聖馬丁傳 第 1 章

To the holy and most blessed lord, the special patron with God, venerable with all reverence and admiration, truly apostolic, a perpetual bishop and teacher in all religion—from Paulinus. By the zeal of charity and the affection of love you bid us forget shame, while you counsel modesty and reserve, lest the judgment be burdened with prevarication. You do not perceive that you are deceived, judging more favorably than truly: you believe to be good what you wish to be good, and you admit into the fellowship of your devotion even those whom you read to be among the foolish.

Concerning the merits and virtues of the holy and apostolic teacher and lord, you have sent us so splendid a history that, most rightly, if your benediction had so commanded, it might come to the knowledge of the whole world. But you have judged that I should cleave to these footprints and could add something more polished, as it were—though it is a far greater thing to set forth things discovered than to transcribe things already published. Let us, however, consent to submit obedience, not to estimate conscience too incautiously, since I think it ought not to be debated what he commands, to whom the vows of obeying in all things submit themselves. O holy and most blessed lord, truly perpetual patron of religion and grace, mirror of venerable doctrine, example of perfection:

follow him whom you love, imitate him whom you follow; be his successor in honor, his venerator in humility. Let us make use of the determination of your mandate. Claim what is yours, you who, as you know, have made me liable by this choice. When the writing shall have come into your hands, cherish what you receive, excuse my unskillfulness, beseech clemency: may it pardon the usurpation, succor the sinner, come to the aid of error. It was unworthy that we should dare to touch deeds so great, but it had been more arrogant to despise the mandates. Let it bear, through patience, the murmurs undertaken through grace; let it not be angry at boldness made stronger through joys. Our God wills that the things He deigns to work through Himself be known by whatever herald.

Cherish with your patronage the one taken up, whom you adopted, unknown, through those treasures of charity. Christ had scattered a venerable light over the whole world, unlocking the mysteries of the evangelical kingdom. But because the working of virtues had not moved all nations, and with frail sense they doubted to believe whatever a messenger of foreign lips had spread abroad (for words move what is discovered, but presence moves by deeds: things unseen are urged upon us, but things seen are proved), He therefore, whose mercy is equal toward the whole world, sowed also in our lands many miracles, granting to the farthest Gauls the marks of Martin—whom fruitful Pannonia sent afar unto our salvation, born of no humble stock, of a tribune. For his father was renowned with the praise of merits:

but this son was nobler than fathers so renowned, who, with Christ as his Father, scorned the sacrilegious rites—nobly degenerate in his earthly father. For scarcely in his tenth year, though already older in character, he passed over to the sacred law; with steadfast heart he signed his holy brow with the safeguard of the cross. In his tender breast was no slippery mind: his whole will was to keep, or to know, the precept of God, to shun the assemblies of men, to know the secrets of the blessed wilderness, and, the world despised, to know God, to leave behind earthly cares with a sublime heart. While he was striving after these things in scarcely twice six years, the sublime glory of so great a deed was barred; but with God numbering the merit—who approved the will—Augustus commands that the whole offspring of veteran stock be girded by the levy and prepared for wars. What does envy not contrive?

The father comes forth and thrusts arms upon his son. Alas, fatherly love forgetful of so great a peril! Nay rather, if a stony mind receives any sense, grow by your son's titles: for it is greater praise to be surpassed by you. Behold with pious vow all that he did: if they be good, imitate them gladly; if arduous, rejoice. Christ's soldier is conquered for the soldier of the world, but his mind is not dragged along, nor is his heart bound with the flesh. The names of recruitment are empty: he has long served as a soldier who, taken captive through many battles of his own king, has conquered avarice and warred down proud luxury; ambition lies now prostrate by his strength, and fury and wrath flee his steadfast mind, and deadly pride, surpassing all faults, departs. His one companion, scarcely, does he allow to go forth with him, not bound to him by labor, but a servant in name only.

O happy one, for whom so welcome a condition prepared such a yoke, that concerning your lot the contending vows of noble men might vie with you—if only it were permitted to serve. But you too are compelled to a harsh law, though loosed from the law of birth: for the devotion of the holy servant, made subject to you, serves you. The same garb, the common abundance of a frugal table; here the master is first in services, lest by any means any cleverness might be able to discern the servant set above his lord. Here now, among equals, what grace, and how modestly true love had subjected the very superiors to him! Then how great the discipline in taking food, lest distended entrails should corrupt the quick perception—nor the burden of the limbs press the watchful mind—so that the abundance divided might provide a portion to the needy, and each thing that would overwhelm one might better refresh both.

For thus he had divided all things among the suppliant needy, so that only coverings remained over his wasted limbs—when suddenly, in the icy cold of bristling winter, a naked man hastens to meet him, scarcely halving his words with a broken sound as he shivers; but his plight makes his speech plain, and his misery proclaims the parts of his tongue. All pass by, and the madness of the wealthy despised the disdained complaint with a cruel laugh at the wretch. The holy man stood still, uncertain in his troubled breast, what he should do: for the will was present, but the substance was lacking. If he should clothe him, he would have to be stripped. Nor thus even did delay suspend the illustrious deed of the hesitating man, even by a moment's pause. The sole covering of his blessed body had remained over—as ever, a doubled cloak, which by its twofold wrapping might ward off cold and rain and the rage of the winds.

For thus the hanging garment compensates for the part cut off, if he should feel his body warmed by the wool added, so that what was lacking to the head should have grown unto the warmth. But this happy resolve of his strict vow removes this, and condemns it as it were a loss of the heart, because the caution of his anxious faith thus preferred to have conceded to his limbs, in a doubled covering, an added part, rather than to have divided it between two. Nor does delay slow the work, but his right hand outstrips his vow: his deed accomplished whatever his mind saw must be done. The unconquered sword is drawn without the crime of a wound, and lavish mercy cuts off the middle part, choosing, I believe, the worse for himself. Then he covers the limbs of the trembling man, and, handing over some warmth from his garment, in a now lighter habit he recovers a part of himself from the cold.

O blessed one, conquering all miracles by your virtue and surpassing the commands of the Lord who enjoins! For He bids us be content with little and not to keep two garments: you divide a single one. All look on. Some laugh at the ugly covering and do not perceive the deeper, truer beauty within the heart. But others, with hearts pricked, lament among themselves that the justice of one so poor could decree such a thing to one in need, since the rich man, with his ample wealth, had denied the substance. Nor was there delay before the palm was rendered for so great a triumph. For scarcely had he laid his weary limbs upon the bed, admitting a light slumber—yet with a watchful heart (nor was it sleep, for his attentive mind remained vigorous):

when suddenly before his eyes the gracious Christ, robed in his own pauper's clothing, stood with a rich reward and fitted the blessed coverings to His own limbs. O truly precious cloak! What such thing have splendid garments earned, whether dyed with purple or wrought with thread and glowing weights of gold? What silken stuffs, smooth to the touch, or fabrics living with skillfully wrought figures? He, the God of men and earth, of sea and sky, who grants all things, without whom is nothing, whose very gifts are even what we give and the means by which we give—both gift and giver—He is enriched by this bounty, if He should count the gains of salvation. Yet not even from this did any boasting shake his steadfast mind, nor did he feel any empty swelling of pride in his heart.

O virtue near to God: to count nothing for praise though you do praiseworthy things, nor to ascribe to our own deed what we do, and in every act to let God be praised! Now surely he was secure regarding so great a Judge, yet he is not lifted up even by fellowship with Christ. The vision increased his faith; his limbs, renewed by the holy laver, shine and take on a beauty equal to that of his heart, and the mysteries of the font bring forth a ninth body. And yet, radiant with this maturity of conduct and of flesh, he had lived two years less than four lustres—I indeed believe it was because the Holy Spirit had earlier enriched his whole heart with the flowing river of His watering gift, just as once holy Peter saw the blessed gifts already foreshown by the Lord in such a soldier.

Who, I ask, being good, will be able so to complete as blessed Martin began in his tender years? And yet, doing these things, he did not think he had even begun, for scarcely had he passed a little beyond twice nine years—already a monk by his merits, but a soldier only in name—he longed to break the empty titles of the world he had trampled, looking to the holy fellowship of the tribune who pledged it, that after a short and just delay the doubled salvation through the vows of the two might soon be weighed by Christ the Judge. Meanwhile, the fierce enemy, the barrier broken and the frontier breached, had begun to ravage the Gallic countryside. The prince prepares to go out against them and drives into battle all the companies summoned by command, by exhortation, by entreaty, by largesse. For those whom dread holds back, gifts solicit, and bribes overcome fear.

But a mind full of God fears nothing, scorns all things, mocks terror, and tramples earthly gifts. Therefore, when the foremost who had gone before had taken the donative—the order being run through, the holy man is summoned in his turn by custom. He rejects the gifts of the king pressing them upon him, and with such words he goes to meet the words of the tyrant: 'Give this earthly money, O prince, to another: greater rewards from a greater King await me. This is the wage of war: let those who wish to fight take it.' At these words, then, the prince is inflamed with savage wrath, charging him with being a coward, forgetful of glory in time of war, having invented pretexts of fear. But he replied: 'There is no dread of imminent peril, nor does a steadfast breast fear an easy death. In short, what my words declare, my deeds also shall prove.

I, the first, going before the ranks with weapons cast aside, not seizing the arms of man but the standards of salvation, trusting not in the covering of a shield but in the name of Christ, and placing the cross upon my brow as a help in place of a helmet, will meet all perils with an undaunted heart.' He assented, and so that the proofs might confirm the faith of his word, the godly man is ordered to be kept under grim guard. And now the rising day was scattering the earth with new light: there comes to the king a suppliant embassy, submitting bowed necks to the rule of him who commands. What here, I ask, do we see done by men, what done by arms? What did the iron battle-line avail, what terror and the sword? What wedge fell by javelins, what squadron by arrows? One man, and the sole trust in the eternal King, conquered countless nations without the wound of slaughter.

This, Martin, is your triumph, with Christ doing the fighting—lest you should at all stain your holy face with blood, nor lest the deaths of the dying should afflict your godly mind. Therefore, eager by merit and made keener by the very success, with the enemy crushed, he hastens to conquer the world. He seeks out Hilary, a teacher of the faith proved through so many tokens. Lest boasting inflict any wound or the judgment of his own heart exalt him, the teacher now treats him as a disciple, and he is proved the greater while he desires to be the less—for to scorn praise is praise. Thus, already worthy of the honor of a chief see, he refused, so that he might shine at least in the honor of a deacon; and scarcely did he take the place which he had long since surpassed by his holy conduct, demanding for himself the lower walls, in the rank of an exorcist—yet already a priest in virtue.

Next, lest even earthly piety should mark him whom divine piety so especially ruled, with eager vow he chooses to visit the authors of his birth and rather to convert their estranged minds. For headlong and wandering error was oppressing his father and mother, who worshiped sacrilegious rites and stones and bronze, living under an exceedingly mighty death. So when he set out on the journey, piety went as his companion, and an angel sent from the Lord had paved all the shores before him, so that a gentle ascent might lie open with the hill sunk down, and that steep places and hollows might not draw the descending traveler into headlong falls. And while he was hastily crossing the cloud-bearing Alps, being caught by chance in the ambush of savage robbers, with their threatening swords and his hands bound behind his back—he laughed and, with unmoved countenance, despised the danger.

Indeed—that I may recall the miracle of so great a deed—he is said by his admonitions to have saved his guard with the warnings of salvation, a truer guardian here of the soul than the other of the body. For the one did not even have the limbs of his own under control, while the other bound the inner chambers of an estranged mind. Yet both skillfully taught the way that must be followed: the one showed the path of the road and learned the path of salvation. So he completes the journey begun and draws near his fatherland, having entered the Italian fields with the Alps crossed. Here again the enemy, hostile to his holy endeavors, feigning a human form with a counterfeit body, presented himself in his path, daring to ask from him whither he was going and what this haste demanded. He, in reply: 'For me the only way and guide is Christ:

In Him is the effect of what is known, from whom the will was given.' But that demon, gnashing his teeth, went against him in all his attempts, offended by so great an enterprise. To him the holy man said: 'The Lord defends; the enemy does not harm. With God as helper, no adverse power can be feared. Fearing the Lord, I despise the peril. That fear makes me not to fear.' After he had uttered such words, the shadow, driven from his eyes, vanished. But when he reached his parents' shore with the Lord as guide, and while perdition, hardened by habit, held his father persuading him, refusing the words of the salvation offered, then at least he received his mother, by Christ's gift. O woman blessed by so great a birth, who brought forth a son through whom she was born to God, and in one childbearing became both mother and infant!

The mother, herself to be born, first bore from her blessed womb him through whom she has now arisen by baptism. And yet many gave way before the wholesome example, rightly marveling at the tokens of such great virtues. And then by chance an evil error of a deadly teaching had scattered among the peoples, into hearts heedless and following it, the poison which Arius had poured forth from his insane mouth. Yet this plague especially held Illyricum infected, rampaging utterly through it with all its venom. Here, mighty in steadfast virtue, while he dares to strive against it and breaks the waves with his breast set in opposition, often shielding the priests, often restraining the people—oppressed by the snares of all, having suffered blows, driven out at last—he left earthly dwellings: yet with his mouth he held the faith and with his heart, salvation.

Therefore, when he judged that he must yield, lest perchance the madness of a subverted world should overwhelm the holy man as he lingered, he seeks the Gallic countryside again and retraces the footprints he had observed, not unmindful of the faith. But when deadly error raged throughout the whole world, and these crimes pressed even the farthest Gauls, and when the faction of an insane world had thrust out Hilary himself, the very wall and strong column of the faith, he resolved to rest a little in a constructed cell here, where most beautiful Milan paints Italy rejoicing in the shade of grove and vine. Driven out from here also, he departs, leaving lands and walls, and seeks the sea and its waves—because the wave was more faithful for lodging, and the storm of the people and the rabble was more to be feared than that of the deep.

A presbyter accompanies him as he goes, of equal merit and like peril. An island is chosen for lodging, far from any host. Herbs are food enough; using their roots, with such barren fare the holy men double their fastings. And while they indiscriminately search out a slender food, whatever the bowels of an untried land offered, they suddenly perceived the herb of hellebore with sudden poison spreading death-bearing venom through all their limbs. They proceed to the Lord with all their power of praying, but piety went before the prayers. Nothing was accomplished by arts, but present medicine was the sole hope of salvation.

Let us consider—we who are wont to seek life at the cost of our whole fortune, our wealth poured out as a price to physicians, that the times of our living may grow with our coins—what here did cups of choice juices, or remedies once gathered in ancient books, accomplish? Here surely the heart earned swift salvation without expense or art, and gave the word: let us marvel, rejoicing. The voice is silent, and the cause is established by the cry of those keeping silence. The physician is felt, not seen: all the limbs admit the whole cure to their inmost parts through closed pores. Meanwhile, the holy priest is reported at last to return from his unjust exile by the king's command—he with whom there had been a fellowship of illustrious life, while the teacher flourished on the shores of the Pictavi, handing down the precepts of salvation to untamed peoples.

And although swift piety, eager with affection, had carried off the rejoicing holy man, yet he, impatient of delays, had already left the lofty heights of Rome's walls, to be carried back more quickly to the Pictonian shores. So, following the footprints that had gone before with godly course, he earned the desire of his heart and the end of his labor. Here he builds a cell, a solace for his weary limbs; for his mind, full of God, abode in the heavenly seat. Here, if now we should recall the songs of ancient bards—when miracles would suddenly shake their astonished senses, frantic madness would cry out for wretched Phoebus and would not let even the false Muses rest, the Delphic temples would be shaken by the lying Apollo, and the whole throng of deaf sisters would be snatched away, and the roused monsters would fill up the whole frenzy:

we, to whom understanding and words are sought from Christ, pray that you, Martin, worshiper of Christ, may inspire us a little. You who were able, supported by the Lord's aid, to restore life to the dead, restore salvation to me: first, I shall work the miracles of a life granted; first, I shall burst the bars of a stinking tomb. Dead in my whole heart, I beseech my patron with justice, that a living mind may proclaim the titles of so great a praise. Therefore, although matters of the sublime surpass the powers of speech, and the slight measure of prayer cannot match itself to praises, I shall attempt it. You, whoever you are reading, who scorn such cheap songs—while you mock the words, you shall marvel at the deeds. A certain man, beholding the miracles of so illustrious a life, chose to join himself to so great a master—a man whom the mystic wave of the font had not yet renewed.

A fever, having utterly devoured all his marrow, wrenched out his slender life with his body consumed. And then by chance the teacher was absent; but the diligent devotion of the brethren, in mourning, was bewailing the lifeless corpse, grieving at the punishment of a brother, not at the death of the flesh. Arriving, the holy man wets his face with abundant weeping, pitying the sad fate of the deceased, and filled the whole place with his cry. Soon, the witness removed, he burst into the mournful cell with so sad a death. Then he cast himself upon his lifeless friend, embraced the cold limbs with all his members, breathing a faint breath over the stiffening face. Yet his whole hope is referred inwardly to the Lord: the accustomed piety is prayed for, the known compassion is asked, and the merit of faith is earned by believing.

The confidence of a pure heart saw God present, and the inner parts felt the effect from the godly breathings. Nor was there delay: scarcely is the vow held in suspense for two hours; little by little the cloths are stirred by the struck limbs, and the dry joints are watered with the moisture of the veins, and the icy breast grows warm at the breath of the soul; the covered eyes are unsealed by the light poured in. 'Blessed are they to whom, beneath the rising of the light granted, it fell to behold Martin in their first world.' The whole body is raised suddenly with a full effort, and the skin, long since wan with wasted limbs, takes on a purple flush with a better juice. The voice is ready, the step steady, the hand fit, the heart vigorous: the whole man, with his body fused from various causes, received in a diverse gift one life. The greatest joys soon draw forth a great cry:

The tongue sounds praises, the herald of a grateful mind; the cry of the mouth proclaims the affection of the heart. Soon the crowd burst the doors and filled the cell, and a concordant symphony of holy ones sang praises. But he, that he might wholly renew his life after death, at once shone forth renewed from the eternal wave, and the blessed man drew out his old age into many years, a witness for no small time of so illustrious a deed. For often he was wont to relate the same thing to many: that he had trembled at the tribunal of the eternal Judge, condemned to the base throngs and plunged into darkness, until a prayer uttered in angelic words offered his vow to the Lord and brought back his life. This man was the first to make Martin known on our shores; by this entrance the glory came to the remaining praises. Nor indeed had much time passed after these miracles:

A new glory hastens a famous deed. For while he passes the neighboring field of Lupicinus—a man not lowly nor of small account, but distinguished almost throughout the world by his virtue, by whom the glory might thence shine more brightly, confirmed through so great a witness, drawing the unlearned commons through so many miracles—hearing afar the cry of those pitiably weeping, he halted: he inquires the cause and learns it in turn, and just compassion roused his godly grief. For one of the servants, with a noose tightening his throat, had broken in madness the bounds of a life wrenched away. He runs up quickly, embracing the sad corpse—the eyes forced out, the throat dry of blood, the eyes too grim and the face menacing in death. To the Lord again weeping, sighs again and groans, the cry of the heart, the great voice of one keeping silence:

One faith of merit, and a grace of the gift not unequal. He is received with a grateful choir, with a thronging band: they display to all the miracles of the Lord Christ, and the spoil of the enemy, the joys of a believing people. Behold, a ninth sea is opened, and kindly breezes have drawn my leaky keel into the midst of the waves; and while the joys of a placated sea sweep me along, the rash skiff has rushed into the vast deep, scarcely well grazing the shores with the nearby lands. Now what do I do, and trembling, whither do I direct the uncertain prow? The breezes urge the course on, fear urges retreat. Let us proceed, since land is far off, whither the wave shall have drawn us—only that the spirit of Martin may diffuse a placated breeze and so grant a light gust to one going, that the rotten sail may sustain blessed winds.

Thus far the bank has served, that I might relate the conduct and deeds of the monk: now the sea shall be the teaching of the chair. Now I shall unfold the illustrious deeds of the great priest. Once there flourished greatly on the Gallic shores the city of Tours, spread out with fields and crowded with peoples. But desiring to be more powerful through such a bishop, it burned with all its vows to win Martin. Yet, utterly driving pride from his holy heart, his humble mind, unmoved by frequent prayers, remained—until, with composed words and tears forced out, just falsehoods overcame his too-great rigor. For a certain man, conscious of such great piety, prays, pitying the sad distress of his sick wife, that he would deign to visit the petitioner at his holy vow: that he would be the cause either of salvation by coming quickly, or of death, if a harsh resolve should delay the prayers.

Sighs are joined with feigned words, and voices choking with broken murmur. He gives kisses to his knees, gathers his footsteps in his arms, surpassing real grief through so many fabrications. What wonder if a simple soul, a holy mind, follows the one calling, when God compels: for He Himself would rather betray the deceitful design, did He not approve what was to be done. A crowd of peoples receives him as he goes out, doing him kindly violence, and a numerous turmoil of those praying throngs the way—motions peaceful, an uproar without gall, and watchful guard sets even sleepless vigils and keeps watch over its own master who must be kept. They exult with concordant joys in equal vows. There is a going forth to meet him; eager rivalry rushes out against him at every gate, and the contending favor of the people:

One will in all, and no divorce of mind in their zeal. But devouring envy, blackening with the gall of dark venom, infects some, and burning the hearts of the wretched with its goads, a carnal judgment drags them back to the opposing side. Some too they report—it is a sin to believe it—that priests of learned mind drew on a like frenzy, mocking what they ought to have rejoiced at: that no charm had adorned his face that should be revered, that with cut hair his free brow displayed the whole sign of the Lord, nor did the eyes lie beneath a cloud of tremulous locks; that his squalid garment, attesting the brightness of his heart, betrayed the zeal of one praying, because often, his limbs rolled to the ground, his body pressed prostrate, the rough dust had clung in the dingy fleece.

Rightly therefore did so depraved a will give way before the people, and the sounder judgment of the proceres conquered the mob. For truly it was allowed to none to be ignorant of the judgment of Christ who calls, proved through so many tokens. For among the rest whom the savage faction had unjustly allied to itself, desiring the opposite, one bishop, Defensor, was more violent: by which name they perchance thought the schemes of their false counsel must be defended, with God refusing, who approved just things. For the devout people were celebrating the accustomed honor in the holy assembly, visiting the mysteries in a frequented gathering, while denser throngs crowd the altars and the supporters hang frequent upon their vows—nor can the lector pass the obstacles set before him.

But the deacon, who happened to be present, having scarcely snatched the book which the page of the unrolled psalm had first quickly offered, suddenly, hastening in time, seizes the verse, chanting these words of the ancient prophet: 'Out of the mouth of infants and out of the little murmur of sucklings You have made tender tongues unfold praise, because of Your foes, that this praise uttered by little ones may destroy the perverse defender.' A cry is raised to heaven, and a present judgment is proved with God crying out: the sentence of Christ overwhelmed the adverse side with the thunderbolt of its words. For the same verse approved the vows of those praising and repressed the envious hearts of those resisting. Nor was the toil of the monk less from this, because the glory increased with the right of the priest. By deeds are things-to-be-done taught:

The work of example persuades more than the grace of the word. Thus for him a most cheap garment with worn cloak, thus the humble, precious modesty of his holy heart, thus the blessed resolve of an unremitting life remains. First, then, his cell was joined to the sacred altars. Soon, that he might be able to avoid the frequent peoples, so that prayer in secret might be apart from the unremitting throngs, going out he withdrew two miles from the city. Nor did so great a nearness harm the remote cell: a secret lodging for the monk, a short road for the master, a neighboring house for the teacher, far off for one at leisure.

On this side, the natural margin of a sheared rock had hemmed it in with a small recess of the curved cliff; on that side, the Loire with its bent banks and small winding had fenced in the enclosed land with its outstretched flood, and one narrow entrance lay open between rock and river, where, separated by a slightly straitened path, the gliding of the river touches the borders of the mountain. Here he chose rather to weave a small cell from a pile of logs, recognizing the mysteries of the holy wood—the most lofty guest succeeding to a humble roof, so that the learned modesty of the gathered brethren might thus learn to despise pomp with scant expense, having gone before, eagerly imitating their master by his examples. But to others not even logs are pleasing, and the neighboring cliff offers dug-out recesses with the mountain hollowed.

Eighty brethren a just admiration had drawn thither, to the mirror of so great a virtue, so that thence a blessed imitation might take up the morals they had inspected. Nothing was special to anyone; all things were common to all: love took up its wealth from the common store. To none was the faculty of selling anything granted, lest the wicked hunger for tasted gold should grow. He forbids the practicing of a craft. One pursuit alone is allowed: that of writing, which may occupy the mind and eyes and hands, and hold all things at once in a single point—the gaze by sight, the heart by the senses, the right hand by orderly arrangement. Yet only the younger age is held by these tasks.

For to a mind now sufficiently mature, prayer is enough, so that he whose sense the elder resolve strengthens may be zealous for the cleanness of his heart and keep vigil to purge within the inner eye, lest, overspread by the cloud of a hidden sin, he be deprived of the light of Christ. To none was advancement easy: his own little cell held each one. Then alone was occasion given for joining the company, when the accustomed hour of praying had summoned all and a symphony, returning praise to God with the heart; or when, loosing their fasts with weary limbs, they sought again the common tables at a fixed time, so that they might divide the end of the day already spent—the flesh now subdued—and the labor to be watched through in the coming night, with the most sparing intervals of a modest supper.

Only to the infirm, with the rule relaxed, was it permitted to taste unmixed wine, that the smell of the wine sprinkled into their cups might sustain the wasting of an ailing body. For many the garment was woven of camel's bristles, which would touch the watchful limbs with light goads, shutting out faint slumber with its pricking of the flesh, lest soft fleeces should nourish a flabby body, and a wanton garment should flutter with thin covering—such as the abundance of a past life had been wont to provide. For prudent resolve had drawn many thither, illustrious from ancient blood, to such a life. Wherefore the more to be marveled at is it, that after silken couches and cushions, this garment and such harshness pleased those who had entered.

In short, marveling at the tokens of such great morals, the neighboring peoples and nearby walls sought from here, with eager zeal, holy rulers for themselves, so that the teaching of God, flowing from such a fountain, might scatter watering streams into the inner parts of the thirsty. But now the time is at hand to touch at least a slight part of so great a mass of mighty virtues. And although the disciples adorn the titles of right virtue, and it should be enough to demonstrate beforehand what the deed must be, yet from his own deeds I shall touch a very few, showing the greatest heraldings by brief signs. By chance there was nearby a tomb which the vain superstition of worshipers, deceived by a false martyrdom, had often consecrated, paying ever a frequented honor.

Indeed, the priests who had gone before had even dedicated a venerable altar there, so that the religion might remain more firmly established, strengthened by the added cult of sacred rites. But after Martin took up the reins imposed on him and received the holy governance of the people committed to him, at once he inquires the name and titles of the venerated martyr, and at what time and under what judge he had earned the garlands of so illustrious a palm. But when no history is open which could betray the truth, and all antiquity refuses to know this, he declines to believe such great things on doubtful words, nor is the fable of a lying mob enough for faith. Therefore it pleases him, in doubtful matters without the weight of a witness, that counsels be sought from the Lord, to whom times ever subject stand present, the ages run through.

He hastens to the tomb, accompanied by a few, that the miracles attested to those might make the faith for many. So when the touched mass of the adjoining sepulchre was reached, near the cold ashes, the flesh dissolved, his prayers returned to heaven: the footprints of the flesh are joined to the tomb, but the mind passes even the stars. Then, having prayed to the Lord with all the virtue of faith, that He might betray to the ignorant the merit and the name of the buried one—suddenly to the left he beholds a squalid shade, whose blackening appearance with mournful mouth would betray, and bear before it the most sorrowful fates of punished culprits, confused and conscious with trembling countenance. The voice too, rendered in the mournful words of one grieving, expressed frequent sighs with such complaints:

'Let the ancient error cease to add torment to shades that must be lamented, by rendering a title not its own, lest, for one for whom the punishment of his crime alone is enough, this burden grow doubled by the added honor. And would that the holy ones, to whom this homage is rendered as by right, might deign to sprinkle our perpetual fires with a slender drop, the unending conflagrations of the wretched. They, rejoicing, enjoy the perpetual light; us a horrible chaos has hemmed in with eternal gloom. Far from the merits of light is the confusion of night.' This voice came far and wide to the ears of many, but the sight was betrayed to Martin alone, whose lighter mind passed the weights of the frail flesh, transmitting the bodily mass by the light of the heart. At once, the altar removed, all vain superstition, the lying rite of sacred things, is driven off.

The mysteries, transferred, migrate to true worship. What, in the end, will the art infected with magic wiles or steeped in poisons be able to confer, comparable to these titles—weaving lying songs with composed words and probing stinking entrails with veins inspected, so that, through the sought silences of the Tartarean night, an insane demon may bellow with a deceitful murmur, assuming a feigned countenance beneath a thin image? Here surely a simple soul and the sole religion of one praying dissolved the chains of the infernal law, and although the joints were pressed by the mass of the sepulchre, yet for the present time the confession lived. Nor indeed is this the end of his titles, nor for even a brief time do the cut-off garlands of his virtues, interrupted, cease. For grace, an undivided companion, ever cleaves to the holy man, nor is it confined within a fixed bound of places.

It follows his advance, remains undivided with him as he remains; if there be cause for the journey, rejoicing it accompanies him as he goes. For while he quickly traverses the by-ways of the outstretched country, where wild Gaul lies spread out far in broad plains, while a heathen crowd follows a wretched corpse, and the cloths, trembling, are stirred by a light wind, with his gaze stretched far over the open plains, he thinks the funeral cortège to be the cult of an abominable demon, and that the wretches are bearing the rites of accursed sacred things, with the necks of the bacchanals bowed submissive to idolatrous figures. At once he lifts up the holy and venerable sign, and with the opposition of the cross blocks those quickly coming, halting their unsteady steps with the weight of the standard.

Then indeed one could see the wretches held by an imposed torpor, and their joints stiffened with sinews bound, their many efforts frustrated with their members entangled, their steps halted with foot rooted by an unmoving star, the throngs shut in by a commanded boundary, nor able to surmount the obstacles of the wall set before them, an immense barrier opposed on every side—until little by little, with a nearer view, the honor borne in the obsequies might lie open. Then again liberty was restored by the same standard and by the very sign. Thus by the command of the cross and at once by the virtue of faith, he had the right to bind the wandering and to loose the bound.

Reading these things hastily touched upon—since the abundance of his virtues urges me to attain things-to-be-praised by brief signs, lest a most cheap page with prolix words should delay minds hastening to such great miracles—I am received again by the weight of greater matters. Once, with its roof cast down, he had laid a sacrilegious temple low to the ground, crushing the idols with the beams broken through and pressing down the images with the whole ruins. To this place a neighboring pine, spread out, was opening its green branches, and aged, had woven its arms far and wide into a green wood on its leafy summit, and the dense grove of a single tree warded off all heat with its lattice of leaves: a perennial shade covered an unbroken mildness with a counterfeit spring.

This pine too he sets about to associate with the temple's ruins, desiring to roll up in a like grave whatever drew the hearts of the wretches into error. Then indeed the frenzied madness of the inflamed mob strives to rush quickly to the aid of the beloved wood and to hinder the godly vow with all its effort. Reason avails nothing for the insane, holy words nothing for the profane minds; no voice for the deaf, no light for the blind. It is cried out that one who cannot confer salvation on others cannot confer it on himself, that the lords of the timber cannot be helped by timber: that these things serve the nods of him who is willing to serve, subject to subjects—the same man choosing from the woods things to be burned, leaving things to be venerated. Against these things they cry out, wanting things far different, their hearts much soaked with idolatrous venom: 'Cease with prolix words to compel those refusing.

'If you approve of putting matters to the test, this proposal will rightly please you and will bring proof of faith: we ourselves will at once set about felling our pine without delay. If you bring true tokens of your faith, receive the falling tree and, rejoicing, run to meet the longed-for ruin, fearing nothing serious, since you trust in the Lord.' That harsh condition is approved, and the most righteous man does not refuse the unjust demand, trusting in the power of God, to whom it is an easy possibility — though present — to halt the ruin by a word. Without delay the bonds are fastened about his bound limbs, and now he who is to be crushed is set in that very place where the tree, bent forward, hung over its whole trunk; and now, with its branches inclined and swaying under the weight, it threatened with the mass of an all but certain ruin set beneath. With all their hearts they press on, their joys vying with their prayers. With ceaseless blows and frequent axes they press on.

The nearness of hope ministers courage and strength to the weary. Vengeance shuts out emotion, anger drives away grief. The monks grow pale and lifeless, and the greater peril lies in the faith confounded by so great a terror; until, by wounds gradually overcome, the tree bent forward gave its crash, and rushing with a single leap toward the holy man, the hastening prayers outran the swift fury, its limbs now broken in the near-touching whirlwind. He, with faith forbidding fear, his dread dispelled, awaiting the near ruin with steadfast heart — lest perfidy, seeing the pine swiftly turned, should recall it from its fall and deny the merit, while it supposed the outcome — but now, with the peril closer, he raises his right hand armed with the protection of the sign and sets the cross against it.

By this all the force is at once broken, and quickly recalled in a swift turning, the pine is borne in the opposite direction with a swift whirlwind upon the authors of the crime. Now those who had been exulting, in terror feared the ruin turned upon themselves: they who cautiously believed they had chosen a safe place for so great a spectacle, scarcely recovering their wits, behold the seats pierced through and shattered by the branches. A cry is lifted to heaven, and the astonished crowds re-echo, and voices are returned by the whole assembly: the monks attest their joys, the vanquished the miracles. Their tongue sounds 'Christ,' and ignorant and knowing alike with kindly mouth sing 'Christ': this part acknowledges favor, that part seeks faith. Thus a will harmoniously snatched up amid the discordant, with Christ joining them, when it earned the gift of faith, then persuaded them to believe.

For surely there was none at all in that throng who did not bear away the gifts of the hoped-for salvation, being added to the flocks of the Lord by the protection of the sign; and the places which had reeked, overgrown with foul shrines, mother Church soon covered with true temples. Thus you conquer your foes, Martin, thus you overwhelm them, thus the weighty sentence treads down the oppressed: a merciful victory made those harsh men brethren. Therefore the outcome whets his mind, and a happy victory continually nourishes the zeal for conquering the rebellious. For scarcely were the idols smoking in fallen flames, and the thin embers flying about with neighboring fire, when the most righteous hand, exulting amid frequent flames, renews the conflagrations of a like temple, taken up anew.

But while the whirlwind scatters the blazing vapors far and wide, and the fierce fire seethes up with frequent waves, belching forth a swift cloud of flames, the madness increasing its gathered fury at the neighboring destruction, with its whole force it seeks a dwelling not far removed, licking the neighboring rooftops with deadly flames. When the holy man, trembling, saw the peril pressing on, and the fires now mingled with the kindled beams, and that they had hedged in and enwrapped the dwelling with a whirlpool of flames, hastening with a swift leap he climbed the rooftops, where the densest globe of fire pressed the house with excessive blaze, and offered his limbs as a barrier against the oncoming flames.

But then indeed the flames, bent back by an opposing blast, return toward the wind; and although the storm presses on, the greater power of the command drives them and compels the maddened wind to yield at once to the fires turned back. Thus nature, oppressed, obeys the merits of the one commanding. The flames are not driven by the blasts, but the blasts by the flames; and the fire, following the commands, thus accomplished both, seizing for itself the decrees, leaving what was defended unharmed. Thus, the temple having been overthrown by righteous fires, he proceeds to the destruction of another, which by chance the once wealthy village of Leprosus worshiped with perverse mind.

But after the madness of the demented crowd recalled the attempted work, and the whirlwind of violent tumult set its whole fury against his undertakings, he sought again the trackless retreats of solitary places, and there pressed more vehemently with holy prayers, continuing his intent purpose of praying through three days and joining as many hours through nights kept in vigil.

Moreover, clad in a garment woven of haircloth, he pricked his worn limbs with its constant sharpness, so that the over-rough fabric chafed his thin skin, and the flesh, when touched, shrank from the protruding stings; bruising it, ground his fields rather on hard bones, prolonging the slow suns into long-delayed fasts, drenching his whole face with a river of tears, that the perpetual mercy of the Lord Christ, taking too great pity on the toil of his innocent servant, might grant the fulfillment of his vow and accomplish what was attempted, removing utterly the efforts of the adverse party. Meanwhile he beheld armed men standing near with angelic brightness, nor was the recognition slow to dawn:

The confidence of a familiar face was ready, and moreover by their words the cause of their coming is made known: that he should not tremble, nor fear violence, nor dread arms, recognizing present favor through such signs: whatever crowd might rise up in opposing tumult, the help of God was enough, who could at once destroy all the troops by the power of the Word: that they themselves both brought help and reported His commands. His spirit, therefore, made keener by the power inwardly received, believing these arms of the two sufficed for the war, gathers strength again for the work begun, and constancy, restored to his fearful heart, burst into the midst of the throngs. The temples are laid low, overthrown to their very foundations: the fallen images receive the whole mass, and the broken idols sink beneath the cast-down roofs.

The dust, mingled, enveloped all things together alike — beams, altars, statues, mortar, stones, metal. Nor indeed did anyone, advancing from so great a throng, prepare to go and oppose him. He remained undismayed, seeing the hearts of the trembling men overcome. The peoples await unmoved. The breasts of the menacers grew rigid, and their inward parts were stunned with astonished fibers. Their limbs do not unloose movement, their words no tumult: the limbs of the wretches grew stiff, their voice stuck in their throats, the hands of those attempting fell, and the cry of the gaping ones failed.

As the sea, which a whirlwind of violent tempest has stirred up, torn from its lowest depths, pressing upon the waves, dashes all the rocks with foaming spray and overpasses the opposing banks with hoarse murmur — the shattered masses beat against the hollow shores while the neighboring shallows mingle the whole deep — soon, when the blasts have grown silent, their motion laid aside, an immense plain of calm waters spreads out, the smooth marble-like surface sinks down, the wind laid aside, and the changed aspect of the unmoving element lies still, gently rocking the slight skiffs on the leveled flood: not otherwise the madness of the furious crowd grew silent, and laid aside its tempest and slackened its blasts, and only cried out this, subdued, in true words: that Martin's Lord is to be worshiped through the whole world at once, that He alone they knew to be God.

For if deaf idols could ever confer salvation on one who seeks it, they would bring it to themselves and would not bestow on anyone the gift of which they themselves are deprived: rather that he is the more destitute who, being needy, begs of one in want. Thus, the splendor of the true light being wholly received, this crowd too increased, given over to the holy camps. With his heart thus continually invigorated by such triumphs, he again desires wars: faith increased removes fear, hope of merit animates him, dread of peril gives way. For a like cause soon stirred up a like tumult, while frenzied rusticity hastened to come to the aid of overthrowing a temple, increasing its accustomed harshness with the immense mass of headlong fury. In short, madness so overwhelmed every sense that a certain man rushed up threatening with drawn sword, daring to brandish sacrilegious steel against him to wound.

And when the holy man, rejoicing, offered his bared neck with covering thrown back, that man, not at all relenting, rose in fury at the high-raised sword. He suspended his mad right hand higher aloft, lifting his whole body with a swift effort, stretching his hurrying steps in headlong exertion, that the blow, coming from higher, might fall more violently: when suddenly his inward parts grew stiff with tightened sinews, and the motion, consumed in the thin air, stuck fast, and his outstretched right hand held the steel suspended in vain, and the whole blow perished with his limbs grown numb, and his hand remained fixed, its effort mocked. Thus his limbs, all collapsing in a mass backward, fell forward to the ground in headlong ruin, and his bones, crushed, sounded buried beneath his battered limbs, and prostrate they lay upon a heap of stony earth.

Then at last groans were wrung from him and tears forced out, and, his threats laid aside, the most pitiable entreaty of one beseeching turned and returned to a salutary craving for pardon. 'Why, I ask, did you recall your greedy right hand from blood? Why do you spare him whom no one entreats? What holds back your blow, if your anger remains? You surely do not wish to forgive: why do you hold back the steel? See, the innocent neck lies bared to your wounds: why do you delay your desires, you who have the mind of one who strikes? Why, while the offense is intact, is vengeance deferred? You do it, even though your right hand fails, what you long to have done. If the will is not changed, the guilt remains: the sentence of the heart suffices for guilt.' Nor indeed did the astonished, trembling breasts of the people see the gifts of salvation preserved from this alone.

For soon, when a like frenzy brought a like death with drawn weapon, the edge of the iron, suddenly shaken off, deserted the striker with an empty blow, and the man, demented, sought his wrenched-away weapon with his right hand, and the deceived eyes saw all the vows of gathered fury vanish with the lost iron. Yet at times he was wont to persuade by salutary address, and to change fierce minds with words, and to soften hearts grown rigid with holy speech, illuminating the old night with the light of doctrine. Besides, it was easy for him to restore health to the infirm, step to the lame, and sight to the blind. For surely no one had the violence of so great a sickness overwhelmed but that he carried away the remedies of his vowed salvation, rejoicing to grow strong again when he had seen the holy man. This indeed may be made clear even by a present deed.

Once, within the walls of Trier, an unwed virgin had wasted away, consumed by a grievous paralytic disease, and her limbs, numb with every motion, were deprived of their offices. Now, the flesh as it were left behind, a faint breath was breathed in her chilling breast. Her trembling kinsfolk grew pale at the nearby death and bathed her parched limbs with a fount of tears, and grief had gathered the mournful train of attendance, the honor to be rendered to the funeral rites: when, amid the murmurs of the weeping, an excited messenger burst in with opened mouth, bearing word that Martin had come, to whom it was an easy possibility to grant the longed-for healing by holy prayers.

When this word came to the mournful ears of the father, he flew, breathless, and threw himself at the saint's knees, begging help, and sprinkled his footsteps with abundant weeping, and sobbing sighs broke off his voice, and his tears spoke more than his words from his entreaties. But the saint, on the contrary, mighty in modest piety, shared the feeling, yet denied the merit. He refused that there was any power in himself by which he might furnish aid, but in his heart he shared the grief. He shrank from display, yet wept over the calamity, and by avoiding it proved his merit. Thus he stands the loftier by his humble heart.

He contributes to praise what he takes away from honor. The father, seeing these things, presses on the more vehemently, until the holy importunity, moved by his constant and just request, joined with the prayers of the priests to those of the father, by gentle right compelled the reluctant one to visit the sorrowful inner chambers of the mourning parent. The peoples stand before the doors: the astonished, anxious breasts of the people await the impending miracles of Christ. When he, taking pity, saw the wasted limbs of the half-dead girl and her eyes languishing with consuming maladies, the skin clinging to her bones with body dried up, and the color of her flesh tainted by infused gall, and the murmur of her bound tongue utterly withdrawn, that she breathed but a little breath from her icy breast, and the threads of her veins perishing with broken pulse, their order cut off, seeking to leave her right hand:

He at once stretches himself prostrate to the ground with his whole body, demanding from the Lord the medicines of the Word, for whom it is enough to have commanded, and to overcome art by a nod. He felt God present. He calls for oil to be brought forth. A holy blessing approaches the proffered liquid. Then, rejoicing in the changed juice by the anointing, he touches each of her limbs one by one with the medicated chrism. The pious right hand, applied, drives out the old pain, and the happy gifts of salvation obtained, gradually infused at the physician's touch, return little by little. Thus, all the diseases of her limbs being put to flight on every side, restored strength succeeds in her invigorated body. Soon the girl rises strong, the people marveling, and steadying her firm steps by the divine gift, she gives praise to the Lord Christ through the holy altars.

After this work of power had filled the most renowned walls with an assembly, all came running eagerly, those whose minds a demon, or whose bodies a disease had overwhelmed, praying for a remedy for heart and limbs. These departed steady in step, those sound in mind. Yet especially of all the miracles which the grace of Christ deigned to work through His servant, the present cure of one slave stood out, whom a demon held captive by full right. In short, when the holy man, moved by the great entreaty of those asking, ordered the wretch to be led to the holy threshold, no one could bind the raging man. Thus, raving with savage mouth, he put all to flight, gnashing with his teeth: gore had covered his mangled body everywhere, and wounds bristled on his naked limbs.

Then the master, exceedingly exalted with illustrious honor, adorned with the fasces of a proconsul, forgetful of this dignity, is present and throws himself at the gracious knees, and prostrate clasps the feet with caressing arms, praying that, since neither force nor chains availed to drag the servant raving with maddened heart, he himself should approach the dwelling under which a perpetual guard had now for a long time kept the slave shut up. But the saint refused to tread the threshold of the profane place, nor would the righteous man enter beneath idolatrous beams, distinguishing the stench of the temple by the chrism of Christ. The other, however, clinging violently to the holy knees, pledged that he would be willing, his servant healed, to believe whatever the teaching of so great a master should hand down.

Then at last, moved by so just a voice of the one entreating, he brought his longed-for steps to the threshold that was to be saved, and the same medicine that he brought to the servant, he brought to the master entreating help so justly. Both give thanks: the one rejoicing in the faith received, the other in the mind recovered. And immediately after these miracles a new deed roused the astonished people to such great proclamations. For as he chanced to enter the threshold of the neighboring house, he cried out that at the very doors he beheld the hideous and dreadful shadow of a furious demon to behold. Without delay, the enemy, now betrayed, at once began to rage, seizing the cook, mingling the inner recesses of the house with tumult, gnashing with evil teeth, baring the threatening teeth of the captive mouth, exercising his inborn wrath with another's bites.

While the mingled madness of the demon shook the besieged body, so that the rage might rave with armed human mouth toward its own frenzies with another's teeth — the trembling fled, and no one dared to stand against and resist, and the examples sharpened the extreme fears. But the saint, trusting in the Lord, laughs at the straggling bands, and with a swift encounter offers himself in their way. Indeed, while the madness shook the trembling jaws, dashing together the wretched teeth with deadly murmur, and renewing frequent bites with nodding head, he steadfastly thrust his fingers into the gaping throat, halting the most savage rights of the adverse robber. The greedy jaws stuck fast, the wound deferred, the wicked fury of the open mouth grew rigid, suspended, the tongue beneath rejoiced at the salutary touch, and soft kisses pressed the inserted right hand.

Then, because no flight lay open from the obstructed mouth, being driven out by a flux of the bowels he left the emptied entrails, drawing only the stench from the body. Meanwhile, suddenly all the walls of the city are thrown into confusion with tumult. Wicked rumor brings word of barbarian movements, scattering countless fears through credulous hearts. Yet no reliable messenger of this rumor stood forth, so that the report, brought forward, might lie open with a manifest author. Therefore, when he saw conflagrations stirred up by such uncertain matters and the peoples held by uncertain terror, he commands that the demon, shut up in the captive body, should reveal whence the tale had scattered its strange report. Forthwith, driven by the word of the tormentor, he cried out that he confessed himself to be the cause, the crime, and the source of these evils: that he with his comrades had sown these lies with phantoms, to oppress the trembling people with dread.

Therefore this true confession of the lying robber absolved the sorrowful minds, the demon being tormented. But now, to unfold the deeds of so great a piety, neither will a barren mind suffice nor a worthless page. O truly a good thing close akin: ready compassion, a humble mind! He despises no one who loves all. For a wicked leprosy had covered a certain man with a horrid disease, infecting all his flesh with a covering of blotches, and scattering dense drops upon his corrupted body.

When the frequent loathing of the healthy marked him out, and a most unjust mind, ignorant of its own lot, despised in another's body the grievous diseases, the holy man, entering the gate with the crowd going before, such as had gathered in attendance upon so great a patron, thronged the thresholds of the walls with dense crowds, gives kisses to the wretch, joined with face and mouth, and, not fearing to soil his face by such a touch, he pressed the seals of peace with joined lips. The spirits of the others were astounded. But that man rejoiced, feeling in the touch the gifts of the divine gift, and that swift health was darting rapidly through his limbs, and a swift radiance was being scattered in his renewed flesh. O truly precious condescension of your peace and medicine, which ever flows from your holy mouth!

Whether you touch limbs with your lips or hearts with your words, your kisses will heal the sick and your words those needing to be taught. And would that a like mercy might touch our diseases, and that Martin, praying, might be willing to drive away the stains of the wretched heart from so holy a mouth. Then I believe I would be recalled to the joys of true peace, lifting my healed face to the holy mysteries, and after the squandered substance which my portion had given — my hope would hang upon the mouth of the merciful Lord, and, leaving behind the food of swine or the joys of the flesh, I would receive the sure seals of true faith. Indeed, even the mere touch, or the fringe of his garment, and the threads snatched eagerly from the torn fleece, had swift remedies in all cases.

For, to pass over those things which, done toward humble men, lay hidden not so obscurely — will it, I ask, lie hidden, that Arborius, who had discharged the choice honor of the world, illustrious, who at the summit of an exalted prefecture ruled the reins of Roman governance by the powers granted him, and no less excelling in the uprightness of pious character — his limbs now utterly wasted away, his only daughter had thrown her drooping limbs upon the bed, whom a fever, with the perpetual law of recurrence, returning to its fourth day, had so stripped of the garment of flesh by ever renewing its frequent ruins, that her afflicted body could feel nothing of remedy even in the middle days near the fever, while the past tossing claimed one day for itself, and the other suffered, trembling, the ruin to come.

Therefore, while the father, with sorrowful piety, fondles such a daughter, and runs over her icy limbs with warming breath, while the frequent panting of his fatherly mouth lingers, a proffered letter reached his trembling right hand, which the holy bishop was sending to his sorrowful friend. When he, rejoicing in the gift of the read letter, pressed kisses on the absent one, rejoicing with him, he closed the venerable scroll with a swift movement and, hurrying in haste, applied it to his panting stomach. O truly precious faith! The fever is driven off and put to flight, and the flame of fiery heat is removed. The present blessing penetrates the parched veins and waters the exhausted marrow with the dew of words, restoring swift health by the mercy of the Lord: to whose praise we, rejoicing, will rightly refer those things which we now marvel that faithful servants could do.

Nor did this medicine grant healing to her limbs alone, but faith increased added true salvation to her heart. For forthwith the sacred virgin is offered to God through him, devoted to the Lord through whom she has power, rescued from disease. Thus the grace of this gift was bestowed three times at once: the bishop consecrates, the father offers, the virgin is sanctified. Indeed, a like medicine restored health to Paulinus also, whom the glory of distinguished faith exalted far and wide. His sight then lay hidden, covered with a drawn-over cloud, and a darkness, stretched out with infused gloom, kept out all light with a covering of spots. This a spongy thing, light and suspended with slight touch, put to flight, scarcely brought to the eye by the neighboring gift of a blessed right hand. The sight, now restored, learned to bear the light, and marveling received the new radiance.

And would that the medicine of our holy patron might be willing to touch the darkness of our heart with such a light, that it might give back again the mysteries of the ancient deed — the same name, the same physician, a like cause of healing. We marvel indeed, seeing so many and great fomentations of the pious chief physician. Let us marvel also at that healing which the physician earned, with Christ healing, through whom the bountiful and at once grateful man, the good one, rejoices both in gifts expended and in gifts retained from the gift. For, striving to climb to the upper part, where the house hung supported on lofty columns, while he sets his slipping steps on the stairs, falling forward he crashed down, and renewing his frequent ruin on the steps, fallen, he pressed the ground with his bruised body.

But behold, while his weary, fractured limbs groan with savage pain, an angel, venerable with holy countenance, stands by the afflicted saint, bringing sudden solace, hastening to wash the wounds with poured-on waters, gradually touching them with the anointing of an unknown juice, drawing the thin liquid with a gentler touch. Whereby his limbs, watered, soon felt the swift healing, his body softened together with the moistened veins, and at once his limbs grew firm and strong, and on every side the pains, driven off by the Lord's command, gave way. Swift were his steps, his mind lively, the joys of heart and mouth, his countenance concordant with a thankful breast. While he praises the Lord, he arrogates nothing to himself thereby, and he made known his merit, because he denied that he had deserved it. To what end again, O barren reed and hissing voice sent forth from broken stalks, do you call?

This glory of the great men is surely worthy to be augmented by the voices of trumpets, nor will so great a voice be able to burst forth through small stalks, as it would avail to fill even lofty clarions. But if so narrow a pipe be aided even by a slight breath, which the blessing of a holy mouth has sent, if it cannot utter great things, it will at least speak sweet ones. Therefore the conquered ambition will hold the first part of the book. This door will unlock the remaining praises, by which, after degenerate dreads through many ages, the lost liberty shone forth upon a corrupted world.

Once, exalted by wars successfully waged, Maximus, now proud by the death of one master, by the exile of another, his crime cleaving evilly to his character, had increased it by the outcome, and the unhappy man, the more by his proud heart, had often torn open the wounds of his depraved nature — prosperity, more grievously about to fall in favorable affairs. This king, therefore, the frequent shepherds of God approached from a different side, whose perpetual care it was either to preserve or to feed the Lord's pious flock, striving to release the accused, to loose the bound, to give rest to the weary, solace to the mournful, to entreat their homeland for exiles and to beg pardon, to earn for the proscribed wretches their substance and their life.

And while these men strove to hasten this with kindly zeal, gradually the holy gravity of the fathers, subjected with timid assent to the swelling man, began to grow exceedingly cheap, given over to flatteries — not such as the ancient gravity of priests was wont to pay, but the foul ambition of clients, cast down at the nod of the puffed-up patron. Among whom Martin alone, with steadfast heart and mouth, stained his pious inward parts with no dye, nor did trembling cowardice with its deforming blemish oppress his mind, humble to Christ, lofty toward the heights of the world. Indeed, persevering steadfastly in his very prayers, if there was any cause for asking the proud king, he obtained the wish of the one desiring as though by the right of one commanding.

Often too the entreaty assailed the holy man with frequent supplication, that he might come, though late, when so often asked, to the banquets of the king, which he had scorned. For he, scorning pomp and revolving his deeds, utterly refused to join the table of one to whose crimes he thought it a sin to bind his holy mind even by slight assent, casting in his teeth the slaughter of his masters and an empire gained by blood, the death of a king and the reign of a tyrant. But when, wearying his pious heart with continual entreaties, the king sought to wash away his faults, and, purging the crimes laid against him, said that the rule of empire had been imposed upon him by the terror of those commanding, that it was no sin that a power, wrung out by sword and arms, should be weighed down by the mass of envy, being free of ambition:

and that the Lord had sent no small signs of His favor by so great a triumph, nor was anyone, however lukewarm or small in faith, ignorant that the issues of waging war for a man hang upon the nod of God: but more manifestly, if one inferior in number, in power, and in men should conquer the more confident, that he had conquered with Christ as judge: nor indeed had he done anything bloody, even after the wars, with a savage mind, nor had the fury of the sword availed anything after the battle-line, but after arms and trumpets the innocent swords had ceased from the crime of slaughter, and a peace stained by no blood at all — repeating such things often, and praying more insistently with entreaties, he softened the holy man's harshness by frequent reasoning, so that, forgiving the fault and won over by zeal, he came to the dishes of the royal table, before despised.

Hope, now nearer, exults over so great a gift. The festal day rejoices to shine forth with a glad assembly. Chosen nobles are added, whom the splendor of neighboring honor links close to the royal heights, distinguished by robes of state, holding the arbitration of laws and arms, the rights of the forum or the trumpets of war. Among these, in the middle, where the curve of the couch is bent, the presbyter reclined. On the right and left the rank of mighty leaders, their limbs placed upon the golden couch-frames, pressed down the purple of precious fleece spread beneath. At the king's right hand the elder, venerable with holy countenance, sat, such as Moses, bringing back the pious laws, descended from the sacred summit of the mountain, gleaming with the excessive brightness of his changed countenance, when the splendor of his face revealed the brightness of his heart, nor could the veils restrain the new light.