Recently also, in the region of Campania, a man exceedingly venerable, Martin by name, led a solitary life on Mount Marsicus, and for many years was enclosed in a very narrow cave. Many of our people knew him and were present at his deeds. Concerning him I have learned many things from the narration both of Pope Pelagius of blessed memory, my predecessor, and of other most religious men. His first miracle was this: that as soon as he had betaken himself to a crevice of the aforesaid mountain, from a rock—which, hollowed within itself, had formed a narrow cave—there burst forth a drop of water, which might suffice for the daily use of Martin the servant of God, and was neither present in excess nor lacking to necessity.
In which thing almighty God showed how great a care He had for His servant, to whom, by an ancient miracle, He ministered drink in the wilderness from the hardness of a rock (cf. Num. 20). But the ancient enemy of the human race, envying his powers, endeavored to drive him from that cave by his usual craft. For, entering into a beast friendly to himself, namely a serpent, he attempted by terror wrought to eject him from that same habitation. For the serpent began to come into the cavern, alone with the solitary man, and while he prayed to stretch itself before him, and to lie down together with him as he reclined. But the holy man, wholly undaunted, extended his hand or foot to its mouth, saying: 「If you have received license to strike, I do not forbid it.」
And when this had continued through three years, on a certain day the ancient enemy, vanquished by so great a fortitude of his, grew feeble, and, as a serpent, cast itself down a precipice along the sloping side of the mountain, and with the flame issuing from itself burned up all the shrubs of that place. In that it burned up the whole side of the mountain, it was compelled, God almighty constraining it, to show of how great virtue he had been, by whom, vanquished, it departed. Consider, I pray, on what height of mind this man of the Lord stood, who for three years lay secure with a serpent. PETER: I tremble at the hearing. GREGORY.
This man of venerable life, at the first time of his enclosure, had resolved that he would never again look upon a woman—not because he despised the sex, but because he feared to incur the fault of a vice from the contemplation of the appearance of temptation. A certain woman, hearing this, boldly climbed the mountain and impudently burst forth to his cave. But he, looking a little way off, and beholding the womanly garments of her who was coming to him, gave himself to prayer, pressed his face to the ground, and lay prostrate until the impudent woman, wearied, withdrew from the window of his cell.
And she, that very day, as soon as she descended from the mountain, ended her life, so that from her lot it might be given to understand how greatly it displeased almighty God that she had, with wicked audacity, insulted His servant. At another time also, when many were flocking to him with religious devotion, and the path was narrow which led those who hastened along the sloping side of the mountain to his cell, a little boy, walking carelessly, fell from that same mountain and plunged all the way down to the valley which, situated beneath that same mountain, is beheld as though in the depths.
For in that same place the mountain itself rose to so great a height that the huge shrubs which spring up from that same valley seem, to those looking down from the mountain, to be as it were small bushes. And so all who were coming were perturbed, and with the utmost care search was made whether anywhere the body of the fallen boy might be found. For who would believe anything but that he was dead? Who would even suspect that the body had reached the ground whole, when, with crags set everywhere between, it might have been torn into parts? But the boy, when sought for, was found in the valley not only alive, but even unhurt. Then it became plainly known to all that he could not be harmed for this reason: that in his fall the prayer of Martin bore him up.
Now above his cave a great rock jutted out, which, though it seemed fastened to the mountain by only a slight part, overhung Martin's cell and daily threatened its own fall and his destruction. To this rock came the illustrious man Mascator, nephew of Armentarius, with a great multitude of country folk, and begged that the man of God would deign to go out of that same cave, so that he himself might be able to tear away from the mountain the rock that was about to fall, and that the servant of God might henceforth dwell secure in his cave. And when the man of God would by no means consent to this, he charged him to do what he could, and himself withdrew to the more remote part of his cell. Yet if the huge mass should fall, there was no doubt that it would at once both destroy the cave and kill Martin.
And so, while the crowd that had gathered was striving, if it might be done, to lift that huge mass which had fallen from above without endangering the man of God, suddenly, as all looked on, a truly wonderful thing came to pass: for that very boulder which they were laboring to pry loose was on a sudden torn away by those same laborers, and lest it should touch the roof of Martin's cave, it gave a leap and, as though fleeing to avoid injuring the servant of God, fell back a good distance away. He understands this to have been wrought by angelic ministry at the command of Almighty God, who faithfully believes that all things are ordered by divine providence.
Now when he first withdrew to that same mountain, dwelling there while the cave was not yet closed off, he bound his foot with an iron chain and fastened it on the other side to a rock, so that he might not be permitted to go further than the length of that chain would allow. When Benedict, the man of venerable life, of whom I have made mention above, heard of this, he took care to send him word through his disciple: 'If you are a servant of God, let no chain of iron hold you, but only the chain of Christ.' At that word Martin at once loosed the same fetter, yet never afterward, though unbound, did he stretch his foot beyond the place to which, when tied, he had been accustomed to stretch it; and unchained he restrained himself within just so great a space as, chained, he had before remained in.
When afterward he had shut himself up in the cave of that place, he began also to have disciples, who, dwelling apart from his cave, were accustomed to draw water from a well for the needs of life. But the rope on which the bucket hung for drawing the water was frequently breaking. Hence it came about that the disciples asked for that same chain which the man of the Lord had loosed from his own leg, and joined it to the rope, and to it tied the bucket. From that time onward it happened that the rope was both daily wetted with water and yet in no way broke. For because that rope touched the chain of the man of God, it too, for the bearing of the water, drew strength into itself. PETER: These deeds are pleasing, because they are wonderful; and greatly so, because they are recent. GREGORY:
In our own times there was a certain man, Quadragesimus by name, a subdeacon of the Church of Buxentum, who was accustomed to pasture his flock of sheep in the fields of that same Aurelia. By the account of this most truthful man a wonderful thing became known which had been done in secret. For he, as we have said, while he was keeping charge of his flock in Aurelia, there was in those days a man from the mountain which is called Argentarius, a man of venerable life, who fulfilled by his conduct the habit of a monk which he displayed in outward appearance. This man, then, was accustomed to come every year from that same mountain Argentarius to the Church of blessed Peter, the prince of the apostles, and would turn aside for the sake of hospitality to this Quadragesimus the subdeacon whom I have mentioned, as he himself related.
But on a certain day, when he had entered his lodging, which was not far from the church, the husband of a certain poor woman died close by; and though according to custom he had been washed, clothed in garments, and bound in a shroud, yet, as evening came on, they could not bury him. So the widowed woman sat beside the body of her dead husband, and passing the night in great weeping, gave satisfaction to her grief with continual cries of lamentation. And when this went on for a long while and the woman in no way ceased, the man of God, who had been received as a guest by Quadragesimus the subdeacon, moved with compassion, said: 'My soul suffers with the grief of this woman; I beg you, rise, and let us pray.' They both therefore went to the neighboring church and together gave themselves to prayer.
And when they had prayed for a long while, the servant of God asked Quadragesimus the subdeacon to complete the prayer. This being finished, he gathered dust from the base of the altar, and with that same Quadragesimus went to the body of the dead man, and there gave himself to prayer. And when he had prayed for a long while, he no longer, as he had done before, willed the prayer to be completed by the subdeacon, but he himself gave the blessing and at once rose up. And because he carried in his right hand the dust he had gathered, with his left he drew away the cloth by which the face of the dead man was veiled. When the woman saw this, she began vehemently to protest and to wonder what he meant to do. So having removed the cloth, he for a long while rubbed the dead man's face with the dust he had gathered.
When it had been rubbed for a good while, the dead man received back his soul, yawned, opened his eyes, and raising himself up sat, and wondered at what was being done to him, as though he had been awakened out of a very deep sleep. When the woman, worn out with lamenting, beheld this, she began to weep for great joy and to pour forth cries yet more. But the man of the Lord checked her with a modest rebuke, saying: 'Be still, be still; but if anyone should ask you how this was done, say only this: that the Lord Jesus Christ has done His own works.' He said this, and went out from his lodging, at once left Quadragesimus the subdeacon, and appeared no more in that place.
For fleeing temporal honor, he arranged that he might never again in this life be seen by those by whom he had been seen in so great a virtue. PETER: What others may think I do not know; but I, of all miracles, judge this rather to be the miracle, that the dead return to life and their souls are recalled from the hidden place to the flesh. GREGORY: If we attend to things visible, it is indeed so, as it is necessary that we believe; but if we weigh things invisible, it is beyond doubt that it is a greater miracle to convert a sinner by the word of preaching and the comfort of prayer than to raise up one dead in the flesh. For in the latter, flesh is raised that will die again; but in the former, a soul is raised that will live forever. When therefore I set forth these two, by which of them do you judge that the miracle was wrought by a greater power?
Lazarus indeed, whom we believe to have been already a believer, the Lord raised up in the flesh (John 11); but Saul He raised up in the mind (Acts 9). And indeed, after the resurrection of the flesh, of the mighty works of Lazarus nothing is told. But after the resurrection of the soul, our weakness is unable to grasp how great are the things told of the mighty works of Paul in the sacred word: that by his preaching most cruel thoughts were turned to the tender bowels of mercy; that he desires to die for his brethren, in whose death he formerly rejoiced (Rom. 9:3); that, full of all knowledge of Scripture, he judges himself to know nothing save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified (1 Cor. 2:2); that for Christ he is willingly beaten with rods, whom he had once pursued with the sword (2 Cor. 11:25);
that though exalted with the honor of the apostolate, he yet of his own accord becomes a little one in the midst of the disciples; that he is led up to the secrets of the third heaven (2 Cor. 12:2), and yet turns back the eye of his mind through compassion to the ordering of the marriage-bed of the wedded, saying: 'Let the husband render unto the wife her due, and likewise also the wife unto the husband' (1 Cor. 7:3); that he is mingled in contemplation with the choirs of the angels, and yet does not disdain to consider and dispose the affairs of those living in the flesh; that he rejoices in infirmities and takes pleasure in insults for himself (2 Cor. 12:10); that to him to live is Christ and to die is gain (Phil. 1:21); that already he is wholly outside the flesh in this very life which he lives in the flesh (Gal. 2:20).
Behold in what manner he lives, who returned from the dwelling-places of hell to the life of godliness. It is therefore a lesser thing that someone be raised in the flesh, unless perhaps by the quickening of the flesh he be led back to the life of the mind; so that this be wrought in him through an outward miracle, in order that, being converted inwardly, he may be made to live. PETER: I believed this to be far below, which I have now recognized to be incomparably above. But, I beseech you, continue what you have begun, that while there is leisure of time, the hour may not pass without edification. GREGORY: A certain brother lived with me in the monastery, most diligent in Holy Scripture, who was ahead of me in age and was accustomed to edify me out of the many things which I did not know.
From his account, then, I learned that there was a certain man in the parts of Campania, within the fortieth milestone of the city of Rome, Benedict by name; young indeed in age, but venerable in character, and binding himself firmly in the rule of holy conversation. When the Goths in the time of King Totila had found him, they set about to burn him along with his cell. For they set fire beneath it, and all round about was consumed, but the cell of that man could not be burned by the fire. Seeing this, the Goths, growing yet more savage, dragged him out of his dwelling, and not far off they caught sight of a heated oven that was being made ready for baking bread, and cast him into it, and shut the oven.
But on the next day he was found so unharmed that not only was his flesh untouched by the flames, but not even the outermost of his garments was in any way burned. PETER: I hear of the ancient miracle of the three young men, who, cast into the flames, were not harmed (Dan. 3). GREGORY: That miracle, as I think, was in some respect wrought differently. For then the three young men were cast into the fire with their feet and hands bound, and the king, seeking them on the next day, found them walking in the furnace with their garments unharmed. From this it is gathered that the fire into which they had been thrown, which did not touch their garments, consumed their bonds; so that at one and the same time, in the service of the just, the flame both had its power for their comfort and had it not for their torment.
To this so ancient a miracle, in our days a like thing came to pass by the contrary element. For lately John the tribune informed me by his account that Count Pronulphus, when he was present there, testified that he had been present with King Autharic at that time in the very place where the wonderful thing happened, and had come to know it. For the aforesaid tribune related, saying: about five years ago, when the Tiber at this city of Rome went out of its channel, swelling so great that its wave flowed over the walls of the city and thence occupied even the greatest regions there, at the city of Verona the river Athesis, overflowing, came up to the church of blessed Zeno, martyr and bishop.
While the doors of this church stood open, the water in no way entered into it. Growing a little, it reached up to the windows of the church, which were near the roofs; and thus the water, standing, closed the door of the church, as though that liquid element had been changed into the solidity of a wall. And when many were found within, but the whole church was surrounded by the multitude of waters, and they had no way by which they might go out, and there feared to fail from thirst and hunger, they came to the door of the church and drew water there to drink, which, as I have said, had risen up to the windows, and yet in no way flowed into the church. And so the water could be drawn as water, but it could not flow as water.
But standing before the door, to show to all the merit of the martyr, as it was water for a help, so it was as though not water for the invading of the place. This I have truly said to be in no way unlike the ancient miracle of the fire aforesaid, which both did not touch the garments of the three young men and yet burned their bonds. PETER: Very wonderful are the deeds of the saints which you relate, and greatly to be marveled at by the present weakness of men. But since I hear that lately in Italy there have been men of such admirable virtue, I would fain know whether no snares of the ancient enemy befell them, or whether they profited from his snares. GREGORY: Without the labor of the contest there is no palm of victory. Whence, then, are they victors, unless because they fought against the snares of the ancient enemy?
For the malignant spirit is always pressing upon our thought, our speech, and our work, if perchance he may find something whereby he may stand as an accuser before the tribunal of the eternal Judge. Do you wish to be able to know how he ever stands by to deceive us?