But among these things it is to be known that often, as the souls of the elect are departing, a sweetness of heavenly praise is wont to break forth, so that while they gladly hear it, they are in no way permitted to feel the dissolution of the flesh from the soul. Whence I remember to have already related in the Homilies on the Gospel (Homily 15) that in that portico which lies open to those going to the church of blessed Clement, there was a certain man, Servulus by name—of whom I do not doubt that you too remember—who was indeed poor in goods, but rich in merits, whom a long sickness had wasted away. For from the time we were able to know him, until the end of life he lay a paralytic.
What shall I say—that he could not stand, who was never able to rise in bed or even to sit, never able to bring his own hand to his mouth, never able to turn himself to the other side? To serve him his mother was present with his brother, and whatever he could receive from alms, this he distributed by their hands to the poor. He knew no letters at all, but had bought for himself the Codices of Holy Scripture, and receiving into hospitality any religious persons, he had them read these before him diligently. And it came to pass that, after his own manner, he fully learned Holy Scripture, although, as I have said, he was utterly ignorant of letters. He strove always to give thanks in his pain, to devote himself day and night to hymns and praises of God.
But when now the time had come that his so great patience ought to be rewarded, the pain of his members returned to the vital parts. And when he now recognized himself to be near to death, he admonished the pilgrims and those received into hospitality to rise, and to chant the psalms with him in expectation of his departure. And while he himself, dying, was chanting with them, he suddenly checked the voices of those singing with the terror of a great cry, saying: 'Be silent; do you not hear how great praises resound in heaven?' And while he bent the ear of his heart to those same praises which he had heard within, that holy soul was loosed from the flesh.
And as it was departing, so great a fragrance of odor was sprinkled there, that all who were present were filled with inestimable sweetness, so that by this they plainly recognized that the praises in heaven had received it. At which thing our monk was present, who lives even now, and is wont with great weeping to testify that, until they delivered his body to burial, the fragrance of that odor did not recede from their nostrils. In those same Homilies (Homily 15) I recall to have related a matter which Speciosus, my fellow-priest, who had known it, attested when I related it.
For at that time when I sought the monastery, a certain aged woman, Redempta by name, established in the habit of a nun, dwelt in this city near the church of blessed Mary ever-Virgin. She had been the disciple of that Herundo, who, abounding in great virtues, was reported to have led an eremitic life upon the mountains of Praeneste. Now to this Redempta there were present two disciples in the same habit, one by name Romula, and the other, who yet survives even now, whom indeed I know by face but not by name. These three, then, dwelling together in one habitation, led a life full of the riches of good conduct, but poor in worldly goods. Now this Romula, of whom I have spoken, surpassed the other fellow-disciple whom I have mentioned by great merits of life.
For she was of wondrous patience, of the highest obedience, a keeper of her mouth unto silence, exceedingly zealous for the practice of continual prayer. But because for the most part those whom men now esteem perfect still have something of imperfection in the eyes of the supreme Maker—just as often we behold seals not yet perfectly carved, and already praise them as it were perfect, which nevertheless the craftsman still considers and files, hears them already praised, and yet does not cease to smite them, making them better—
this Romula whom we have mentioned was struck with that bodily affliction which physicians call by the Greek word 'paralysis,' and for many years lying in her little bed, lay almost bereft of every function of the members; nor yet had these same scourges brought her mind to impatience. For those very detriments of her members had become for her increases of virtues, because she had grown up all the more solicitously to the practice of prayer, the more she was in no way able to do any other thing whatever. One night, therefore, she called that same Redempta whom I have mentioned, who nourished both her disciples in the place of daughters, saying: 'Mother, come; mother, come.'
Soon afterward she rose together with another of her fellow disciples, and the matter became clear from the accounts of both of them and of many others, as I myself likewise came to know at that same time. While they were standing beside her as she lay in the middle of her little bed, suddenly a light sent from heaven filled the whole space of that cell, and a brightness of such splendour flashed forth that it seized the hearts of those standing by with an unspeakable dread; and, as they themselves afterward related, their whole body grew rigid and they remained in a sudden stupor. For there began to be heard, as it were, the sound of some great multitude entering, and the door of the cell was shaken, as though it were pressed by a throng of those coming in;
and, as they said, they felt the multitude of those entering, but because of the excess of their fear and of the light they could not see it, for both dread had cast down their eyes and the very brightness of so great a light beat them back. That light was immediately followed by a fragrance of wondrous odour, so that the sweetness of the scent revived their spirit, which the light sent forth had terrified. But since they could not bear the force of that brightness, the same Romula began with a gentle voice to console Redempta, the mistress of their way of life, who stood there trembling, saying: 「Do not fear, mother; I am not dying just yet.」 And as she said this again and again, little by little the light that had been sent forth was withdrawn, but the scent which had followed it remained.
And so the second and third day passed, while the scattered fragrance of the odour remained. Then on the fourth night she again called her mistress; and when she came, she asked for the Viaticum and received it. But before that Redempta, or the other of her disciples, had departed from the bed of the one lying there, behold, suddenly in the open space before the door of that same cell there stood two choirs of those chanting psalms; and, as they said they had distinguished the sexes by the voices, the men chanted the psalmody and the women responded. And while these heavenly funeral rites were being displayed before the door of the cell, that holy soul was loosed from the flesh.
As she was led to heaven, the higher the choirs of those chanting psalms ascended, the more softly the psalmody began to be heard, until at last both the sound of that same psalmody and the sweetness of the scent, drawn far away, came to an end.