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<PRE>SULPITIUS SEVERUS ON THE LIFE OF ST. MARTIN.
PREFACE TO DESIDERIUS.
SEVERUS to his dearest brother Desiderius sendeth greeting. I had
determined, my like-minded brother, to keep private, and confine within the
walls of my own house, the little treatise which I had written concerning the
life of St. Martin. I did so, as I am not gifted with much talent, and shrank
from the criticisms of the world, lest (as I think will be the case) my
somewhat unpolished style should displease my readers, and I should be deemed
highly worthy of general reprehension for having too boldly laid hold of a
subject which ought to have been reserved for truly eloquent writers. But I
have not been able to refuse your request again and again presented. For what
could there be which I would not grant in deference to your love, even at the
expense of my own modesty? However, I have submitted the work to you on the
sure understanding that you will reveal it to no other, having received your
promise to that effect. Nevertheless, I have my fears that yon will become the
means of its publication to the world; and I well know that, once issued, it
can never (1) be recalled. If this shall happen, and you come to know that it
is read by some others, you will, I trust, kindly ask the readers to attend to
the facts related, rather than the language in which they are set forth. You
will beg them not to be offended if the style chances unpleasantly to affect
their ears, because the kingdom of God consists not of eloquence, but faith.
Let them also bear in mind that salvation was preached to the world, not by
orators, but by fishermen, although God could certainly have adopted the other
course, had it been advantageous. For my part, indeed, when I first applied my
mind to writing what follows, because I thought it disgraceful that the
excellences of so great a man should remain concealed, I resolved with myself
not to feel ashamed on account of solecisms of language. This I did because I
had never attained to any great knowledge of such things; or, if I had
formerly some taste of studies of the kind, I had lost the whole of that,
through having neglected these matters for so long a course of time. But,
after all, that I may not have in future to adopt such an irksome mode of
self-defense, the best way will be that the book should be published, if you
think right, with the author's name suppressed. In order that this may be
done, kindly erase the title which the book bears on its front, so that the
page may be silent; and (what is quite enough) let the book proclaim its
subject-matter, while it tells nothing of the author.
CHAPTER I.
Reasons for writing the Life of St. Martin.
Most men being vainly devoted to the pursuit of worldly glory, have, as
they imagined, acquired a memorial of their own names from this source; viz.
devoting their pens to the embellishment of the lives of famous men. This
course, although it did not secure for them a lasting reputation, still has
undoubtedly brought them some fulfilment of the hope they cherished. It has
done so, both by preserving their own memory, though to no purpose, and
because, through their having presented to the world the examples of great
men, no small emulation has been excited in the bosoms of their readers. Yet,
notwithstanding these things, their labors have in no degree borne upon the
blessed and never-ending life to which we look forward. For what has a glory,
destined to perish with the world, profited those men themselves who have
written on mere secular matters? Or what benefit has posterity derived from
reading of Hector as a warrior, or Socrates as an expounder of philosophy?
There can be no profit in such things, since it is not only folly to imitate
the persons referred to, but absolute madness not to assail them with the
utmost severity. For, in truth, those persons who estimate human life only by
present actions, have consigned their hopes to fables, and their souls to the
tomb. In fact, they gave themselves up to be perpetuated simply in the memory
of mortals, whereas it is the duty of man rather to
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seek after eternal life than an eternal memorial and that, not by writing, or
fighting, or philosophizing, but by living a pious, holy, and religious life.
This erroneous conduct of mankind, being enshrined in literature, has
prevailed to such an extent that it has found many who have been emulous
either of the vain philosophy or the foolish excellence which has been
celebrated. For this reason, I think I will accomplish something well worth
the necessary pains, if I write the life of a most holy man, which shall serve
in future as an example to others; by which, indeed, the readers shall be
roused to the pursuit of true knowledge, and heavenly warfare, and divine
virtue. In so doing, we have regard also to our own advantage, so that we may
look for, not a vain remembrance among men, but an eternal reward from God.
For, although we ourselves have not lived in such a manner that we can serve
for an example to others, nevertheless, we have made it our endeavor that he
should not remain unknown who was a man worthy of imitation. I shall therefore
set about writing the life of St. Martin, and shall narrate both what he did
previous to his episcopate, and what he performed as a bishop. At the same
time, I cannot hope to set forth all that he was or did. Those excellences of
which he alone was conscious are completely unknown, because, as he did not
seek for honor from men, he desired, as much as he could accomplish it, that
his virtues should be concealed. And even of those which had become known to
us, we have omitted a great number, because we have judged it enough if only
the more striking and eminent should be recorded. At the same time, I had in
the interests of readers to see to it that, no undue amount of instances
being set before them should make them weary of the subject. But I implore
those who are to read what follows to give full faith to the things
narrated, and to believe that I have written nothing of which I had not
certain knowledge and evidence. I should, in fact, have preferred to be
silent rather than to narrate things which are false. (1)
CHAFFER II.
Military Service of St. Martin.
MARTIN, then, was born at Sabaria (1) in Pannonia, but was brought up at
Ticinum, (2) which is situated in Italy. His parents were, according to the
judgment of the world, of no mean rank, but were heathens. His father was at
first simply a soldier, but afterwards a military tribune. He himself in his
youth following military pursuits was enrolled in the imperial guard, first
under king Constantine, and then under Julian Caesar. This, however, was not
done of his own free will, for, almost from his earliest years, the holy
infancy of the illustrious boy aspired rather to the service of God. (3) For,
when he was of the age of ten years, he betook himself, against the wish of
his parents, to the Church, and begged that he might become a catechumen. Soon
afterwards, becoming in a wonderful manner completely devoted to the service
of God, when he was twelve years old, he desired to enter on the life of a
hermit; and he would have followed up that desire with the necessary vows, had
not his as yet too youthful age prevented. His mind, however, being always
engaged on matters pertaining to the monasteries or the Church, already
meditated in his boyish years what he afterwards, as a professed servant of
Christ, fulfilled. But when an edict was issued by the ruling powers (4) in
the state, that the sons of veterans should be enrolled for military service,
and he, on the information furnished by his father, (who looked with an evil
eye on his blessed actions) having been seized and put in chains, when he was
fifteen years old, was compelled to take the military oath, then showed
himself content with only one servant as his attendant. And even to him,
changing places as it were, he often acted as though, while really master, he
had been inferior; to such a degree that, for the most part, he drew off his
[servant's] boots and cleaned them with his own hand; while they took their
meals together, the real master, however, generally acting the part of
servant. During nearly three years before his baptism, he was engaged in the
profession of arms, but he kept completely free from those vices in which that
class of men become too frequently involved. He showed exceeding kindness
towards his fellow-soldiers, and held them in wonderful affection; while his
patience and humility surpassed what seemed possible to human nature. There is
no need to praise the self-denial which he displayed: it was so great that,
even at that date, he was regarded not so much as being a soldier as a monk.
By all these qualities he had so endeared himself to the whole body of his
comrades, that they esteemed him while they marvelously loved him. Although
not yet made a new creature (5) in Christ, he, by his good works, acted the
part of a candidate for baptism. This he did, for instance, by aiding those
who were in trouble, by furnishing assistance to the wretched, by supporting
the needy, by clothing the naked, while he reserved nothing for himself from
his military pay except what was necessary for his daily sustenance. Even
then, far from being a senseless hearer of the Gospel, he so far complied with
its precepts as to take no thought about the morrow.
CHAPTER III.
Christ appears to St. Martin.
ACCORDINGLY, at a certain period, when he had nothing except his arms and
his simple military dress, in the middle of winter, a winter which had shown
itself more severe than ordinary, so that the extreme cold was proving fatal
to many, he happened to meet at the gate of the city of Amiens (1) a poor man
destitute of clothing. He was entreating those that passed by to have
compassion upon him, but all passed the wretched man without notice, when
Martin, that man full of God, recognized that a being to whom others showed no
pity, was, in that respect, left to him. Yet, what should he do? He had
nothing except the cloak in which he was clad, for he had already parted with
the rest of his garments for similar purposes. Taking, therefore, his sword
with which he was girt, he divided his cloak into two equal parts, and gave
one part to the poor man, while he again clothed himself with the remainder.
Upon this, some of the by-standers laughed, because he was now an unsightly
object, and stood out as but partly dressed. Many, however, who were of
sounder understanding, groaned deeply because they themselves had done nothing
similar. They especially felt this, because, being possessed of more than
Martin, they could have clothed the poor man without reducing themselves to
nakedness. In the following night, when Martin had resigned himself to sleep,
he had a vision of Christ arrayed in that part of his cloak with which he had
clothed the poor man. He contemplated the Lord with the greatest attention,
and was told to own as his the robe which he had given. Ere long, he heard
Jesus saying with a clear voice to the multitude of angels standing round --
"Martin, who is still but a catechumen, clothed (2) me with this robe." The
Lord, truly mindful of his own words (who had said when on earth -- "Inasmuch
(3) as ye have done these things to one of the least of these, ye have done
them unto me), declared that he himself had been clothed in that poor man; and
to confirm‎ the testimony he bore to so good a deed, he condescended to show
him himself in that very dress which the poor man had received. After this
vision the sainted man was not puffed up with human glory, but, acknowledging
the goodness of God in what had been done, and being now of the age of twenty
years, he hastened to receive baptism. He did not, however, all at once,
retire from military service, yielding to the entreaties of his tribune, whom
he admitted to be his familiar tent-companion. (4) For the tribune promised
that, after the period of his office had expired, he too would retire from the
world. Martin, kept back by the expectation of this event, continued, although
but in name, to act the part of a soldier, for nearly two years after he had
received baptism.
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CHAPTER IV.
Martin retires from Military Service.
IN the meantime, as the barbarians were rushing within the two divisions
of Gaul, Julian Caesar, (1) bringing an army together at the city (2) of the
Vaugiones, began to distribute a donative to the soldiers. As was the custom
in such a case, they were called forward, one by one, until it came to the
turn of Martin. Then, indeed, judging it a suitable opportunity for seeking
his discharge -- for he did not think it would be proper for him, if he were
not to continue in the service, to receive a donative -- he said to Caesar,
"Hitherto I have served you as a soldier: allow me now to become a soldier to
God: let the man who is to serve thee receive thy donative: I am the soldier
of Christ it is not lawful for me to fight." Then truly the tyrant stormed on
hearing such words, declaring that, from fear of the battle, which was to take
place on the morrow, and not from any religious feeling, Martin withdrew from
the service. But Martin, full of courage, yea all the more resolute from the
danger that had been set before him, exclaims, "If this conduct of mine is
ascribed to cowardice, and not to faith, I will take my stand unarmed before
the line of battle tomorrow, and in the name of the Lord Jesus, protected by
the sign of the cross, and not by shield or helmet, I will safely penetrate
the ranks of the enemy." He is ordered, therefore, to be thrust back into
prison, determined on proving his words true by exposing himself unarmed to
the barbarians. But, on the following day, the enemy sent ambassadors to treat
about peace and surrendered both themselves and all their possessions. In
these circumstances who can doubt that this victory was due to the saintly
man? It was granted him that he should not be sent unarmed to the fight. And
although the good Lord could have preserved his own soldier, even amid the
swords and darts of the enemy, yet that his blessed eyes might not be pained
by witnessing the death of others, he removed all necessity for fighting. For
Christ did not require to secure any other victory in behalf of his own
soldier, than that, the enemy being subdued without bloodshed, no one should
suffer death.
CHAPTER V.
Martin converts a Rubber to the Faith.
FROM that time quitting military service, Martin earnestly sought after
the society of Hilarius, bishop of the city Pictava, (1) whose faith in the
things of God was then regarded as of high renown, and in universal esteem.
For some time Martin made his abode with him. Now, this same Hilarius,
having instituted him in the office of the diaconate, endeavored still more
closely to attach him to himself, and to bind him by leading him to take part
in Divine service. But when he constantly refused, crying out that he was
unworthy, Hilarius, as being a man of deep penetration, perceived that he
could only be constrained in this way, if he should lay that sort of office
upon him, in discharging which there should seem to be a kind of injury done
him. He therefore appointed him to be an exorcist. Martin did not refuse this
appointment, from the fear that he might seem to have looked down upon it as
somewhat humble. Not long after this, he was warned in a dream that he should
visit his native land, and more particularly his parents, who were still
involved in heathenism, with a regard for their religious interests. He set
forth in accordance with the expressed wish of the holy Hilarius, and, after
being adjured by him with many prayers and tears, that he would in due time
return. According to report Martin entered on that journey in a melancholy
frame of mind, after calling the brethren to witness that many sufferings lay
before him. The result fully justified this prediction. For, first of all,
having followed some devious paths among the Alps, he fell into the hands of
robbers. And when one of them lifted up his axe and poised it above Martin's
head, another of them met with his right hand the blow as it fell;
nevertheless, having had his hands bound behind his back, he was handed over
to one of them to be guarded and stripped. The robber, having led him to a
private place apart from the rest, began to enquire of him who he was. Upon
this, Martin replied that he was a Christian. The robber next asked him
whether he was afraid. Then indeed Martin most courageously replied that he
never before had felt so safe, because he knew that the mercy of the Lord
would be especially present with him in the midst of trials. He added that he
grieved rather for the man in whose hands he was, because, by living a life of
robbery, he was showing himself unworthy of the mercy of Christ. And then
entering on a discourse concerning Evangelical truth, he preached the word of
God to the robber. Why should I delay stating the result? The robber believed;
and, after expressing his respect for Martin, he restored him to the way,
entreating him to pray the Lord for him. That same robber was after-
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wards seen leading a religious life; so that, in fact, the narrative I have
given above is based upon an account furnished by himself.
CHAPTER VI.
The Devil throws himself in the Way of Martin.
Martin, then, having gone on from thence, after he had passed Milan, the
devil met him in the way, having assumed the form of a man. The devil first
asked him to what place he was going. Martin having answered him to the effect
that he was minded to go whithersoever the Lord called him, the devil said to
him, "Wherever you go, or whatever you attempt, the devil will resist you."
Then Martin, replying to him in the prophetical word, said, "The Lord is my
helper; I will not fear what man can do unto me."(1) Upon this, his enemy
immediately vanished out of his sight; and thus, as he had intended in his
heart and mind, he set free his mother from the errors of heathenism, though
his father continued to cleave to its evils. However, he saved many by his
example.
After this, when the Arian heresy had spread through the whole world, and
was especially powerful in Illyria, and when he, almost single-handed, was
fighting most strenuously against the treachery of the priests, and had been
subjected to many punishments (for he was publicly scourged, and at last was
compelled to leave the city), again betaking himself to Italy, and having
found the Church in the two divisions of Gaul in a distracted condition
through the departure also of the holy Hilarius, whom the violence of the
heretics had driven into exile, he established a monastery for himself at
Milan. There, too, Auxentius, the originator and leader of the Arians,
bitterly persecuted him; and, after he had assailed him with many injuries,
violently expelled him from the city. Thinking, therefore, that it was
necessary to yield to circumstances, he withdrew to the island Gallinaria,(2)
with a certain presbyter as his companion, a man of distinguished excellences.
Here he subsisted for some time on the roots of plants; and, while doing so,
he took for food hellebore, which is, as people say, a poisonous kind of
grass. But when he perceived the strength of the poison increasing within him,
and death now nearly at hand, he warded off the imminent danger by means of
prayer, and immediately all his pains were put to flight. And not long after
having discovered that, through penitence on the part of the king, permission
to return had been granted to holy Hilarius, he made an effort to meet him at
Rome, and, with this view, set out for that city.
CHAPTER VII.
Martin restores a Catechumen to Life.
As Hilarius had already gone away, so Martin followed in his footsteps;
and having been most joyously welcomed by him, he established for himself a
monastery not far from the town. At this time a certain catechumen joined him,
being desirous of becoming instructed in the doctrines: and habits of the most
holy man. But, after the lapse only of a few days, the catechumen, seized with
a languor, began to suffer from a violent fever. It so happened that Martin
had then left home, and having remained away three days, he found on his
return that life had departed from the catechumen; and so suddenly had death
occurred, that he had left this world without receiving baptism. The body
being laid out in public was being honored by the last sad offices on the part
of the mourning brethren, when Martin hurries up to them with tears and
lamentations. But then laying hold; as it were, of the Holy Spirit, with the
whole powers of his mind, he orders the others to quit the cell in which the
body was lying; and bolting the door, he stretches himself at full length on
the dead limbs of the departed brother. Having given himself for some time to
earnest prayer, and perceiving by means of the Spirit of God that power was
present,(2) he then rose up for a little, and gazing on the countenance of the
deceased, he waited without misgiving for the result of his prayer and of the
mercy of the Lord. And scarcely had the space of two hours elapsed, when he
saw the dead man begin to move a little in all his members, and to tremble
with his eyes opened for the practice of sight. Then indeed, turning to the
Lord with a loud voice and giving thanks, he filled the cell with his
ejaculations. Hearing the noise, those who had been standing at the door
immediately rush inside. And truly a marvelous spectacle met them, for they
beheld the man alive whom they had formerly left dead. Thus being restored to
life, and having immediately obtained baptism, he lived for many years
afterwards; and he was the first who offered himself to us both as a subject
that had experienced the virtues(3) of Martin, and as a witness to their
existence. The same man was wont to relate that, when he left the body, he was
brought before the tribunal of the Judge, and being assigned to gloomy regions
and vulgar crowds, he
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received a severe 4 sentence. Then, however, he added, it was suggested by two
angels of the Judge that he was the man for whom Martin was praying ; and
that, on this account, he was ordered to be led back by the same angels, and
given up to Martin, and restored to his former life. From this time forward,
the name of the sainted man became illustrious, so that, as being reckoned
holy by all, he was also deemed powerful and truly apostolical.
CHAPTER VIII.
Martin restores one that had been strangled.
NOT long after these events, while Martin was passing by the estate of a
certain man named Lupicinus, who was held in high esteem according to the
judgment of the world, he was received with shouting and the lamentations of a
wailing crowd. Having, in an anxious state of mind gone up to that multitude,
and enquired what such weeping meant, he was told that one of the slaves of
the family had put an end to his life by hanging. Hearing this, Martin entered
the cell in which the body was lying, and, excluding all the multitude, he
stretched himself upon the body, and spent some little time in prayer. Ere
long, the deceased, with life beaming in his countenance, and with his
drooping eyes fixed on Martin's face, is aroused; and with a gentle effort
attempting to rise, he laid hold of the fight hand of the saintly man, and by
this means stood upon his feet. In this manner, while the whole multitude
looked on, he walked along with Martin to the porch of the house.
CHAPTER IX.
High Esteem in which Martin was held.
NEARLY about the same time, Martin was called upon to undertake the
episcopate of the church at Tours ;(1) but when he could not easily be drawn
forth from his monastery, a certain Ruricius, one of the citizens, pretending
that his wife was ill, and casting himself down at his knees, prevailed on him
to go forth. Multitudes of the citizens having previously been posted by the
road on which he traveled, he is thus under a kind of guard escorted to the
city. An incredible number of people not only from that town, but also from
the neighboring cities, had, in a wonderful manner, assembled to give their
votes.(2) There was but one wish among all, there were the same prayers, and
there was the same fixed opinion to the effect that Martin was most worthy of
the episcopate, and that the church would be happy with such a priest. A few
persons, however, and among these some of the bishops, who had been summoned
to appoint a chief priest, were impiously offering resistance, asserting
forsooth that Martin's person was contemptible, that he was unworthy of the
episcopate, that he was a man despicable in countenance, that his clothing was
mean, and his hair disgusting. This madness of theirs was ridiculed by the
people of Sounder judgment, inasmuch as such objectors only proclaimed the
illustrious character of the man, while they sought to slander him. Nor truly
was it allowed them to do anything else, than what the people, following the
Divine will, desired(3) to be accomplished. Among the bishops, however, who
had been present, a certain one of the name Defensor is said to have specially
offered opposition; and on this account it was observed that he was at the
time severely censured in the reading from the prophets. For when it so
happened that the reader, whose duty it was to read in public that day, being
blocked out by the people, failed to appear, the officials falling into
confusion, while they waited for him who never came, one of those standing by,
laying hold of the Psalter, seized upon the first verse which presented itself
to him. Now, the Psalm ran thus: "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou
hast perfected praise because of thine enemies, that thou mightest destroy the
enemy and the avenger."(4) On these words being read, a shout was raised by
the people, and the opposite party were confounded. It was believed that this
Psalm had been chosen by Divine ordination, that Defensor(5) might hear a
testimony to his own work, because the praise of the Lord was perfected out of
the mouth of babes and sucklings in the case of Martin, while the enemy was at
the same time both pointed out and destroyed.
CHAFFER X.
Martin as Bishop of Tours.
And now having entered on the episcopal office, it is beyond my power
fully to set forth how Martin distinguished himself in the discharge of its
duties. For he remained with the utmost constancy, the same as he had been
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before. There was the same humility in his heart, and the same homeliness in
his garments. Full alike of dignity and courtesy, he kept up the position of a
bishop properly, yet in such a way as not to lay aside the objects and virtues
of a monk. Accordingly he made use, for some time, of the cell connected with
the church but afterwards, when he felt it impossible to tolerate the
disturbance caused by the numbers of those visiting it, he established a
monastery for himself about two miles outside the city. This spot was so
secret and retired that he enjoyed in it the solitude of a hermit. For, on one
side, it was surrounded by a precipitous rock of a lofty mountain, while the
river Loire had shut in the rest of the plain by a bay extending back for a
little distance; and the place could be approached only by one, and that a
very narrow passage. Here, then, he possessed a cell constructed of wood. Many
also of the brethren had, in the same manner, fashioned retreats for
themselves, but most of them had formed these out of the rock of the
overhanging mountain, hollowed into caves. There were altogether eighty
disciples, who were being disciplined after the example of the saintly master.
No one there had anything which was called his own; all things were possessed
in common. It was not allowed either to buy or to sell anything, as is the
custom among most monks. No art was practiced there, except that of
transcribers, and even this was assigned to the brethren of younger years,
while the elders spent their time m prayer. Rarely did any one of them go
beyond the cell, unless when they assembled at the place of prayer. They all
took their food together, after the hour of fasting was past. No one used
wine, except when illness compelled them to do so. Most of them were clothed
in garments of camels' hair.(1) Any dress approaching to softness(2) was there
deemed criminal, and this must be thought the more remarkable, because many
among them were such as are deemed of noble rank. These, though far
differently brought up, had forced themselves down to this degree of humility
and patient endurance, and we have seen numbers of these afterwards made
bishops. For what city or church would there be that would not desire to have
its priests from among those in the monastery of Martin?
CHAPTER XI.
Martin demolishes an Altar consecrated to a
Robber.
But let me proceed to a description of other excellences which Martin
displayed as a bishop. There was, not far from the town, a place very close to
the monastery, which a false human opinion had consecrated, on the supposition
that some martyrs had been buried together there. For it was also believed
that an altar had been placed there by former bishops. But Martin, not
inclined to give a hasty belief to things uncertain, often asked from those
who were his elders, whether among the presbyters or clerics, that the name of
the martyr, or the time when he suffered, should be made known to him. He did
so, he said, because he had great scruples on these points, inasmuch as no
steady tradition respecting them had come down from antiquity. Having,
therefore, for a time kept away from the place, by no means wishing to lessen
the religious veneration with which it was regarded, because he was as yet
uncertain, but, at the same time not lending his authority to the opinion of
the multitude, lest a mere superstition should obtain a firmer footing, he one
day went out to the place, taking a few brethren with him as companions. There
standing above the very sepulchre, Martin prayed to the Lord that he would
reveal, who the man in question was, and what was his character or desert.
Next turning to the left-hand side, he sees standing very near a shade of a
mean and cruel appearance. Martin commands him to tell his name and character.
Upon this, he declares his name, and confesses his guilt. He says that he had
been a robber, and that he was beheaded on account of his crimes; that he had
been honored simply by an error of the multitude; that he had nothing in
common with the martyrs, since glory was their portion, while punishment
exacted its penalties from him. Those who stood by heard, in a wonderful way,
the voice of the speaker, but they beheld no person. Then Martin made known
what he had seen, and ordered the altar which had been there to be removed,
and thus he delivered the people from the error of that superstition.
CHAPTER XII.
Martin causes the Bearers of a Dead Body to
stop.
Now, it came to pass some time after the above, that while Martin was
going a journey, he met the body of a certain heathen, which was being carried
to the tomb with superstitious funeral rites. Perceiving from a distance the
crowd that was approaching, and being ignorant as to what was going on, he
stood still for a little while. For there was a distance of nearly half a mile
between him and the crowd, so that it
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was difficult to discover what the spectacle he beheld really was.
Nevertheless, because he saw it was a rustic gathering, and when the linen
clothes spread over the body were blown about by the action of the wind, he
believed that some profane rites of sacrifice were being performed. This
thought occurred to him, because it was the custom of the Gallic rustics in
their wretched folly to carry about through the fields the images of demons
veiled with a white covering. Lifting up, therefore, the sign of the cross
opposite to them, he commanded the crowd not to move from the place in which
they were, and to set down the burden. Upon this, the miserable creatures
might have been seen at first to become stiff like rocks. Next, as they
endeavored, with every possible effort, to move forward, but were not able to
take a step farther, they began to whiff themselves about in the most
ridiculous fashion, until, not able any longer to sustain the weight, they set
down the dead body. Thunderstruck, and gazing in bewilderment at each other as
not knowing what had happened to them they remained sunk in silent thought.
But when the saintly man discovered that they were simply a band of peasants
celebrating funeral rites, and not sacrifices to the gods, again raising his
hand, he gave them the power of going away, and of lifting up the body. Thus
he both compelled them to stand when he pleased, and permitted them to depart
when he thought good.
CHAPTER XIII.
Martin escapes from a Falling Pine-tree.
Again, when in a certain village he had demolished a very ancient temple,
and had set about cutting down a pine-tree, which stood close to the temple,
the chief priest of that place, and a crowd of other heathens began to oppose
him. And these people, though, under the influence of the Lord, they had been
quiet while the temple was being overthrown, could not patiently allow the
tree to be cut down. Martin carefully instructed them that there was nothing
sacred in the trunk of a tree, and urged them rather to honor God whom he
himself served. He added that there was a moral necessity why that tree should
be cut down, because it had been dedicated to a demon. Then one of them who
was bolder than the others says, "If you have any trust in thy God, whom you
say you worship, we ourselves will cut down this tree, and be it your part to
receive it when falling; for if, as you declare, your Lord is with you, you
will escape all injury." Then Martin, courageously trusting in the Lord,
promises that he would do what had been asked. Upon this, all that crowd of
heathen agreed to the condition named; for they held the loss of their tree a
small matter, if only they got the enemy of their religion buried beneath its
fall. Accordingly, since that pine-tree was hanging over in one direction, so
that there was no doubt to what side it would fall on being cut, Martin,
having been bound, is, in accordance with the decision of these pagans, placed
in that spot where, as no one doubted, the tree was about to fall. They began,
therefore, to cut down their own tree, with great glee and joyfulness, while
there was at some distance a great multitude of wondering spectators. And now
the pine-tree began to totter, and to threaten its(1) own ruin by falling. The
monks at a distance grew pale, and, terrified by the danger ever coming
nearer, had lost all hope and confidence, expecting only the death of Martin.
But he, trusting in the Lord, and waiting courageously, when now the falling
pine had uttered its expiring crash, while it was now falling, while it was
just rushing upon him, simply holding up his hand against it, he put in its
way the sign of salvation. Then, indeed, after the manner of a spinning-top
(one might have thought it driven(2) back), it swept round to the opposite
side, to such a degree that it almost crushed the rustics, who had taken their
places there in what was deemed a safe spot. Then truly, a shout being raised
to heaven, the heathen were amazed by the miracle, while the monks wept for
joy; and the name of Christ was in common extolled by all. The well-known
result was that on that day salvation came to that region. For there was
hardly one of that immense multitude of heathens who did not express a desire
for the imposition of hands, and abandoning his impious errors, made a
profession of faith in the Lord Jesus. Certainly, before the times of Martin,
very few, nay, almost none, in those regions had received the name of Christ;
but through his virtues and example that name has prevailed to such an extent,
that now there is no place thereabouts which is not filled either with very
crowded churches or monasteries. For wherever he destroyed heathen temples,
there he used immediately to build either churches or monasteries.
CHAPTER XIV.
Martin destroys/Heathen females and Altars.
Nor did he show less eminence, much about the same time, in other
transactions of a like
11
kind. For, having in a certain village set fire to a very ancient and
celebrated temple, the circle of flames was carried by the action of the wind
upon a house which was very close to, yea, connected with, the temple. When
Martin perceived this, he climbed by rapid ascent to the roof of the house,
presenting himself in front of the advancing flames. Then indeed might the
fire have been seen thrust back in a wonderful manner against the force of the
wind, so that there appeared a sort of conflict of the two elements fighting
together. Thus, by the influence of Martin, the fire only acted in the place
where it was ordered to do so. But in a village which was named Leprosum, when
he too wished to overthrow a temple which had acquired great wealth through
the superstitious ideas entertained of its sanctity, a multitude of the
heathen resisted him to such a degree that he was driven back not without
bodily injury. He, therefore, withdrew to a place in the vicinity, and there
for three days, clothed in sackcloth(1) and ashes fasting and praying the
whole time, he besought the Lord, that, as he had not been able to overthrow
that temple by human effort, Divine power might be exerted to destroy it. Then
two angels, with spears and shields after the manner of heavenly warriors,
suddenly presented themselves to him, saying that they were sent by the Lord
to put to flight the rustic multitude, and to furnish protection to Martin,
lest, while the temple was being destroyed, any one should offer resistance.
They told him therefore to return, and complete the blessed work which he had
begun. Accordingly Martin returned to the village; and while the crowds of
heathen looked on in perfect quiet as he razed the pagan temple even to the
foundations, he also reduced all the altars and images to dust. At this sight
the rustics, when they perceived that they had been so astounded and terrified
by an intervention of the Divine will, that they might not be found fighting
against the bishop, almost all believed in the Lord Jesus. They then began to
cry out openly and to confess that the God of Martin ought to be worshiped,
and that the idols should be despised, which were not able to help them.
CHAPTER XV.
Martin offers his Neck to an Assassin.
I shall also relate what took place in the village of the AEdui. When
Martin was there overthrowing a temple, a multitude of rustic heathen rushed
upon him in a frenzy of rage. And when one of them, bolder than the rest, made
an attack upon him with a drawn sword, Martin, throwing back his cloak,
offered his bare neck to the assassin. Nor did the heathen delay to strike,
but in the very act of lifting up his right arm, he fell to the ground on his
back, and being overwhelmed by the fear of God, he entreated for pardon. Not
unlike this was that other event which happened to Martin, that when a certain
man had resolved to wound him with a knife as he was destroying some idols, at
the very moment of fetching the blow, the weapon was struck out of his hands
and disappeared. Very frequently, too, when the pagans were addressing him to
the effect that he would not overthrow their temples, he so soothed and
conciliated the minds of the heathen by his holy discourse that, the light of
truth having been revealed to them, they themselves overthrew their own
temples.
CHAFFER XVI.
Cures effected by St. Martin.
Moreover, the gift(1) of accomplishing cures was so largely possessed by
Martin, that scarcely any sick person came to him for assistance without being
at once restored to health. This will clearly appear from the following
example. A certain girl at Treves(2) was so completely prostrated by a
terrible paralysis that for a long time she had been quite unable to make use
of her body for any purpose, and being, as it were, already dead, only the
smallest breath of life seemed still to remain in her. Her afflicted relatives
were standing by, expecting nothing but her death, when it was suddenly
announced that Martin had come to that city. When the father of the girl found
that such was the case, he ran to make a request in behalf of his all but
lifeless child. It happened that Martin had already entered the church. There,
while the people were looking on, and in the presence of many other bishops,
the old man, uttering a cry of grief, embraced the saint's knees and said: "My
daughter is dying of a miserable kind of infirmity; and, what is more dreadful
than death itself, she is now alive only in the spirit, her flesh being
already dead before the time. I beseech thee to go to her, and give her thy
blessing; for :I believe that through you she will be restored to health."
Martin, troubled by such an address, was bewildered, and shrank back, saying
that this was a matter not in his own hands; that the old man was mistaken in
the judgment he
12
had formed; and that he was not worthy to be the instrument through whom the
Lord should make a display of his power. The father, in tears, persevered in
still more earnestly pressing the case, and entreated Martin to visit the
dying girl. At last, constrained by the bishops standing by to go as
requested, he went down to the home of the girl. An immense crowd was waiting
at the doors, to see what the servant of the Lord would do. And first,
betaking himself to his familiar arms in affairs of that kind, he cast himself
down on the ground and prayed. Then gazing earnestly upon the ailing girl, he
requests that oil should be given him. After he had received and blessed this,
he poured the powerful sacred liquid into the mouth of the girl, and
immediately her voice returned to her. Then gradually, through contact with
him, her limbs began, one by one, to recover life, till, at last, in the
presence of the people, she arose with firm steps.
CHAPTER XVII.
Martin casts out Several Devils.
At the same time the servant of one Tetradius, a man of proconsular rank,
having been laid hold of by a demon, was tormented with the most miserable
results. Martin, therefore, having been asked to lay his hands on him, ordered
the servant to be brought to him; but the evil spirit could, in no way, be
brought forth from the cell in which he was: he showed himself so fearful,
with ferocious teeth, to those who attempted to draw near. Then Tetradius
throws himself at the feet of the saintly man, imploring that he himself would
go down to the house in which the possessed of the devil was kept. But Martin
then declared that he could not visit the house of an unconverted heathen. For
Tetradius, at that time, was still involved in the errors of heathenism. He,
therefore, pledges his word that if the demon were driven out of the boy, he
would become a Christian. Martin, then, laying his hand upon the boy, cast the
evil spirit out of him. On seeing this, Tetradius believed in the Lord Jesus,
and immediately became a catechumen, while, not long after, he was baptized;
and he always regarded Martin with extraordinary affection, as having been the
author of his salvation.
About the same time, having entered the dwelling of a certain householder
in the same town, he stopped short at the very threshold, and said, that he
perceived a horrible demon in the courtyard of the house. When Martin ordered
it to depart, it laid hold of a certain member of the family, who was staying
in the inner part of the house; and the poor wretch began at once to rage with
his teeth, and to lacerate whomsoever he met. The house was thrown into
disorder; the family was in confusion; and the people present took to flight.
Martin threw himself in the way of the frenzied creature, and first of all
commanded him to stand still. But when he continued to gnash with his teeth,
and, with gaping mouth, was threatening to bite, Martin inserted his fingers
into his mouth, and said, "If you possess any power, devour these." But then,
as if redhot iron had entered his jaws, drawing his teeth far away he took
care not to touch the fingers of the saintly man; and when he was compelled by
punishments and tortures, to flee out of the possessed body, while he had no
power of escaping by the mouth, he was cast out by means of a defluxion of the
belly, leaving disgusting traces behind him.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Martin performs Various Miracles.
In the meanwhile, as a sudden report had troubled the city as to the
movement and inroad of the barbarians, Martin orders a possessed person to be
set before him, and commanded him to declare whether this message was true or
not. Then he confessed that there were sixteen demons who had spread this
report among the people, in order that by the fear thus excited, Martin might
have to flee from the city, but that, in fact, nothing was less in the minds
of the barbarians than to make any inroad. When the unclean spirit thus
acknowledged these things in the midst of the church, the city was set free
from the fear and tumult which had at the time been felt.
At Paris, again, when Martin was entering the gate of the city, with large
crowds attending him, he gave a kiss to a leper, of miserable appearance,
while all shuddered at seeing him do so; and Martin blessed him, with the
result that he was instantly cleansed from all his misery. On the following
day, the man appearing in the church with a healthy skin, gave thanks for the
soundness of body which he had recovered. This fact, too, ought not to be
passed over in silence, that threads from Martin's garment, or such as had
been plucked from the sackcloth which he wore, wrought frequent miracles upon
those who were sick. For, by either being tied round the fingers or placed
about the neck, they very often drove away diseases from the afflicted.
13
CHAPTER XIX.
A Letter of Martin effects a Cure, with Other
Miracles.
Further, Arborius, an ex-prefect, and a man of a very holy and faithful
character, while his daughter was in agony from the burning fever of a quartan
ague, inserted in the bosom of the girl, at the very paroxysm of the heat, a
letter of Martin which happened to have been brought to him, and immediately
the fever was dispelled. This event had such an influence upon Arborius, that
he at once consecrated the girl to God, and devoted her to perpetual
virginity. Then, proceeding to Martin, he presented the girl to him, as an
obvious living example of his power of working miracles, inasmuch as she had
been cured by him though absent; and he would not suffer her to be consecrated
by any other than Martin, through his placing upon her the dress
characteristic of virginity.
Paulinus, too, a man who was afterwards to furnish a striking example of
the age, having begun to suffer grievously in one of his eyes, and when a
pretty thick skin(1) having grown over it had already covered up its pupil,
Martin touched his eye with a painter's brush, and, all pain being removed,
thus restored it to its former soundness. He himself also, when, by a certain
accident, he had fallen out of an upper room, and tumbling down a broken,
uneven stair, had received many wounds, as he lay in his cell at the point of
death, and was tortured with grievous sufferings, saw in the night an angel
appear to him, who washed his wounds, and applied healing ointment to the
bruised members of his body. As the effect of this, he found himself on the
morrow restored to soundness of health, so that he was not thought to have
suffered any harm. But because it would be tedious to go through everything of
this kind, let these examples suffice, as a few out of a multitude; and let it
be enough that we do not in Striking cases ['of miraculous interposition]
detract from the truth, while, having so many to choose from, we avoid
exciting weariness in the reader.
CHAPTER XX.
How Martin acted towards the Emperor
Maximus.
And here to insert some smaller matters among things so great (although
such is the nature of our times in which all things have fallen into decay and
corruption, it is almost a pre-eminent virtue for priestly firmness not to
have yielded to royal flattery), when a number of bishops from various parts
had assembled to the Emperor Maximus, a man of fierce character, and at that
time elated with the victory he had won in the civil wars, and when the
disgraceful flattery of all around the emperor was generally remarked, while
the priestly dignity had, with degenerate submissiveness, taken a second place
to the royal retinue, in Martin alone, apostolic authority continued to assert
itself. For even if he had to make suit to the sovereign for some things, he
commanded rather than entreated him; and although often invited, he kept away
from his entertainments, saying that he could not take a place at the table of
one who, out of two emperors, had deprived one of his kingdom, and the other
of his life. At last, when Maximus maintained that he had not of his own
accord assumed the sovereignty, but that he had simply defended by arms the
necessary requirements(1) of the empire, regard to which had been imposed upon
him by the soldiers, according to the Divine appointment, and that the favor
of God did not seem wanting to him who, by an event seemingly so incredible,
had secured the victory, adding to that the statement that none of his
adversaries had been slain except in the open field of battle, at length,
Martin, overcome either by his reasoning or his entreaties, came to the royal
banquet. The king was wonderfully pleased because he had gained this point.
Moreover, there were guests present who had been invited as if to a festival;
men of the highest and most illustrious rank,--the prefect, who was also
consul, named Evodius, one of the most righteous men that ever lived; two
courtiers possessed of the greatest power, the brother and uncle of the king,
while between these two, the presbyter of Martin had taken his place; but he
himself occupied a seat which was set quite close to the king. About the
middle of the banquet, according to custom, one of the servants presented a
goblet to the king. He orders it rather to be given to the very holy bishop,
expecting and hoping that he should then receive the cup from his right hand.
But Martin, when he had drunk, handed the goblet to his own presbyter, as
thinking no one worthier to drink next to himself, and holding that it would,
not be right for him to prefer either the king himself, or those who were next
the king, to the presbyter. And the emperor, as well as all those who were
then present, admired this conduct so much, that this very thing, by which
they had been undervalued, gave them pleasure. The report then ran through the
whole palace that Martin had done, at the king's dinner, what no bishop had
dared to do
14
at the banquets of the lowest judges. And Martin predicted to the same Maximus
long before, that if he went into Italy to which he then desired to go, waging
war, against the Emperor Valentinianus, it would come to pass that he should
know he would(2) indeed be victorious in the First attack, but would perish a
short time afterwards. And we have seen that this did in fact take place. For,
on his first arrival Valentinianus had to betake himself to flight but
recovering his strength about a year after. wards, Maximus was taken and slain
by him within the walls of Aquileia.
CHAPTER XXI.
Martin has to do both with Angels and Devils.
IT is also well known that angels were very often' seen by him, so that
they spoke in turns with him in set speech. As to the devil, Martin held him
so visible and ever under the power of his eyes, that whether he kept himself
in his proper form, or changed himself into different shapes of spiritual
wickedness, he was perceived by Martin, under whatever guise he appeared. The
devil knew well that he could not escape discovery, and therefore frequently
heaped in suits upon Martin, being unable to beguile him by trickery. On one
occasion the devil, holding in his hand the bloody horn of an ox rushed into
Martin's cell with great noise, and holding out to him his bloody right hand,
while at the same time he exulted in the crime he had committed, said: "Where,
O Martin, is thy power? I have just slain one of your people." Then Martin
assembled the brethren, and related to them what the devil had disclosed,
while he ordered them carefully to search the several cells in order to
discover who had been visited with this calamity. They report that no one of
the monks was missing, but that one peasant, hired by them, had gone to the
forest to bring home wood in his wagon. Upon hearing this, Martin instructs
some of them to go and meet him. On their doing so, the man was found almost
dead at no great distance from the monastery. Nevertheless, although just
drawing his last breath, he made known to the brethren the cause of his wound
and death. He said that, while he was drawing tighter the thongs which had got
loose on the oxen yoked together, one of the oxen, throwing his head free, had
wounded him with his horn in the groin. And not long after the man expired.
You(1) see with what judgment of the Lord this power was given to the devil.
This was a marvelous feature in Martin that not only on this occasion to which
I have specially referred, but on many occasions of the same kind, in fact as
often as such things occurred, he perceived them long beforehand, and(2)
disclosed the things which had been revealed to him to the brethren.
CHAPTER XXII.
Martin preaches Repentance even to the Devil.
Now, the devil, while he tried to impose upon the holy man by a thousand
injurious arts, often thrust himself upon him in a visible form, but in very
various shapes. For sometimes he presented himself to his view changed into
the person of Jupiter, often into that of Mercury and Minerva. Often, too,
were heard words of reproach, in which the crowd of demons assailed Martin
with scurrilous expressions. But knowing that all were false and groundless,
he was not affected by the charges brought against him. Moreover, some of the
brethren bore witness that they had heard a demon reproaching Martin in
abusive terms, and asking why he had taken back, on their subsequent
repentance, certain of the brethren who had, some time previously, lost their
baptism by falling into various errors. The demon set forth the crimes of each
of them; but they added that Martin, resisting the devil firmly, answered him,
that by-past sins are cleansed away by the leading of a better life, and that
through the mercy of God, those are to be absolved from their sins who have
given up their evil ways. The devil saying in opposition to this that such
guilty men as those referred to did not come within the pale of pardon, and
that no mercy was extended by the Lord to those who had once fallen away,
Martin is said to have cried out in words to the following effect: "If thou,
thyself, wretched being, wouldst but desist from attacking mankind, and even,
at this period, when the day of judgment is at hand, wouldst only repent of
your deeds, I, with a true confidence in the Lord, would promise you the mercy
of Christ."(1) O what a holy boldness with respect to the loving-kindness of
the Lord, in which, although he could not assert authority, he nevertheless
showed the feelings dwelling within him! And since our discourse has here
sprung up concerning the devil and his devices, it does not seem away from the
point, although the matter does not
15
bear immediately upon Martin, to relate what took place; both because the
virtues of Martin do, to some extent, appear in the transaction, and the
incident, which was worthy of a miracle, will properly be put on record, with
the view of furnishing a caution, should anything of a similar character
subsequently occur.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A Case of Diabolic Deception.
There was a certain man, Clarus by name, a most noble youth, who
afterwards became a presbyter, and who is now, through his happy departure
from this world, numbered among the saints. He, leaving all others, betook
himself to Martin, and in a short time became distinguished for the most
exalted faith, and for all sorts of excellence. Now, it came to pass that,
when he had erected an abode for himself not far from the monastery of the
bishop, and many brethren were staying with him, a certain youth, Anatolius by
name, having, under the profession of a monk, falsely assumed every appearance
of humility and innocence, came to him, and lived for some time on the common
store along with the rest. Then, as time went on, he began to affirm that
angels were in the habit of talking with him. As no one gave any credit to his
words, he urged a number of the brethren to believe by certain signs. At
length he went to such a length as to declare that angels passed between him
and God; and now he wished that he should be regarded as one of the prophets.
Clarus, however, could by no means be induced to believe. He then began to
threaten Clarus with the anger of God and present afflictions, because he did
not believe one of the saints. At the last, he is related to have burst forth
with the following declaration: "Behold, the Lord will this night give me a
white robe out of heaven, clothed in which, I will dwell in the midst of you;
and that will be to you a sign that I am the Power of God, inasmuch as I have
been presented with the garment of God." Then truly the expectation of all was
highly raised by this profession. Accordingly, about the middle of the night,
it was seen, by the noise of people moving eagerly about, that the whole
monastery in the place was excited. It might be seen, too, that the cell in
which the young man referred to lived was glittering with numerous lights; and
the whisperings of those moving about in it, as well as a kind of murmur of
many. voices, could be heard. Then, on silence being secured, the youth
coming forth calls one of the l t brethren, Sabatius by name, to himself, and
shows t him the robe in which he had been clothed. He again, filled with
amazement, gathers the rest together, and Clarus himself also runs up; and a
light being obtained, they all carefully inspect the garment. Now, it was of
the utmost softness, of marvelous brightness, and of glittering purple, and
yet no one could discover what was its nature, or of what sort of fleece it
had been formed. However, when it was more minutely examined by the eyes or
fingers, it seemed nothing else than a garment. In the meantime, Clarus urges
upon the brethren to be earnest in prayer, that the Lord would show them more
clearly what it really was. Accordingly, the rest of the night was spent in
singing hymns and psalms. But when day broke, Clarus wished to take the young
man by the hand, and bring him to Martin, being well aware that he could not
be deceived by any arts of the devil. Then, indeed, the miserable man began to
resist and refuse, and affirmed that he had been forbidden to show himself to
Martin. And when they compelled him to go against his will, the garment
vanished from among the hands of those who were conducting him. Wherefore, who
can doubt that this, too, was an illustration of the power of Martin, so that
the devil could no longer dissemble or conceal his own deception, when it was
to be submitted to the eyes of Martin?
CHAPTER XXIV.
Martin is tempted by the Wiles of the Devil.
It was found, again, that about the same time there was a young man in
Spain, who, having by many signs obtained for himself authority among the
people, was puffed up to such a pitch that he gave himself out as being Elias.
And when multitudes had too readily believed this, he went on to say that he
was actually Christ; and he succeeded so well even in this delusion that a
certain bishop named Rufus worshiped him as being the Lord. For so doing, we
have seen this bishop at a later date deprived of his office. Many of the
brethren have also informed me that at the same time one arose in the East,
who boasted that he was John. We may infer from this, since false prophets of
such a kind have appeared, that the coming of Antichrist is at hand; for he is
already practicing in these persons the mystery of iniquity. And truly I think
this point should not be passed over, with what arts the devil about this very
time tempted Martin. For, on a certain day, prayer(1) having been previously
offered, and the fiend himself being surrounded by a purple light, in order
that he might the more easily deceive people by the brilliance of the splendor
assumed, clothed also
16
in a royal robe, and with a crown of precious stones and gold encircling his
head, his shoes too being inlaid with gold, while he presented a tranquil
countenance, and a generally rejoicing aspect, so that no such thought as that
he was the devil might be entertained--he stood by the side of Martin as he
was praying in his cell. The saint being dazzled by his first appearance, both
preserved a long and deep silence. This was first broken by the devil, who
said: "Acknowledge, Martin, who it is that you behold. I am Christ; and being
just about to descend to earth, I wished first to manifest myself to thee."
When Martin kept silence on hearing these words, and gave no answer whatever,
the devil dared to repeat his audacious declaration: "Martin, why do you
hesitate to believe, when you see? I am Christ." Then Martin, the Spirit
revealing the truth to him, that he might understand it was the devil, and not
God, replied as follows: "The Lord Jesus did not predict that he would come
clothed in purple, and with a glittering crown upon his head. I will not
believe that Christ has come, unless he appears with that appearance and form
in which he suffered, and openly displaying the marks of his wounds upon the
cross." On hearing these words, the devil vanished like smoke, and filled the
cell with such a disgusting smell, that he left unmistakable evidences of his
real character. This event, as I have just related, took place in the way
which I have stated, and my information regarding it was derived from the lips
of Martin himself; therefore let no one regard it as fabulous?
CHAPTER XXV.
Intercourse of Sulpitius with Martin.
Fort since I, having long heard accounts of his faith, life and virtues,
burned with a desire of knowing him. I undertook what was to me a pleasant
journey for the purpose of seeing him. At the same time, because already my
mind was inflamed with the desire of writing his life, I obtained my
information partly from himself, in so far as I could venture to question him,
and partly from those who had lived with him, or well knew the facts of the
case. And at this time it is scarcely credible with what humility and with
what kindness he received me; while he cordially wished me joy, and rejoiced
in the Lord that he had been held in such high estimation by me that I had
undertaken a journey owing to my desire of seeing him. Unworthy me! (in fact,
I hardly dare acknowledge it), that he should have deigned to admit me to
fellowship with him! He went so far as in person to present me with water to
wash my hands, and at eventide he himself washed my feet; nor had I sufficient
courage to resist or oppose his doing so. In fact, I felt so overcome by the
authority he unconsciously exerted, that I deemed it unlawful to do anything
but acquiesce in his arrangements. His conversation with me was all directed
to such points as the following: that the allurements of this world and
secular burdens were to be abandoned in order that we might be free and
unencumbered in following the Lord Jesus; and he pressed upon me as an
admirable example in present circumstances the conduct of that distinguished
man Paulinus, of whom I have made mention above. Martin declared of him that,
by parting with his great possessions and following Christ, as he did, he
showed himself almost the only one who in these times had fully obeyed the
precepts of the Gospel. He insisted strongly that that was the man who should
be made the object of our imitation, adding that the present age was fortunate
in possessing such a model of faith and virtue. For Paulinus, being rich and
having many possessions, by selling them all and giving them to the poor
according to the expressed will of the Lord, had, he said, made possible by
actual proof what appeared impossible of accomplishment. What power and
dignity there were in Martin's words and conversation! How active he was, how
practical, and how prompt and ready in solving questions connected with
Scripture! And because I know that many are incredulous on this point,--for
indeed I have met with persons who did not believe me when I related such
things,--I call to witness Jesus, and our common hope as Christians, that I
never heard from any other lips than those of Martin such exhibitions of
knowledge and genius, or such specimens of good and pure speech. But yet, how
insignificant is all such praise when compared with the virtues which he
possessed! Still, it is remarkable that in a man who had no claim to be called
learned, even this attribute [of high intelligence] was not wanting.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Words cannot describe the Excellences of Martin.
But now my book must be brought to an end, and my discourse finished. This
is not because all that was worthy of being said concerning Martin is now
exhausted, but because I, just as sluggish poets grow less careful towards the
end of their work, give over, being baffled by the immensity of the matter.
For, although his
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outward deeds could in some sort of way be set forth in words, no language, I
truly own, can ever be capable of describing his inner life and daily conduct,
and his mind always bent upon the things of heaven. No one can adequately make
known his perseverance and self-mastery in abstinence and fastings, or his
power in watchings and prayers, along with the nights, as well as days, which
were spent by him, while not a moment was separated from the service of God,
either for indulging in ease, or engaging in business. But, in fact, he did
not indulge either in food or sleep, except in so far as the necessities of
nature required. I freely confess that, if, as the saying is, Homer himself
were to ascend from the shades below, he could not do justice to this subject
in words; to such an extent did all excellences surpass in Martin the
possibility of being embodied in language. Never did a single hour or moment
pass in which he was not either actually engaged in prayer; or, if it happened
that he was occupied with something else, still he never let his mind loose
from prayer. In truth, just as it is the custom of blacksmiths, in the midst
of their work to beat their own anvil as a sort of relief to the laborer, so
Martin even when he appeared to be doing something else, was still engaged in
prayer. O truly blessed man in whom there was no guile--judging no man,
condemning no man, returning evil for evil to no man! He displayed indeed such
marvelous patience in the endurance of injuries, that even when he was
chief(1) priest, he allowed himself to be wronged by the lowest clerics with
impunity; nor did he either remove them from the office on account of such
conduct, or, as far as in him lay, repel them from a place in his affection.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Wonderful Piety of Martin.
No one ever saw him enraged, or excited, or lamenting, or laughing; he was
always one and the same: displaying a kind of heavenly happiness in his
countenance, he seemed to have passed the ordinary limits of human nature.
Never was there any word on his lips but Christ, and never was there a feeling
in his heart except piety, peace, and tender mercy. Frequently, too, he used
to weep for the sins of those who showed themselves his revilers--those who,
as he led his retired and tranquil life, slandered him with poisoned tongue
and a viper's mouth. And truly we have had experience of some who were envious
of his virtues and his life--who really hated in him what they did not see in
themselves, and what they had not power to imitate. And--O wickedness worthy
of deepest grief and groans!--some of his calumniators, although very few,
some of his maligners, I say, were reported to be no others than bishops!
Here, however, it is not necessary to name any one, although a good many of
these people are still venting(1) their spleen against myself. I shall deem it
sufficient that, if any one of them reads this account, and perceives that he
is himself pointed at, he may have the grace to blush. But if, on the other
hand, he shows anger, he will, by that very fact, own that he is among those
spoken of, though all the time perhaps I have been thinking of some other
person. I shall, however, by no means feel ashamed if any people of that sort
include myself in their hatred along with such a man as Martin. I am quite
persuaded of this, that the present little work will give pleasure to all
truly good men. And I shall only say further that, if any one read this
narrative in an unbelieving spirit, he himself will fall into sin. I am
conscious to myself that I have been induced by belief in the facts, and by
the love of Christ, to write these things; and that, in doing so, I have set
forth what is well known, and recorded what is true; and, as I trust, that man
will have a reward prepared by God, not who shall read these things, but who
shall believe them.(2)
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