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THE
OF
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CHAPTER I.
WHEN I and a Gallic friend had assembled in one place, this Gaul being
a man very dear to me, both on account of his remembrance of Martin
(for he had been one of his disciples), and on account of his own
merits, my friend Postumianus joined us. He had just, on my account,
returned from the East, to which, leaving his native country, he had
gone three years before. Having embraced this most affectionate
friend, and kissed both his knees and his feet, we were for a moment
or two, as it were, astounded; and, shedding mutual tears of joy, we
walked about a good deal. But by and by we sat down on our garments
of sackcloth laid upon the ground. Then Postumianus, directing his
looks towards me is the first to speak, and says,--
"When I was in the remote parts of Egypt, I felt a desire to go on as far as the sea. I there met with a merchant vessel, which was ready to set sail with the view of making for Narbonne.[1] The same night you seemed in a dream to stand beside me, and laying hold of me with your hand, to lead me away that I should go on board that ship. Ere long, when the dawn dispersed the darkness, and when I rose up in the place in which I had been resting, as I revolved my dream in my mind, I was suddenly seized with such a longing after you, that without delay I went on board the ship. Landing on the thirtieth day at Marseilles, I came on from that and arrived here on the tenth day--so prosperous a voyage was granted to my dutiful desire of seeing you. Do thou only, for whose sake I have sailed over so many seas, and have traversed such an extent of land, yield yourself over to me to be embraced and enjoyed apart from all others."
"I truly," said I, "while you were still staying in Egypt, was ever holding fellowship with you in my mind and thoughts, and affection for you had full possession of me as I meditated upon you day and night. Surely then, you cannot imagine that I will now fail for a single moment to gaze with delight upon you, as I hang upon your lips. I will listen to you, I will converse with you, while no one at all is admitted to our retirement, which this remote cell of mine furnishes to us. For, as I suppose, you will not take amiss the presence of this friend of ours, the Gaul, who, as you perceive, rejoices with his whole heart over this arrival of yours, even as I do myself."
"Quite right," said Postumianus, "that Gaul will certainly be retained in our company; who, although I am but little acquainted with him, yet for this very reason that he is greatly beloved by you, cannot fail also to be dear to me. This must especially be the case, since he is of the school of Martin; nor will I grudge, as you desire, to talk with you in connected discourse, since I came hither for this very purpose, that I should, even at the risk of being tedious, respond to the desire of my dear Sulpitius"--and in so speaking he affectionately took hold of me with both his hands.
CHAPTER II.
"TRULY," said I, "you have clearly proved how much a
sincere love can accomplish, inasmuch as, for my sake, you have
traveled over so many seas, and such an extent of land, journeying, so
to speak, from the rising of the sun in the East to where he sets in
the West. Come, then, because we are here in a retired spot by
ourselves, and not being otherwise occupied, feel it our duty to
attend to your discourse, come, I pray thee, relate to us the whole
history of your wanderings. Tell us, if you please, how the faith of
Christ is flourishing in the East; what peace the saints enjoy; what
are the customs of the monks; and with what signs and miracles Christ
is working in his servants. For assuredly, because in this region of
ours and amid the circumstances in which we are placed, life itself
has become a weariness to us, we shall gladly hear from you, if life
is permitted to Christians even in the desert."
In reply to these words, Postumianus declares, "I shall do as I see you desire. But I beg you first to tell me, whether all those persons whom I left here as priests, continue the same as I knew them before taking my departure."
Then I exclaim, "Forbear, I beseech thee, to make any enquiry on such points, which you either, I think, know as well as I do, or if you are ignorant of them, it is better that you should hear nothing regarding them. I cannot, however, help saying, that not only are those, of whom you enquire, no better than they were when you knew them, but even that one man, who was formerly a great friend of mine, and in whose affection I was wont to find some consolation from the persecutions of the rest, has shown himself more unkind towards me than he ought to have been. However, I shall not say anything harsher regarding him, both because I once esteemed him as a friend, and loved him even when he was deemed my enemy. I shall only add that while I was silently meditating on these things in my thoughts, this source of grief deeply afflicted me, that I had almost lost the friendship of one who was both a wise and a religious man. But let us turn away from these topics which are full of sorrow, and let us rather listen to you, according to the promise which you gave some time ago."
"Let it be so," exclaimed Postumianus. And on his saying this, we all kept silence, while, moving his robe of sackcloth, on which he had sat down, a little nearer me, he thus began.
CHAPTER III.
"THREE years ago, Sulpitius, at which time, leaving this
neighborhood, I bade thee farewell, after setting sail from Narbonne,
on the fifth day we entered a port of Africa: so prosperous, by the
will of God, had been the voyage. I had in my mind a great desire to
go to Carthage, to visit those localities connected with the saints,
and, above all, to worship at the tomb[2] of the martyr Cyprian. On the fifth
day we returned to the harbor, and launched forth into the deep. Our
destination was Alexandria; but as the south wind was against us, we
were almost driven upon the Syrtis;[3]
the cautious sailors, however, guarding against this, stopped the ship
by casting anchor. The continent of Africa then lay before our eyes;
and, landing on it in boats, when we perceived that the whole country
round was destitute of human cultivation, I penetrated farther inland,
for the purpose of more carefully exploring the locality. About three
miles from the sea-coast, I beheld a small hut in the midst of the
sand, the roof of which, to use the expression[4] of Sallust, was like the keel of a ship.
It was close to[5] the earth, and was
floored with good strong boards, not because any very heavy rains are
there feared (for, in fact, such a thing as rain has there never even
been heard of), but because, such is the strength of the winds in that
district, that, if at any time only a little breath of air begins
there to be felt, even when the weather is pretty mild, a greater
wreckage takes place in those lands than on any sea. No plants are
there, and no seeds ever spring up, since, in such shifting soil, the
dry sand is swept along with every motion of the winds. But where
some promontories, back from the sea, act as a check to the winds, the
soil, being somewhat more firm, produces here and there some prickly
grass, and that furnishes fair pasturage for sheep. The inhabitants
live on milk, while those of them that are more skillful, or, so to
speak, more wealthy, make use of barley bread. That is the only kind
of grain which flourishes there, for barley, by the quickness of its
growth in that sort of soil, generally escapes the destruction caused
by the fierce winds. So rapid is its growth that we are old it is
ripe on the thirtieth day after the sowing of the seed. But there is
no reason why men should settle there, except that all are free from
the payment of taxes. The sea-coast of the Cyrenians is indeed the
most remote, bordering upon that desert which lies between Egypt and
Africa,[6] and through which Cato
formerly, when fleeing from Cæsar, led an army.[7]
CHAPTER IV.
I THEREFORE bent my steps toward the hut which I had beheld from a
distance. There I find an old man, in a garment made of skins,
turning a mill with his hand. He saluted and received us kindly. We
explain to him that we had been forced to land on that coast, and were
prevented by the continued raging of the sea[8] from being able at once to pursue our
voyage; that, having made our way on shore, we had desired, as is in
keeping with ordinary human nature, to become acquainted with the
character of the locality, and the manners of the inhabitants. We
added that we were Christians, and that the principal object of our
enquiry was whether there were any Christians amid these solitudes.
Then, indeed, he, weeping for joy, throws himself at our feet; and,
kissing us over and over again, invites us to prayer, while, spreading
on the ground the skins of sheep, he makes us sit down upon them. He
then serves up a breakfast truly luxurious,[9] consisting of the half of a barley cake.
Now, we were four, while he himself constituted the fifth. He also
brought in a bundle of herbs, of which I forget the name but they were
like mint, were rich in leaves, and yielded a taste like honey. We
were delighted with the exceedingly sweet taste of this plant, and our
hunger was fully satisfied."
Upon this I smiled, and said to my friend the Gaul, "What, Gaul, do you think of this? Are you pleased with a bundle of herbs and half a barley cake as a breakfast for five men?"
Then he, being an exceedingly modest person, and blushing somewhat, while he takes my[10] joke in good part, says, "You act, Sulpitius, in a way like yourself, for you never miss any opportunity which is offered you of joking us on the subject of our fondness for eating. But it is unkind of you to try to force us Gauls to live after the fashion of angels; and yet, through my own liking for eating, I could believe that even the angels are in the habit of eating; for such is my appetite that I would be afraid even singly to attack that half barley cake. However, let that man of Cyrene be satisfied with it, to whom it is either a matter of necessity or nature always to feel hungry; or, again, let those be content with it from whom, I suppose, their tossing at sea had taken away all desire for food. We, on the other hand, are at a distance from the sea; and, as I have often testified to you, we are, in one word, Gauls. But instead of wasting time over such matters, let our friend here rather go on to complete his account of the Cyrenian."
CHAPTER V.
"ASSUREDLY," continues Postumianus, "I shall take care
in future not to mention the abstinence of any one, in case the
difficult example should quite offend our friends the Gauls. I had
intended, however, to give an account also of the dinner of that man
of Cyrene--for we were seven days with him--or some of the subsequent
feasts; but these things had better be passed over, lest the Gaul
should think that he was jeered at. However, on the following day,
when some of the natives had come together to visit us, we discovered
that that host of ours was a Presbyter--a fact which he had concealed
from us with the greatest care. We then went with him to the church,
which was about two miles distant, and was concealed from our view by
an intervening mountain. We found that it was constructed of common
and worthless trees, and was not much more imposing than the hut of
our host, in which one could not stand without stooping. On enquiring
into the customs of the men of the district, we found that they were
not in the habit of either buying or selling anything. They knew not
the meaning of either fraud or theft. As to gold and silver, which
mankind generally deem the most desirable of all things, they neither
possess them, nor do they desire to possess them. For when I offered
that Presbyter ten gold coins, he refused them, declaring, with
profound wisdom, that the church was not benefited but rather[11] injured by gold. We presented him,
however, with some pieces of clothing.
CHAPTER VI.
"AFTER he had kindly accepted our gifts, on the sailors calling
us back to the sea, we departed; and after a favorable passage, we
arrived at Alexandria on the seventh day. There we found a
disgraceful strife raging between the bishops and monks, the cause or
occasion of which was that the priests were known when assembled
together often to have passed decrees in crowded synods to the effect
that no one should read or possess the books of Origen. He was, no
doubt, regarded as a most able disputant on the sacred Scriptures.
But the bishops maintained that there were certain things in his books
of an unsound character; and his supporters, not being bold enough to
defend these, rather took the line of declaring that they had been
inserted by the heretics. They affirmed, therefore, that the other
portions of his writings were not to be condemned on account of those
things which justly fell under censure, since the faith of readers
could easily make a distinction, so that they should not follow what
had been forged, and yet should keep hold of those points which were
handled in accordance with the Catholic faith. They remarked that
there was nothing wonderful if, in modern and recent writings,
heretical guile had been at work; since it had not feared in certain
places to attack even Gospel truth. The bishops, struggling against
these positions to the utmost extent of their power, insisted that
what was quite correct in the writings of Origen should, along with
the author himself, and even his whole works, be condemned, because
those books were more than sufficient which the church had received.
They also said that the reading was to be avoided of such works as
would do more harm to the unwise than they would benefit the wise.
For my part, on being led by curiosity to investigate some portions of
these writings, I found very many things which pleased me, but some
that were to be blamed. I think it is clear that the author himself
really entertained these impious opinions, though his defenders
maintain that the passages have been forged. I truly wonder that one
and the same man could have been so different from himself as that, in
the portion which is approved, he has no equal since the times of the
Apostles, while in that which is justly condemned, no one can be shown
to have erred more egregiously.
CHAPTER VII.
FOR while many things in his books which were extracted from them by
the bishops were read to show that they were written in opposition to
the Catholic faith, that passage especially excited bad feeling
against him, in which we read in his published works that the Lord
Jesus, as he had come in the flesh for the redemption of mankind, and
suffering upon the cross for the salvation of man, had tasted death to
procure eternal life for the human race, so he was, by the same course
of suffering, even to render the devil a partaker of redemption. He
maintained this on the ground that such a thing would be in harmony
with his goodness and beneficence, inasmuch as he who had restored
fallen and ruined man, would thus also set free an angel who had
previously fallen. When these and other things of a like nature were
brought forward by the bishops, a tumult arose owing to the zeal of
the different parties; and when this could not be quelled by the
authority of the priests, the governor of the city was called upon to
regulate the discipline of the church by a perverse precedent; and
through the terror which he inspired, the brethren were dispersed,
while the monks took to flight in different directions; so that, on
the decrees being published, they were not permitted to find lasting
acceptance[12] in any place. This fact
influenced me greatly, that Hieronymus, a man truly Catholic and most
skillful in the holy law, was thought at first to have been a follower
of Origen, yet now, above most others, went the length of condemning
the whole of his writings. Assuredly, I am not inclined to judge
rashly in regard to any one; but even the most learned men were said
to hold different opinions in this controversy. However, whether that
opinion of Origen was simply an error, as I think, or whether it was a
heresy, as is generally supposed, it not only could not be suppressed
by multitudes of censures on the part of the priests, but it never
could have spread itself so far and wide, had it not gathered strength
from their contentions. Accordingly, when I came to Alexandria, I
found that city in a ferment from disturbances connected with the
matter in question. The Bishop, indeed, of that place received me
very kindly, and in a better spirit than I expected, and even
endeavored to retain me with him. But I was not at all inclined to
settle there, where a recent outbreak of ill-will had resulted in a
destruction of the brethren. For, although perhaps it may seem that
they ought to have obeyed the bishops, yet such a multitude of
persons, all living in an open confession of Christ, ought not for
that reason to have been persecuted, especially by bishops.
CHAPTER VIII.
ACCORDINGLY, setting out from that place, I made for the town of
Bethlehem, which is six miles distant from Jerusalem, but requires
sixteen stoppages[13] on the part of
one journeying from Alexandria. The presbyter Jerome[14] rules the church of this place; for it
is a parish of the bishop who has possession of Jerusalem. Having
already in my former journey become acquainted with Hieronymus, he had
easily brought it about that I with good reason deemed no one more
worthy of my regard and love. For, besides the merit due to him on
account of his faith, and the possession of many virtues, he is a man
learned not only in Latin and Greek, but also Hebrew, to such a degree
that no one dare venture to compare himself with him in all knowledge.
I shall indeed be surprised if he is not well known to you also
through means of the works which he has written, since he is, in fact,
read the whole world over."
"Well," says the Gaul at this point, "he is, in truth, but too well known to us. For, some five years ago, I read a certain book of his, in which the whole tribe of our monks is most vehemently assaulted and reviled by him. For this reason, our Belgian friend is accustomed to be very angry, because he has said that we are in the habit of cramming ourselves even to repletion. But I, for my part, pardon the eminent man; and am of opinion that he had made the remark rather about Eastern than Western monks. For the love of eating is gluttony in the case of the Greeks, whereas among the Gauls it is owing to the nature they possess."
Then exclaimed I, "You defend your nation, my Gallic friend, by means of rhetoric; but I beg to ask whether that book condemns only this vice in the case of the monks?"
"No indeed," replies he; "the writer passed nothing over, which he did not blame, scourge, and expose: in particular, he inveighed against avarice and no less against arrogance. He discoursed much respecting pride, and not a little about superstition; and I will freely own that he seemed to me to draw a true picture of the vices of multitudes."
CHAPTER IX.
"BUT as to familiarities which take place between virgins and
monks, or even clerics, how true and how courageous were his words!
And, on account of these, he is said not to stand high in favor with
certain people whom I am unwilling to name. For, as our Belgian
friend is angry that we were accused of too great fondness for eating,
so those people, again, are said to express their rage when they find
it written in that little work,--The virgin despises her true
unmarried brother, and seeks a stranger.'"
Upon this I exclaim, "You are going too far, my Gallic friend: take heed lest some one who perhaps owns to these things, hear what you are saying, and begin to hold you, along with Hieronymus, in no great affection. For, since you are a learned[15] man, not unreasonably will I admonish you in the verse of that comic poet who says,--`Submission procures friends, while truth gives rise to hatred.' Let rather, Postumianus, your discourse to us about the East, so well begun, now be resumed."
"Well," says he, "as I had commenced to relate, I stayed with Hieronymus six months, who carried on an unceasing warfare against the wicked, and a perpetual struggle in opposition to the deadly hatred of ungodly men. The heretics hate him, because he never desists from attacking them; the clerics hate him, because he assails their life and crimes. But beyond doubt, all the good admire and love him; for those people are out of their senses, who suppose that he is a heretic. Let me tell the truth on this point, which is that the knowledge of the man is Catholic, and that his doctrine is sound. He is always occupied in reading, always at his books with his whole heart: he takes no rest day or night; he is perpetually either reading or writing something. In fact, had I not been resolved in mind, and had promised to God first to visit[16] the desert previously referred to, I should have grudged to depart even for the shortest time from so great a man. Handing over, then, and entrusting to him all my possessions and my whole family, which having followed me against my own inclination, kept me in a state of embarrassment, and thus being in a sort of way delivered from a heavy burden, and restored to freedom of action, I returned to Alexandria, and having visited the brethren there I set out from the place for upper Thebais, that is for the farthest off confines of Egypt. For a great multitude of monks were said to inhabit the widely extending solitudes of that wilderness. But here it would be tedious, were I to seek to narrate all the things which I witnessed: I shall only touch lightly on a few points.
Upon this, the Gaul looking at me exclaims: "Would that a friend of yours--I do not wish to mention his name--were now present; I should greatly like him to hear of that example, since we have had too much experience of his bitter anger in the persons of a great many people. Nevertheless, as I hear, he has lately forgiven his enemies; and, in these circumstances, were he to hear of the conduct of that man, he would be more and more strengthened in his forgiving course by the example thus set before him, and would feel that it is an admirable virtue not to fall under the influence of anger. I will not indeed deny that he had just reasons for his wrath; but where the battle is hard, the crown of victory is all the more glorious. For this reason, I think, if you will allow me to say so, that a certain man was justly to be praised, because when an ungrateful freedman abandoned him he rather pitied than inveighed against the fugitive. And, indeed, he was not even angry with the man by whom he seems to have been carried off."[17]
Upon this I remarked: "Unless Postumianus had given us that example of overcoming anger, I would have been very angry on account of the departure of the fugitive; but since it is not lawful to be angry, all remembrance of such things, as it annoys us, ought to be blotted from our minds. Let us rather, Postumianus, listen to what you have got to say."
"I will do," says he, "Sulpitius, what you request, as I see you are all so desirous of hearing me. But remember that I do not address my speech to you without hope of a larger recompense; I shall gladly perform what you require, provided that, when ere long my turn comes, you do not refuse what I ask."
"We indeed," said I, "have nothing by means of which we can return the obligation we shall lie under to you even without a larger return.[18] However, command us as to anything you have thought about, provided you satisfy our desires, as you have already begun to do, for your speech conveys to us true delight."
"I will stint nothing," said Postumianus, "of your desires; and inasmuch as you have recognized the virtue of one recluse, I shall go on to relate to you some few things about more such persons.
"Numbers of those persons live in the desert without any roofs over their heads, whom people call anchorites.[22] They subsist on the roots of plants; they settle nowhere in any fixed place, lest they should frequently have men visiting them; wherever night compels them they choose their abode. Well, two monks from Nitria directed their steps towards a certain man living in this style, and under these conditions. They did so, although they were from a very different quarter, because they had heard of his virtues, and because he had formerly been their dear and intimate friend, while a member of the same monastery. They sought after him long and much; and at length, in the seventh month, they found him staying in that far-distant wilderness which borders upon Memphis. He was said already to have dwelt in these solitudes for twelve years; but although he shunned intercourse with all men, yet he did not shrink from meeting these friends; on the contrary, he yielded himself to their affection for a period of three days. On the fourth day, when he had gone some distance escorting them in their return journey, they beheld a lioness of remarkable size coming towards them. The animal, although meeting with three persons, showed no uncertainty as to the one she made for, but threw herself down at the feet of the anchorite: and, lying there with a kind of weeping and lamentation, she manifested mingled feelings of sorrow and supplication. The sight affected all, and especially him who perceived that he was sought for: he therefore sets out, and the others follow him. For the beast stopping from time to time, and, from time to time looking back, clearly wished it to be understood that the anchorite should follow wherever she led. What need is there of many words? We arrived at the den of the animal, where she, the unfortunate mother, was nourishing five whelps already grown up, which, as they had come forth with closed eyes from the womb of their dam, so they had continued in persistent blindness. Bringing them out, one by one, from the hollow of the rock, she laid them down at the feet of the anchorite. Then at length the holy man perceived what the creature desired; and having called upon the name of God, he touched with his hand the closed eyes of the whelps; and immediately their blindness ceased, while light, so long denied them, streamed upon the open eyes of the animals. Thus, those brethren, having visited the anchorite whom they were desirous of seeing, returned with a very precious reward for their labor, inasmuch as, having been permitted to be eye-witnesses of such power, they had beheld the faith of the saint, and the glory of Christ, to which they will in future bear testimony. But I have still more marvels to tell: the lioness, after five days, returned to the man who had done her so great a kindness, and brought him, as a gift, the skin of an uncommon animal. Frequently clad in this, as if it were a cloak. that holy man did not disdain to receive that gift through the instrumentality of the beast; while, all the time, he rather regarded Another as being the giver.
"A certain saint, then, endowed with almost incredible power in casting out demons from the bodies of those possessed by them, was, day by day, performing unheard-of miracles. For, not only when present, and not merely by his word, but while absent also, he, from time to time, cured possessed bodies, by some threads taken from his garment, or by letters which he sent. He, therefore, was to a wonderful degree visited by people who came to him from every part of the world. I say nothing about those of humbler rank; but prefects, courtiers, and judges of various ranks often lay at his doors. Most holy bishops also, laying aside their priestly dignity, and humbly imploring him to touch and bless them, believed with good reason that they were sanctified, and illumined with a divine gift, as often as they touched his hand and garment. He was reported to abstain always and utterly from every kind of drink, and for food (I will whisper this, Sulpitius, into your ear lest our friend the Gaul hear it), to subsist upon only six dried figs. But in the meantime, just as honor accrued to the holy man from his excellence,[24] so vanity began to steal upon him from the honor which was paid him. When first he perceived that this evil was growing upon him, he struggled long and earnestly to shake it off, but it could not be thoroughly got rid of by all his efforts, since he still had a secret consciousness of being under the influence of vanity. Everywhere did the demons acknowledge his name, while he was not able to exclude from his presence the number of people who flocked to him. The hidden poison was, in the meantime, working in his breast, and he, at whose beck demons were expelled from the bodies of others, was quite unable to cleanse himself from the hidden thoughts of vanity. Betaking himself, therefore, with fervent supplication to God, he is said to have prayed that, power being given to the devil over him for five months, he might become like to those whom he himself had cured. Why should I delay with many words? That most powerful man,--he, renowned for his miracles and virtues through all the East, he, to whose threshold multitudes had gathered, and at whose door the highest dignitaries of that age had prostrated themselves--laid hold of by a demon, was kept fast in chains. It was only after having suffered all those things which the possessed are wont to endure, that at length in the fifth month he was delivered, not only from the demon, but (what was to him more useful and desirable) from the vanity which had dwelt within him.
"Well," says our Gallic friend upon this, "I know not indeed what you have left to be said by Hieronymus; you have within such brief compass comprehended all our practices, that I think these few words of yours, if they are taken in good part, and patiently considered, will greatly benefit those in question, so that they will not require in future to be kept in order by the books of Hieronymus. But do thou rather go on with what you had begun, and bring forward an example, as you said you would do, against spurious righteousness; for to tell you the truth, we are subject to no more destructive evil than this within the wide boundaries of Gaul."
"I will do so," replied Postumianus, "nor will I any longer keep you in a state of expectation.
"I own it," said Postumianus, "and that book of yours is never far from my right hand. For if you recognize it, look here--(and so saying he displayed the book which was concealed in his dress)--here it is. This book," added he, "is my companion both by land and sea: it has been my friend and comforter in all my wanderings. But I will relate to you to what places that book has penetrated, and how there is almost no spot upon earth in which the subject of so happy a history is not possessed as a well-known narrative. Paulinus, a man who has the strongest regard for you, was the first to bring it to the city of Rome; and then, as it was greedily laid hold of by the whole city, I saw the booksellers rejoicing over it, inasmuch as nothing was a source of greater gain to them, for nothing commanded a readier sale, or fetched a higher price. This same book, having got a long way before me in the course of my traveling, was already generally read through all Carthage, when I came into Africa. Only that presbyter of Cyrene whom I mentioned did not possess it; but he wrote down its contents from my description. And why should I speak about Alexandria? for there it is almost better known to all than it is to yourself. It has passed through Egypt, Nitria, the Thebaid, and the whole of the regions of Memphis. I found it being read by a certain old man in the desert; and, after I told him that I was your intimate friend, this commission was given me both by him and many other brethren, that, if I should ever again visit this country, and find you well, I should constrain you to supply those particulars which you stated in your book you had passed over respecting the virtues of the sainted man. Come then, as I do not desire you to repeat to me those things which are already sufficiently known from what you have written, let those other points, at my request and that of many others, be fully set forth, which at the time of your writing you passed over, to prevent, as I believe, any feeling of weariness on the part of your readers."
"Well," said I, "I think that your request would more properly be directed to our friend the Gaul, since he is acquainted with more of Martin's doings than I am--for a disciple could not be ignorant of the deeds of his master--and who certainly owes a return of kindness, not only to Martin, but to both of us, inasmuch as I have already published my book, and you have, so far, related to us the doings of our brethren in the East. Let then, our friend the Gaul commence that detailed account which is due from him: because, as I have said, he both owes us a return in the way of speaking, and will, I believe, do this much for his friend Martin--that he shall, not unwillingly, give a narrative of his deeds."
"Certainly," replied Postumianus, "speak either in Celtic, or in Gaulish, if you prefer it, provided only you speak of Martin. But for my part, I believe, that, even though you were dumb, words would not be wanting to you, in which you might speak of Martin with eloquent lips, just as the tongue of Zacharias was loosed at the naming of John. But as you are, in fact, an orator,[27] you craftily, like an orator, begin by begging us to excuse your unskillfulness, because you really excel in eloquence. But it is not fitting either that a monk should show such cunning, or that a Gaul should be so artful. But to work rather, and set forth what you have still got to say, for we have wasted too much time already in dealing with other matters; and the lengthening shadow of the declining sun warns us that no long portion of day remains till night be upon us. Then, after we had all kept silence for a little, the Gaul thus begins--"I think I must take care in the first place not to repeat those particulars about the virtues of Martin, which our friend Sulpitius there has related in his book. For this reason, I shall pass over his early achievements, when he was a soldier; nor will I touch on those things which he did as a layman and a monk. At the same time, I shall relate nothing which I simply heard from others, but only events of which I myself was an eye-witness."
CHAPTER I.
"WELL then, when first, having left the schools, I attached
myself to the blessed man, a few days after doing so, we followed him
on his way to the church. In the way, a poor man, half-naked in these
winter-months, met him, and begged that some clothing might be given
him. Then Martin, calling for the chief-deacon, gave orders that the
shivering creature should be clothed without delay. After that,
entering a private apartment, and sitting down by himself, as his
custom was--for he secured for himself this retirement even in the
church, liberty being granted to the clerics, since indeed the
presbyters were seated in another apartment, either spending their
time in mutual[28] courtesies, or
occupied in listening to affairs of business. But Martin kept himself
in his own seclusion up to the hour at which custom required that the
sacred rites should be dispensed to the people. And I will not pass
by this point that; when sitting in his retirement, he never used a
chair; and, as to the church, no one ever saw him sitting there, as I
recently saw a certain man (God is my witness), not without a feeling
of shame at the spectacle, seated on a lofty throne, yea, in its
elevation, a kind of royal tribunal; but Martin might be seen sitting
on a rude little stool, such as those in use by the lowest of
servants, which we Gallic country-people call tripets,[29] and which you men of learning, or
those at least who are from Greece, call tripods. Well, that
poor man who had been chanced upon, as the chief-deacon delayed to
give him the garment, rushed into this private apartment of the
blessed man, complaining that he had not been attended to by the
cleric, and bitterly mourning over the cold he suffered. No delay
took place: the holy man, while the other did not observe, secretly
drew off his tunic which was below his outer[30] garment, and clothing the poor man
with this, told him to go on his way. Then, a little after, the
chief-deacon coming in informs him, according to custom, that the
people were waiting in the church, and that it was incumbent on him to
proceed to the performance of the sacred rites. Martin said to him in
reply that it was necessary that the poor man--referring to
himself--should be clothed, and that he could not possibly proceed to
the church, unless the poor man received a garment. But the deacon,
not understanding the true state of the case--that Martin, while
outwardly clad with a cloak, was not seen by him to be naked
underneath, at last begins to complain that the poor man does not make
his appearance. `Let the garment which has been got ready,' said
Martin, `be brought to me; there will not be wanting the poor man
requiring to be clothed.' Then, at length, the cleric, constrained by
necessity, and now in not the sweetest temper, hurriedly procures a
rough[31] garment out of the nearest
shop, short and shaggy, and costing only five pieces of silver, and
lays it, in wrath at the feet of Martin. `See,' cries he, `there is
the garment, but the poor man is not here.' Martin, nothing moved,
bids him go to the door for a little, thus obtaining secrecy, while, in
his nakedness, he clothes himself with the garment, striving with all
his might to keep secret what he had done. But when do such things
remain concealed in the case of the saints desiring that they should be
so? Whether they will or not, all are brought to light.
CHAPTER II.
"MARTIN, then, clothed in this garment, proceeds to offer the
sacrifice[32] to God. And then on that
very day--I am about to narrate something wonderful--when he was
engaged in blessing the altar, as is usual, we beheld a globe of fire
dart from his head, so that, as it rose on high, the flame produced a
hair of extraordinary length. And, although we saw this take place on
a very famous day in the midst of a great multitude of people, only
one of the virgins, one of the presbyters, and only three of the
monks, witnessed the sight: but why the others did not behold it is a
matter not to be decided by our judgment.
"About the same time, when my uncle Evanthius, a highly Christian man, although occupied in the affairs of this world, had begun to be afflicted with a very serious illness, to the extreme danger of his life, he sent for Martin. And, without any delay, Martin hastened towards him; but, before the blessed man had completed the half of the distance between them, the sick man experienced the power of him that was coming; and, being immediately restored to health, he himself met us as we were approaching. With many entreaties, he detained Martin, who wished to return home on the following day; for, in the meantime, a serpent had struck with a deadly blow a boy belonging to my uncle's family; and Evanthius himself, on his own shoulders, carried him all but lifeless through the force of the poison, and laid him at the feet of the holy man, believing that nothing was impossible to him. By this time, the serpent had diffused its poison through all the members of the boy: one could see his skin swollen in all his veins, and his vitals strung up like a leather-bottle. Martin stretched forth his hand, felt all the limbs of the boy, and placed his finger close to the little wound, at which the animal had instilled the poison. Then in truth--I am going to tell things wonderful--we saw the whole poison, drawn from every part of the body, gather quickly together to Martin's finger; and next, we beheld the poison mixed with blood press through the small puncture of the wound, just as a long line of abundant milk is wont to flow forth from the teats of goats or sheep, when these are squeezed by the hand of shepherds. The boy rose up quite well. We were amazed by so striking a miracle; and we acknowledged--as, indeed, truth compelled us to do--that there was no one under heaven who could equal the deeds of Martin.
CHAPTER III.
"IN the same way, some time afterwards, we made a journey with
him while he visited the various parishes in his diocese. He had gone
forward a little by himself, some necessity or other, I know not what,
compelling us to keep behind. In the meantime, a state-conveyance,
full of military men, was coming along the public highway. But when
the animals near the side beheld Martin in his shaggy garment, with a
long black cloak over it, being alarmed, they swerved a little in the
opposite direction. Then, the reins getting entangled, they threw
into confusion those extended lines in which, as you have often seen,
those wretched creatures are held together; and as they were with
difficulty rearranged, delay, of course, was caused to those people
hastening forward. Enraged by this injury, the soldiers, with hasty
leaps, made for the ground. And then they began to belabor Martin
with whips and staves; and as he, in silence and with incredible
patience, submitted his back to them smiting him, this roused the
greater fury in these wretches, for they became all the more violent
from the fact, that he, as if he did not feel the blows showered upon
him, seemed to despise them. He fell almost lifeless to the earth;
and we, ere long, found him covered with blood, and wounded in every
part of his body. Lifting him up without delay, and placing him upon
his own ass, while we execrated the place of that cruel bloodshed, we
hastened, off as speedily as possible. In the meantime, the soldiers
having returned to their conveyance, after their fury was satisfied,
urge the beasts to proceed in the direction in which they had been
going. But they all remained fixed to the spot, as stiff as if they
had been brazen statues, and although their masters shouted at them,
and the sound of their whips echoed on every side, still the animals
never moved. These men next all fall to with lashes; in fact, while
punishing the mules, they waste all the Gallic whips they had. The
whole of the neighboring wood is laid hold of, and the beasts are
beaten with enormous cudgels; but these cruel hands still effected
nothing: the animals continued to stand in one and the same place like
fixed effigies. The wretched men knew not what to do, and they could
no longer conceal from themselves that, in some way or other, there
was a higher power at work in the bosoms of these brutes, so that they
were, in fact, restrained by the interposition of a deity. At length,
therefore, returning to themselves, they began to enquire who he was
whom but a little before they had scourged at the same place; and
when, on pursuing the investigation, they ascertained from those on
the way that it was Martin who had been so cruelly beaten by them,
then, indeed, the cause of their misfortune appeared manifest to all;
and they could no longer doubt that they were kept back on account of
the injury done to that man. Accordingly, they all rush after us at
full speed, and, conscious of what they had done and deserved,
overwhelmed with shame, weeping, and having their heads and faces
smeared with the dust with which they themselves had besprinkled their
bodies, they cast themselves at Martin's feet, imploring his pardon,
and begging that he would allow them to proceed. They added that they
had been sufficiently punished by their conscience alone, and that
they deeply felt that the earth might swallow them alive in that very
spot, or that rather, they, losing all sense, might justly be
stiffened into immovable rocks, just as they had seen their beasts of
burden fixed to the places in which they stood; but they begged and
entreated him to extend to them pardon for their crime, and to allow
them to go on their way. The blessed man had been aware, before they
came up to us, that they were in a state of detention, and had already
informed us of the fact; however, he kindly granted them forgiveness;
and, restoring their animals, permitted them to pursue their
journey.
CHAPTER IV.
"I HAVE often noticed this, Sulpitius, that Martin was accustomed
to say to you, that such an abundance[33] of power was by no means granted him
while he was a bishop, as he remembered to have possessed before he
obtained that office. Now, if this be true, or rather since it is
true, we may imagine how great those things were which, while still a
monk, he accomplished, and which, without any witness, he effected
apart by himself; since we have seen that, while a bishop, he
performed so great wonders before the eyes of all. Many, no doubt, of
his former achievements were known to the world, and could not be hid,
but those are said to have been innumerable which, while he avoided
boastfulness, he kept concealed and did not allow to come to the
knowledge of mankind; for, inasmuch as he transcended the capabilities
of mere man, in a consciousness of his own eminence, and trampling
upon worldly glory, he was content simply to have heaven as a witness
of his deeds. That this is true we can judge even from these things
which are well known to us, and could not be hid; since e.g. before he
became a bishop he restored two dead men to life, facts of which your
book has treated pretty fully, but, while he was bishop, he raised up
only one, a point which I am surprised you have not noticed. I myself
am a witness to this latter occurrence; but, probably, you have no
doubts about the matter being duly testified. At any rate, I will set
before you the affair as it happened. For some reason, I know not
what, we were on our way to the town of the Carnutes.[34] In the meantime, as we pass by a
certain village most populous in inhabitants, an enormous crowd went
forth to meet us, consisting entirely of heathen; for no one in that
village was acquainted with a Christian. Nevertheless, owing to the
report of the approach of so great a man, a multitude of those
streaming to one point had filled all the widely spreading plains.
Martin felt that some work was to be performed; and as the spirit
within him was thus moving him, he was deeply excited. He at once
began to preach to the heathen the word of God, so utterly different
from that of man, often groaning that so great a crowd should be
ignorant of the Lord the Saviour. In the meantime, while an
incredible multitude had surrounded us, a certain woman, whose son had
recently died, began to present, with outstretched hands, the lifeless
body to the blessed man, saying, "We know that you are a friend
of God: restore me my son, who is my only one." The rest of the
multitude joined her, and added their entreaties to those of the
mother. Martin perceiving, as he afterwards told us, that he could
manifest power, in order to the salvation of those waiting for its
display, received the body of the deceased into his own hands; and
when, in the sight of all, he had fallen on his knees, and the arose,
after his prayer was finished, he restored to its mother the child
brought back to life. Then, truly, the whole multitude, raising a
shout to heaven, acknowledged Christ as God, and finally began to rush
in crowds to the knees of the blessed man, sincerely imploring that he
would make them Christians. Nor did he delay to do so. As they were
in the middle of the plain, he made them all catechumens, by placing
his hand upon the whole of them; while, at the same time, turning to
us, he said that, not without reason, were these made catechumens in
that plain where the martyrs were wont to be consecrated."
CHAPTER V.
"YOU have conquered, O Gaul," said Postumianus, "you
have conquered, although certainly not me, who am, on the contrary, an
upholder of Martin, and who have always known and believed all these
things about that man; but you have conquered all the eremites and
anchorites. For no one of them, like your friend, or rather our
friend, Martin, ruled over deaths of all[35] kinds. And Sulpitius there justly
compared him to the apostles and prophets, inasmuch as the power of
his faith, and the works accomplished by his power, bear witness that
he was, in all points, like them. But go on, I beg of you, although
we can hear nothing more striking than we have heard--still, go on, O
Gaul, to set forth what still remains of what you have to say
concerning Martin. For the mind is eager to know even the least and
commonest of his doings, since there is no doubt that the least of his
actions surpass the greatest deeds of others."
"I will do so," replies the Gaul, "but I did not myself witness what I am about to relate, for it took place before I became an associate of Martin's; still, the fact is well known, having been spread through the world by the accounts given by faithful brethren, who were present on the occasion. Well, just about the time when he first became a bishop, a necessity arose for his visiting the imperial[36] court. Valentinian, the elder, then was at the head of affairs. When he came to know that Martin was asking for things which he did not incline to grant, he ordered him to be kept from entering the doors of the palace. Besides his own unkind and haughty temper, his wife Arriana had urged him to this course, and had wholly alienated him from the holy man, so that he should not show him the regard which was due to him. Martin, accordingly, when he had once and again endeavored to procure an interview with the haughty prince, had recourse to his well-known weapons--he clothes himself in sackcloth, scatters ashes upon his person, abstains from food and drink, and gives himself, night and day, to continuous prayer. On the seventh day, an angel appeared to him, and tells him to go with confidence to the palace, for that the royal doors, although closed against him, would open of their own accord, and that the haughty spirit of the emperor would be softened. Martin, therefore, being encouraged by the address of the angel who thus appeared to him, and trusting to his assistance, went to the palace. The doors stood open, and no one opposed his entrance; so that, going in, he came at last into the presence of the king, without any one seeking to hinder him. The king, however, seeing him at a distance as he approached, and gnashing his teeth that he had been admitted, did not, by any means, condescend to rise up as Martin advanced, until fire covered the royal seat, and until the flames seized on a part of the royal person. In this way the haughty monarch is driven from his throne, and, much against his will, rises up to receive Martin. He even gave many embraces to the man whom he had formerly determined to despise, and, coming to a better frame of mind, he confessed that he perceived the exercise of Divine power; without waiting even to listen to the requests of Martin, he granted all he desired before being asked. Afterwards the king often invited the holy man both to conferences and entertainments; and, in the end, when he was about to depart, offered him many presents, which, however, the blessed man, jealously maintaining his own poverty, totally refused, as he did on all similar occasions.
CHAPTER VI.
"AND as we have, once for all, entered the palace, I shall string
together events which there took place, although they happened at
different times. And, indeed, it does not seem to me right that I
should pass unmentioned the example of admiration for Martin which was
shown by a faithful queen. Maximus then ruled the state, a man worthy
of being extolled in[37] his whole
life, if only he had been permitted to reject a crown thrust upon him
by the soldiery in an illegal tumult, or had been able to keep out of
civil war. But the fact is, that a great empire can neither be
refused without danger, nor can be preserved without war. He
frequently sent for Martin, received him into the palace, and treated
him with honor; his whole speech with him was concerning things
present, things to come, the glory of the faithful, and the
immortality of the saints; while, in the meantime, the queen hung upon
the lips of Martin, and not inferior to her mentioned in the Gospel,
washed the feet of the holy man with tears and wiped them with the
hairs of her head. Martin, though no woman had hitherto touched him,
could not escape her assiduity, or rather her servile attentions. She
did not think of the wealth of the kingdom, the dignity of the empire,
the crown, or the purple; only stretched upon the ground, she could
not be torn away from the feet of Martin. At last she begs of her
husband (saying that both of them should constrain Martin to agree)
that all other attendants should be removed from the holy man, and
that she alone should wait upon him at meals. Nor could the blessed
man refuse too obstinately. His modest entertainment is got up by the
hands of the queen; she herself arranges his seat for him; places his
table; furnishes him with water for his hands; and serves up the food
which she had herself cooked. While he was eating, she, with her eyes
fixed on the ground, stood motionless at a distance, after the fashion
of servants, displaying in all points the modesty and humility of a
ministering servant. She herself mixed for him his drink and
presented it. When the meal was over, she collected the fragments and
crumbs of the bread that had been used, preferring with true
faithfulness these remains to imperial banquets. Blessed woman!
worthy, by the display of so great piety, of being compared to her who
came from the ends of the earth to hear Solomon, if we merely regard
the plain letter of the history. But the faith of the two queens is
to be compared (and let it be granted me to say this, setting aside
the majesty of the secret[38] truth
implied): the one obtained her desire to hear a wise man; the other
was thought worthy not only to hear a wise man, but to wait upon
him."
CHAPTER VII.
TO these sayings Postumianus replies: "While listening to you, O
Gaul, I have for a long time been admiring the faith of the queen; but
to what does that statement of yours lead, that no woman was ever said
to have stood more close to Martin? For let us consider that that
queen not only stood near him, but even ministered unto him. I really
fear lest those persons who freely mingle among women should to some
extent defend themselves by that example."
Then said the Gaul: "Why do you not notice, as grammarians are wont to teach us, the place, the time, and the person? For only set before your eyes the picture of one kept in the palace of the emperor importuned by prayers, constrained by the faith of the queen, and bound by the necessities of the time, to do his utmost that he might set free those shut up in prison, might restore those who had been sent into exile, and might recover goods that had been taken away,--of how much importance do you think that these things should have appeared to a bishop, so as to lead him, in order to the accomplishment of them all, to abate not a little of the rigor of his general scheme of life? However, as you think that some will make a bad use of the example thus furnished them, I shall only say that those will be truly happy if they do not fall short of the excellence of the example in question. For let them consider that the facts of the case are these: once in his life only, and that when in his seventieth year, was Martin served and waited upon at his meals, not by a free sort of widow, nor by a wanton virgin, but by a queen, who lived under the authority of a husband, and who was supported in her conduct by the entreaties of her husband, that she might be allowed so to act. It is further to be observed that she did not recline with Martin at the entertainment, nor did she venture even to partake in the feast, but simply gave her services in waiting upon him. Learn, therefore, the proper course; let a matron serve thee, and not rule thee; and let her serve, but not recline along with thee; just as Martha, of whom we read, waited upon the Lord without being called to partake in the feast: nay, she who chose rather simply to hear the word was preferred to her that served. But in the case of Martin, the queen spoken of fulfilled both parts: she both served like Martha and listened like Mary. If any one, then, desires to make use of this example, let him keep to it in all particulars; let the cause be the same, the person the same, the service the same, and the entertainment the same,--and let the thing occur once only in one's whole life."
CHAPTER VIII.
"ADMIRABLY," exclaimed Postumianus, "does your speech
bind those friends of ours from going beyond the example of Martin;
but I own to you my belief that these remarks of yours will fall upon
deaf ears. For if we were to follow the ways of Martin, we should
never need to defend ourselves in the case of kissing, and we should
be free from all the reproaches of sinister opinion. But as you are
wont to say, when you are accused of being too fond of eating, `We are
Gauls,' so we, for our part, who dwell in this district, will never be
reformed either by the example of Martin, or by your dissertations.
But while we have been discussing these points at so great length, why
do you, Sulpitius, preserve such an obstinate silence?"
"Well, for my part," replied I, "I not only keep silence, but for a long time past I have determined to be silent upon such points. For, because I rebuked a certain spruce gadding-about widow, who dressed expensively, and lived in a somewhat loose manner, and also a virgin, who was following somewhat indecently a certain young man who was dear to me,--although, to be sure, I had often heard her blaming others who acted in such a manner,--I raised up against me such a degree of hatred on the part of all the women and all the monks, that both bands entered upon sworn war against me. Wherefore, be quiet, I beg of you, lest even what we are saying should tend to increase their animosity towards me. Let us entirely blot out these people from our memory, and let us rather return to Martin. Do thou, friend Gaul, as you have begun, carry out the work you have taken in hand."
Then says he: "I have really related already so many things to you, that my speech ought to have satisfied your desires; but, because I am not at liberty to refuse compliance with your wishes, I shall continue to speak as long as the day lasts. For, in truth, when I glance at that straw, which is being prepared for our beds, there comes into my mind a recollection respecting the straw on which Martin had lain, that a miracle was wrought in connection with it. The affair took place as follows. Claudiomagus is a village on the confines of the Bituriges and the Turoni. The church there is celebrated for the piety of the saints, and is not less illustrious for the multitude of the holy virgins. Well, Martin, being in the habit of passing that way, had an apartment in the private part of the church. After he left, all the virgins used to rush into that retirement: they kiss[39] every place where the blessed man had either sat or stood, and distribute among themselves the very straw on which he had lain. One of them, a few days afterwards, took a part of the straw which she had collected for a blessing to herself, and hung it from the neck of a possessed person, whom a spirit of error was troubling. There was no delay; but sooner than one could speak the demon was cast out, and the person was cured.
CHAPTER IX.
"ABOUT the same time, a cow which a demon harassed met Martin as
he was returning from Treves. That cow, leaving its proper herd, was
accustomed to attack human beings, and had already seriously gored
many with its horns. Now, when she was coming near us, those who
followed her from a distance began to warn us, with a loud voice, to
beware of her. But after she had in great fury come pretty near to
us, with rage in her eyes, Martin, lifting up his hand, ordered the
animal to halt, and she immediately stood stock-still at his word.
Upon this, Martin perceived a demon sitting upon her back, and
reproving it, he exclaimed, `Begone, thou deadly being; leave the
innocent beast, and cease any longer to torment it.' The evil spirit
obeyed and departed. And the heifer had sense, enough to understand
that she was set free; for, peace being restored to her, she fell at
the feet of the holy man; and on Martin directing her, she made for
her own herd, and, quieter than any sheep, she joined the rest of the
band. This also was the time at which he had no sensation of being
burnt, although placed in the midst of the flames; but I do not think
it necessary for me to give an account of this, because Sulpitius
there, though passing over it in his book, has nevertheless pretty
fully narrated it in the epistle which he sent to Eusebius, who was
then a presbyter, and is now a bishop. I believe, Postumianus, you
have either read this letter, or, if it is still unknown to you, you
may easily obtain it, when you please, from the bookcase. I shall
simply narrate particulars which he has omitted.
"Well, on a certain occasion, when he was going round the various parishes, we came upon a band of huntsmen. The dogs were pursuing a hare, and the little animal was already much exhausted by the long run it had had. When it perceived no means of escape in the plains spreading far on every side, and was several times just on the point of being captured, it tried to delay the threatened death by frequent doublings. Now the blessed man pitied the danger of the creature with pious feelings, and commanded the dogs to give up following it, and to permit it to get safe away. Instantly, at the first command they heard, they stood quite still: one might have thought them bound, or rather arrested, so as to stand immovable in their own footprints. In this way, through her pursuers being stopped as if tied together, the hare got safe away.
As our friend the Gaul was emphatically speaking thus, and had not yet finished what he intended to relate, a boy of the family entered with the announcement that the presbyter Refrigerius was standing at the door. We began to doubt whether it would be better to hear the Gaul further, or to go and welcome that man whom we so greatly loved, and who had come to pay his respects to us, when our friend the Gaul remarked: "Even although this most holy priest had not arrived, this talk of ours would have had to be cut short, for the approach of night was itself urging us to finish the discourse which has been so far continued. But inasmuch as all things bearing upon the excellences of Martin have by no means yet been mentioned, let what you have heard suffice for to-day: to-morrow we shall proceed to what remains." This promise of our Gallic friend being equally acceptable to us all, we rose up.
CHAPTER I.
"IT is daylight, our Gallic friend, and you must get up. For, as
you see, both Postumianus is urgent, and this presbyter, who was
yesterday admitted to hear what was going on, expects that what you
put off narrating with regard to our beloved Martin till to-day, you
should now, in fulfillment of your promise, proceed to tell. He is
not, indeed, ignorant of all the things which are to be related, but
knowledge is sweet and pleasant even to one who goes over again things
already known to him; since, indeed, it has been so arranged by nature
that one rejoices with a better conscience in his knowledge of things
which he is sure, through the testimony borne to them by many, are not
in any degree uncertain. For this man, too, having been a follower of
Martin from his early youth, has indeed been acquainted with all his
doings; but he gladly hears over again things already known. And I
will confess to thee, O Gaul, that the virtues of Martin have often
been heard of by me, since, in fact, I have committed to writing many
things regarding him; but through the admiration I feel for his deeds,
those things are always new to me which, although I have already heard
them, are, over and over again, repeated concerning him. Wherefore,
we congratulate you that Refrigerius has been added to us as a hearer,
all the[45] more earnestly that
Postumianus is manifesting such eagerness, because he hastens, as it
were, to convey a knowledge of these things to the East, and is now to
hear the truth from you confirmed, so to speak, by
witnesses."
As I was saying these words, and as the Gaul was now ready to resume his narrative, there rushes in upon us a crowd of monks, Evagrius the presbyter, Aper, Sabbatius, Agricola; and, a little after, there enters the presbyter AEtherius, with Calupio the deacon, and Amator the subdeacon; lastly, Aurelius the presbyter, a very dear friend of mine, who came from a longer distance, rushes up out of breath. "Why," I enquire, "do you so suddenly and unexpectedly run together to us from so many different quarters, and at so early an hour in the morning?" "We," they reply, "heard yesterday that your friend the Gaul spent the whole day in narrating the virtues of Martin, and, as night overtook him, put off the rest until to-day: wherefore, we have made haste to furnish him with a crowded audience, as he speaks about such interesting matters." In the meantime, we are informed that a multitude of lay people are standing at the door, not venturing to enter, but begging, nevertheless, that they might be admitted. Then Aper declares, "It is by no means proper that these people should be mixed up with us, for they have come to hear, rather from curiosity than piety." I was grieved for the sake of those who ought not, as he thought, to be admitted, but all that I could obtain, and with difficulty, was that they should admit Eucherius from among the lieutenants,[46] and Celsus, a man of consular rank, while the rest were kept back. We then place the Gaul in the middle seat; and he, after long keeping silence, in harmony with his well-known modesty, at length began as follows.
CHAPTER II.
"YOU have assembled, my pious and eloquent friends, to hear me;
but, as I presume, you have brought to the task religious rather than
learned ears; for you are to listen to me simply as a witness to the
faith, and not as speaking with the fluency of an orator. Now, I
shall not repeat the things which were spoken yesterday: those who did
not hear them can become acquainted with them by means of the written
records. Postumianus expects something new, intending to make known
what he hears to the East, that it may not, when Martin is brought
into comparison, esteem itself above the West. And first, my mind
inclines to set forth an incident respecting which Refrigerius has
just whispered in my ear: the affair took place in the city of
Carnutes. A certain father of a family ventured to bring to Martin
his daughter of twelve years old, who had been dumb from her birth,
begging that the blessed man would loose, by his pious merits, her
tongue, which was thus tied. He, giving way to the bishops Valentinus
and Victricius, who then happened to be by his side, declared that he
was unequal to so great an undertaking, but that nothing was
impossible to them, as if holier than himself. But they, adding their
pious entreaties, with suppliant voices, to those of the father,
begged Martin to accomplish what was hoped for. He made no further
delay,--being admirable in both respects, in the display, first of
all, of humility, and then in not putting off a pious duty,--but
orders the crowd of people standing round to be removed; and while the
bishops only, and the father of the girl, were present, he prostrates
himself in prayer, after his usual fashion. He then blesses a little
oil, while he utters the formula of exorcism; and holding the tongue
of the girl with his fingers, he thus pours the consecrated liquid
into her mouth. Nor did the result of the power thus exerted
disappoint the holy man. He asks her the name of her father, and she
instantly replied. The father cries out, embracing the knees of
Martin, with a mixture of joy and tears; and while all around are
amazed, he confesses that then for the first time he listened to the
voice of his daughter. And that this may not appear incredible to any
one, let Evagrius, who is here, furnish you with a testimony of its
truth; for the thing took place in his very presence.
CHAPTER III.
"THE following is a small matter which I learned lately from the
narration of Arpagius the presbyter, but I do not think it ought to be
passed over. The wife of the courtier Avitianus had sent some oil to
Martin, that he might bless it (such is the custom) so as to be ready
when needful to meet different causes of disease. It was contained in
a glass jar of a shape which, round throughout, gradually bulges[47] out towards the middle, with a long
neck; but the hollow of the extended neck was not filled, because it
is the custom to fill vessels of the kind in such a way that the top
may be left free for the knobs which stop up the jar. The presbyter
testified that he saw the oil increase under the blessing of Martin,
so much that, the abundance of it overflowing the jar, it ran down
from the top in every direction. He added that it bubbled up with the
same[48] effect, while the vessel was
being carried back to the mistress of the household; for the oil so
steadily flowed over in the hands of the boy carrying it, that the
abundance of the liquid, thus pouring down, covered all his garment.
He said, moreover, that the lady received the vessel so full even to
the brim, that (as the same presbyter tells[49] us at the present day) there was no
room in that jar for inserting the stopper by which people are
accustomed to close those vessels, the contents of which are to be
preserved with special care. That, too, was a remarkable thing that
happened to this man." Here he looked at me. "He had set
down a glass vessel containing oil blessed by Martin in a pretty high
window; and a boy of the family, not knowing that a jar was there,
drew towards him the cloth covering it, with rather much violence.
The vessel, in consequence, fell down on the marble pavement. Upon
this, all were filled with dread lest the blessing of God, bestowed on
the vessel by Martin, had been lost; but the jar was found as safe as
ever, just as if it had fallen on the softest feathers. Now, this
result should be ascribed, not so much to chance, as to the power of
Martin, whose blessing could not possibly perish.
"There is this, too, which was effected by a certain person, whose name, because he is present, and has forbidden it to be mentioned, shall be suppressed: Saturninus too, who is now with us, was present on the occasion referred to. A dog was barking at us in a somewhat disagreeable manner. `I command thee,' said the person in question, `in the name of Martin, to be quiet.' The dog--his barking seemed to stick in his throat, and one might have thought that his tongue had been cut out--was silent. Thus it is really a small matter that Martin himself performed miracles: believe me that other people also have accomplished many things in his name.
CHAPTER IV.
"YOU knew the too barbarous and, beyond measure, bloody ferocity
of Avitianus, a former courtier. He enters the city of the Turones
with a furious spirit, while rows of people, laden with chains,
followed him with melancholy looks, orders various kinds of
punishments to be got ready for slaying them; and to the grave
amazement of the city, he arranges them for the sad work on the
following day. When this became known to Martin, he set out all
alone, a little before midnight, for the palace of that beast. But
when, in the silence of the depths of the night, and as all were at
rest, no entrance was possible through the bolted doors, he lays
himself down before that cruel threshold. In the meantime, Avitianus,
buried in deep sleep, is smitten by an assailing angel, who says to
him, `Does the servant of God lie at your threshold, and do you
continue sleeping?' He, on listening to these words, rises, in much
disturbance, from his bed; and calling his servants, he exclaims in
terror, `Martin is at the door: go immediately, and undo the bolts,
that the servant of God may suffer no harm.' But they, in accordance
with the tendency of all servants, having scarcely stepped beyond the
first threshold, and laughing at their master as having been mocked by
a dream, affirm that there was no one at the door. This they did as
simply inferring from their own disposition, that no one could be
keeping watch through the night, while far less did they believe that
a priest was lying at the threshold of another man during the horror
of that night. Well, they easily persuaded Avitianus of the truth of
their story. He again sinks into sleep; but, being ere long struck
with greater violence than before, he exclaimed that Martin
was standing at the door, and that, therefore, no rest either
of mind or body was allowed him. As the servants delayed, he himself
went forward to the outer threshold; and there he found Martin, as he
had thought he would. The wretched man, struck by the display of so
great excellence, exclaimed, `Why, sir, have you done this to me?
There is no need for you to speak: I know what you wish: I see what
you require: depart as quickly as possible, lest the anger of heaven
consume me on account of the injury done you: I have already suffered
sufficient punishment. Believe me, that I have firmly determined in
my own mind how I should now proceed.' So then, after the departure
of the holy man, he calls for his officials and orders all the
prisoners to be set free, while presently he himself went his way.
Thus Avitianus being put to flight, the city rejoiced, and felt at
liberty.
CHAPTER V.
"WHILE these are certain facts, since Avitianus related them to
many persons, they are further confirmed on this ground that
Refrigerius the presbyter, whom you see here present, lately had them
narrated to him, under an appeal to the Divine majesty, by Dagridus, a
faithful man among the tribunes, who swore that the account was given
him by Avitianus himself. But I do not wish you to wonder that I do
to-day what I did not do yesterday; viz. that I subjoin to the mention
of every individual wonder the names of witnesses, and mention persons
to whom, if any one is inclined to disbelieve, he may have recourse,
because they are still in the body. The unbelief of very many has
compelled that; for they are said to hesitate about some things which
were related yesterday. Let these people, then, accept as witnesses
persons who are still alive and well, and let them give more credit to
such, inasmuch as they doubt our good faith. But really, if they are
so unbelieving, I give it as my opinion that they will not believe
even the witnesses named. And yet I am surprised that any one, who
has even the least sense of religion, can venture on such wickedness
as to think that any one could tell lies concerning Martin. Be that
far from every one who lives in obedience to God; for, indeed, Martin
does not require to be defended by falsehoods. But, O Christ, we lay
the truth of our whole discourse before thee, to the effect that we
neither have said, nor will say, anything else than what either we
ourselves have witnessed, or have learned from undoubted authorities,
and, indeed, very frequently from Martin himself. But although we
have adopted the form of a dialogue, in order that the style might be
varied to prevent weariness, still we affirm that we are really
setting forth[50] a true history in a
dutiful spirit. The unbelief of some has compelled me, to my great
regret, to insert in my narrative these remarks which are apart from
the subject in hand. But let the discourse now return to our
assembly; in which since I saw that I was listened to so eagerly, I
found it necessary to acknowledge that Aper acted properly in keeping
back the unbelieving, under the conviction he had that those only
ought to be allowed to hear who were of a believing spirit.
CHAPTER VI.
"I AM enraged in heart, believe me, and, through vexation, I seem
to lose my senses: do Christian men not believe in the miraculous
powers of Martin, which the demons acknowledged? The monastery of the
blessed man was at two miles' distance from the city; but if, as often
as he was to come to the church, he only had set his foot outside the
threshold of his cell, one could perceive the possessed roaring through
the whole church, and the bands of guilty[51] ones trembling as if their judge were
coming, so that the groanings of the demons announced the approach of
the bishop to the clerics, who were not previously aware that he was
coming. I saw a certain man snatched up into the air on the approach
of Martin, and suspended there with his hands stretched upwards, so
that he could in no way touch the ground with his feet. But if at any
time Martin undertook the duty of exorcising the demons, he touched no
one with his hands, and reproached no one in words, as a multitude of
expressions is generally rolled forth by the clerics; but the
possessed, being brought up to him, he ordered all others to depart,
and the doors being bolted, clothed in sackcloth and sprinkled with
ashes, he stretched himself on the ground in the midst of the church,
and turned to prayer. Then truly might one behold the wretched beings
tortured with various results--some hanging, as it were, from a cloud,
with their feet turned upwards, and yet their garments did not fall
down over their faces, lest the part of their body which was exposed
should give rise to shame; while in another part of the church one
could see them tortured without any question being addressed to them,
and confessing their crimes. They revealed their names, too, of their
own accord; one acknowledged that he was Jupiter, and another that he
was Mercury. Finally, one could see all the servants of the devil
suffering agony, along with their master, so that we could not help
acknowledging that in Martin there was fulfilled that which is written
that `the saints shall judge angels.'
CHAPTER VII.
"THERE was a certain village in the country of the Senones which
was every year annoyed with hail. The inhabitants, constrained by an
extreme of suffering, sought help from Martin. A highly respectable
embassy was sent to him by Auspicius, a man of the rank of prefect,
whose fields the storm had been wont to smite more severely than it
did those of others. But Martin, having there offered up prayer, so
completely freed the whole district from the prevailing plague, that
for twenty years, in which he afterwards remained in the body, no one
in those places suffered from hail. And that this may not be thought
to be accidental, but rather effected by Martin, the tempest,
returning afresh, once more fell upon the district in the year in
which he died. The world thus felt the departure of a believing man
to such a degree, that, as it justly rejoiced in his life, so it also
bewailed his death. But if any hearer, weak in faith, demands also
witnesses to prove those things which we have said, I will bring
forward, not one man, but many thousands, and will even summon the
whole region of the Senones to bear witness to the power which was
experienced. But not to speak of this, you, presbyter Refrigerius,
remember, I believe, that we lately had a conversation, concerning the
matter referred to, with Romulus, the son of that Auspicius I
mentioned, an honored and religious man. He related the points in
question to us, as if they had not been previously known; and as he
was afraid of constant losses in future harvests, he did, as you
yourself beheld, regret, with much lamentation, that Martin was not
preserved up to this time.
CHAPTER VIII.
"BUT to return to Avitianus: while at every other place, and in
all other cities, he displayed marks of horrible cruelty, at Tours
alone he did no harm. Yes, that beast, which was nourished by human
blood, and by the slaughter of unfortunate creatures, showed himself
meek and peaceable in the presence of the blessed man. I remember
that Martin one day came to him, and having entered his private
apartment, he saw a demon of marvelous size sitting behind his back.
Blowing upon him from a distance (if I may, as a matter of necessity,
make use of a word which is hardly Latin[52]), Avitianus thought that he was
blowing at him, and exclaimed, `Why, thou holy man, dost thou
treat me thus?' But then Martin said, `It is not at you, but at him
who, in all his terribleness, leans over your neck.' The devil gave
way, and left his familiar seat; and it is well known that, ever after
that day, Avitianus was milder, whether because he now understood that
he had always been doing the will of the devil sitting by him, or
because the unclean spirit, driven from his seat by Martin, was
deprived of the power of attacking him; while the servant was ashamed
of his master, and the master did not force on his servant.
"In a village of the Ambatienses, that is in an old stronghold, which is now largely inhabited by brethren, you know there is a great idol-temple built up with labor. The building had been constructed of the most polished stones and furnished with turrets; and, rising on high in the form of a cone, it preserved the superstition of the place by the majesty of the work. The blessed man had often enjoined its destruction on Marcellus, who was there settled as presbyter. Returning after the lapse of some time, he reproved the presbyter, because the edifice of the idol-temple was still standing. He pleaded in excuse that such an immense structure could with difficulty be thrown down by a band of soldiers, or by the strength of a large body of the public, and far less should Martin think it easy for that to be effected by means of weak clerics or helpless monks. Then Martin, having recourse to his well-known auxiliaries, spent the whole night in watching and prayer-with the result that, in the morning, a storm arose, and cast down even to its foundations the idol-temple. Now let this narrative rest on the testimony of Marcellus.
CHAPTER IX.
"I WILL make use of another not dissimilar marvel in a like kind
of work, having the concurrence of Refrigerius in doing so. Martin
was prepared to throw down a pillar of immense size, on the top of
which an idol stood, but there was no means by which effect could be
given to his design. Well, according to his usual practice, he
betakes himself to prayer. It is undoubted that then a column, to a
certain degree like the other, rushed down from heaven, and falling
upon the idol, it crushed to powder the whole of the seemingly
indestructible mass: this would have been a small matter, had he only
in an invisible way made use of the powers of heaven, but these very
powers were beheld by human eyes serving Martin in a visible
manner.
"Again, the same Refrigerius is my witness that a woman, suffering from an issue of blood, when she had touched the garment of Martin, after the example of the woman mentioned in the Gospel, was cured in a moment of time.
"A serpent, cutting its way through a river, was swimming towards the bank on which we had taken our stand. `In the name of the Lord,' said Martin, `I command thee to return.' Instantly, at the word of the holy man, the venomous beast turned round, and while we looked on, swam across to the farther bank. As we all perceived that this had not happened without a miracle; he groaned deeply, and exclaimed, `Serpents hear me, but men will not hear.'
`And brought his captive boar[53] to wondering Argos.'
"Truly that disciple of Christ, imitating the miracles performed by the Saviour, and which he, by way of example, set before the view of his saints, showed Christ also working in him, who, glorifying his own holy follower everywhere, conferred upon that one man the gifts of various graces. Arborius, of the imperial bodyguard, testifies that he saw the hand of Martin as he was offering sacrifice, clothed, as it seemed, with the noblest gems, while it glittered with a purple light; and that, when his right hand was moved, he heard the clash of the gems, as they struck together.
"I lately heard one testifying that, when he was sailing on the Tuscan Sea, following that course which leads to Rome, whirlwinds having suddenly arisen, all on board were in extreme peril of their lives. In these circumstances, a certain Egyptian merchant, who was not yet a Christian, cried out, `Save us, O God of Martin,' upon which the tempest was immediately stilled, and they held their desired course, while the pacified ocean continued in perfect tranquillity.
"Lycontius, a believing man belonging to the lieutenants, when a violent disease was afflicting his family, and sick bodies were lying all through his house in sad proof of unheard-of calamity, implored the help of Martin by a letter. At this time the blessed man declared that the thing asked was difficult to be obtained, for he knew in his spirit that that house was then being scourged by Divine appointment. Yet he did not give up an unbroken course of prayer and fasting for seven whole days and as many nights, so that he at last obtained that which he aimed at in his supplications. Speedily, Lycontius, having experienced the Divine kindness, flew to him, at once reporting the fact and giving thanks, that his house had been delivered from all danger. He also offered a hundred pounds of silver, which the blessed man neither rejected nor accepted; but before the amount of money touched the threshold of the monastery, he had, without hesitation, destined it for the redemption of captives. And when it was suggested to him by the brethren, that some portion of it should be reserved for the expenses of the monastery, since it was difficult for all of them to obtain necessary food, while many of them were sorely in need of clothing, he replied, `Let the church both feed and clothe us, as long as we do not appear to have provided, in any way, for our own wants.'
"There occur to my mind at this point many miracles of that illustrious man, which it is more easy for us to admire than to narrate. You all doubtless recognize the truth of what I say: there are many doings of his which cannot be set forth in words. For instance, there is the following, which I rather think cannot be related by us just as it took place. A certain one of the brethren (you are not ignorant of his name, but his person must be concealed, lest we should cause shame to a godly man),--a certain one, I say, having found abundance of coals for his stove, drew a stool to himself, and was sitting, with outspread legs and exposed person, beside that fire, when Martin at once perceived that an improper thing was done under the sacred roof, and cried out with a loud voice, `Who, by exposing his person, is dishonoring our habitation?' When our brother heard this, and felt from his own conscience, that it was he who was rebuked, he immediately ran to us almost in a fainting condition, and acknowledged his shame; which was done, however, only through the forth-putting of the power of Martin.
Having uttered these sad words in a very mournful voice, and while the tears of all the others were drawn forth by our laments, we at length departed, certainly with a profound admiration for Martin, but with no less sorrow from our own lamentations.