Note: Translator Pauline Bancroft Flach died in 1966, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
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And for every one who disappeared, and went
under, the monks cried: “Hosanna!” and sang the
“Te Deum.” And they said: “It is because of
our prayers that the wicked fall before they succeed
in scaling the Capitol.”
It was a hard punishment that in that beautiful
monastery its monks could never feel at rest. Their
nights were heavier than their days. Then they saw
wild beasts come into their cells and stretch
themselves out beside them on their beds. And each
wild beast was Antichrist. But some of the monks
saw him as a dragon, and others as a griffin, and
others as a sphinx. When they got up from their
dreams they were as weak as after a severe illness.
The only comfort of these poor monks was the
miracle-working image of Christ, which was kept in
the basilica of Aracoeli. When a monk was
frightened to desperation, he went into the church to
seek consolation from it. He would go through the
whole basilica and into a well-guarded chapel at the
side of the great altar. There he lighted the
consecrated wax candles, and spoke a prayer, before
opening the altar shrine, which had double locks
and doors of iron. And as long as he gazed at the
image, he remained upon his knees.
The image represented a little babe, but he had a
gold crown upon his head, gold shoes upon his feet,
and his whole dress shone with jewels, which were
given to him by those in distress, who had called on
him for help. And the walls of the chapel were
covered with pictures, which showed how he had
saved from dangers of fire and shipwreck, how he
had cured the sick and helped all those who were in
trouble. When the monk saw it he rejoiced, and
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