By the thirteenth century, monastic authors were writing ghost stories as warnings to the living to promote virtuous behavior not only among the wealthy and powerful, but also among men, women, and children of all stations. The prolific Cistercian author Caesarius of Heisterbach (c. 1180–1240) compiled many such stories in his Dialogue on Miracles. Couched in the form of a conversation between a monastic teacher and his disciple in emulation of Pope Gregory the Great’s Dialogues, this massive compendium of over seven hundred exemplary tales provided raw material for preachers’ sermons and thereby reached a wide audience of monks and laypeople alike. The democratization of the monastic ghost story reflects the concern of the thirteenth-century church to hold all Christians responsible for their moral conduct, especially in the wake of the Fourth Lateran Council, which convened in Rome in 1215 by the order of Pope Innocent III. The statutes of the Fourth Lateran Council insisted upon the active involvement of laymen and laywomen in their own salvation. Among its many innovations was the call for every Christian to participate in the ceremony of the Mass at least once every year. Unlike earlier tales in the monastic tradition, the ghost stories told by Caesarius sometimes ended with the eternal damnation of the soul in question. The warning to his audience was clear. Every detail of the Christian’s life was subject to an intense scrutiny and even the most virtuous activities, like the giving of alms to the poor, contributed nothing to your eternal reward if they were not performed with pious intent.
Concerning the dead knight who at night hung serpents and toads at the door of his son in place of fish.
When he died, a certain knight bequeathed to his son goods he had obtained by usury.2 One night he came knocking forcefully at the door. When a boy came running and asked why he was knocking there, he answered, “Let me in. I am the lord of this property” and gave his name. Looking through the opening and recognizing him, the boy responded, “My lord is most assuredly dead; I will not let you in.” When the dead man went on knocking and received no answer, at length he said, “Take these fish, which I eat, for my son. Look, I am hanging them on the door.” When they went out in the morning, they found a multitude of toads and snakes in a tangled mass. Truly this is the food served in hell, which is cooked in a sulfurous fire. NOVICE: What is your opinion about those people who live a bad life and nevertheless give many alms to the poor? MONK: It does not benefit them for eternal life.
—
Concerning a Bavarian, who appeared to his wife after death and said that almsgiving had not helped him.
Not many years have elapsed since the death of a very wealthy official of the duke of Bavaria. One night the castle in which his wife was sleeping trembled so much that it seemed as though there was an earthquake. And behold, the door of the chamber in which she was lying opened and her husband entered, accompanied by a giant figure, blacker than black, who pushed him by the shoulders. When she saw and recognized her husband, she called him to her and made him sit upon a seat at her bedside. She felt no fear, but as she was only wearing a nightgown, she draped a part of the bed covering over her shoulders, for it was cold. She asked her husband about his condition and he responded with sadness, “I am consigned to eternal punishments.” Hearing this, his wife grew very frightened and asked, “What are you saying? Did you not give alms in abundance? Your door was open to every pilgrim. Do these good deeds provide no benefit to you at all?” He responded, “They provide no advantage at all for eternal life, for I did them out of empty glory rather than out of love.” When she tried to ask him about other things, he answered abruptly, “I was allowed to appear to you, but I can linger here no longer. Behold my hellish handler stands waiting for me outside. Indeed, if the leaves of every tree turned into tongues, they still could not describe my torments.” After this, he was summoned and driven away; the entire castle trembled as before at his departure and his lamenting cries echoed for a long time. This vision was and remains especially renowned in Bavaria, as our monk Gerard (formerly a canon of Ratison) was witness. He related this story to us. See how in all of these stories the scripture is fulfilled that says, “The mighty will be mightily tormented.”3 NOVICE: This example and others like it should be preached to the mighty. MONK: Because the lives of the priests themselves are for the most part bad and wayward, they flatter the mighty instead of pricking them.
—
Concerning the cleansing of a certain usurer of Liège.
In our time a certain usurer in Liège died and the bishop denied him burial in the cemetery. But his wife went to the apostolic see to beg for his burial and when the pope refused, she made the case for her husband in this way, “I have heard, lord, that man and wife are one, and that the apostle says that a man without faith can be saved by his faithful wife.4 Hence whatever shortcoming my husband had, as a part of his body I will make it up most freely; indeed, I am prepared to be enclosed on his behalf and to make satisfaction to God for his sins.” Having won over the cardinals to her side, her husband was restored to the cemetery by the order of the Lord Pope. Next to his tomb, she had a little dwelling made, in which she enclosed herself and devoted herself day and night to almsgiving, fasts, prayers, and vigils to please God for the sake of her husband’s soul. After seven years had passed, this man appeared to her in somber garb and gave her thanks, saying, “May God reward you, for because of your labors I have been freed from the depths of hell and from the worst punishments. If starting today you devote yourself to similar benefits on my behalf for another seven years, I will be freed completely.” When she had accomplished this, he appeared to her again, this time in white garb and with a smiling face and said, “Thanks to God and you, for today I have been freed.” NOVICE: Why did he say that he had been freed from the depths of hell, when no redemption may be found there? MONK: The depths of hell means the bitterness of purgatory. It is the same when the church prays for the dead: “Lord Jesus Christ, king of glory, free the souls of all the faithful departed from the power of hell and from the depths of the lake, etc.”5 The church does not pray for the damned, but for those who can be saved. And the power of hell, the depths of the lake, or the mouth of the lion are all taken there to mean the bitterness of purgatory. By no means would the usurer have been freed from punishment, if he had not shown contrition in the end.
—
Concerning a scholar who after his death struck and broke a board in Preuilly.
In the kingdom of France there is a house of the Cistercian order called Preuilly. In this house a miraculous event recently took place, as our abbots told us when they returned last year from the General Chapter meeting.6 For several of them testified that they had heard the story from the abbot of the house where the vision took place. A certain young man in the same house became a novice and his master soon followed him. Once he had become a monk, this young man behaved so strictly and was so solitary that the abbot feared for him and quite often scolded him because his zealousness set him apart. But this young man did not heed these salutary warnings and persisted in his willfulness and then after a few years he died. One night when the abbot was standing in his stall at Lauds and was looking toward the presbytery, he observed three people coming toward him glowing like three candles.7 As they came closer, he recognized all of them. In the middle was the aforesaid scholar and at his side were two lay-brothers, all of whom had recently died. Then the abbot, remembering the willfulness of the scholar, asked him a question, saying, “How are you holding up?” When he responded, “Well,” the abbot added, “Are you not suffering some punishment due to your willfulness?” “Yes,” he said, “great and many torments, but because my intention was good, albeit indiscreet, the Lord had mercy upon me and I was not damned.” And the abbot said, “Why is that lay-brother”—he pointed at him with his finger—“brighter than the other, when this one abandoned the monastic life at one point, and the other from the time he entered the order never strayed seriously from the path.” The monk responded, “Because after his fall this man rose stronger still and was more zealous than the other.” Meanwhile, as the choir sang the verse, “He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked will be silent in the darkness,” the scholar, wishing to leave some sign of his presence there, struck the board under the feet of the singers so hard with his heel that it broke.8 Then he disappeared. Truly, as a testimony to such an obvious miracle, the abbot did not allow the broken board to be repaired or replaced. NOVICE: These events should be learned by monks who become useless to themselves and others due to their indiscrete zeal. MONK: On their account, Saint Benedict says in his rule that the eighth grade of humility is when the monk does nothing except what the communal rule of the monastery or the example of his elders encourages him to do.9 NOVICE: Just as certain monks in their stiffness are too willful, so, too, are others too flippant with words or signs. MONK: And those monks also earn their punishment.
—
Concerning the cleansing of Margaret, a nun from Mount St. Savior.
About three years ago there was a certain young girl—I believe that she was nine years old—in Mount St. Savior, which is a house of our order, who died on Advent Day.10 Truly, on a bright day as the community was standing in the choir, this dead girl entered the church. Approaching the altar, she bowed very deeply, then walked to her place in the choir where she had been accustomed to stand. Another girl of about the same age saw her standing there next to her and knowing that she was dead, this girl was struck with great horror, so that everyone noticed. When this girl was asked by the gracious lady abbess, from whose mouth I heard the story I am about to relate, why she appeared so alarmed in the choir, she responded, “In such and such a way did Sister Gertrude come into the choir and when during the vesper services mention was made of Our Lady, at the collect standing next to me she prostrated herself down to the ground. When the collect was finished, she rose again and left. This was the cause of my horror.” Fearing the Devil’s deceptions, the abbess said to the girl, “Sister Margaret”—this was her name—“if Sister Gertrude should come to you again, say to her ‘Benedicte,’ and if she responds to you ‘Dominus,’ ask her where she has come from and what she is looking for.”11 On the following day, the ghost came again and, after she had responded “Dominus” to Margaret’s greeting, the girl added, “Good sister Gertrude, from where have you come at this hour and what do you seek among us?” The ghost responded, “I come here to make amends. Because I whispered with you gladly in the choir, uttering half-spoken words, for this reason I have been ordered to atone in this place, where I happened to commit my sin. And unless you beware of the same sin, when you die you will suffer the same punishment.” When she had made satisfaction four times in this manner, she said to the girl, “I have now completed the reparation for my sin; you will not see me again.” And so it was. For as the girl watched, the ghost proceeded toward the cemetery, passing through its wall by some miraculous power. Behold, such was the cleansing of this young girl. NOVICE: Whoever said that a punishment of this kind is more acute than any punishment of this world is not right in the head. MONK: We will discuss this topic more fully in the following chapter. But Margaret was so frightened by the warning of the dead girl that she became sick and approached the end of her life. Having fallen into a trance, she lay so still that everyone thought that she was dead. After an hour she woke up and swore that she had seen certain of the sisters in the presence of Our Lady and some of them she did not see there. She also said that the same glorious Virgin Mary held a crown in her hand, which she said belonged to the priest named Steppo. This same Steppo had been a priest. He was a very devout and incredibly charitable man, who served God and the sisters on the same Mount St. Savior. But so that you know that one should not care by what manner of death a just man dies, the same Steppo, when he was struggling with a painful illness last year, suffered a brain seizure and went completely mad, with the result that he uttered many blasphemies. After he had died and was buried, the Lord, wishing to show his merits, consented to work miracles at his tomb. Sick people, so I hear, sleep on the tomb and wake up healed.
—
Concerning the punishment of Rudinger and his drink.
In the diocese of Cologne not far from the city of Cologne, there was a certain knight by the name of Rudinger. He was so entirely given over to wine that he would attend celebrations at different country estates for the sole purpose of drinking good wine. When he became ill and was about to die, his daughter asked him to appear to her within thirty days. Responding “I will do this if I can,” he died. Indeed, after his death he appeared to his daughter in a vision, “Behold I am here just as you asked.” And in his hand he was carrying a small clay cup, which is commonly called a cruselinum, with which he used to drink in taverns.12 His daughter asked him, “Father, what is in that cup?” He responded, “My drink is made from pitch and sulfur. I am always drinking from it and I cannot empty it.” Then he disappeared. And immediately the girl understood, as much from his previous life as from this punishment, that there was little or no hope in his salvation. For in the here and now wine goes down easily, but in the end it will bite you like a snake.