Moreover, countless flowers throughout the lying plains painted the bordered expanses with inset gems. These the purple stained, tinging with rosy dye, while others gleamed, marked with snowy whiteness, among which, distinguishing the grass with saffron signs, the golden grace of yellow flowers shone red. Purple drops bent the gemmed buds, and the amber of moist dew bent the dewy herbs. A pleasant fragrance, striving to match the pleasing colour, mingling concordant joys in equal forms, fed the sight with its beauty, the nostrils with its breath. The scattered foliage offered most welcome shades, and the blue branches nodded with their interwoven boughs. The birds, covered with leaves, vied to bring forth their spring song, modulating their sweet-sounding pipings with their tongues.
A pure rivulet fed the neighbouring grasses, and embracing them with its gliding moisture cherished the herbage. Beneath, the clear pebbles, to the penetrating gaze, rippled the glassy waters through their gentle obstacles, nor could the pervious surface and the depth covered over take away from the eyes the beauty sunk below, lying open to the lights. Why do I strive to mark out the forms in rude speech? These things cannot be set forth in words, which by the gift of Christ the grace of nature, fashioning, better painted. Gazing therefore upon this scene, distinguished with unequal form, Martin said: 'Compare for a little the several places of the meadow — the eaten-down, the dug-up, the unharmed — to the wickedness of harlots, or to wives joined in lawful covenant, or to virgins who vow their bodies, holy, to Christ, adorned with the gems of rosy chastity.
As there the beauty does not remain in the field dug under, so the image of Christ, smeared with vices, does not shine. As the root here remains safe, but with the grass cut, so to wives faith is secure without the flower of chastity. As colour and brightness smile in the blooming field, so the bright glory of pure flesh shall gleam.' To him giving such proofs of his clear vigour, a certain one, ever attentive and with his heart set on the divine rewards, came near — a monk, having obtained this name by service neglected, who after the trumpets and clarions of war had preferred to give himself to the standards of the true King, having better followed the great banners of the holy cross. Indeed, drawing also the partner of his marriage-bed to the fellowships of his life, he had charged his companion to be among the holy virgins, remitting the rights of the marriage-bed and of the flesh.
But when reviving pleasure again began to goad his wanton mind, and to instil deep in his marrow the mortal joys of the despised world, scarcely desiring to loose the rigour he had but tasted, running back again into the embraces and vows of the married, and after the titles of a monk to renew the name of husband — indeed he set about to assail the teacher with frequent tumult, mingling such complaints with his prayers: 'If Christ grants me the solace of marriage, deigning to join the diverse sex in wedlock, who shall snatch from me the gifts of God? Who by a new right shall dare to overthrow the ancient law of the Lord?' To him breaking forth such murmurs with headlong feeling, the medicine of the holy patron more gently makes approach: 'Come, tell me, if you recall the times of your past life, whether you have ever clashed in pitched battle-line with a savage foe.
Since you remember this was done very often, look now at this same thing: whether amid the trumpets or clarions of war, and the javelins aimed by the terrifying arms of fighters, and the drawn swords, and the silken banners swollen with received wind, imitating the coils or the wraths of serpents, the feminine sex ever fouled the warlike ranks. What place is there for women at shields, what for girls at arms? Did a sprinkling of dust become their delicate faces? But if these things are not fitting for earthly camps — that anything feminine should grace the standards of men — would not, while you wage war with sweat close at hand, the foul intermixture of the despised sex be still more shameful to you? In a time of idleness let wanton pleasure find such a laughable troop.
But when the manly battle-lines hasten into the fields and the iron-clad ranks gleam, let the walls defend the feminine throngs, and let them, distrustful of arms, be eager to shut themselves within the gates. But he who hastens to war, let him scorn comforts.' With such words he healed the wounds of the unbridled mind, and to the heart composed again he gave new joys, and sent the warlike man back to his battles with peace. Now indeed who could worthily run through how great a patience adorned that so docile charm of his?
By chance, among maidens holy both in heart and in flesh, ever precious for the bloom of perpetual chastity, whom virginity, devoted and given to the Lord Christ, had joined to the Lord by the bond of the mind, not by the covenant of the flesh, a certain one had surpassed all by her zeal for virtues, adding this special honour to the titles of her chastity: that, once removed from the eyes of all men, she kept with constant heart the rigour she had begun, nor did the light woman waver with unstable feeling, conquering by the weight of her virtue the sex inborn in her, and scarcely matched by the rare examples of men who had gone before. A just admiration of this resolve impelled the saint, so that, rightly reverencing such a maiden, he might approach her, drawn by so great a flower of virtues.
But so steadfastly did the faith, now devoted to the Lord, remain fixed in her constant breast, that the cloisters of her chastity, fenced from men, guarding the titles of an illustrious palm, not even the merit of so great a patron could unbar. Yet she did not blush to bear his votive repulse, her faith rejoicing in her resolve; but the kind man counted all that had given hope as his own honour, attending more to the gains of the soul than to the joys of the flesh. What part will you snatch, ambition, from her, from his holy breast, you that are blown by the winds of mad swelling? Now lie utterly prostrate. Christ can have nothing in common with vices. Those who swell with praise desire to exalt themselves. He sufficiently approves who desires to have lain hidden, and despises the heights of the world — how truly he assigns to the Lord alone the honour which he shuns.
But you who would rather grow cheap for the praised Christ — adding this judgment too to the blessed titles — the praise you flee by avoiding, by avoiding you merit. Now once it has been brought forth in praise of so great a patron, why, my tongue, are you silent, shutting up your rude murmurs of voice and untaught sounds through long silences? If there is shame in speaking such great things, this law should have been set for shame before. Too late you try to stretch these veils over a brow already too much worn. But if you are held by the vile sluggishness of idleness, that the sad image of foul death may depart, shake off the languid sleep from your depressed breast, that watchful you may rise to Christ, death being shaken off. If you lie deservedly cast down, trust in your patron. Why do you, guilty of punishment, tremble, when you are guilty of a vow?
Therefore come, and commit the extinguished ember to the Lord, that the rigour of my wit may grow warm at Christ's inspiring, and Martin's prayer may dissolve the ice of my heart and make the dull voice break forth as soon as may be, as once a like voice merited the miracles of a like deed. Where the walls of Chartres lie amid open plains, and Gaul stretches wide far over immense fields, here a daughter, who now for twice six years had been silent and mute, her mouth barred and unlocked by no speech — the saddest care of her sorrowing parents — was increasing the continual grief of the wretched ones by her living, and the wounds of mourning grew with the space of years.
Alas, how often they grieved that the gifts of the mighty God, granted to others, had perished for themselves, when they often saw little ones, scarcely yet creeping, break forth into words, and names issue, broken off, from tender lips, when affection, going before, would note the doubtful murmur, recognizing the uncertain voice with affection as interpreter, taking up the sounds as if they were words and snatching up the things to be spoken. These things, which were granted to others after their first cradle-days, an emulous affection had wept for over twice six years, when, mourning through two lustres and two years, it longed for the first voice at the time of marriage.
Until the father, clinging fast to Martin's knees and clutching them, breathless and tearful with weeping face, would set forth the whole complaint with his groan opening it up, drawing sighs from the depth of his breast, breaking off the lamentable murmur with frequent sobs, and drenching his wet breast with the rain of his cheeks. And now the love of his accustomed piety had shaken Martin's gentle mind. But the cause of his delay was from uprightness, the care of precious modesty and the temperance ever to be joined to illustrious deeds, lest boasting should lose what merit had conferred, and presumption of heart should spoil the work of virtue. Therefore he says: 'Unworthy of the miracles of so great a deed I deem myself, and I dread with trembling neck the weight which, weak, I am unable to bear, lest the greater burden press me down, and, feeble, I labour under too heavy a load.
But no cure is difficult for Christ, who rightly commits these signs to other ministers, that the merit of the saints may proclaim the miracles of the Lord. Behold, here stand two men, illustrious in uprightness, in faith, and in virtue, whom such a life has rightly raised to this place. Will not the Lord's medicine be given more readily by them, even those things which exceed our merit, but are not hard for the saints?' Often repeating such proofs of his modest heart, and approving his merit by refusing it, he stands the more worthy in this — that precious modesty adorns the rest of his conduct, and he flees envy who is afraid to compare himself.
Seeing this, the father presses the more vehemently upon the holy man, joining to his prayers also those two whose faith he had said was to be chosen, lest it should be permitted even to defer what their kindred will, with Christ's inspiring, had piously urged, and the favour of an equal and concordant right. The peoples being therefore removed, lest perhaps the crowd should clamour with confused murmur against him praying, or boasting should make a show of its own powers, he joined to himself only these companions, whom the height of honour had made his equals, and in whom there was an equal care of praying, equal zeal, conjoined faith, united will. The father too is added, trembling, whom his vows made the more faithful, more keenly desiring the gifts of Christ.
Then lifted up in lofty spirit, but prostrate in body, setting his holy heart upward but his limbs downward, he lies in the flesh, but flourishes in mind. The mind, joined to God, climbs on high; the boasting of the flesh is pressed down. Thus a dissimilar way is joined in concordant act; thus the humble hasten whither the faithful have gone before. And without delay the saint perceived the signs of accustomed favour, ever rejoicing with Christ his guest, often opening the doors of his heart to such gifts. Then, by blessing it, he bade the oil be brought forth, staining the offered liquid with the nectar of his words, through which medicine came by the changed liquor.
After it was poured into the mouth of the rejoicing girl, at once the bonds of her bound tongue were loosed, and as a sudden breath filled her moist throat, a sweet-spoken murmur, the long-awaited voice, came back to life. And first it bade her, still trembling, to frame her own speech and to shape her uncertain sounds into her father's name. This was the first utterance, and from the lips of the one first speaking the father snatched it and, having heard it, plunged it deep into his heart. Then, prostrating his limbs, he falls at her feet and as a suppliant embraces her knees with outstretched arms. And he who alone had offered prayers while the girl was silent, now repaid thanks to the Lord not with a single voice. Nor truly was the wonder of another deed less, of which the pouring of a medicinal oil and the blessing of consecrated oil have made me mindful.
For just as the faithful, with foreseeing heart, are wont often to offer a vessel filled with oil—to be kept for the prayers of their longed-for salvation—either to righteous men or to lay it up out of devotion in holy places: places where either a present working of martyrdom reveals patrons proven worthy by their power; or where manifest faith recalls, or the reading sets forth, that the Word came into the blessed cradle; or where, cutting short the neighboring hours of light, night, dreading the deadly crime of a savage people, poured itself in and brought sudden darkness; or where the happy hollows of a riven rock, rejoicing at the touch of God, lay open without the law of a tomb to limbs that would soon rise again; or where the blessed earth received the last footsteps of Christ rejoicing as he returned to the stars from here—that earth which, preserving such gifts of his sanctifying touch, scornfully shook off far from its own sands whatever a contriving hand had prepared for adornment, bursting the fragile lattice with scattered dust and dissolving the barriers of the metal spread over it:
In these places, very often, where nearness affords it, men set out through pure little vessels the peace-bringing liquid, to be changed by the nectar of the dew poured from above, whereby heavenly grace flows into the holy oil. But those whom the intervening stretches of long roads keep far removed in a distant region, believing that the Lord is not confined within the bounds of places, and that the aid of the merciful one passes beyond all limits, with unhesitating faith they ask the present gifts of the present Lord, who, by the power of his favor, does not weary the prayers of those who come to him from afar, and touches everywhere those who approach and beseech him; nor does he avoid the slow, but stands nearer to the swift, and the very effort of the goer alone becomes the end of the journey.
Those who bear these things in their heart possess the gift of the Lord in whatever place they are called; whether they entrust their vowed offerings to holy men, or store up whatever is to be sanctified in consecrated places. What Christ has not approached in his holy body, he covers with his power, although he, returned to the height of heaven, has long now reigned even in his body. Often pondering these things within herself, with faith spurring her on, a woman—surpassing her frail sex by the power of faith, lofty by no womanish heart—believed that, when she offered the sent oil with the holy man, the devotion of so great a minister near at hand would favor her prayers no otherwise, at Martin's prayer, than if, swiftly carried by rapid flight, she bore her vows within the very tomb of the Lord, having embraced the banner of the cross and the wood of salvation.
Full of such faith, diligent, with anxious hands she poured the fresh green oil into the gleaming glass. As the wave descends it changes its snowy color, and flowing with silent gliding into the hollow below it grows, little by little, through increases of the shining liquid, and the unctuous substance, silent with sound suppressed, swells. Yet, so that the empty neck might lie open to the stopper, and the jar might not totter with too brimming a flood, where the throat rises from the rounded base, a wide opening of the still-empty mouth remained. Then the boy, hastening, set out with the received oil to the holy man, bearing both the vows and the words of the one praying. Nor does the work of mercy delay. Swift grace commends the righteous zeal, lest by even delaying it should put off the faithful one or make the favor doubtful by a little waiting.
And at once God proved by the signs granted how great a gift the present blessing would confer, lest perhaps faith should waver with a trembling sense. The men present were amazed (for Christ had bidden chosen witnesses to be present at such great miracles) that, at Martin's prayer, that liquid had so increased, that the wave, lifted up and rising in a swell, filled the empty part with its suspended flood; thus, ever hastening to the top so as not to leave the bottom, it boiled and overflowed, and settling remained full; it grew with what was poured in, yet was not to be emptied by what was taken out: until the servant, bearing the happy gifts back to his mistress, should go rejoicing, and his right hand, sharing the joy of such signs, should offer the merit of the blessed one.
Such was the holy blessing of the renowned prophet, when the widow, lavish, had spent her scanty store: it filled the empty vessels with gifts that would endure, so that she who had given proofs of generous faith might become richer for what she expended, secure in what she had asked. Nor truly, that I may fear to touch upon the rest of his praises and the powers of the man, shall I be able at least to relate these things, in which a like blessing of the same oil, manifold, worthily demands the proclamations of an eloquent voice. One faith, frequent healing: it differs not in act, but in number it stands apart—equal in signs, another in gifts.
A witness is at hand, wondrous with learned tongue, Severus, who followed Christ with the whole strength of his heart, distinguished by the world's titles, but more illustrious by that strength of holy faith with which he scorned the world; mighty in nobility, but the same far more excellently nobler by the worship of Christ than by his birth of blood. He, compressing the sacred canon and the writings of an extended history, enclosed all in twin little books, whatever had been published from the earliest ages he had run through. He likewise, weaving anew the titles and deeds of Martin, a careful investigator of the truth and a faithful reporter, brought into the open the marks of so illustrious a life, thus keeping a just balance with even scale, so as neither to assert doubtful things by speaking nor to be silent about certain ones.
This man very often, devoutly united, clung to the holy man, as the perception of a kindred mind is wont, in the mirror of the heart, to associate like figures of character. Wherefore all the more is it to be believed that the witness is more thoroughly proven, who teaches things ascertained at first hand, since he speaks of what he has seen. Therefore, among the other proofs of his affection, he asked that he might receive a special gift of the holy oil. To him, after the blessed man, rejoicing in his power as to a faithful friend, granted the aid of his miracle-working, the memorials of his favor, he brought it home with the devotion of faith, believing that he was carrying away salvation granted to himself, and he placed it in the lofty upper part of a high window, where the panes set before it shut out the clear daylight, opposed to the blasts of the winds yet pervious to the light.
Here he covered the flask with the veil of a snowy cloth, so that the spread-out linen might keep wandering glances away—facing the eyes, but not barring the minds. But a heedless boy, while in the whirlwind of a hasty right hand he snatches at the coverings with an incautious effort, dashed the glass vessel and threw it down upon the marble beneath. The minister stood bloodless as his lord grew pale, and the crash returns to the heights with a swift blow, and the ringing, at once filling all things with a wandering murmur, struck itself against the heights and rose up from the depths. The flask, dashed down, did not feel such great crashes, and the coverings of the glass shell remained unharmed. So the liquid within, enclosed in its fragile wrapping, hardened the outer drums of the hollow lattice, so that you would think the marble, utterly changed into feathers, had received that fall upon soft cushions.
So, Martin, your merit, so the perpetual grace, sanctified in holiness, receives, and being blessed it guards. A certain man, when the savage violence of a fierce mastiff rushed upon him, shaking its jaws with furious throat, drawing back its wrinkled nostrils from the covering of its mouth, repeatedly grinding its bared teeth with a growl—he, dreading with such sudden terror, closed that rabid mouth not with club nor blow, but with the name of Martin alone. As soon as it sounded, the barkings, pressed back, stuck fast; the raised mane fell; and the grim, threatening, bulging eyes, with their menaces laid aside, closed their flames suffused with blood. Then more gently it began to soothe its ears, and to sweep the ground with its twisted, wagging tail, and to lower its head, bowed down with neck bent. What things, Martin, would not yield gentle to your merits, since you conquer such great madness by your name alone?
Why now should we wonder that the hearts of savage men yield and that human passions grow gentle for you? As once men were amazed that the dread power and savage authority of cruel Avitianus gave way to you—he in whom a too-great ferocity was joined, and his sole pleasure was the talon, executioners, torturers, scourges, chains, the death of men, the voice of mourners and the pallor of the accused, the devouring prison, the deaths of the confessing, the torments of the one who denied. The most savage beast of a hellish heart, breathing innumerable slaughters from his furious breast, raging with relentless ferocity, had entered the city which bishop Martin governed with holy honor. There clung, with chains around their filthy necks, the pale and wretched ranks of the mourning accused, striking their shrieking fetters against their broken limbs, and their steps, slow with bowed chest, dragging.
Leading such spectacles to Martin, this Phalaris prepares varied slaughters at the nearby benches. The rabid throng of attendants, that frenzied crowd, hasten vying with one another to seek out instruments for savage punishments. Some draw out vessels for the hellish flames, in which the pitch, dissolved by the fierce heat of the dread vapor enclosed within, might feed the crackling of the cruel fire, which, overflowing far in the flood of deadly flame, might roast in its cavern the body taken in the sulphurous pit. But others, with frenzied heart, were preparing the timbers of wood stretched upward (a grim service), so that the flesh, ill-hanging upon the outstretched limbs, might quickly expose its torn members to the torturer to be tormented, drenching the hellish right hand with the wretch's blood and scattering the grim gore through frequent wounds.
And that the same punishment might glut a twofold fury, the striker shook the limbs of the torn body, scattering apart the bonds of the members with their joints burst. But others bring torches and steep, with much grease, into great length the bindings of twisted papyrus, not that this light might overcome the scattered shadows, marking out the dark night with fire-flowing radiance, but that the funereal fire might set the wretches ablaze, fastening the kindled flames upon their torn members. Should such things have been seen in Martin's city, and his gentle mind have been pierced with so great a wound, that at least this report might touch his holy ears, or even rumor alone might shake his merciful inward parts?
Therefore, when his mind was stricken by the funereal preparation, and a messenger had scattered abroad these savage contrivances of the dread tyrant, the heralding signs of the near-at-hand fury, a just compassion ran through all his marrow, and the flame of piety spread its swift warmth. And although a clemency, recalling human misfortunes, compelled him to weep for the death of the wretched accused, no less present was this cause of immediate grief: that the same one who was the abettor of the crime, who the avenger of guilt, should first make himself the accused by punishing the offense. A thicker darkness had enveloped the veiled world. Welcome rest had spread a soothing slumber through all the elements, and all things drooped in moist sleep, and the pressed murmurs of silent voices were hushed.
The too-deep silences of midnight were dreadful, and a dark gloom, infused with its own hue, had covered everything, snatching their own marks from all shapes. But Martin had no care for taking rest; rather, holy vows for human salvation attend him, his spirit spurred by affection. He seeks, therefore, with pressing step the frenzied threshold of the bloody judge. Alone he goes, undaunted, through the dark silences of the vast night and the secret, gloomy obscurities of the ways. I believe indeed that all the troops of shades gave way—those whom the evil demon goads to nighttime crimes—and that elsewhere the dread mastiffs fell silent fawningly, and the barking of the terrifying mouth, built up beforehand, stuck fast.
Therefore, when he had come to the barred threshold of the dread judge and the deadly enclosure of his savage fury, prostrate before the house on the mid-causeway, he is shut out by the gate of the enclosing fence, but with weeping he beats at the stars. The savage beast was breathing out heavy sleep from his swollen breast, and with his limbs stretched out in the image of death he had cast back his numb members upon the bedding, deeply torpid: when suddenly an angelic terror shook his inward parts, and a voice too broke upon his astonished, stupefied ears: 'Has a heavy sloth oppressed you, wretch, with heavy sleep—you beast, belching the cups of corrupted wine, while the burden of your raw belly distends you, sluggish—and behold, the servant of the Lord lies before your gates, upon the dry ridges of the bare earth, drenching his holy body with much dust?'
Do you set up bars of repose against the nocturnal silences of base sleep?' He grew rigid at the sudden vision, and hastily orders the summoned servants to go swiftly to the gate, that they might report the course of the truth in tidings borne back. But, as welcome rest is wont often to bind and overcome the pressed senses with their limbs fettered by torpor, the servants, having advanced a little, scarcely reaching the first threshold, drooping in sight and faltering greatly in step, return deceitful murmurs in confused words: no one found before the gates by their cunning search. Again the nearby, not far-removed pleasure of drowsy sleep at once closed his languid eyes. Then truly a new terror shook his trembling heart, and the threatening sentence of the angelic voice, repeating the command, compelled him to rise headlong.
Nor did it please him to bring the peril of the command upon them again. He himself hastens with quick step to the closed threshold, and the barred doors, the lord unbarring them, fall open. The venerable priest shone forth with a bright countenance, displaying upon his holy face the garlands of his virtues. Grace flourished, gleaming with many signs: with religion, faith, affection, piety, modesty: a mind joyful in grave matters, steadfast and serious in joyful ones, neither stiff with ferocity nor unbending austere mirth, in short, ever so shining with a balanced uprightness, that anger did not make him grim, nor favor make him slack. Such a venerable aspect met the pale tyrant, breaking through the clouds of foul night. And already, without words, the conscious mind of so great a crime had betrayed what cause that pious labor might be, nor needed it to be disclosed by entreaties.
He himself first, trembling, uttered a voice from his confused, quivering breast: 'Why, holy one, wearying my heart with the tormentor of fear, do you trouble my inmost parts, sleep utterly shaken off? You are barred far from the doors—yet by your merit you burst into the inner sanctuaries. You halt in body, by right you enter; you who tarry in the flesh, shake me with terror. Nor truly would I deny that these things are owed to my deserts, since with hard heart I breathed innumerable slaughters, savage in your city. I pray, therefore, forgive me as I confess; use your right. You wish to spare: be lenient. Release the accused from their punishments; absolve me from guilt.' Nor was there delay: the loosened chains fell swiftly away, which but now bound the necks of the pale accused, keeping their dying bodies for a dread death. Suddenly hope, given back at their vow, exults for the wretches.
With joy mingled with fear, the trembling ones at first hesitate to believe so great a thing happening so suddenly, yet they prefer to believe. Giving thanks, they vie to throw themselves at the holy knees, to encircle the footprints more tenderly with suppliant arms. He urges that thanks should rather be borne to God, and admonishes that Christ is the author of this salvation, who so spares crimes, if a true conversion at least betrays sorrow for the offense committed; for punishments remain for the accused while the guilt endures: with such addresses, and laboring at once with piety, he absolves the bound from punishment and releases them, loosed from their faults.
Now indeed, what tongue could worthily speak this gift, which even with astonished sense the mind dreads to touch—a mind too narrow for the titles of so illustrious a patron? That at the merit of the holy man all the troops of the demon trembled, and that the signs of so great a dread were thus betrayed, so that, as often as, advancing from the threshold of his own cell, he set his steps toward the city far removed, visiting with holy governance the people committed to him, or wishing to offer the mysteries of the sacred rite, grace, thus hastening swiftly forward in rapid flight, so tortured the trembling specters in the captive body, that scarcely had he gone forth from the inner sanctuaries of his holy seat, when, sent on far ahead through torments beforehand, they saw him at once at hand, and with the screeching murmur of a voice the punishment of the accused would cry out the coming of the judge.
But when he had set his first footsteps in the doorway, one could see bodies snatched swiftly to the heights with their limbs, bound by airy chains, lifted up, and through the void leaving the neighboring earth with the heavy, swaying weights of their flesh in a rapid whirl—suspended by their own punishment, yet free from bond, bound by the merits of prayers, hanging by their own penalties, crying out the crimes admitted beneath a silent judge. Nor was a confession given in words by one questioning; it betrayed the crimes torn forth through a trembling voice. For leaning on the ground alone, the holy man crossed the stars by vow alone, touching the Lord in hope, but bowed in body, humble in heart, lofty in merit, crying out without a murmur, a judge hidden from sight, proven by power, at whose merit such great miracles lay open: