Saint Geoffrey of Molincourt

The region where the abbey was located was almost entirely devoid of vineyards and was forced to rely largely on foreign wines. They counted on Geoffroy's skill to supply the monastery. These purely material occupations initially inspired some reluctance in him; but he soon reflected that one can serve God in every way, and that there is no kind of work that cannot be sanctified by the spirit that animates it. Moreover, there were dangers to face. Robert, castellan of Péronne, Odo, lord of Ham, and Clarembaud of Vendeuil, were spreading their tyrannical ravages in the Santerre, the Vermandois, the Soissonnais, and the Laonnois; and they were so feared that not a cleric, not a monk dared to brave the peril of the infested roads. Geoffroy succeeded in taming their ferocity; he even won their good graces and was soon able to restore prosperity to the abbey's burdened finances.

One day, when his duties as bursar had led him to Soissons, he went to the monastery of Saint-Crépin and Saint-Crépinien, where the patronal feast was being celebrated. Upon leaving the office of Prime, he noticed that the refectory was filled with religious who were feasting; invited to dine with them: "What!" he exclaimed, "is it possible that you prefer the food of the body to that of the soul; the celebration of the holy mysteries is not completed and already you will saturate yourselves with victuals! Ah! my beloved brothers, leave these places and come with me to sing the praises of the Lord. Let us first discharge our duty to him, and later we will think of the needs of the body." This exhortation humiliated the monks without converting them; they let themselves be carried away by anger and uttered insults against their importunate brother. He was not moved by it; he withdrew in silence, meditating on this maxim of Wisdom: "He who claims to instruct the insulter does himself harm." God rewarded the meekness of his servant by making regularity flourish again in this monastery, where the memory of this incident was long preserved; and also, by communicating Himself more intimately to Geoffroy during the rest of his days.

When Geoffroy had reached the age of twenty-five (1092), his abbot ordered him to prepare for the priesthood. Obedience making it a duty for him to overcome the apprehensions of his humility, he received the priesthood from the hands of Ratbode, Bishop of Noyon, the diocese to which the abbey of Mont-Saint-Quentin belonged.

A harsher blow was soon to be dealt to his modesty. The abbey of Notre-Dame d e Nogent-sous-Coucy was so poor Notre-Dame de Nogent-sous-Coucy Abbey of which Geoffrey was the reforming abbot. ly administered by Henri, abbot of Saint-Remi of Reims, whose sickly old age paralyzed his strength, that Hélinand, bishop of Laon, and Enguerrand, lord of Boves and Coucy, joined their efforts to persuade him to abdicate. The monks of Nogent, guided by the advice of the archbishop of Reims and various other prelates, elected Geoffroy, in the hope that he would be able to raise up the material and moral ruins of their house. They appealed to Philip I to smooth over all difficulties. The monarch, charmed by such a choice, wrote immediately to Abbot Godefroy of Péronne. This holy old man felt even more than his monks the full extent of the sacrifice that was being demanded; but, holding back his tears and suppressing his pain, he remembered the example of Abraham leading his Isaac to the place of immolation, and he had the courage to accompany to Laon the beloved disciple who had not left his side since the age of five.

Geoffroy pleaded before the bishop of Laon the cause of his reluctance and his modesty. Pretending his youth and ignorance: "How," he said, "would I be capable of governing an abbey, I who would not even know how to be a porter of the church or a guardian of the sacred vessels? Would not disorder and confusion be the inevitable fruits of my inexperience?" But these pious exaggerations of a timid conscience only served to highlight the sincerity of his self-denial, and it was seen that he was of the mettle of those Christians of the early ages who displayed as much zeal to avoid honors as was later shown in seeking them.

After receiving the blessing from the hands of Hélinand, bishop of Laon, Geoffroy went to Nogent (1095), where he found only six professed monks and two young novices. The main buildings were falling into ruin, while the rest was given over to the invasions of thistles and nettles. The Saint raised the walls of the monastery, made the dwelling suitable, and recovered the property that encroaching neighbors had usurped. A guesthouse was soon built for pilgrims and the sick indigent: this was his favorite place to stay. He lavished upon his guests all the delicate attentions of charity, and, if one of them happened to die, he buried him with his own hands.

The abbey of Nogent did not take long to regain its former reputation for regularity, and new vocations soon came to revitalize it. Two illustrious abbots, Lambert of Florennes and Valrade of Saint-Nicolas de Ribemont, did not hesitate to resign their dignity to come and practice, under such a master, the laws of a greater perfection.

At Nogent, as at Mont-Saint-Quentin, Geoffroy pushed sobriety to the most extreme limits. The monastery cook one day imagined putting a little breadcrumb and pepper in the vegetables he was preparing with oil and salt for the abbot's meal. The latter noticed it, severely reprimanded the brother, and threatened him with his displeasure if he dared again to present him with what he called dishes too flattering to the senses.

It was by such examples, even more than by his exhortations, that he maintained fervor among his monks. He neglected nothing to inspire in them a lively love for their state, the practice of absolute poverty, a horror of lying, and devotion to the poor.

As much as Geoffroy was indulgent for faults that were the result of human weakness, he was severe for those that had their principle in the perversity of the will. One day he instructed the steward Théobald to lend a horse saddle to a stranger who had requested one. Having learned that this disobedient monk had evaded this order, he summoned him to the chapter and reproached him for his conduct. "Yes, I disobeyed," cried the insolent one; "your commands are so intolerable that you force us to shake off the yoke." After having inflicted upon the delinquent the punishment he deserved, Geoffroy had a large fire lit and consigned to the flames that horse saddle which had been an occasion of scandal, by introducing revolt into the abode of peace and justice.

A good number of people of distinction entrusted themselves to the spiritual direction of Geoffrey. Adelaide, Viscountess of Coucy, came to settle in Nogent as long as the holy abbot remained there, and devoted her immense fortune to helping the poor and endowing churches. Another of his penitents, named Viveta, originating from a noble family of Flanders, owed him a miraculous rescue. This pious lady, after losing her husband, had taken the veil with her three daughters at the Abbey of Notre-Dame de Soissons. Before going to Germany to fulfill a mission for her abbess, she went to draw a strengthening viaticum from her director. She had just left Nogent with her retinue and was crossing the perilous forest that stretches between Saint-Paul-au-Bois and Cerisy, when she was attacked by brigands who looted her luggage and imprisoned her and her servants in their underground dwelling. Viveta took advantage of the drunkenness into which the thieves soon plunged to break her bonds and flee to Nogent. There, she begged Geoffrey to intercede on behalf of the captives left in the cave, to the Virgin as well as to Saint Nicholas, whose feast was then being celebrated. The Saint having begun to pray in his oratory before the altar of Mary, the noble lady's servants were soon seen arriving: their bonds had been miraculously broken. The brigands, witnesses to such a prodigy, conceived such a salutary fear that they suddenly converted and hastened to return their loot.

At this same time, Geoffrey's prayers obtained another miraculous success. The diocese of Soissons was devastated by a frightful drought; trees and plants were scorched by the heat of the sun; animals were dying of thirst in the fields; dried-up rivers left their dead fish to rot in the fermented mud; a pestilential air spread disease and death everywhere. In the midst of this, Hugh of Pierrefonds, Bishop of Soissons, called the Abbot of Nogent to him, in the hope that his counsel would find a way to appease what was considered a consequence of celestial wrath. On his advice, the Prelate prescribed one of those austere fasts, similar to that of the Ninevites, where children and even animals were not exempted from the laws of abstinence. From the first day of this penance, the principal relics of the diocese were carried into the vast church of Saint-Étienne, where the dismayed people had gathered. Geoffrey mounted the pulpit and lavished words of consolation and hope; suddenly the sky clouded over, a storm broke out, and the rain fell so torrentially that everyone had great difficulty in being able to return home.

Some time later, Manasses II, Archbishop of Reims, who had invited Geoffrey to attend one of his provincial councils (1103), asked him, before this august assembly, to take charge of the government of the Abbey of Saint-Remi in Reims. Our holy abbot justified his refusal on the grounds of his alleged incapacity, and, as the bishops insisted, he exclaimed that, faithful to the prescriptions of the Council of Nicaea, he could not resolve to repudiate his poor church of Nogent to take another more illustrious and richer one.

Providence, however, reserved Geoffrey for higher destinies. It wished, so to speak, to familiarize him with this thought by letting him glimpse the greatness he was to undergo. One night, when he was in that state of drowsiness which partakes of both waking and sleeping, he seemed to see a person of medium height, dressed in a white toga, wearing a long beard, radiant as an angel, with a book in his hand and a gold ring on his finger. Frightened by this apparition, Geoffrey imprinted the sign of the cross on his forehead. "Be reassured," the white apparition said to him with a smile, "I am not one of those who are put to flight by the sign of the Redemption. I am sent from heaven to announce to you that God intends to constitute you one of the Princes of His Church. I cannot tell you more, you will soon see my words fulfilled. In the meantime, strengthen yourself in the power of the Lord."

The angel disappeared; Saint Geoffrey, perceiving to his right a vast, elegantly decorated hall, entered this enclosure, where priests, dressed in albs, implored his blessing and proclaimed him their future bishop. A venerable personage, seated on a high seat, signaled him to approach, prevented him from prostrating himself at his feet, and addressed these words to him: "O servant of God, engrave deeply in your memory what I am about to reveal to you. I was the first bishop of this city, where, for the faith of Christ, I suffered persecution and death; this city, I entrust to you so that you may govern my former flock with zeal." Geoffrey would have liked to know the name of the Pontiff who was speaking to him, and of the city where he was; but, without answering his questions, the mysterious personage disappeared and the whole vision vanished. It was long after that Geoffrey understood and recounted the prophetic dream in which Saint Firmin the martyr had appeared to him.

The dream soon turned into reality. Gervin, Bishop of Amiens, had laid down his miter, and this diocese found itself without a Pastor. After a day of preparatory fasting, the faithful and the clergy, by a unanimous vote, elected the Abbot of Nogen l'abbé de Nogent-sous-Coucy Bishop of Amiens and former abbot of Nogent-sous-Coucy. t-sous-Coucy, whose reputation had long since reached these regions.

Deputies from the city were sent to the Council of Troyes (1104), presided over by Cardinal Richard, Bishop of Albano, legate of the Holy See, and attended by the Abbot of Nogent. They explained that the choice of the diocese, deprived of a Pontiff for two years, had fallen upon Geoffrey; that King Philip had confirmed it with joy, and that only the opposition of the elect could hinder this happy design. Indeed, Geoffrey was already contemplating flight when he was prevented by the order of the legate. He then submitted to the orders of the Council, and his resolution was greeted there with cries of joy.

Geoffrey was consecrated at Reims (1104) by Manasses II, Archbishop of that metropolis, in the presence of a large number of bishops, among whom were distinguished Lambert of Arras and John of Comines of Thérouanne, his intimate friends. When, according to custom, the book of the Gospels was placed on his head and opened at random, the first sentence that appeared was this: "The time of Elizabeth's delivery having arrived, she brought forth a son." The whole assembly was struck by the application that could be made of this passage to the ordinand, for his mother, like that of Saint John the Baptist, was named Elizabeth; like her, she had long been barren, and both owed their happy fruitfulness to divine intervention.

Accompanied by the bishops of Thérouanne and Arras, Saint Geoffrey went to Amiens. Arriving at the church of Saint-Acheul, he dismounted from his horse, and, despite the difficulty of the paths, he continued his journey barefoot to the church of Saint-Firmin, in the midst of a crowd full of joy. There, he delivered a speech so filled with wisdom and eloquence that the elite listeners found it superior to anything they had ever heard, and everyone recognized in the new pastor the inspired organ of the Holy Spirit.

The authority of his examples remained no less than that of his words. Attached at heart to the monastic life, he kept its habit, contenting himself with adding a modest cloak. From his arrival, Geoffrey showed himself to be the zealous protector of the oppressed; to bring them aid, he did not fear to face the hatred of their tyrants. Every day, following the example of Saint Firmin the Confessor, he gathered thirteen poor people at the bishopric, washed their feet as a sign of humility, and served them food with his own hands.

Accustomed from his youth to mortify the repugnances of nature, Saint Geoffrey felt only the impressions of a purely Christian joy where others would have been painfully affected. When beggars presented themselves to him on a hot summer day, he was dissuaded from welcoming them because of the foul odor they exhaled. The holy bishop, far from letting himself be influenced by this consideration, saw in these indigents only suffering members of the mystical body of Jesus Christ, gave them the kiss of peace, spoke with them, and distributed alms to them.

Another time, finding himself short of money, when lepers with repulsive appearances had come in large numbers to solicit his daily charity, he ordered his steward to prepare a meal for them immediately.

This order not having been executed, the lepers returned four hours later to press their request. Geoffrey then went down to the kitchen, where he had never set foot before. He found an enormous salmon there, which he loaded onto his shoulders and carried himself to the starving lepers. The steward, having learned of this act of generosity, labeled it madness and, giving free rein to his irritation, exclaimed that his master would soon reduce himself to the very begging he was relieving in others. The Saint endeavored to calm this bad mood by saying that it was not just that men redeemed at the price of the blood of Jesus Christ and destined for the supreme beatitude of heaven should be condemned on earth to the torture of hunger, while the most unworthy of bishops reserved for himself the enjoyment of overly succulent dishes.

Saint Geoffrey, indulgent toward the faults of others, tolerated near him a certain Giselbert, whose morals were corrupt but who rendered great services to his church by his skill in directing ceremonies; the bishop limited himself to addressing frequent reprimands to him, hoping that the grace of God would one day touch the soul of the sinner. The latter, out of odious resentment, spread slanders about his bishop, labeled his conduct as hypocrisy, and had long been watching for the opportunity to take revenge for sure; he thought he had found it when Nicholas, Abbot of Corbie, invited the Bishop of Amiens to perform the dedication of a chapel of Saint Thomas, which depended on the monastery (1105). When the day of the consecration arrived, Giselbert escaped secretly, hoping to cause a signal affront to his bishop, who was quite ignorant in the science of sacred ceremonies. But Geoffrey was not troubled by this setback; putting all his trust in God, he was able, without advice, to perform his functions so well that one would have thought him gifted with a special aptitude for fulfilling them.

The very vividness of his faith often became an obstacle to the regular performance of sacred rites. When he celebrated the holy mysteries, his face illuminated with the fervor that animated his thoughts; in the midst of these ecstasies, he no longer had the strength to raise his voice or turn the pages of the missal, and shed torrents of tears that interrupted the divine liturgy for a moment.

He would have liked all his priests to bring to the altar a heart as pure as his own, and he removed from the sanctuary those whose scandalous conduct made them unworthy; thus, he created irreconcilable enemies for himself, whose vengeance surrounded him with perils. The concubine of a priest he had interdicted sent him a bottle of wine one day, no doubt under the pretext of reconciliation. Geoffrey, warned by a secret inspiration, did not want to taste it without having it tested. Having dipped a piece of bread in this treacherous beverage, mixed with hellebore, he gave it to the dog that guarded his courtyard. The poor beast went to sleep on the bishop's bed, but, alas, never to wake again.

Forgetful of his own needs, our Saint always thought of those of others. He was accustomed, on feast days, to distribute a collation to the clerics whose long offices had prolonged their fast. On one of these occasions, a priest having taken the liberty of taking his episcopal cup and performing unbecoming buffoonery with it, the prelate had this cup sold for the benefit of the poor, so as not to have an odious memory before his eyes.

Accompanied by a servant, Geoffrey often went to visit the sanctuaries of the city, or to console the poor and the lepers, whose pains he relieved by his alms, his blessings, his affability, and also by the sacraments he administered to them.

To conclude what concerns the episcopal virtues of our Saint, we will add that he cultivated with taste the ecclesiastical chant in which he had been versed since his childhood, that he presided over all the offices of his cathedral, and that he attended, barefoot and wearing a hair shirt, the distribution of ashes.

It was in 4410 that Geoffrey performed the translation of the r elics of Saint Firmin saint Firmin le Martyr First bishop and martyr of Amiens, spiritual protector of Geoffrey. the Martyr. One day, while preaching in his cathedral, he turned his gaze toward the overly modest shrine that contained the remains of our first bishop: "O my dear children," he cried, "consider what we owe to the holy Martyrs whose protection shelters us from the perils of this life and whose intercessions will open the gates of heaven to us. Let us invoke them often, so that they may be our intercessors before God. It is for this reason that our ancestors erected churches in their honor and adorned their monuments with gold, silver, and precious stones. Imitate them, O you who see the destitution of the shrine where the relics of your patron saint lie, and dedicate your riches to preparing a more worthy asylum for him."

The eloquent words of Geoffrey so impressed the audience that the faithful hastened to bring gold, silver, and jewels to build a shrine richer than the one that had already existed for five centuries. Some of them even undertook long journeys in order to bring back the most precious things they could find to decorate the basilica of Saint-Firmin. When the new shrine, crafted with exquisite art, was completed, Geoffrey performed the translation of the relics there with a prodigious gathering of the faithful who had flocked from all parts. In a touching address, he exhorted them to redouble their confidence in the venerated remains of the holy Martyr and to place themselves and their families under his tutelary protection.

A certain number of inhabitants from the surroundings of Amiens, who had not been able to attend this solemnity, came a few days later to beg their bishop to show them the relics of Saint Firmin; Geoffrey, after having initially refused, finally allowed himself to be moved by their supplications and assigned the day of All Saints for this new ceremony.

From the second week of October, a fog so thick had spread over the Amiénois that it completely intercepted the rays of the sun. When the day arrived on which the feast of all the Saints is celebrated, the faithful, plunged into consternation, went in crowds to the cathedral. There, Saint Geoffrey, vested in his pontifical insignia and barefoot, drew the relics from their shrine, placed them in a purple silk veil, and from an elevated place made the ostension, crying out: "Behold the sacred bones of the martyr Saint Firmin, who is our protector!" Suddenly the sun poured floods of light into the sacred enclosure and filled all hearts with gladness. The faithful, then redoubling their confidence in the intercession of their patron saint, asked that his right hand be set apart, so that, in public calamities, one could see and kiss this holy relic more easily. The bishop acceded to this pious desire.

Robert of Jerusalem, Count of Flanders, who had illustrated his name in the Crusades, wished to celebrate the Christmas festivities of the year 4410 at Saint-Omer. He invited a large number of lords and bishops to this solemnity and asked Geoffrey, whom he held in high esteem, to celebrate the midnight mass. When the moment of the offertory arrived, the officiant refused the offerings of all those who wore curled mustaches and long hair. These new fashions, considered an effeminate luxury, had been proscribed by several councils, among others by that of Rouen, held in 1096. The assembly appeared very surprised and wondered who this prelate was who dared to act with such authority toward high and powerful lords. When they had learned the name and the holiness of the officiant, they hastened, for lack of scissors, to cut their hair with their swords or knives, deeming themselves happy, at the price of such a light sacrifice, not to be deprived of the blessing of such a bishop. On this occasion, the Count of Flanders felt his veneration for Geoffrey grow, and throughout France, people admired the firmness of this pontiff who had not feared to do, in a foreign church, what many other prelates would not have dared to attempt in their own diocese.

It was while returning from Saint-Omer to Amiens, with the castellan Adam, that an adventure occurred which was to bring to light the devotion that Saint Geoffrey held in his friendships. Upon setting foot on the territory of Amiens, Adam manifested his fears regarding Guermond, lord of Picquigny and vidame of Amiens, who had long pursued him with his hatred. Thus, Adam wanted to take another route so as not to fall into th Guermond, seigneur de Picquigny Local lord and adversary of Geoffroy. e hands of an enemy from whom he expected no quarter. The trusting bishop tried to reassure him by reminding him of the sworn peace, adding that he should have nothing to fear in his company, since Guermond was his first vassal. Geoffrey had deluded himself: soon appearing at the head of his men-at-arms, the vidame seized Adam, despite the supplications of the prelate, and led him loaded with chains into the underground prisons of Picquigny. Our Saint, overcome with grief, abandoned by his servants, followed his captive friend to the castle of Guermond, whose entrance was insolent to him. Upon returning to Amiens, he exposed this odious ambush to his clergy and, after having had the shrines of the Saints placed on the ground, he excommunicated the vidame and placed the churches of Picquigny under interdict. But, far from submitting, Guermond took revenge by ravaging the countryside and burning the surrounding churches.

To console himself for so many calamities, the Saint often spoke with two of his servants, named Gaufrid and Orbert: the first guarded the flocks of the bishopric; the second cultivated its lands. The shepherd, a new Amos, had the spirit of God on his lips and taught other pastors the ways of eternity. Thus, the good prelate delighted in the familiar conversation of these pious servants and was edified by seeing them help, clothe, and feed the poor.

It was by their advice that he decided to attempt the deliverance of the castellan of Amiens. Accompanied by them (one carrying his shoes and the other his small cloak), dressed in a simple hairshirt, he left barefoot for Picquigny, despite the rigors of the month of January (1111). Geoffrey stopped at the monastery of Saint-Remi, located in the middle of the woods, and which was later designated by the name of Notre-Dame de Grâce. The religious, informed by him of the purpose of this journey, offered to accompany him; but our Saint contented himself with recommending his enterprise to their prayers and continued his route by reciting psalms, following his pious custom. Arrived on the square of Picquigny and perceiving the vidame who was passing, he threw himself at his knees, veiling his head, so as not to be recognized at first glance. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" cried the vidame. "I am Geoffrey, Bishop of Amiens, your lord in the temporal as well as in the spiritual. Following the example of Jesus Christ, my master, who died on the cross to save Adam and his posterity, I come, under these penitent clothes, to solicit the freedom of another Adam whom you hold in irons." The witnesses of this scene, struck by the strangeness of such a spectacle, hastened to raise the holy bishop; but the vidame, far from letting himself be softened, cried: "With what face, insolent monk, do you dare to appear in my presence? Do you imagine that your word will change my designs? This Adam whom you claim fell into my hands by the decree of fortune and will remain my prisoner until his death." To escape the insults and threats with which Guermond accompanied his obstinate refusals, Geoffrey retired to the church of Saint-Martin and spent the night there in prayer.

The next morning, he had the bells rung, and, before an immense assembly that had flocked from all the surroundings, he renewed his excommunication against the tyrant of Picquigny, proving well by that the humiliation he had imposed on himself the day before was the fruit of his charity and not a mark of weakness.

Since then, Geoffrey did not cease to invoke Saint Firmin for the deliverance of Adam. His prayers were finally answered. Guermond, imprisoned in his turn by Guillaume Talvas, Count of Ponthieu, a worthy successor to Robert the Devil, had the intercession of the Bishop of Amiens implored, promising to repair his wrongs, to restore the churches he had ruined, and to return freedom to the castellan of Amiens. Geoffrey, having succeeded in this difficult negotiation, led the repentant vidame back to his castle of Picquigny and brought back the castellan Adam.

The Investiture Controversy was then agitating the Church and the Empire. Emperor Henry V had taken Pope Paschal II prisoner and claimed to have obtained from him the concession of the right in dispute. Guy, Archbishop of Vienne, had been present at the Council of the Lateran (1112) where this grave question had been debated. Upon returning to Vienne, he convened a council there so that the bishops of France might in turn take up the defense of the liberties of the Church. The archbishop, finding himself indisposed at the time of the session (September 16, 1112), asked Geoffrey to replace him in the presidency. Our bishop accepted this important mission; despite the fever from which he was suffering at the time, he directed the work of the council and, in concert with the other bishops, he inflicted the mark of heresy upon the doctrine which claimed that a lay hand could confer investiture. While returning to his diocese, Geoffrey stopped for some time at the Abbey of Cluny, where he left a high impression of his merit and virtues.

Geoffrey took part in the founding of the commune of Amiens; but the lords, claiming to maintain all their privileges, there was from then on open war between this party and that of the commune. The domains of the Church were devastated by pillage and fire. Frightened by the troubles that were staining the city of Amiens with blood, Geoffrey resigned from his functions and resolved to devote the rest of his life to solitu de. Accompanied b Grande-Chartreuse Place of retreat for Geoffroy in 1114. y a religious from the Abbey of Nogent, he went to the Grande-Chartreuse, passing through the city of Laon, where he attended the dedication of the church (September 6, 1114). The blessed Guigues, superior of the monastery, would have willingly given him the religious habit had he not feared displeasing the Archbishop of Reims and the Holy See. Although he was filled with admiration for this humble bishop, who submitted entirely to the austere Rule of Saint Bruno, he nevertheless wanted to test how far his patience and gentleness could go: "Is it not true," he said to him, "that you have often sold your ordinations for money?" — "My father," the Saint replied, "I have never stained my episcopal hands with this infamous simony; but I am no more innocent before God, since a hundred times I have let myself be seduced by flattery and have been accessible to the lures of praise." The General of the Carthusians, seeing that Geoffrey had found an occasion to humble himself where many others would have seen only a legitimate subject for indignation, inwardly admired this courageous patience in enduring insults.

On December 6, 1114, under the episcopate of Peter of Dammartin, a Council, presided over by Conon, Bishop of Palestrina, legate of the Holy See, opened at Beauvais. The main goal of this assembly was to deal with the interests of the ecclesiastical province of Reims. Thomas de Marle, the persecutor of Geoffrey, was excommunicated and declared fallen from the ranks of French chivalry because of the brigandage he had committed in the bishoprics of Reims, Laon, and Amiens.

When this sentence was known in Amiens, deputies were sent to the Council of Beauvais to complain about Geoffrey's retirement and to solicit permission to choose a successor for him. Raoul le Verd, Archbishop of Reims, replied to them: "How dare you formulate such a request, you whose intrigues and discords have driven from his see a bishop who was the model of all virtues? Where could you find an elect who approached his holiness? You should blush with shame thinking that you have deprived the see of Amiens of such an accomplished Prelate. What do you have to reproach him for? Has he pursued sordid gains? Has he trafficked in ecclesiastical goods?" — "Never," the delegates replied. — "Well then!" the archbishop resumed, "as long as he lives, he will remain your Pastor. Do not concern yourselves anymore, therefore, than with bringing him back among you."

Soon after, the Council received a letter that Geoffrey addressed to it from the Grande-Chartreuse. The holy bishop begged his colleagues to consider him as having resigned from a see he believed himself unworthy to occupy. He had always striven, he said, to teach the doctrine of Jesus Christ in all its purity, but his examples had not been in harmony with his instructions. The Fathers of the Council shed tears while listening to this missive, dictated by the deepest humility, and referred this matter to the Council that was soon to assemble at Soissons.

This meeting opened on the day of the Epiphany of the year 1115. By the order of Louis the Fat, the Fathers of the Council sent to the Grande-Chartreuse Henry, Abbot of Mont-Saint-Quentin, and Hubert, a monk of Cluny, with letters for Geoffrey and for the religious of Saint Bruno. To the latter, it was enjoined not to keep the Bishop of Amiens, but to send him back as soon as possible to occupy his see; to Geoffrey, they reproached the abandonment of his flock and prescribed a prompt return. The pious Pontiff, after shedding many tears, resigned himself to obeying the orders of the king and the Council, and left that austere solitude where he had remained from December 8, 1114, until the beginning of Lent in the year 1115. Arriving at Reims on the fourth Sunday of Lent, at the moment when Conon, legate of the Holy See, was holding a Council in which Emperor Henry V was again condemned, Geoffrey, exhausted by the macerations and fatigues of the journey, nonetheless went immediately to the heart of the assembly. The legate severely reproached him for having deserted his see, for having preferred the care of his own sanctification to the spiritual interests of his flock, and enjoined him to resume his episcopal functions immediately. Geoffrey then hastened to return to Amiens, where he was welcomed with unanimous joy.

One of the first concerns of the holy bishop was to bring his diocesans back to the observance of Lenten abstinence and to suppress the new custom that was being introduced at that time of eating meat on the Sundays of Lent. Having learned that some were transgressing his orders and that others, while submitting to them, were murmuring against his severity, Geoffrey went, on Maundy Thursday, according to his custom, to the church of Saint-Firmin and preached there specifically on the fatal intemperance of our first parents, which he said was surpassed by those who violate the easy law of fasting. His listeners, touched by these words, fell to their knees, proclaiming themselves guilty. The bishop enjoined them, as penance, to defer their Easter communion until Easter Monday.

A parishioner of the church of Saint-Remi did not want to submit to this delay, which he considered an affront. In order not to be recognized by his priest, the venerable Foulques, he disguised himself in women's clothing, and, on Easter day, approached the holy Table; but he was seized with violent pains as soon as he had received the holy Host and was forced to reject it with floods of blood that escaped from his mouth. Struck with remorse, the culprit, confessing his sex and his deception, deplored his sacrilege, which produced a profound impression on those who had dared to rise up against the injunctions of their bishop.

Thomas de Marle and the castellan Adam were still devastating the city of Amiens with their ravages. Geoffrey, who could only oppose these oppressions with powerless prayers, went to find, in Beauvais, Bishop Yves of Chartres and begged him to write to the king so that he might restore peace by force of arms, in the ver y interest of Louis le Gros King of France, contemporary of Geoffrey. his crown. Louis the Fat had received a considerable tribute from the new bourgeois of Amiens, by way of enfranchisement, and found himself, by that very fact, obliged to enforce the engagement he had contracted. Determined by the letter from Yves of Chartres, he went to Amiens, but with poorly organized troops. Geoffrey preached before him on Palm Sunday (1115), launched an anathema against the garrison of the Castillon, and promised the kingdom of heaven to anyone who would die attacking that fortress, a den of crimes and brigandage. When the moment came when soldiers and bourgeois, under the leadership of the king, launched the assault on the great tower, Saint Geoffrey went barefoot near the tomb of Saint Firmin and prayed to God to make the cause of right triumph. His wishes were not to be granted so soon; Adam's troops destroyed the besiegers' engines, and the king, wounded by an arrow that pierced his hauberk, was forced to abandon this enterprise. A two-year blockade alone could reduce the Castillon by famine, and it was then that this proud fortress of the counts of Amiens was razed. At the prayer of Geoffrey, the dungeon where our first Apostle had been martyred was preserved, and it was on this venerated crypt that Enguerrand de Boves soon had the church of Saint-Firmin-en-Castillon built.

A profound sense of justice always guided the conduct of Saint Geoffrey, whether in the political troubles that were then agitating the city of Amiens, or in the smallest details of pastoral administration. We find a new proof of this in the following incident where he knew how to combine severity with mercy.

At the convent of Saint-Michel, in Doullens, there was a nun, full of simplicity and virtue, who had already made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem three times. One evening, her superior ordered her to hold a wax torch to light her during the meal. The good sister hastened to comply with this order, but, due to an involuntary clumsiness, let the candle fall to the ground, where it went out. The prioress became angry, struck the poor girl, and, after pursuing her with insults for several days, put her out of the monastery. The innocent victim then went to find the Bishop of Amiens, who lavished his consolations upon her and procured her an asylum with an honorable woman named Eremburge, who lived near the bishopric. Immediately, Geoffrey wrote to the superior of Doullens to order her to come to him immediately, and on foot. The wicked nun obeyed this call; but, as she foresaw the prelate's reproaches, she gave free rein to her irascibility and first burst into insults against him. "Remember," the bishop said to her, "that I hold the place of Jesus Christ here. I am your judge, and it is in this capacity that I ask you for an account of the sister whom I entrusted to your care." — "I do not know what you mean; I have not lost any of my sisters." — "I am speaking to you of that excellent girl whom one evening you forced to light you with a torch. Did you not have the cruelty to drive her from your monastery for a miserable trifle? You did not think, then, that if this poor abandoned one fell into despair, that if misery pushed her to sell her honor, you would be responsible for her loss before God! I order you to look for her everywhere, to make her return to your monastery, and until you have found her, I condemn you to an absolute fast." — The superior of Saint-Michel searched all the quarters of the city in vain. Exhausted with fatigue and hunger, she returned in the evening to the bishopric, where her tears testified to her sincere repentance. The bishop then allowed himself to be touched, called for the nun, and returned her to the hands of her superior, to whom he granted a generous pardon.

Before rendering his soul to God, Geoffrey was to be a witness to the disaster that turned the city of Amiens into a heap of ashes and ruins. One night, as Geoffrey was praying before the relics of Saint Firmin, rapt in ecstasy, he found himself transported outside the city, on the road that leads to Saint-Acheul. Suddenly, perceiving to the south a chariot drawn by fiery horses and numerous horsemen whose steeds vomited sulfurous flames, he heard shields, helmets, and swords clashing, and saw all these fantastic warriors rushing toward the city they wished to destroy. Geoffrey had just imprinted the sign of the cross on his forehead to put these horrible apparitions to flight, when he saw a pontiff, the episcopal ring on his finger, a palm in his hand, his head encircled with a crown of lilies and roses, from which a cross detached itself: "I am Firmin, martyr and first bishop of this city," said the apparition. "As in the past, I am still ready to help it in the moment of danger. The prevarications of your people have kindled the anger of the Lord: reveal what you have just seen; through your exhortations, your reprimands, and your invectives, convert the sinners and implore the clemency of God with me." Saint Firmin immediately ascended toward the heavens; Geoffrey, having returned to himself, saw his clothes soaked with the floods of tears he had shed; this was for him a proof of the reality of his vision.

In vain did our Saint, docile to these mysterious warnings, employ supplications, threats, and promises to bring his flock back to the paths of good: his accounts of chimeric visions were dismissed, and it was only too late that the sad veracity of his prophetic discourses could be appreciated.

On August 23, 1115, the eve of Saint Bartholomew's Day, thick darkness spread over the city; the fires they concealed in their flanks set fire to the houses and spread such terror that people did not even think to fight against the invasion of the flames. Hideous crows were seen hovering in the air, with burning coals in their beaks, and animals floating half-consumed in the Somme. The entire city of Amiens was destroyed, with the exception of the church of Saint-Firmin, the episcopal palace, and a few huts of the poor.

It was in Ponthieu, where he was on pastoral visits, that Geoffrey learned of these sad events; he immediately rushed to the scene of these desolations: "O my dear children," he cried, "why did you not believe my words? You would have appeased the divine anger by the sincerity of your penance. At least draw some profit from your misfortunes by reforming your morals and recognizing the justice of the punishment that has struck you. If you act thus, I promise you, in the name of God, that Providence will heal all the evils that have afflicted you." This time, the people of Amiens believed his word and followed his advice. Thus, two years had barely passed before the ravages of the past were repaired and Geoffrey's promises had received their fulfillment.

The holy bishop, as he felt the end of his existence approaching, multiplied his works of charity and mercy, redoubling his zeal to purify his life. He did not forget the monastery of Mont-Saint-Quentin, where his happiest days had been spent: he gave it an altar, a gold chalice, and enough to provide for the lighting of the church as well as for the food of the brothers and the poor.

One would have said that he had foreseen the date of his death. When he went to visit Jean, Bishop of Thérouanne, to speak with him about the miseries of the time, the latter implored him to attend his funeral, which he considered to be near; but our Saint affirmed to him that he would precede him to the grave; indeed, the Bishop of Thérouanne did not die until fifteen years later (in 1130).

Surrounded by traps, exposed to calumnies and persecutions, Saint Geoffrey, whose character seems to us to have been inclined to discouragement, thought of going to shelter his last days under the silent shades of the Grande-Chartreuse. It was there that he would have liked to die, far from the political discords that constantly agitated his episcopal city. However, he resolved to go and take counsel from Raoul le Verd, Archbishop of Reims.

Eudes, abbot of the monastery of Saint-Crépin of Soissons, having learned that the Bishop of Amiens was crossing the Soissonnais to go to the metropolis, sent to meet him and begged him to come and celebrate the solemnity of the patronal feast (October 25) in his abbey. Geoffrey accepted this invitation; but, on the very night of his arrival, he felt the first attacks of the fever that was to carry him off. The next day, however, he wanted to set out again: he had barely gone two leagues when he felt his strength failing him and was forced to stop at a farm that depended on the abbey of Saint-Crépin. He then told his traveling companions about the dream he had had the previous night. Four illustrious personages, dressed in white albs, he said, had carried him into a church, and there, in the presence of a numerous weeping crowd, had placed a large funerary stone on his body.

Three days later, Abbot Eudes, who had been warned of the gravity of this incident, went to visit this dear sick man and had him transported, by water, to the monastery of Soissons, where he received the last sacraments from the hands of Bishop Lisiard of Crépy. Geoffrey said goodbye to the religious, expressed the wish to be buried in the chapter house, and rendered his soul to God on November 8, 1115, without the approach monastère de Soissons Birthplace and place of death of Geoffrey. of death altering the calm of his features.

Lisiard, Bishop of Soissons, would have liked Geoffrey to be buried in the cathedral of Saint-Gervais and Saint-Protais. But Eudes, Abbot of Saint-Crépin, made the rights of his monastery prevail, which were, moreover, in harmony with the wishes of the dying man. The holy Bishop of Amiens was therefore buried in the chapter house of the abbey.

Among the eminent personages who attended his funeral, one noticed Lisiard, Bishop of Soissons, Clérembault, Bishop of Senlis, Raoul III, Abbot of Saint-Médard, and many other abbots. As it had been impossible for the crowd to be able to enter the church to contemplate the features of the deceased one last time, there were those who imagined looking through the windows with the help of a high scaffolding. Even women had taken their place there, among others the wife of Enguerrand, a rich bourgeois of the city. The scaffolding broke under the weight and was thrown to the ground. It was feared that there would be a large number of victims to mourn: no one had the slightest bruise. This event was considered the first posthumous miracle of Saint Geoffrey.

An engraving by Sébastien Leclerc represents Saint Geoffrey accompanied by the dog that died poisoned after eating a piece of bread dipped in a drink intended for the holy bishop. — In the Fasti Mariani, he is seen on his knees, praying to God to divert from his episcopal city the scourges that threaten it, scourges that are symbolized by armies drawn up in battle and flames falling from the sky.

CULT AND RELICS.

The holiness of Geoffrey was proclaimed by his contemporaries; but it was especially revealed by the miracles that were accomplished at his tomb. His name is inscribed in the ancient Amiens litanies, in the martyrologies of Rome, Amiens, etc. A street in Amiens bears the name of Saint-Gouffroy.

Eudes, Abbot of Saint-Crépin of Soissons, while burying the body of Saint Geoffrey, reserved his belt and his episcopal comb, which he always carried on him as true relics. On April 5, 1138, Josselin, Bishop of Soissons, transported the body of Saint Geoffrey, buried for twenty-three years, from the chapter house of Saint-Crépin-le-Grand into the choir of the abbey church.

In 1617, Jérôme Hennequin, Bishop of Soissons, had excavations made in the old chapter house of the abbey of Saint-Crépin, and for a moment believed he had found the remains of Saint Geoffrey in a body dressed in pontifical vestments; but doubt having arisen, this unknown body was put back into the earth. Father Longueval wrote in 1734: "The tomb of Saint Geoffrey has not yet been discovered, although the monks of Saint-Crépin have made searches to find it."

One must therefore give no credence to André Duval when he tells us (Additions to Ribadeneira): "This sacred treasure was carried away with its reliquary to the royal abbey of the nuns of Notre-Dame, in the same city of Soissons, where it has rested since it was saved from the fury of the Huguenots, with the other relics that were in this abbey of Saint-Crépin."

We have extracted this biography from the Hagiography of the Diocese of Amiens, by the Abbé Corbiet, honorary canon and historiographer of the diocese.