story of S. Patrick[94]: “St. Patrice commande à la mort de rendre ses victimes afin que leur propre bouche proclame devant le peuple la vérité des doctrines qu’il leur annonce, ou bien il s’assure si son ordre de planter une croix sur la tombe des chrétiens, et non des infidèles, a été fidélement exécuté, en interrogeant les morts eux-mêmes, et en apprenant de leur bouche s’ils ont mérité ce consolant hommage.”
In this connexion—the tradition of a dead person who speaks—the story of S. Melor may be not impertinent. About the year 400 A.D., there was a certain Duke of Cornwall named Mehan, whose brother, Rivold, conspired against him and put him to death. The duke had left a young son, Melor, whom the usurper feared to slay, but sent to be brought up under the strictest rule in one of the Cornish monasteries, where the novice continually edified the community by his holy life, having (so it is said) the gift of miracles. After a few years Rivold, being afraid lest the boy should depose him, bribed a soldier named Cerialtan to murder Melor secretly. This was accordingly done. The assassin cut off the head of Melor, and carried it to the duke. He had murdered the boy in the depths of the forest, whither he had enticed him, and as he was making his way through the thicket he chanced to look back his eyes being attracted by a great light. And lo, all around the body stood a company of angels, robed in white albs, and holding in their hands tapers which glistered as golden stars. When he had gone a little further, the wretched murderer was overcome by parching thirst, and almost fainting on his path he cried out in an agony: “Wretched man that I am! I die for a draught of cool water.” Then the head of the murdered boy spoke to him, saying: “Cerialtan, strike upon the grass of this lawn with thy stick, and a fountain shall spring forth for thy need.” The man did so, and having quenched his thirst at the miraculous well, he went swiftly on his way. Now when the head was brought into the presence of Duke Rivold this evil tyrant smote it with his hand, but he instantly sickened, and three days afterwards he died. The head was then taken back to the body and was honourably buried with it. And not many years afterwards the relics were translated with great worship to the town of Amesbury, which is in Wiltshire.[95]
In his Histoire hagiologique du diocèse de Valence,[96] l’abbé
