Spirit with words of comfort, as he lay in bed, his Body was put into a posture fit for his hand that was to cut him, the that bond him were untied, the place bared, the Surgeon views it, and narrowly searches for the head of the disease, ready with his Incision knife to launce it. He looks diligently with his eyes, feels for it with his fingers; assays all ways and means, till he finds the mark of a wound that had been firmly closed. Whereupon what rejoicing and praise, and Thanksgiving unto the Merciful and Omnipotent God issued from the mouths of all, even weeping for joy, is not for me to relate: being more easily imagined than expressed. In the same Carthage, Innocentia, a most virtuous Woman, one of the chief in that City, had a Cancer in her breast, a Malady, as Physicians affirm, not curable by Physic: and therefore they use either to cut off the part in which it breeds, and sever i● from the body; or to prolong life awhile, and a little retard the full carrier of death, all attempts of cure must, in Hypocrates, judgements be said aside. Thus much she learned of an able Doctor that came oft to her house, and so betook herself only to God by Prayer. But in her sleep she had directions, at Easter following to wait at the Font, on that side the women were; and observe which of them, that were then baptised, first met her, that she might sign the part affected with the Mark of Christ: which she doing was immediately cured. The Physician who had counselled her to forbear taking Physic, as she loved her life, seeing her afterward, and finding her well, whose disease he had but a little before observed and known, was very inquisitive and earnest to learn of her the Remedy she used, and as near as might be, what Receipt it was, that had put down Hippocrates' Aphorism. When he heard what it was, seeming both by his looks and talk to slight it, so that she was afraid he would have spoken blasphemy against Christ; he with a facetious Urbanity piously yet pleasantly answered; I thought you would have told me some great matter. Whereat she trembling for fear, he went on? What huge business was it for Christ, to heal a Cancer, that raised to life one four days dead? This I no sooner understood, but I chafed exceedingly, that so famous a Miracle, done in a City, on a Person, neither of them obscure, should be smothered up: and thought to advertise, and in a manner chide her for it. She told me, she concealed it not; then I enquired of the Women her ancient friends, at that time with her, if they knew as much before. They said they were utterly ignorant of it: Look you, than said I, whether or no are you silent, when these your most intimate acquaintance heard not a word of it? And ask her briefly of particulars, I made her relate the whole procedure of the business in order as it was done, they listening, and wondering, and Glorifying God mervailously at it. A Physician in the same City that had the Gout, having given up his Name to be Baptised, the night before it should have been done, was in his sleep forbidden by certain curled Negro Boys, which he knew to be Devils, to be Baptised that year: but he not obeying them, who trod on his feet, putting him to such intolerable torture as he had never felt, went and made the more haste to perform his Vow of Baptism, that so he might vanquish them in the Laver of Regeneration, and at the Instant of his participation in that Sacrament was quit, not only of that extraordinary pain, which tormented him, but likewise of the Gout in his feet ever after, though he lived long. This who knew? besides ourselves, and some few of the Brethren, to whom it might be notified by those of the Vicinage. One of Curubis, upon his being Baptised, was cured both of the Palsy and a monstrous Rupture, of both which maladies he went discharged from the Font of Regeneration, as though he had never had any ail in his whole Body. This who knew, except the Inhabitants of the place, and a very few besides, who might possibly hear it by some chance spoken of? But when I had notice of it, at the instance. of that H. Bishop Aurelius, I procured him to come to Carthage; although we had formerly heard it by such, whose Credit was beyond all exception. Hesperius, one who had been Tribune, and lives close by us, hath a Farm called Zubedi, in the skirts of Fussala, where finding his house haunted with evil Spirits, with much mischief also done to his Cattles and Servants; he desired our Priests, in my absence, that one of them would go thither, and by his prayers expel them. There went one, and offered on the place the Sacrifice of Christ's Body, praying with most inflamed zeal that that annoyance might have an end, the which through God's Blessing instantly ceased. He had it seems some of the Holy Earth brought from Jerusalem, where Christ was buried, and risen the third day, given him by a friend: which he hung up in his Chamber, to secure himself from danger. But his house being rid of that grievance, he bethought him, what he should do with the Earth, which for the Reverence he bore it, he was unwilling to keep in his Chamber any longer. It fortuned, that I and my Colleague Maximus Bishop of Synica, were hard by: whom he entreated to come to him, we went. When having told us the whole story, he Motioned to have the Earth buried somewhere, and an Oratory built there where Christians might repair to Divine Service. We opposed it not: so it was effected. In the same Town, a Country Lad that had the Palsy, hearing of this begged of his Parents, that they would bring him speedily to that Holy place, whither being come he prayed and forthwith went away on foot well from the place. There is a village called Victoriana, scarce thirty miles situate from Hippo-Regius, where is a Memorial of the Martyrs of Milan, Gervasius and Protasius: thither one day was brought a young man, who in the midst of Summer going to wash his horse in a current of a River, was set upon by the Devil. And lying in this place either a dying or for dead, at Even the Lady of the Place, as her custom was, came thither with her Maids and certain Nuns to their Hymns and Prayers, and began to sing Vespers. At the noise of which being alarmed and roused, he with a hideous yelling took hold of the Altar, which as if he had been fixed there, he held fast, either not daring, or not able to stir thence, and desiring with a direful howling, that they would spare him, confessed where and when, and how, he had seized upon the man. At last declaring that he would go out of him, he reckoned up every part of him, which he threatened at his departure to dismember him of, and while he was speaking departed from him. But one of his Eyes falling down on his Cheek hung by a small string that came from its innermost root, the Ball of it naturally black turning white thereupon. Which those that were present beholding, for there came in divers raised by his clamours, who all betook them to their Prayers for him, though glad that he was in his right wits; yet on the other side troubled for his Eye, they concluded to send for a Surgeon. At which his Sister's Husband, who had brought him thither, made answer: God, who at the Prayers of his Saints▪ chased away the Devil, is able also to restore him his Eye. And therewith put the Eye, that was out and hung lose, into its place, as well as he could, and tied it up with a handkerchief, wishing him not to lose it for seven days. Which done, he found it as well as ever. Others in like manner were healed there, whom 'tis too long to mention. I know a Virgin at Hippo that was dispossessed of a Devil presently, by anointing herself with Oil, into which a Priest had dropped his Tears shed for her in Prayer. I know a Bishop too, that prayed but once for a Youth, whom he never saw, and the Devil left him. An old man here in Hippo one Florentius, poor but pious, a Tailor by his trade, had lost his Cloak, and not having wherewith to buy another, prayed with a loud voice to the Twenty Martyrs, whose Monument is famous among us, to reapparrell him. By chance some wild fellows being near overheard him; & at his going away followed jeering him & laughing, as though he had begged fifty half pence of the Martyrs, to buy him . But he walking on quietly espied a huge fish cast up on the shore panting, which with their leave and assistance he caught, and acquainting Carchosus, a Cook and a good Christian, what he had done, sold it him for his Kitchen, for a 150 pence, meaning to buy wool, for his Wife to make him cloth, as fast as she could. The Cook, cutting up the Fish, found a Gold Ring in the belly of it, which moved with pity and piety together, he strait way delivered to the poor man, saying; Look how the Twenty Martyrs have furnished you with clothes. When Bishop Projectus conveyed the Relics of the Most Glorious Martyr Steven to Aquae Tibilitanae, a vast multitude and confluence of People resorted to his Sepulchre. Among the rest a blind Woman desired to be led up to the Bishop that bore those Sacred Pledges: who gave her some of the Flowers he carried; she took them, put them to her Eyes, and immediately had her sight: th●se that were present astonished at it, the Woman triumphing went before, choosing her way, needing no more a guide to lead her. And Bishop Lucillus carrying the Relics of the said Martyr enshrined in the Castle at Synica, near Hippo, the people going afore and after, was by the bearing that Venerable burden cured of a Fistula that had long troubled him, expecting the help of a Surgeon his friend to come and lance it. Eucharius' a Priest of Spain, dwelling at Calama, being ill of the Stone, his old disease, was by a Relic of the forenamed Martyr, brought thither by Bishop Possidius, perfectly cured. And afterwards falling into another sickness, and being laid out for dead, so that they had already tied his Thumbs together, was restored to life by means of the forementioned Martyr, from whose Monument a Priests Coat being brought was cast over him as he lay. There was one Martialis, a man of note, and pretty ancient, much averse from Christianity, who yet had a Daughter a Christian, and a Son in Law Baptised that year. He sickening, they besought him often and earnestly both with Prayers and Tears to become a Christian, he absolutely denied, thrusting them from him, in a furious passion: His Son in Law resolves to go to S. Stevens Monument, there to offer up his most ardent Prayers for him; that God would change his heart, without any more ado to believe in Christ. This he did with abundance of Tears, and Volleys of sighs, and a burning zeal of sincere devotion: when at his going thence, taking some of the Flowers that came next to hand off the Altar, at night he laid them under his Father's head. To sleep they went: and lo! before day break he cries out, to run strait for the Bishop; who as it chanced, was then with me at Hippo: and when he understood that he was abroad, he desired the Priests to come to him. They came, he presently acquaints them, that he now believed: and to the wonder and joy of all was forthwith Baptised. As long as he lived, he had this still in his mouth: O Christ receive my Spirit: not knowing that these were the last words of the B. Steven, when he was stoned by the Jews: which also were his last words, who not long after died. Two likewise that had the Gout were healed here: one a Citizen; the other a stranger: the Citizen outright; but the Stranger by Revelation, what he should use when he was ill; who doing accordingly was soon rid of his pain. Audurus is the name of a Manor, where is a Church in which is a Relic of the Martyr Steven. Where certain Oxen drawing a Cart, leaving the paths went over a little Boy, that was playing in the Lane, and bruised him with the wheel, who thereupon fetched a groan, and lay gasping his last. The Mother snatching him up lays him at the same Monument, and he not only revived, but recovered of all kind of hurt. A certain Votaress at a Neighbouring Town called Caspiliana, being extreme ill past all hope, her Coat was brought to the same Tomb; but before it came back again, she died. Yet her Parents wrapping her Corpse up in it, her Spirit returned, and she recovered. At Hippo one Bassus a Syrian prayed at the same Martyr's Monument for a sick Daughter of his, that was like to die, having taken her Garment to the place with him; when on the sudden there came Servants from home to tell him, she was dead. But while he was at his Prayers, his friends meeting with them forbade them to acquaint him therewith, that he might not go mourning along the Streets. So returning home to his house, which rang with the lamentations of his Servants, he threw her Garment, which he had carried with him, upon her, and she came to life again. In the same Hippo likewise, the Son of one Irenaeus a Banker fell sick and died. And as the Course was laid out, and provision made for the funeral one of his friends, while some were wailing and lamenting, others administering words of comfort, hinted unto them, that they should anoint the Corpse with the Oil of the B. Martyr. Which was no sooner done but he was restored to life, In like manner Eleusinus, one that had been Tribune, laid his Son, a little Infant newly dead, upon the Martyr's Memorial, that is in his Manor in our Suburbs, and, after his Prayers poured forth with abundance of Tears in the place, took him up alive. What shall I do? My promise of completing this work hastens me, so that I cannot name all those I know: and questionless most of my familiars, when they read these, will take it ill, that I have omitted so many, which they certainly know as well as I. Whose pardon at present I must crave, and that they would consider, how laborious an enterprise it is, to perform that, which the dispatch of this Employment undertaken permits me not here to do. For should I only writ down the Miraculous Cures, to let pass other things which have been done within the Confines of Calama and Hippo by this Martyr, I mean the Most Glorious Steven, I might compile many Volumes; yet not comprise them all; but only those, whereof Testimonials are brought in, that so they may be divulged to the people. For so we have ordered; being desirous that we having seen even in these our days instances of a Divine & Supernatural power frequently shown like those of old, they should not be buried in oblivion, or kept from public view. It is scarce two years since the Monument at Hippo-Regius was erected, when as the Books delivered in to us concerning these prodigious effects, (yet many other as we are most certain not being given in,) even to the time when I am writing this, amount to some seventy. But at Calama, where the Memorial was set up sooner, and the Books brought faster, they are incredibly more in number. At Vzala too, a Colony adjoining to Utica, we have been witnesses of sundry things of note done by the same See (in serm. de diversis 32. 33.) the relation of another ●● miracle, which the Father knew done in this place. Martyr: whose Monument was built by Bishop Evodius long before ours. But there is, or rather there was no custom as then to publish Testimonials; though haply of late some such Usage have got footing. For, when we were there awhile since, we desired Petronia a Noble Lady, that had been miraculously recovered of a long and dangerous sickness, when all aid of the Physicians failed her, the Bishop of the place likewise wishing the same, to give in a Declaration to be read in the Congregation, who most willingly assented, and did so. In which one thing was inserted, which I cannot here conceal, though hurried away to other matters importing this present design. She relates, how a certain Jew advised her to sow into a girdle of hair a Ring that had a stone set in it found in the reins of an Ox, and to gird herself with it under her clothes next her skin; furnished with this remedy she addressed herself to the Shrine of the Holy Martyr. And in her Travaills from Carthage, after having stayed at a Manor she had in those parts seated upon the River Bagrada, as she risen up to go on her journey, she espied the Ring lying at her feet, and wondering at it felt for the girdle of hair in which it was bound, which when she found fast with all its knots, as it had been tied, she guesed the Ring had broke, and so stipped out, but then finding it whole, she interpeted it as a presage of her future recovery, intimated by so strange a Portent and untying her girdle threw both it and the Ring into the River. This they believe not, who do not believe that the Lord Jesus was born of his Mother, her virginal enclosure remaining entire, and that he went in to his Disciples the doors being shut. But let them inquire into this, and as they find it true, let them believe those other. She is an Honourable Lady, nobly descended, nobly matched, dwelling at Carthage: both the place and person so illustrious cannot lie concealed from such as make enquiry. Nay the very Martyr at whose entreaty she was restored, did believe in the Son of the Perpetual Virgin, in him that entered in to his Disciples the doors being shut did he believe: lastly, for which end all this is mentioned by us, in him who ascended into heaven in the flesh wherein he risen, did he believe: and therefore were such strange things effected by him, because for this Faith he laid down his life. So that even now adays Miracles are wrought: the same God working them by whom & how he pleases, who did those we read of: but neither are they so generally remarked, nor are they so riveted into the memory by often reading and repeating them, as not at all to be forgot. For evenwhere that care is taken, which we have have begun of late, to read the Testimonies of such as have found benefit, unto the Assembly, yet they that are present hear it but once, and they are not many, so that neither such as were by within a few days remember what they heard, & scarce any one of them can be found, who will relate what which himself heard to another, whom he knows was not there. There is on Miracle wrought among us, not greater than those I have named, but yet so notorious and famed, that I believe there is not one in Hippo but hath either See more particulars of this Miracle related in Serm. de divers. 31, 32, 33. seen or heard thereof, not one that ever can forget it. There were seven Brothers, and three Sisters, ten in all; Citizens of no mean rank in Caesarea of Cappadocia, who upon the Curses of their Mother, at that time left desolate by the late death of their Father, and highly resenting some distaste they had given her, were seized by the Divine Vengeance with such a dreadful punishment that they all fell into a horrible shaking and trembling of their joints; in which dismal plight, not enduring to live under the eye of their Neighbours, they turned Vagrants about the world, whithersoever each one listed, as far as the Roman confines reached. Of these two, a Brother and Sister, Paul & Palladia came to us, by this time known to most places through their sad and sore calamity. Hither they came some fifteen days before Easter, resorting daily to Church, and to the Memorial of the Glorious S. Steven, there offering up their Prayers, that at length God would be appeased toward them, and restore them to their former health. So that both here and where ever they came, they were objects of wonder and compassion to the whole City, those who had seen them in other places, and understood the reason of that trembling in them, telling it to others still as occasion served. Well, Easter came, and a huge throng of people being assembled in the Morning, as the Young man was at his Prayers, holding with his hand the Bars of that Sacred place which enclosed the Martyr's Relics, on a sudden down he falls & lay like one asleep, yet shook not, as he used to do when he slept formerly; they that were present astonished hereat, part of them surprised with fear, part with grief, some would have lifted him up, others withstood them, alleging it was better to attend the issue. When lo! he risen up, and without the least shaking, for he was recovered, stood looking on the lookers on. What one of all the Spectators could hereupon forbear giving praise to God? the whole Church rang again with shouts of acclamation and Thanksgiving. Then they came running to me where I was sitting ready to come forth: they flocked so fast one upon another, that each last man told for news, that which his fellow had related before him. While I was rejoicing, and giving thanks to God in my heart, in comes he himself, with a many more, falling down at my feet, whom I took up and kissed. So forth we go to the people, with whom the Church was thronged, resounding with Peals of joy, none silent, but all unanimously crying out, God be thanked, God be praised. I salute them and thereupon they shouted louder than before with the same expressions. Silence being made, at last the Lessons appointed were read out of H. Scripture. And I being to preach spoke very briefly, yet suitably to the time and occasion of that extrordinary Joy: leaving them rather to improve in their own thoughts, with how forcible an eloquence God bespoke them in so miraculous a work, than to hear it from me. The man dined with me, and punctually related to me the whole story of his own, his Mothers, and Brothers heavy affliction. Next day after Sermon I promised to recite the day following a Summary of that Relation to the people. Which I performed three days after Easter, causing both the Brother and Sister to stand on the steps of the Choir, whilst the * See this Narrative set down Serm. de diversis 31. Narrative was reading; where I spoke to them from a place somewhat higher. All the people gazed on them, the Man and the Maid: he without any irregular motion standing still, she trembling every joint of her. Those, that looked not on him, saw, in his sister, how great a blessing the Divine mercy had bestowed on him: for they saw what to congratulate in him, what to pray for, for her. Meanwhile, having read the Narration, I bade them go from the view of the people, and began to examine more diligently the cause of such effect; when behold! as I was debating it, more shoutings of new gratulation were heard from the Monument of the Martyr. They that listened to me turning about began to gather thither-ward: for the Maid, when she went down the steps, betook her thither to pray to the Holy Martyr; and no sooner had touched the Bars, but falling along, as though she had been asleep, rose up well. Then, as we were enquiring what the matter was, that they made such joyous outcries, they accompanying her into the Chancel, where we were, bring her cured from the Martyr's Sepulchre. But than arose such Echoes of admiration from either Sex, seconded with tears, as if it never would have ended. She was brought to the same place where a little before she stood trembling; the multitude overjoyed, that she was (like her Brother) recovered; whom even now they were sorry for, that she was so dislike him. And they discerned their goodwill for her already granted, before they could put up their prayers in her behalf. They set up their voices so loud, yet without verbal expressions, to the honour of God, that we were scarce able to endure the noise thereof. And what was there then in the hearts of them that rejoiced thus excessively, save the Faith of Christ, for which Saint Steven shed his blood? a On this Chapter, the Centurists (Cent. 5. cap. 6. coll. 699.) handling the History of Relics, comment thus. [Augustinus de reliquiis Stephani scribit; superstitiosum & magnum concursum multitudinis ad eas in Africam usque factum esse, dementatis populis quibusdam illusionibus, quae pro miraculis habita sunt, libro de Civ. Dei. 22. cap. 8.] How truly this is said, I leave to the judgement of the Reader of this Chapter. To this chapter, urged by Mr. Fisher, Bishop White, (pag. 351.) amongst other things, answereth thus; Because these things were extraordinary, and the credit of divers of them dependeth upon Fame (which is many times uncertain, and S. Augustine himself saith, they are not commended unto us by such weighty authority, as that without all doubt they must needs be credited) they cannot be sufficient grounds or foundations of Catholic Doctrine or practice.] Now that S. Austin saith so, he quotes in the margin these words of his in the beginning of the chapter [Non tanta ea commendat authoritas, ut sine difficultate vel dubitatione credantur.] the sentence in S. Austin entire is thus. [Nam plerunque ibi paucissimi sciunt, ignorantibus caeteris, maximè si magna sit civitas; & quando alibi, aliisque narrantur, non tanta ea commendat authoritas, ut sine difficultate vel dubitatione credantur, quamvis Christianis fidèlibus à fidelibus indicentur.] Here the Father doubts not of the certainty of the Miracles; how could He, when as he instanceth in several, whereof himself was an ey-witness? but complains; that Miracles certainly known by some, yet when related to others, were hardly believed by them. To this chapter, urged by Cardinal Bellarmine in his Apology, Bishop Andrews (in Resp. cap. 12. p. 284.) answereth thus. [Et illa quae legit ibi in capite illo apud Augustinum miracula, videat, an concinnè satis conciliare possit cum Augustino ipso, qui (Epist. 137.) nusquam hic in Africa talia fieri scire se, dixit clero suo & universae plebi Hipponensi: minùs cautè id, si tam frequentia fiebant.] But, for answer to this, I refer the Reader to that passage of the Epistle itself, which follows here, and to the note upon it.— Lastly, in answer to this chapter, Chamier (in Panstrat. 2. Tom. 20. l. 4. c.) hath these words.— De 22. libro de Civ. Dei. cap. 8. possum ex Vive dicere; multum in eo lusisse Sciolorum lasciviam, aur potius superstitiosorum audaciam; sed hoc potius; in eo toto, ne literam quidem esse de invocandis sanctis. Nam quod legas sa piùs, ad memoriam Martyrum, ad Martyrs, orâsse, significat, juxta Martyrum memoriam oratum fuisse Deum; non autem ipsos Martyrs. Nam alioquin quis in Augustino hanc ferret barbariem, Orare ad Martyrs? Thus he. Now first for Vives. Upon those word in the chapter [Aut ut aliquanto homo diutiùs vivat] he hath this note [In hoc capite non dubium, quin multa sint addita, velut declarandi gratia, ab iis, qui omnia magnorum auctorum scripta spurcis suis manibus contaminabant, quorum alia resecabo, alia more meo contentus ero velut digito indicâsse. But observe, that he speaks not this of any matter added; but of some words added or altered velut declarandi gratia, among which he mentions and corrects by a perfecter Co●●●h●se ●ollowing [Quiesus] put by these Scioli sor [di●● iùs]— [oratio] put for [orario]— [quem a daemonio correptum videt] put after pro adolescente [velut declarandi gratia.— [dies quindecim & ecclesiam] put for [dies quindecim ecclesiam] &, being interposed contrary to some perfecter Copies. After which and some others noted by him; Vives saith, fessus jam sum tam minuta annotando, quae non dubito esse a Sciolo quopiam sic mutata, dum putat lucem afferre. But mark; that he censures no further, than as one Copy corrects another; that none of Vives his various readings prejudice, or alter any thing in any one Miracle here: that these variae lectiones happen in other chapters, as well as this: (see his complaint in his Preface to this work.— Mira dictu res quanta in codicibus varietas, ut unusquisque describentium putaret sibi licere, verba arbitratu suo ponere, modò constaret sensus.) Lastly, that whatever Vives blamed, by finding ancient copies differing, is corrected and left out in this Copy to which his notes are affixed, and which I have here translated. Which thing I suppose Chamier well perceived, and therefore saith faintly, ' possum ex Vive dicere '— sed hoc potius.— As for his second Note expounding that passage Orare ad Martyrs, as though it were the same with ad Memoriam Martyrum; saying that St. Augustine could not commit such a barbarism, as to say, Orare ad Martyrs in a proper sense. First, it is certain; that both the Latin Translation of the scriptures, and S. Austin himself elsewhere doth use the like phrase, and that understood properly; as [Orare ad Deum: orare ad Dominum] see 1. Sam. 12. 19 Ora ad Dominum Deum tuum pro servis tuis— and Psal. 5 Quoniam ad te orabo Domine. On which the Father: Dicit: Quoniam ad te orabo Domine id est, Quoniam tantus es ad quem orabo. etc. And secondly the consequents here seem plainly to show that this phrase is to be understood literally, as it is expressed. Because first, else the words [quorum memoria apud nos est] immediately following ad viginti Martyrs would seem useless. Secondly, It is said presently after, that Florentius praying clare vo●e, audiverunt eum adolescentes qui forte aderant irrisores, eumque discedentem exagitantes prosequebantur, quasi a Martyribus quinquagenos folles, unde vestimentum emeret, petivisset. Therefore he did petere a Martyribus, and not only, apud Martyrum memoriam: although he asked only of them not quinquagenos folles in particular, but, ut vestiretur.) And after this the Cook returning the Ring saith (with reference doubtless to Florentius his formerly derided prayers) [Ecce quomodo viginti Martyres te vestierunt!] And see elsewhere this Father clearly mentioning prayer made to deceased saints; In his Book De cura pro mortuis, 4 c. where he saith thus concerning praying for the dead to these Martyrs, near to whose Monuments or Memorials their Bodies are buried.— Dum recolunt ubi sunt posita eorum quos diligunt corpora, eisdem sanctis [Martyribus] illos tanquam Patronis susceptos apud Dominum adjuvandos, orando commendant. Whilst they call to mind, where the bodies of those who are dear unto them are laid, they with their prayers commend them to the same Saints, as it where to Patrons undertaken [by them] to be helped with the Lord. And, in his 33. Sermon de diversis where you may find the like praying to S. Steven in the second Person, in a story related by him at the Cure of the Trembling Youth and his Sister, mentioned before. The story is this, Mulier quaedam amisit in gremio aegrotantem filium, etc. A certain Woman lost her Son a sucking-infant (being a catechumen) sickening in her lap. Whom seeing thus lost and irrecoverably perished, she began more like a Christian, than a mother to bewail him. For she desired not the life of her Son, save in the world to come; and lamented that this was taken away from him, and lost for ever. Yet full of confidence, she took the dead child, and ran to the Memorial of the Blessed Martyr Steven, and began of him to demand her Son, and to say; Holy Martyr, you see I have no comfort left. For I cannot say my son is gone before, whom you know to be lost: for you see the cause why I mourn. Restore my son; that I may have him at the appearance of him that crowned you. Thus and in like expressions when she had prayed with tears, not so much requesting, but (as I said) in a sort demanding him, her Son revived. And because she said, You know wherefore I ask him; God was pleased to discover her true intent. She strait brought him to the Presbyters, he was baptised, sanctified, anointed; hands imposed on him, and all the Sacraments ended, he was taken away again.— Here the form of her prayer runs in the second person Sancte Martyr— Red Filium meum, etc. S. Aug. de Civ. Dei Lib. 22. Cap. 9 That all the Miracles done by the Martyrs in Christ's name bear witness to that Faith, whereby the Martyrs believed in Christ. NOw what do all these Miracles, but confirm this Faith, in which is preached, that Christ risen again in the flesh, and therein ascended into heaven? For, even the Martyrs themselves were Martyrs, that is, Witnesses of this faith; and in giving testimony thereto endured a most cross and malicious world, which they conquered, not by resisting, but by dying. Those died for this faith, who now are able to obtain such things of the Lord, for whose sake they were put to death. Their wonderful patience, suffering for this faith, went before, that the divine power seen in these Miracles might follow after. For if the Resurrection of the flesh to an eternal state either hath not been already fulfilled in Christ, or is not also to be fulfilled in us, as it hath been foretold by Christ, or as foretold also by the Prophets, who foretold of Christ; how is it, that the Martyrs can do such strange things, who were slain for that faith, which affirms such a Resurrection? For whether it be, that God by himself (after that wonderful manner, whereby his Eternity acts in things temporal) works these things; or whether by his Ministers he doth them; Again, in the things he doth by his Ministers, whether he doth some by the Spirits of Martyrs also, as by them, when men yet resiant in a Whence we may collect, they are by God acquainted with our wants, & prayers; at least so far as God makes them instruments of relieving our necessities, or of performing our requests. the body; or effect them all by Angels, whom he invisibly and incorporeally commands; so that the things said to be done by the Martyrs, are caused by their prayers and intercessions, not also by their operations; or whether some things be wrought by one, some by other means; which yet are no way to be comprehended by Mortals; still they all avow this faith, in which is asserted the Resurrection of the flesh to all Eternity. CAP. X. How much fit it is, that the Martyrs should be honoured, who do obtain divers Miracles, that so the true God may be worshipped, than Devils, who do some things, to the end themselves may be thought to be Gods. BUt here perhaps they will say; their Gods likewise did some miracles. It is well yet, that they begin to match their Gods with our dead men. Or will they say that they have Gods too of their dead men, as Hercules, Romulus, & several others, whom they conceive to be admitted into the number of Gods? But we count not the Martyr's Gods; for that we acknowledge the Martyr's God, and ours, to be one and the same. Yet are not the Miracles, reported to be done in their Temples, at all comparable to those wrought by the Memorials of our Martyrs. Yet if any of these works seem like; as Pharaohs Magicians by Moses, so are their Gods vanquished by our Martyrs. Indeed the Devils, out of the height of pride and filthy arrogance, did them, to be thought Gods by them. But the Martyrs do them (or rather God, they either praying or co-operating thereto) for the propagating that faith, whereby we believe, not that they are our Gods, but that they and we have one God. Lastly, they built Temples, erected Altars, appointed Priests, and offered sacrifices to these their gods. But we build no Temples to our Martyrs, as to Gods; but Monuments, as to dead men; whose spirits live with God, Nor do we set up Altars there, whereon to sacrifice to the Martyrs; but we offer sacrifice to the One God, both of the Martyrs, and ours: at which sacrifice, as men of God, who in confessing him overcame the world, they are nominated in their due place and order; ( a [Non tamen a sacerdote qui sacrificat invocantur.] To know what the Father means here by [non invocantur Martyrs;] and so that it no way opposeth the recommending of ourselves to their prayers; you may be pleased to consider two or three other like passages of his— Contra Faust. Manich. lib. 20. cap. 21.— and De Verbis Apostoli 5. Serm. 17. and In Johaunem Tract. 84.— Contra Faustum thus Populus autem etc. But the Christian People resort with religious solemnity to the Memorials of the Martyrs, both to excite an imitation of them and to be sharers in their Merits, and helped by their prayers: yet so, that we sacrifice to none of the Martyrs, but to the God of the Martyrs; although we erect Altars at the Monuments of the Martyrs. For which of the Priests serving at the Altar in the place of the Holy Bodies, ever said at any time We offer unto thee O Peter, Paul, Cyprian? But what is offered, is offered to God (who crowned the Martyrs) at the Memorials of those whom he crowned: that so, from the intimation of the very places themselves, our devotion may rise higher, to the enflaming our affection both to them, whom we may imitate; and toward him, by whose assistance only we may so imitate them. We therefore worship the Martyrs with that worship of love and communion, wherein are honoured, even in this life, holy men of God, whose hearts we perceive prepared unto the like sufferings for the Evangelicall Truth. But those we worship so much the more devoutly, by how much the more securely, after so many hazards now safely passed over: as also we praise them with so much more confident Eulogies, now victors in a more blessed life, than yet conflicting still in this. But we neither worship, nor teach men to worship any but God, with that worship termed in Greek Latria, & which cannot be expressed by one word in Latin, being a service peculiarly due unto the Deity. And seeing offering of sacrifice belongs to this worship (whereby it becomes Idolatry in them that exhibit it to idols) we offer no such thing, at no hand, nor enjoin it to be offered either to any Martyr, or any holy Soul, or Angel; but whosoever falls into this error, is reprehended by our sound doctrine, either that he may be amended, or that he may be avoided. For, the Saints themselves whether Men, or Angels, would not have that given unto them, which they know to be due, of right, to God alone.— And de Verbis Apostoli Serm. 17. Perfectio tamen in hac vita non nulla est, ad quam, etc. Yet some perfection there is also in this life, to which the Holy Martyrs have attained. And therefore Ecclesiastical discipline as the faithful know, showeth, when in such places, the Martyrs are rehearsed at God's Altar, there are no prayers made for them; but for other dead, who are commemorated, prayer is made. For it is an injury, to pray for a Martyr, unto whose prayers we ought to be recommended; for he hath resisted against sin even unto blood, etc. Also Tract. 84. in Joann. 15. 13.— Hoc Beati Martyrs, etc. This [that is, laying down their life] the Blessed Martyrs with an inflamed affection have done whose Memories if we celebrate not in vain, but repair to the Lords Table unto that Feast, wherewith they were even saturated, it is requisite, that what they did, so we likewise should prepare to do the like. For therefore we do not commemorate them at the Holy Table in such manner, as we do others that rest in peace, so as to pray for them; but that they rather might pray for us, that we may follow their steps: inasmuch as they have fulfilled that love then which Our Lord hath said [greater could not be.]— Ideo eos commemoramus (saith he) ut orent ipsi pro nobis.] Therefore the Father conceived the Martyrs to pray for those, that thus commemorated them rather, or more, than for others, who commemorated them not. Else such their commemoration nothing availed, for obtaining the Martyr's prayers: whereas he saith here, commemoramus ut— But then, that the Martyrs might pray for such as commemorated them, more, than for others, they must have some knowledge of such their commemoration.— This shows therefore, 1. that the Father thought, that the Martyrs knew of such commemorations. And again, 2. that such our commemoration of the Martyrs, that they might pray for us, well consisted with our not sacrificing, or offering to them; or religiously invocating them as deities. And this needeth not to seem strange in a Father whenas Charity grants, that, Invocatio civilis is lawfully used to a creature. Chamier de cultu Creaturarum 2. Tom. 20. l. 6. c. Quo minus rogentur, hoc est, invocentur promiscue & civiliter, nihil obstat. ) yet are they not invocated by the Priest that sacrificeth. For he sacrificeth to God. not them, although at their Monuments: because he is God's, not their, Priest. And the sacrifice itself is the Body of Christ; which is not offered to them, because they themselves also are it. Which of the two therefore should we rather believe working Miracles? Those, who would have themselves reputed for Gods, by them for whom they do those things? or those, who do all that is done, that men may believe in God, which also Christ is? Those, who would have their religious rites to be their crimes, or those who would not so much as have their virtues and praises to be our service of them; but, what ever is truly spoken in their praise, all tend to his glory, in whom they are praised? For, in the Lord are their souls praised. Let us therefore credit them, both speaking truth, and working wonders. And, of that Truth this is the main, that Christ risen from the dead; and shown the immortality of the Resurrection, in his own flesh first; of which he promised, either in the beginning of the new world, or in the end of this, to make us partakers. S. Aug. Epist. 137. The Argument of the whole Epistle is this. BOniface, a Priest of S. Augustine's Co-fraternity, complained of another young man, of the same society, one of a suspected fame, that he had solicited him, to commit uncleaness with him. Who by the Father questioned concerning it, by recrimination charged Boniface with the same. When the matter could on no side be proved, or confuted, by any evident argument; Upon S. Augustine's motion and request, both of them engage to repair to the Monument of the Martyr Felix, at Nola in Italy, over against Hippo in Africa, that by some Miracle there, this matter might come to be decided. The Father was very careful, that so scandalous a business should be managed with great secrecy. But it notwithstanding spreading abroad, he writes this exhortatory Epistle to the Clergy and the rest of the people of Hippo; not to judge rashly nor yet for the offences of a few, either to desist from holiness or suspect evil of others: showing that there never was any society of men so happy, but some wickedness might get into it. CVm enim ista me causa diu cruciasset etc.] This cause having long perplexed me, so that I could not discover, which way one of the two might be convicted, although I rather inclined to believe the Presbyter etc.— I made choice of a middle way; that both of them, by joint agreement, should bind themselves, that they would take a journey to a holy place, where the more dreadful works of God might more easily discover every one's conscience that was unsound, and either by some fear, or punishment, force them to a confession. Indeed God is every where, and he contained or included in no place who made all things; and he is by true worshippers to be worshipped in spirit and in truth; that so, hearing in secret, he may also in secret justify and crown them. But, as touching those things which are visibly made known to men, who can search out his counsel, why these Miracles are wrought in some places, not wrought in others? For the holiness of the place is very well known to many where the Body of the Blessed Felix of Nola was buried, whither I willed them to go, for that whatever was miraculously mad● manifest upon either of them there, might from thence be more readily, and * Nola in Italy being over against Hippo in Africa. more faithfully transmitted in writing to us. For, at Milan, I myself knew at the Memorial of the Saints, (where the very devils make strange and terrible confessions) a certain Thief, who came thither purposely to deceive one, by for swearing himself, that was compelled to acknowledge the theft, and restore what he had taken away. And is not Africa full of the bodies of Holy Martyrs? (a) And yet we know such things done not where hereabouts. For, as the Apostle saith, Non omnes etc. 1. Cor. 12. All Saints have not gifts of healing, nor have all the discerning of Spirits, so neither would he, who divides his own to every one, as he will, have these things done at all Memorials of the Saints, Wherefore being unwilling, that this very great grief of my heart should come to your knowledge, lest I should trouble you, by grieving you to much, and to little purpose, God would perhaps therefore not conceal it from you, that you, together with us, might give yourselves to prayer; that so, what himself knows in this matter, but we cannot know, he, of his goodness, may be pleased to manifest unto us. etc. a Here Bishop Andrews, as I said, (Resp. ad Apol. Bellarm. c. 12.) would make the matter of this Epistle someway to oppose & evacuate the eighth chapter of the 22th. Book de Civ. Dei: because the Father here saith, nusquam hîc in Africa, talia fieri, scire se; that he knew no such miracles done in Africa. But the Father (without making him to contradict himself) may first either be understood by [talia] not to exclude all miracles in general, and absolutely, but only those of such a kind; that is, a miraculous deciding of matters of controversy, & forcing the delinquent to confess his fault; as these expressions of his seem to imply; Ubi terribiliora opera Dei non sanam cujusque conscientiam facilius aperirent: i. e. ‛ where the more terrible works of God ' discovered every one's unsound conscience. And, novimus furem quendam, etc. his story of a thief forced to confess his theft before such a Monument. And that which follows after [talia] Non omnes Sancti, etc. All Saints have not gifts of healings nor all the discerning of Spirits: so neither would he have these things done at all Memorials, who divides to every one according as he will. These things, that is, both these things; both healing, and discerning of Spirits. Or Secondly if he speak here of all Miracles; and mean these things, in general; yet may that which he saith in Civ. Dei. 8. cap. be true nevertheless: those frequent Miracles he knew to be done at the Martyr's Memorials in Africa (probably) happening after the writing of this Epistle. For in that eighth chapter of the 22th. Book De Civ. Dei (which books were finished not long before his death) he saith; Nondum est autem biennium, etc. ‛ It is not yet two years since this Memorial was set up at Hippo-Regius: and of another Memorial he saith; Quam Possidius illo advexit; Which Possidius (Bishop of Calama, and one of S. Augustine's Colleagues, as he calls himself, in the story which he writ of his Life) brought thither: therefore that of no long standing. But to put all out of doubt, see what the Father saith, concerning this matter, in his Book De vera Relig. cap. 25.— Sed accepimus majores nostros, etc. But we have heard that our Forefathers followed visible Miracles, for they could not do otherwise, in that degree of Faith, whereby men ascend as high as from things temporal to eternal: by whom it is come to pass, that these now are not necessary to their posterity. For seeing the Catholic Church is founded, and diffused through all the World, those Miracles were not suffered to last to our times, lest the mind should always look after things visible, and mankind, by the frequency of them, should i'll, by the Novelty whereof it was at first inflamed. Nor yet are we to doubt, but that they are to be believed, who preaching things whereunto few arrived, could notwithstanding persuade the people to follow them, etc. Upon which words (that he might not be misunderstood in them) the Father thus comments in his Retractations S. Aug. Retract. lib. 1 cap. 13. Item quod dixi, etc. Again whereas I said that those Miracles were not permitted to last to our times; it is true indeed; for they that are now adays baptised do not so receive the Holy Ghost, when hands are laid on them, as to speak in the Languages of all Nations: nor are the impotent at this day cured at the shadow of the preachers of Christ, passing by them; and whatever such like things were then done, which it is apparent, afterward ceased. But what I said is not so to be understood, as that men should believe there were now no miracles wrought in the name of Christ. For at the same time, when I wrote that very Book, I myself knew a blind man in the same City, that recovered his sight at the Bodies of the * Millain-Martyrs, and some others; of which sort so many are, even in these times done, that we can neither know them all, nor yet reckon up those we know. See what the Father saith to the same purpose Retract. 1. lib. 14. cap. Alio loco, cùm miracula commemorassem, etc. In another place [viz, of his Book De utilitate Credendi, 16. cap.] When I had recited the Miracles which the Lord Jesus did, when he was here in the flesh, I added, You will say why are not these things done now? and I answered there, because they would not move us, unless they were wonders: and wonders they would not be, if they were usual. But this I said; because not so great, nor all such, miracles are done now a days; not because none are done also now a days. * Gervasius and Protasius: see S. Aug Confess. 9 lib. 7. cap. S. Aug. De Cura pro Mortuis Cap. 16. HEnce also is that Question solved; After what manner the Martyrs, by the favours granted to such as pray, declare, that they intermeddle in humane affairs, if the dead know not what the living do? For, we have heard it, not by uncertain rumours, but undoubted witnesses, that, when Nola was besieged by the Barbarians, the Blessed Confessor Felix, not only by certain instances of particular favours, but even in the plain view of men, appeared to divers citizens and inhabitants, whom he especially loved. But these things were divine manifestations, differing far from the usual course assigned to the several sorts of creatures. For, because, when our Lord was pleased, water was presently turned into wine, it follows not, that therefore we should not distinguish, what virtue water in the proper order of Elements hath, from what in the rarity, or rather singularity, of that divine operation upon it. Nor, because Lazarus risen again, therefore doth every dead man rise again at pleasure; or therefore are the lifeless roused up by the living, as one asleep is by another that is waking. Therefore the bounds of humane things are of one sort, the effects of the divine power of another: what is done naturally is one thing, what miraculously another: although, both God is assistant to nature, that she may be, and likewise nature not excluded to the being of Miracles. We must not therefore imagine, that any of the dead promiscuously can intermix themselves in the affairs of those alive, because the Martyrs are present at the curing or helping some particular persons: but, we are rather to conceive that, by the divine power it is, that the Martyrs do intermeddle in the affairs of the living; because by their own proper nature the dead cannot do so. Although this Question transcend the reach of my understanding; How the Martyrs help those, who certainly are helped by them; whether they are personally present at the same time, in so divers, and so far distant, places; either where their Memorials are, or wherever, besides at their Memorials, they are known to be present: or whether (they being removed from all commerce with men, into a place suitable to their merits, yet praying in general for the needs of their suppliants, as we pray for the dead, whom we are no way present to, nor know, either where they are, or what they do) Almighty God, who is every where present, neither fastened to us, nor yet divided from us, hearing the Martyr's prayers, by the ministry of Angels; dispersed from all places, doth dispense these comforts unto men, for whom he judgeth them needful in the miseries of this life; and thereby out of his wonderful and unspeakable power and goodness, sets forth the Merits of his Martyrs, where, when, and how, himself pleaseth: but, especially, at their Memorials: for that he knows this expedient for us, for the building and propagating of the faith of Christ, for the confession of which the Martyrs suffered, &c, This is a thing much higher, than to be reached by me, deeper and obscurer, than that I can fathom; and therefore which of the two it be, or whether haply it be both of them, i. e. that sometimes these things are done by the very presence of the Martyrs; sometime again by Angels personating the Martyrs, I dare not determine, I had rather inquire of such as know them; for there are some that know them, as some that think they do, but do not; for they are the gifts of God, giving some to some men, others to others, as the Apostle saith. 1. Cor. 12. The manifestation of the Spirit is given to every one, to profit withal: to one, saith he, is given by the Spirit, the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge, according to the same Spirit; to another Faith in the same Spirit; to another the gift of healings in one Spirit; to another working of Miracles; to another Prophecy; to another discerning of Spirits; to another kinds of tongues; to another the interpretation of tongues. And all these worketh one and the same Spirit, dividing to every one his own, as he pleaseth. Of all these spiritual gifts, which the Apostle reckons up, whosoever hath the discerning of Spirits, knoweth these things as they are to be known. CHAP. XVII. ANd such a one ('tis probable) was John the Monk, whom Theodosius the Elder being Emperor consulted about the event of the Civil war: for he had the gift of Prophecy. For I doubt not, but that, as every particular man may have each of those gifts particularly, so might some one have many. This John, when a certain Woman, that was very devout, impatiently desired to see him, and (he much relucting, because to women he permitted no such thing) much importuned him by her husband for such a favour; Go, saith he, tell your wife, she shall see me at night, but in her sleep: as it came to pass. When he instructed her in all things fitting to a Believer in a married condition. She, when she awaked, told her husband, that she had seen such a man of God, as he well knew him to be; and what she had heard from him. This a grave and Noble Person, most worthy to be credited, and who had it from the parties themselves, told me. But if I should ever have seen that Holy Monk, since, as report goes of him, he was most patiented in hearing questions, and most prudent in answering them; I would have asked him what is pertinent to this Question: Whether he himself came to that woman in her sleep, that is, his spirit in the shape of his body, as we dream of ourselves in the shape of our bodies; on, whether this vision befell the woman in her sleep (he being busy about something else, or in his sleep dreaming of something else) either by some Angel, or some other way; and whether he did foreknow, that what he foretold, would come to pass, by the Spirit of Prophecy revealing it to him. For, were he by her as she was in her sleep, it must be (doubtless) by wonderful grace and privilege, not nature; and by especial favour of God, not by any power of his own. But if she saw him in her sleep, he doing something else, or being asleep, and taken up with other visions; then, some such thing it was, as that we read of in the Acts of the Apostles, Act. 9 where the Lord Jesus speaks to Ananias of Saul, and tells him, that Saul saw Ananias coming to him; whereas Ananias himself knew nothing of it. That man of God would inform me of every of these particulars: of whom I would further inquire concerning the Martyrs; whether they present themselves, to such as in their sleep, or any other way behold them, in what shape soever they please: and especially at such times, when the Devils in the possessed do confess that they are tormented by them, beseeching them to spare them: or, whether by God's appointment these things are done by the Angelical powers in honour and commendation of the Saints for the benefit of men, they themselves remaining in perfect rest, attending on other far better visions apart from us, and praying for us. (For at Milan, at the Monument of the H. Martyrs Protasius and Gervasius; the Devils did expressly and by name, amongst some others that were already dead, whom they in like manner mentioned, confess also Fishop Ambrose then living, and besought him, that he would spare them, he being otherwise employed, and altogether ignorant when this was done.) Or whether sometimes these things are done by the presence of the Martyrs, othertimes of Angels; and whether these two can be distinguished by us, or by what signs: and whether any man can discern and judge of these things, except See more concerning this Holy man in Palladius his Historia Lausiaca. vita 43. he that hath that Gift from the Spirit of God, which divides things proper to every one as he pleaseth. All these things, I suppose that Holy man John would have discoursed to me according to my desire. etc. [To these may be added the story which the Father relates in the 12. cap. of the same book, to confirm that such apparitions may be made, and the real effects, which God pleaseth, be produced upon men (whether by the Ministry of Angels, or by some other unknown way) in the absence, and without the knowledge, of the persons which are in such visions represented to them. So that it is not necessary to affirm, the deceased Saints or Martyrs to be every where or any where at all present or operative, where their images or representations appear, and where cures are really wrought, or where secret or future things are truly revealed or foretold, seemingly, by them. The Story he there relates is this.] Quidam Curma nomine etc.— A certain man, by name Curma, a mean officer of the Corporation of Tullia, near to Hippo, scarce a Duum-vir of the place, and a plain rustic, falling sick and deprived of his senses, lay some days for dead: only some little breath was in his nostrils, which with putting to one's hand was hardly perceived, and, being an argument of one yet alive, suffered him not to be buried. He moved not a joint, took no sustenance, discerned nothing by his eyes, or any other sense, howsoever tortured. Yet mean while he saw many things as we do in sleep which (after many days as it were awaking) he related. And first as soon as he opened his eyes, let some body go (saith he) to Curma the Smith's house, and see what's there adoing. Wither when one went, he was found dead at the same instant that this man was restored to his senses, and in a manner revived from death. Then he told them who were with him, observing him; that, the Smith was commanded to be presented, when he was released, and that he heard there, whence he returned, that, not Curma the Officer, but Curma the Smith, was commanded to be brought to those places of the dead. in these visions, as it were in dreams, he was also amongst the dead, whom (according to the difference of their merits) he saw to be differently treated. he also knew some, [there] whom he had known alive. And haply I should have believed that these had been really the Dead whom he saw, had not he seen, in those his (as I may call them) dreams, some, who at this day are yet alive, to wit, certain Clergymen of his own country: from one of whom (a Priest) he was directed to go and be baptised by me at Hippo, which thing he said also seemed to him to have been done. In that vision therefore he saw the Presbyter, Clergy, myself, not yet dead, wherein he saw those also dead. Why therefore may not he be thought to have seen them, as us; namely, both, absent, and ignorant [the while]; and and so not themselves, but their, as also the place's, similitudes? For he saw the place also where the Priest with the Clergy was, and Hippo, where (as seemed) he was by me baptised. In which places he really was not, when as he seemed to himself to be there. For he knew not what was done there at that time; which doubtless he would have known, had he been there indeed. Lastly after divers things he saw, he related how he was brought into Paradise, and that it was said to him, as he was released to return to his friends, Go, be baptised, if you will enter into this place of the Blessed. Then, being advertised that he should be baptised by me, he answered, that was already done. To whom he that spoke with him replied, Go, be baptised indeed; for that you saw was but in a vision. Afterwards he recovered, went to Hippo: and Easter now nigh, gave in his name among other Competentes, alike unknown to me, as divers others; nor did he regard to discover this vision, either to me, or to any of our Clergy. He was baptised, & the holidays ended, he returned home. And two years after or more, I came to know all this, First by a friend of his and mine at my table, discoursing of some such things. Afterward I procured that himself in person should relate this to me: his own townsmen, men of credit attesting, both concerning his strange sickness, how he lay for dead many days together, and concerning that other Curma, the Smith above mentioned; as also concerning all those other things, he told to me, which they remembered & averred they had then heard from him. Wherefore, as he saw his own Baptism, and myself, and Hippo, and the Church, and Font, not in the things themselves, but in certain Similitudes thereof; and some others then living, the living themselves not knowing it. Why might not he see those dead also, the dead, themselves not knowing it? Why may not we think these to be Angelical operations by the dispensation of the providence of God using well both good and evil spirits according to the inscrutable depth of his own judgements? whether hereby, men's minds be instructed, or deluded; whether comforted or terrified; as to every one either mercy is to be exhibited, or punishment inflicted, by him, to whom Psal. 101. 1. (not without cause) the Church sings Mercy and judgement. Let every man, as he pleaseth, interpret what I say. A RELATION OF SUNDRY MIRACLES WROUGHT AT THE MONASTERY OF port-royal, IN PARIS. Ann. Dom. 1656. Translated out of the French Copy Printed at PARIS. 1656. Mat. 9 21. For she said within herself; if I may but touch his Garment, I shall be safe— and Jesus said. Daughter, have a good heart thy faith hath made thee, safe. And the Woman became whole from that hour. 2 King. 31. 21. And when the man touched the bones of Elisha, he revived, and stood upon his feet. Act. 19 12. And from Paul's body were brought napkins or handkerchefs upon the sick, and the diseases departed from them, and the wicked Spirits went out. Act. 5. 15. They brought forth the Sick into the streets that at the least the shadow of Peter passing by might overshadow some of them, and they all might be delivered from their infirmities. A Relation of sundry Miracles wrought at the Monastery of port-royal in Paris. Anno Dom. 1656. Translated out of the French. AS, of all outward things there is nothing that so much awakens our faith, and strengthens our hope, as Miracles; which render visible to us (as it were) the imvisible presence of God; So all devout persons, that have heard of the marveils, which Jesus Christ hath of late done in the Church of port-royal by a holy thorn of his Crown, have thereby received a sensible consolation, and thought themselves obliged to bless his name for those extraordinary marks of his gracious goodness. Whose blessed name and power that it may be further glorified by many more, to whom perhaps as yet no exact relations of these late wonderful acts of God's Mercy hath hitherto arrived, I have thought good to give the Reader a particular account not of all of them, but some more remarkable; as they have been attested b● many witnesses, and more manifestly provedby reason of the Opposition, which some religious Persons, not so well affected toward the Votaries of that Monastery, made at first to the truth thereof. Monsieur de la Poterie, an Ecclesiastical Person of eminent quality and piety, having enjoyed for some time, amongst the other relics of his chapel, a sacred thorn of the Crown of our Saviour; upon some importunity sent it to the Carmelite Nuns, who had a holy curiosity to see it; and afterwards upon Friday March 24. 1646. sent it also to those of port-royal: where the Religious women received it with very much devotion; and placed it in their choir upon a Table dressed up in form of an Altar; and after they had sung the Anthem of the Holy Crown, all went and kissed it. A young maid (a Pensioner in the Monastery) by name Margaret Perier, who for the space of three years and an half had had a fistula lachrimalis in her eye, came also in her order to kiss it. And the Religious Woman her Mistress, being now more than ever affrighted at the swelling and deformity of her ulcerous eye, was inwardly moved to touch the sore with the Relic; believing that God was sufficiently both able and merciful to heal her, and for the present she minded it no more: But the little girl being retired to her chamber, after a quarter of an hour perceived that her disease was cured; and havaing told it to her companions, it was found indeed that nothing more appeared. There was no more tumour; her eye, which the swelling (having lasted three years) had wasted, and made continually to water, become as dry, as sound, as lively as the other; the spring of that filthy matter, which every quarter of an hour run down by the eye, the nose, the mouth, and immediately before the miracle, had fallen upon her cheek (as she declared in her deposition) was wholly dried up; the bone, which had been rotten and putrified, was restored to its first condition; all the stench, which proceeded from it, and was so insupportable, that by order of the Physicians and Surgeons she was separated from Company, was changed into a breath as sweet as an Infants; her smelling, entirely lost by this filthy corruption falling through her nose; was in the same instant restored; And all the other evil Symptoms which followed thereupon quite disappeared; insomuch that even her complexion, before pale and fallow, became as clear and sprightly as ever it had been. What person of piety could have found fault, had this miracle caused such applauses, acclamations, and transports of spiritual joy as S. Augustine describes, reporting the De Civ. Dei. l. 22. c. 8. cure of that young man, that having been cursed by his Mother suffered a continual trembling in all his members? The Church was filled, saith he, it echoed with those shouts of Rejoicing, Glory to God, Praise to God. But the discipline of that Monastery, which always observes a very strict silence, but doubleth it in the holy time of Lent (for then they have not so much as common conferences amongst themselves as at other times) was the cause, that the news of this miraculous cure was so slowly dispersed among the Nuns themselves: some knew it not till the next day, others not till three days, others not till eight days, and there were amongst them, some, that heard not of it till fifteen days, after. But that which is most remarkable, is, that Mother Prioress, to whom the Relic had been addressed, gave no notice of this matter for a whole week to that Clergyman, her Kinsman, that had sent it her. Indeed after eight days she thought the respect she owed him obliged her to give him account of it by letter: the praecise words where of I think fit rather to insert here, for that Monsieur de la Poterie sending the same Relic a little after to the Religious Vrselines, sent withal the Original of this letter, entreating them to read it, before they honoured that holy thorn; for that the miracle, which they should find attested therein, would make them have it ingreater Veneration. Cousin, I could not hitherto give you thanks for the good opinion you had of us, in favouring us, with the sight of your holy relic. It seems to have been sent by an inspiration from God; who would work by it a wonderful effect, of which I think myself obliged to inform you, although we purposed not to discover it to any person. Then she gives him a brief relation of the miracle, which Monsieur Dalencé a famous Surgeon, came also to make to him the same day; and she ends with these words. See Sr. a certain attestation of your relic, wherewith it hath pleased God to comfort us; and I take it for a praesage, that he will heal our Souls, and sanctify them by the thorns of persecution wherewith we are threatened. By those so modest lines it may be conceived with what disposition this grace was received at port-royal, and the Ecclesiastical person himself approves this modesty, in his answer, returned, Ap. 2. the words whereof are these. Reverend Mother and Cousin, THe Reading of the letter, which you so affectionately writ to me, hath given me so great consolation, that joy drew tears from both my heart and eyes. I cannot but commend the humble reservedness you have, not to publish the miracle, because it is come to pass in your Monastery; to which many, by reason of the malice of the times, have such an aversion; that they will not believe, but that you have divulged it to procure a higher reputation to your house, or for some other interests, which these men frame to themselves according to their own humour and fancy. But for my part, I conceive myself obliged to make it known, discreetly, upon occasion; lest I should do contrary to what the Angel in Tobit teacheth us: It is good to keep Tob. 12. 7. close the secret of a King, but it is honourable to reveal the works of God. And by so doing, it may be, that those who hear of so apparent a miracle in your house, not without a particular operation of divine providence, will abate the aversion they bear to it, and take compassion of the persecution you suffer without cause. I doubt not, but our Lord will sanctify your Souls by these persecutions, and I beseech him from the bottom of my heart that he will be pleased to strengthen you to support them. So that port-royal hath not been by any remonstrance or writing the first publisher of this so extraordinary and astonishing a miracle. The first report of it came not from the Religious women; who believed, that they ought to admire this mighty work of God in private, and in silence, as they behaved themselves fifteen years ago on a like occasion. But as God inspired into his servants the desire of hiding from the eyes of men the graces they receive from him; so doth he often make them appear more gloriously by other means. As on this occasion he would that this miracle should be known to all Paris, and believed of all the Court, notwithstanding that the Religious women contributed nothing to the publishing of it. The Physicians and Surgeons being touched with so great a wonder held themselves bound in conscience to tell it to all the world; that glory might be given to him, who had let them see so adorable a touch of his Almighty hand upon the wholly disfigured eye and face of that little girl. So did also Monsieur Perier, her father, a Counsellor of the Court of Aids at Clermont in Auvergne; from whence he had been sent for (by a letter writ March 24. four hours before the miracle happened) to come and assist at the application of a cautery to the eye of his Daughter, which Monsieur Dalencé was to make assoon as he should be arrived. And he was so surprised to find her perfectly and miraculously cured, when he saw her at port-royal, Ap. 5. that he thought himself obliged in gratitude to God, to call together the Physicians and Surgeons, who all gave their attestation to it in writing upon good friday. Then did he join his voice with theirs, and imitated the zeal of Mar. 44, 45. him in the Gospel, who published every where the favours he had received from Jesus Christ, not withstanding that Jesus Christ himself forbade him. In the mean while, not all the certainty of so wonderful a work, nor all the aedification that it caused in the Church, could hinder some persons in the Church itself from dissembling that they were scandalised at it. That which the Heretics could not do without openly discovering their an imosity against the Spouse of Christ, hath been done by Catholics. For five month's space have they laboured to deface the truth of this miracle out of the minds of the people by the many false reports they have every where divulged. First they said, it was a cheating and supposititious business, and that the eldest Sister of the sick girl was showed instead of the other; which caused both the Sisters to be showed together to Monsieur the Promoter, and many others. Afterward they gave out that her malady was returned, and that she was more afflicted with it then ever: this caused Monsieur Dalencé, who had seen her both sick and well to come to port-royal accompanied with a Physician to a Prince of the blood, to convince him of the falsenese of this report; as he was by his own eyes. Lastly they said, that the ulcer of the eye was indeed perfectly cured, but that the malign humour which caused it, was fallen down upon the Nobler parts; and had brought the Patient to the last gasp. Which report obliged Monsieur Guillard the Surgeon, who had seen her both sick and healed, and had attested the miracle under his hand, to come to see her in July 1656, where he found her as sound and well as she was the very first day. And afterward Monsieur Helix chief Surgeon to the King, that had seen her in April, returned August eighth, and having found her cure as perfect and admirable as it seemed to him the time before, declared under his hand; That he was bound to confess that God alone had the power to produce an effect so sudden and extraordinary. Besides; this miracle was witnessed by the solemn attestation of public persons such are the Physicians and Surgeons who had given it under their hands; and by the juridical depositions of twenty five, all unblamable witnesses; which Monsiegnour the Bishop of Toul drew up at the request of Monsieur the Promoter; in which he laboured (as himself testified) with an extraordinary care; and which he hath now finished, and signed with his hand; an● by his sentence would have confirmed it long ago, had he continued to govern the Archbishopric of Paris; seeing (as himself said) he had writ both to Rome and the Court, that the truth of the miracle could by no means be doubted of. Monsieur de Hodencq Doctor of Sorbone, Rector and Archpriest of St. Severins Church, and Vicar general of Monsignour the Cardinal of Retz, Archbishop of Paris, having taken for his Counsel five other Doctors of Sorbonne; and following the informations made by Monsieur the Bishop of Toul, and the conclusions of Monsieur the Promoter, declared by his sentence of Oct. twenty second, that a cure so sudden, so perfect, of so great a malady, witnessed by so many, Physicians and Surgeons, and happening so suddenly after the touching of a holy thorn of the Crown of our Lord, could be no other than an extraordinary work of the omnipotency of God. He ordained also that the Friday following a solemn Mass of thanksgiving should be said in the Monastery of port-royal: (the which himself in person celebrated) and that this Miracle should be published throughout Paris; and the rest of the Dioecese, that all the people might glorify God for it. After this first miracle wrought at port-royal; this Sacred Relic was returned to its ancient owner, Monsieur de lâ Poterie; who kept it in his Chapel many days, and many persons upon it resorted thither to seek some relief of their sicknesses and infirmities. But it pleased God to work no miracle thereby in his house (as neither all the while it had been in many other places, and particularly amongst those Religious women, so much honoured for their piety, the Carmelites and Ursulines, who by their reputation could have added more splendour to such miracles; and have made them been received with the applause of all the World. But he would not do any there, perhaps because they having no enemies that persecuted and defamed them, had no need (as some of themselves said) that he should work a miracle to testify that God was amongst them, seeing there was none that made question of it). Whereupon this Servant of God Monsieur de la Poterie seeing himself oppressed by the great number of those that came to his house, and troubled his retirement and rest, thought, that seeing God had wrought no miracle by that holy thorn, save only at port-royal, that there it was, where he was pleased it should remain. This only motive of faith and piety made him resolve to send it thither again. The relic was no sooner returned to port-royal but God began to work by it new miracles. This holy Ark of the Covenant brought prosperity and blessing into that house, because God would have it so, as at another time 2 Sam. 6. 12. the Ark of the Covenant brought them into the house of a pious Israelite. I will recite here some of these miracles. A Religious woman of quality of the Maison-Dien of Vernon, by name Sister Margaret Carré de Mercay, Sister to Monsieur Mercay an attendant of the Queen of England, and Niece to the Commander Mercay. having for almost two years' space been unable to walk but with very great difficulty, either leaning upon another or holding by a staff, by reason of a certain Palsy fallen upon her legs; for which she had in vain tried many medicines, and had gone out of her Monastery to take the waters of Roven by advice of the Physicians and yet without effect; was at last sent to Paris with another of her companions; where her faith carrying her to have recourse to God rather than humane remedies, the unsuccesfulness whereof she had so long tried, she caused herself to be carried to port-royal, there to reverence the holy thorn and to communicate: which having done, she felt such a benummedness in her legs, that she was afraid she should not be able to arise from her place; but her faith and devotion prompting her to kiss the holy Relic once more, instantly she perceived the desired success, Our lame woman is returned very sound, she walked a league on foot as she came back. God hath done her a signal favour in working a miracle upon her. She hopes to acknowledge it by her faithfulness to his service. Verno ● July 22. 1656. and found herself as able to walk, and go up and down, as she was before her sickness: insomuch that a few days after, returning to her Monastery she walked near a league on foot, without any inconvenience: as Madam de Lectier her Prioress writ shortly after to Monsieur Malet, at whose house the two Religious women sojourned during their stay at Paris. And since that the same Prioress hath sent her attestation together with those of the Physician and Surgeon. Madam Durand wife of Monsieur Durand and Attorney of the Court, (besides other infirmitys●) having had for two years and ten months a continual vomiting, casting up whatever sort of nourishment she took, caused herself to becarryed to Port-Royall ●● demand of God by the touch of the holy thorn, the cure of this vomiting. And July the fifteenth having honoured and kissed it, she obtained this so perfectly, that finding a change in herself, which persuaded her that she was cured, she presently took some sustenance in the very Monastery; and though she could not retain what she had taken at home in the morning, yet this she kept without pain; and she hath done ever since without either vomiting or swooning. Divers other persons, who were too sick to be carried to port-royal, or too far distant, or too weak to undertake the journey, made use of such linens as had touched the holy Relic, and having applied these to their bodies for the space of nine days, in which prayers were made in their behalf at port-royal, have been c●red to the admiration of all men. One of these persons is a little girl of thirteen years old, called Angelica Daughter of Monsieur Portelot an Attorney of the Court; the diversity of whose maladies were so strange and uncouth, that no remedies of Physic could do her good, for the space of almost four years. She was six months together troubled with a vomiting, afterwards with a fever, (which never left her) with terrible convulsions, and a dislocation of two vertebres of the backbone; which hindered her from sitting, and forced her to lie continually all along, with her head lower than her feet; for in all other postures she suffered extreem pains, and cried grievously. So that once carrying her to our Ladies of virtues they were forced to bear her ●aid all along upon a small quilt in a basket. After all, not finding any manner of comfort; the report of the miracles done at Port Royal by the holy thorn persuaded her mother to procure to be said for her the nine-dayes prayers, which gave the sick person a great confidence of being cured. the last of the nine days, which was Wednesday July the fifth, her mother brought her such linens as had touched the holy thorn, and the sick party putting them on her her, after half an hour, felt a great commotion all her body over; the convulsion fits, which ordinarily seized her five or six times a day, and thrice that very day with very great torment, wholly ceased: her fever left her; and the vertebres returned to their place: she sat up, which she could not do for the space of three years and a half before; she risen up, walked about the Chamber; kneeled down to give thanks to God; and two days after went to port-royal, being perfectly well, and so continuing ever since▪ The report of which cure hath drawn many persons of quality to her father's house, which have been spectators and witnesses of this wonder. A Religious woman of the Monastery of the Ursulines of Noyers in Burgundy, called Sister Claudia Maria of S. Joseph, who for more than two years had been hectical and paralytical, so that her feet were turned upwards, and her knees, as she sat, trembled continually, was brought into the church the last of the nine dayes-prayers which were said for her: there she heard Mass sitting, and putting upon her legs the linen which had touched the holy thorn, she entreated that the passion of our Lord might be read aloud; and when the Sister that read it came to his crowning with thorns, and pronounced the words hail King of the Jews, she lifted up her heart to God, praying him to give her grace to worship him with another sort of Spirit than the Jews did; since she acknowledged him her God, her King and her Father, from whom she expected the assistance she stood in need of. Presently after she felt a secret divine virtue spread itself all through her legs, which restored her feet to their natural place, and so strengthened her knees that in the instant she risen up, and walking alone to the grate she kneeled down to worship Jesus Christ, who had granted her request. Her Fever also, her continual vomiting, and all other her maladies suddenly vanished, the unexpectedness of so great a miracle caused the Sisters to cry out for joy. She heard a whole Mass upon her knees; and the Clergy and Magistrates coming to the Church upon the report of the miracle, there was sung the Te Deum; and all the while, she, that for two years' space had been always carried to Church, stood upright; and ever since hath found herself in so good and perfect health, that the whole Monastery in which were fifty five Religious women drew up an attestation signed by them all, and sent it to that Ecclesiastical person, who had said Mass for them at port-royal and sent them the linens. A Religious Vrsuline of Pontoyse, called Sister Mary of the Assumption, had for eight month's space been so extremely tormented with such a violent and continual pain of her hea●; that she had no rest day nor night, no ease by any remedies, though they had opened her head, to the skull; at length hearing of the wonders done by God at port-royal, she sent certain linens to touch the holy thorn, and applied them Aug. the seventeenth the first day of the nine day's prayers for her. And from that day she perceived so notable a diminution of her headache, that the last day, which was Aug. the twenty fifth. All the community gave thanks to God for it with her, and she herself tuned the Te Deum which was sung upon that occasion. And the Nuns sent to Mother Abbess of port-royal an attestation of this miraculous cure, signed by all those in Office within the Monastery; and together with it the testimony of two Physicians and one Surgeon, who declared that the Relation given by the religious women is according to truth; and that having applied remedies according to their art without the desired success & comfort of the Patient, they see and judge that her cure rather proceeded from heaven then their medicines, and think it to be perfectly miraculous. These testimonials bear date, Sept. 14. Madam D' Espinay, wife of Monsieur D' Espinay Clerk of the Controll-generall of the Finances relateth, that of her three youngest children, which were three daughters, the first living till five years and a half old, the second till eighteen months, could never set one foot before another to go, and died in this weakness: The third, being in the same condition at the age of seventeen months, had moreover a great flux and vomiting which endangered her life: therefore in the month of August One thousand six hundred fifty six she sent to Cachan near Paris, where the child was at nurse, some linens which had touched the holy thorn of port-royal, & caused a Mass to be said for her in the Church of the Monastery: assoon as her nurse had put these linens upon her, she fell asleep, and awaked without fever and flux; which news brought her mother to see her, who was astonished to find, that her child was no● only cured of her diseases, but that she began also to walk; and that a few days after being holden only by a list she went as well as any child of that age could do; and doth still continue so to the great astonishment of all the Neighbourhood. A Religious-woman of the Abbay of Thresor, of the order of Saint Bernard, daughter to Monsieur Poterie Counsellor of State, had been sick seven months of a continual fever, with pains of her head and stomach; all the remedies of physic not doing her any good, she writ in the beginning of September to Monsieur Poterie, the Ecclesiastical person, her uncle, entreating him to send her some thing which had touched the holy thorn, as also to procure the prayers of nine-days to be said for her by the Religious-women of Port Royal; and send her word, what day they began, and the hour when the Mass for her was to be said, to the intent that the same might be done at the same time at Tresor. Monsieur Poterie writ to her again, that they would begin Sept. eleventh and that she should not put on the linens he sent her, which had touched the holy thorn, till the last day of the nine. The sick person observing this order found no ease all the first eight days, but on the contrary her fever notably increased, and she found herself so ill the morning of the ninth day, that desiring to receive the communion, and endeavouring to do it kneeling by her bedside, she was not able. After the communion she applied the linens to her head, and right side; and, as we see in the Gospel, that some of those, whom our Lord would heal, were more violently tormented before their perfect cure, so she felt her pains and fever augmented; but falling asleep in the violence of her fit, she awaked after seven hours perfectly recovered; she risen up, put on her , walked, went down into the Church all alone, where the sisters (which were then in the choir) were so astonished at that sudden & wonderful cure, that to testify their thankfulness to God, they took out of their sacristie another holy thorn, which is kept in this Monastery, which the person that was cured carried in a procession made by all Religious-women after high Mass: presently after she went to speak with Monsieur the Abbot of Lauson, Canon of our Lady's Church (who was at that time in the Abbey, where three of his sisters are Religious-women) to whom she said, that she was perfectly cured, & entreated him to tell at Paris, whither he was then returning, that she attributed her recovery to the linens which had touched the holy thorn at port-royal, and to the prayers of those good Religious-women. Afterwards she writ as much to her uncle Monsieur de la Poterie, adding; that she had from the day following observed their due fasting, which she had not done before since the first day of that year; and, that in her prayer she felt herself moved to entreat him to send a torch to port-royal to burn before the holy thorn, and to recommend her to the prayers of the Religious women, that they might obtain for her the health of her soul, as well as that of her body These are her very words. She also sent the attestation of the Physician that had her in cure all the time of her sickness; who acknowledgeth a cure so sudden and so perfect could not be performed either by any motion of Nature, or help of his Medicines. I will set down two other very remarkable ones, the first on the person of a Religious-woman of one Lady at Troy's, as it is related in the letter following of Madam her Abbess, dated Octob the fifteenth, One thousand six hundred fifty six to the Reverend Father Sena●lt of the Oratory, Superior of the house of St. Magloire. Reverend Father I most humbly beg your holy benediction. SEeing that they at port-royal desire to know the truth of the miracle, which hath been wrought in our Monastery in the behalf of one of our sisters, you must know; that this sister from Christmas until the feast of the holy Sacrament, had one of her eyes that watered continually, and gave her very much pain, from that time it came to be a kind of an ulcer, which purged very much matter, and smelled so ill, that they who dressed her, were much troubled to endure the stench, as well as she the pain she felt. There was another of our sisters, who had had a great desire to have some thing which had touched the holy thorn, and so there was some thing begged for her of my sister du Plessis; which being sent I imparted some of it to the sister that had the sore eye, and all the come munity being assembled said the Anthem, which was sent us, nine days together. In the three first days the pain absolutely ceased; the three next her eye watered a little; and the last three it was strengthened, and grew so well as if it had never been in that miserable condition Here is the daughter of Monsieur Grassin the Councillor, who saw her, and was extremely troubled for her, and is ready to attest the cure as well as the greatest part of our community, who saw her in that great affliction. I should not have failed to have made it sooner known to Port Royal, had it not been that I had writ it to my si●ter Du Plessis, and that I had thought she would have communicated it to them- Our Physician also is ready to avow, that he acknowledgeth this cure to be miraculous. I am in Jesus Christ and his holy Mother. Your etc. Claudia de Jesus. The other miracle is yet later, and mingled with stranger accidents, A Religious-women of the Congregation of our Lady in the Monastery of Provins was sick about three years of a dropsy, which swollen her belly, legs and feet so prodigiously, that she could not lie down at all, but at first sat up in her bed upon pillows, and afterwards she sat always in a chair. This disease was accompanied also with such strange shrinking of her sinews, that her knees were sometimes drawn up as high as her head; and moreover she was paralytical of her legs and feet, not having any motion in those members; although they were so sensible that they could not be touched without great pain to her; besides all these, she had a violent fever. Monseignour the Archbishop of Sens saw her in this condition at his visitation of this Monastery. Monsieur Prevost Physician to the house having used in vain all sorts of remedies, and consulted the ablest Physicians of Paris, judged her disease absolutely incurable. This was the condition of that Religious-woman as we received it from the mouth of Father D' Arsy of the Oratory, Superior of that house; who often saw her, being obliged to go in to confess and communicate her. And by what means it pleased God to deliver her out of it may be perceived by the following letter; which another Priest of the Oratory called Father du Merk Superior of that house, and present at this so miraculous a cure, writ to Father D' Arsy. Oct. twenty eight. 1656. Reverend Father, The wonders that God hath wrought here by the holy thorn strengthen our hope.— Sister Antonietta made her nine-dayes-prayers according to your order, rendering her respects to the holy thorn, and worshpping Christ crucified three times a day, and applying the linen and the image which you sent her. I made her receive the communion at the beginning of her nine days, and yesterday again immediately after your departure. She hath by the space of eight days been extraordinary ill. This morning, as I said Mass, she suffered very great and grievous torment, she applied to her head the image, the little linen, and the prayer, and presently upon it her pains were doubled; upon this she had a thought that God would heal her; and for joy going to lift up her mind to God, she raised herself upon her feet, and walked all alone to the door of the Infirmary, purposing to go and worship our Lord in the holy Sacrament in the Church: but being at the door of her chamber, where she was all alone, she was again set in her chair, not knowing by what means. This happened three times, and every time was she carried back into her chair. She called to mind that she had not obtained leave to go out of the Infirmary: wherefore she sent to call Mother Superioresse and me. At my coming from the altar I went in, and found the poor maid in her chair all overcome with joy, she told me what had happened and that she hoped to go before the Holy Sacrament. We all together worshipped Jesus Christ crucified, and said the prayer of the holy thorn, and read in French the passion of our Lord according to S. John: in which time she felt most grievous pains, which forced her to stretch herself all along upon the ground: where we saw great agitations first in her stomach, next in her belly, which is wholly abated, and no swelling to be seen then in her arms and legs; all her shrunk sinews stretching themselves out at length. And assoon as the passion was wholly read, her pains ceased. As we assayed to lift her up into her chair, she told me she could easily raise herself from the Ground, where she lay all along, which she did; and standing up, said that I had promised to suffer her to go to the Church to worship our Lord. Thither she went, walking with incredible speed; without any pain, upon her bare feet (You know that no body durst touch them, and that she could not endure shoes or stockings) and this in the sight, and to the amazement of more than twelve of the Sisters, the rest being together before the Holy Sacrament. She continued on her knees more than half an hour, with a devotion and fervour able to kindle the like in the most obdurate. I made notice to be given to all the community, who were astonished at so prodigious a miracle. And we all together begun a second nine-dayes-prayer to beg of God a perfect accomplishment. We brought her back walking on her feet into the infirmary where inste add of her chair, we caused her to lie down in bed; You know it is now more than three years, that she could not lie down. I have been since dinner to confess her in bed, and she telleth me, the swelling in her legs beginneth to fall. I hope to morrow to give her the communion at the grate of the choir with the rest, this she desired of me. These are the wonders, which I could not defer to communicate unto you, to the end that you may give thanks to the Author thereof, together with us. Provins. Oct. 28. 1656. By a letter writ since we have notice, that the day following she did receive the communion with the rest at the grate, and three days after she did put on her shoes, which she could not endure before for the space of three years, and went to the end of the Infirmary to pray before a crucifix, where she kneeled half an hour, and grows every day better and better. We make no mention here of several other the like cures, which those that have obtained them either for themselves or their children accounted to be supernatural and divine: as of F Bernard Caignet Prior of St. Vincents of Senlis of the order of Canons Regular of St. Austin; who came Sept. twenty eighth to port-royal to say Moss and give thanks for his recovery. Of Mad. de Mouchery dwelling near St. James' of the Hospital; of a Maid about twenty four years old named Mary Elizabeth Renard, daughter of Mr. Renard of St. Laurences parish: of a tailors boy called Claudius le Roy: of a little child two years and nine months old by name Claudia Beche daughter of Mr. Nicolas Beche in St. Anthony's street: and of many others, whose names are not remembered, who come every day to port-royal to render thanks to God for the favours that they have received. It is sufficient to say, that, if God did not cause his assistance thereto be either perceived or hoped for, there is no humane consideration that could draw so many persons from the other end of the city to come to honour this holy thorn in the Church of port-royal, and to make their prayers there every Friday; for no man enticeth or inviteth them, by any means, nor doth any one seek or propose any other end but the glory of God, in this affair, which is wholly of God. And thisiis it which hath moved Monsieur de la Poterie freely to give that which before he had only deposited: so many extraordinary cures making him conceive that God would have him deprive himself of that treasure of Blessings and graces, notwithstanding the devotion he had to reverence it in his own Chapel amongst the many other holy Relics, and to give it as he hath done, to the Monastery of Port Royal: where Jesus Christ by the wonders he daily worketh, makes it apparent, that there it is that he would have that holy thorn of his Crown to be honoured. Ex R. P. Francisci Coventr. Paralipom. Philosoph. cap. 4. p. 68 REferam ad huc unum miraculum, in patriâ nostrâ paucis abhinc annis, etc. I will relate one miracle more done in my own Country, to the great wonder of the neighbouring inhabitants, but a few years ago, to wit about the year 1640. The process of the business was told the King when at Oxford, which he commanded to be further examined: And it was this. A certain Boy of twelve years Old called John Trelille in the County of Cornwall, not far from the lands end, as they were playing at football after the manner of that country, snatching up the ball ran away with it, whereupon a girl in anger struck him with a stick on the back bone; and so bruised or broke it, that for 16. years after he was forced to go creeping on the ground. In this Condition arrived to the 28th. year of his age, he dreamt, that if he did but wash in S. Maderns well, or in the stream running from it, he should recover his former strength and perfection. This is a place in Cornwall from the remains of ancient devotion, frequented still by Protestants on the Thursdays in May, and especially on the Thursday of Corpus Christi; near to which well is a Chapel dedicated to S. Maderne, where is yet an Altar, and right against it a grassy hillock (by the Country people every year made anew) which they call S. Maderns bed. The Chappell-roof is quite decayed, but a kind of thorn of itself shooting forth of the old walls, so extends its boughs, as that it (strangely) covers the whole Chapel, and supplies as it were a roof to it. So, one Thursday in May, assisted by one Periman his neighbour, nourishing great hopes from his dream, thither he crept, and lying before the Altar and praying very fervently, that (as it was related to him in his dream) he might regain his health and the strength of his limbs, he washed his whole body in the stream that flowed from the Well, and ran through the Chapel: after which, having slept about an hour and an half on S. Maderns Bed, through the extremity of pain he felt in his Nerves and arteries he began to cry out; and his companion helping and lifting him up, he perceived his hams and his joints somewhat extended, and himself become stronger, insomuch as, partly with his feet, partly with his hands, he went much more erected than before. And before next Thursday he got two crutches, resting on which he could make a shift to walk (which before he could not): and coming then to the Chapel, as formerly, after having bathed himself, he slept again on the same bed; and at last awakened, found himself much stronger and more upright; and so leaving one crutch in the Chapel, he went home with the other. The third Thursday he returned to the Chapel, and bathed as before, slept; and, when awake, risen up quite cured, yea grew so strong, that he wrought day-labour amongst other hired servants, and four years after, listed himself a Soldier in the King's army, where he behaved himself with great stoutness both of mind and body. At length in 1644. he was slain at the siege of Lime in . What fiction can be here I see not: That he should have a dream to such a purpose: that the event, according to things discovered in his dream, should manifest the truth thereof: That on Thursdays, especially on Corpus-Christi-Thursday (Thursday with Catholics being memorable for the Holy Eucharist, as Friday is for the Passion) upon the suppliants prayers, his desired health should be conferred: That the water sacred to this Saint, or (more likely) blessed by him, when yet living, should have this healing virtue: We read indeed in the Gospel of the water moved by the Angel, which upon it, cured those that were brought and put therein: and from the same special blessing of God doubtless, at S. Maderns intercession, for the singular reverence he had to the mystery of the Body of Christ, this holy well received that healing power. The whole procedure and order of the matter speaks it a miracle; insomuch as that it is acknowledged for such by the Protestant-inhabitants themselves: from whom I received this generally famed Relation. Out of a Treatise of Bishop Halls of the Invisible World 1. lib. 8. sect. concerning the same Miracle. THe trade that we have with good Spirits is not now discerned by the eye but is like to themselves, spiritual: yet not so, but that even in bodily occasions we have many times insensible helps from them, in such manner, as that by the effects we can boldly say: here hath been an Angel, though we see him not. Of this kind was that (no less than miraculous) cure which at S. Maderns in Cornwall was wrought upon a poor cripple, John Trelille; whereof (besides the attestation of many hundreds of the neighbours) I took a strict and personal examination in that last visitation, which I either did, or ever shall hold. This man, that for 16. years together was feign to walk upon his hands, by reason of the close contraction of the sinews of his legs, (upon three monitions in his dream to wash in that Well) was suddenly so restored to his limbs, that I saw him able to walk & get his own maintenance. I found, here was neither art, not collusion; the thing done, the author invisible. FINIS.