De Vita Sancti Martini

I. On the Life of Saint Martin, Bishop, in Six Books. Prologue. To the holy and most blessed lord, special patron before God, and with all reverence and admiration venerable and truly apostolic in all religion, perpetual teacher, Bishop Paulinus. By the zeal of charity and the affection of love you bid us forget our shame, while you urge modesty and bashfulness, lest judgment be burdened by transgression. You do not realize that you are deceived, feeling more favorably than truly: you believe what is good because you wish it good, and you enlist into the fellowship of your devotion even those whom you have read to be lacking in wisdom. Concerning the merits and virtues of the holy and apostolic teacher and lord, you have sent us so splendid a history that, most rightly, if your blessing had so ordered, it would reach the notice of the whole world. But you have judged that I should cling to these footsteps and be able to add something as if more polished, when it is much greater to set forth what has been discovered than to transcribe what has been set forth. Let us nevertheless submit obedience, not more rashly assess our conscience, because I think that what he commands should not be distinguished, to whom the vows of compliance submit in all things. Holy and most blessed lord, truly perpetual patron of religion and grace, mirror of venerable teaching, example of perfection: follow whom you love, imitate whom you follow, honor as successor, venerate as humble.

we may use the definition of your command. Claim what is yours, you who, as you know, have made me bound by this election. When the page reaches your hands, cherish what you take up, excuse my inexperience, implore clemency: may it forgive the presumption, may it help the sinner, may it succor the error. It was unworthy that we should dare to touch such great deeds, but it would have been more arrogant to despise the commands. Let it bear the murmurs through patience, received through grace; let it not be angered at the audacity through stronger joys. Our God, who deigns to work through him, wishes to be known through whatever messenger. You, by your patronage, cherish what you have taken up, whom through those treasures of love you have assumed unknown. BOOK ONE. Christ had spread his venerable light throughout the whole world, unfolding the mysteries of the evangelical kingdom. But because the working of virtues had not moved all peoples, and with fragile sense they hesitated to believe whatever a messenger from foreign shores had noised abroad (for things known by words move, things present by deeds: unseen things are indeed urged, but seen things are proven), he, therefore, to whom equal pity is for the whole world, sowed also on our lands very many miracles, granting to the farthest Gauls the insignia of Martin. Whom fertile Pannonia sent to our salvation from afar, born from no lowly line of a tribune. For his father was illustrious in the praise of merits: but this one more noble than such famous fathers, who, with Christ as father, spurned the sacrilegious rites, well degenerate in his father's rites.

Scarcely in his tenth year, already mature in character, he passed to the sacred law with a steadfast heart and marked his forehead with the holy protection of the cross. Not for him was a fickle mind in a tender breast: his whole will was to keep or to know the command of God, to avoid the company of men, to know the secrets of the blessed hermitage, and, having spurned the world, to know God, to leave earthly cares behind with a lofty heart. When he was striving for these things scarcely in his twelfth year, the glory of so sublime a deed was cut off, but God, who approved the will, counted the merit. Augustus ordered that all offspring of veteran stock be girded for war, chosen for battle. What does envy not do? His father betrays him and thrusts arms upon his son. Alas, such piety forgetful of such danger! But rather, if a stony mind has any sense, grow through your titles: it is greater praise to be conquered by your own. Only see with pious intent what he did in all things: if they are good, imitate willingly; if difficult, rejoice. Christ's soldier is conquered for the soldier of the age, but the mind is not dragged nor the heart bound with the flesh. The names of military service are empty: he has long served as a soldier who, captured, through many battles of his own king, conquered avarice and overcame proud luxury: ambition lies already prostrated by his strength, and fury and anger flee from a firm mind, and deadly pride, exceeding all faults. He scarcely allows one companion to go with him, a servant not bound by work, but only in name.

O fortunate one, for whom such a yoke prepared so welcome a condition, that the contending wishes of noble men could vie with you concerning your lot, if only it were permitted to serve. But you too are compelled to a harsh law, freed from the law of birth: for the devotion of the holy man serves you, who are subject. The same habit, the common abundance of a frugal table; here he is first in services, so that no skill can at least know the servant preferred to the master. Here, what grace there was among equals, and how modestly true love had subjected even the superiors themselves: then, how great was the strictness in taking food, lest distended entrails should quickly spoil the mind's perception—nor should the burden of limbs oppress the watchful mind, so that the abundance divided for the needy would provide a portion which, if it overwhelmed one, would better refresh both. For he had divided everything among the suppliant poor in such a way that only worn coverings remained for his limbs: when suddenly, in the freezing cold of a bristling winter, a naked man hurries to meet him, barely halving broken words in a roaring voice: but the cause expedites speech, and the calamity proclaims the tongue's part. All pass by, and the madness of the rich scorned the despised complaint of the wretch with a laugh. The saint stood still, uncertain in his confused heart what to do: for the vow was present, the substance was lacking. If he covered him, he himself was to be stripped. Yet not even thus did a delay of hesitation suspend the clear deed.

Only the covering of the blessed body had remained, a doubled cloak, which would always ward off cold and rain and the rage of the winds with its twofold wrap. For thus the hanging part compensates for the truncated portion, so that the body, warmed by the added fleece, may feel that what was lacking for the head has increased for its warmth. But the blessed resolve of this austere vow removes this, and condemns it as a waste of the heart, that the cautiousness of a trembling faith should have preferred to grant to one member the part added by the double covering rather than to divide it between two. No delay slows the deed, but the right hand passes the vow: whatever the mind saw to be done, the act accomplished. The unconquered sword is drawn without the crime of a wound, and prodigal pity cuts the middle part, choosing, I believe, the worse portion for itself. Then he covers the trembling limbs, and, handing over some warmth from the garment, receives a share of the cold in his now lighter attire. O blessed one, surpassing all miracles by your virtue and exceeding the commands of the Lord who bids. For he bids us be content with little and not keep two garments: you divide one. All look on. Some laugh at the misshapen coverings, but do not see the truer beauty in the heart.

But others, with hearts smitten, complained among themselves that justice could have decided for a needy poor man what a rich man’s ample substance had denied. No delay, then, before such a palm of triumph is rendered. For scarcely had he laid his weary limbs on his bed, admitting a thin sleep—though with a wakeful heart (nor was it truly sleep, for his attentive mind remained alert)—when suddenly, with generous reward, the kindly Christ stood before his eyes, clothed in his own poor man, and fitted the blessed garments to his own limbs. O truly precious cloak! What such thing have robes of purple, or of gold drawn into thread with glittering spindles, or silken garments light to the touch or lively with skillfully wrought figures, ever merited? He, the god of men, earth, sea, and sky, who bestows all, without whom nothing exists, and whose are both what we give and who gives, the gift and the giver—he is enriched by this cloak, if one counts the gains of salvation. Yet not even from this does vainglory shake his stable mind, nor does he feel any empty swelling in his heart. O virtue near to God, to claim nothing for praise when you do praiseworthy deeds, to ascribe to our own doing nothing that we do, and to praise God in every act. Now indeed he was secure concerning such a judge.

But he is not raised up even through the fellowship of Christ: the sights increase faith, the limbs, renewed by the holy bath, shine and assume a beauty equal to that of the heart, and the mystery of the font brings forth a new body. And yet, though he shone with this ripeness of character and flesh, he had spent four lustra less two years; I believe, indeed, that the holy Spirit had previously enriched his whole heart with the flowing gift: as once the blessed Peter saw the happy gifts of the Lord already in such a soldier. Who, I ask, could so well complete as the blessed Martin began in his tender years? And yet, bearing these things, he thought he had not even begun, because he had delayed scarcely two years in the twin [matters]; already a monk in merits, but a soldier only in name, about to break the vain titles of the trampled world, looking to the holy fellowship of the tribune who promised, so that a small and just delay would soon be compensated by the doubled salvation through the vows of two, with Christ as judge. Meanwhile, with the barriers broken on an unbreached frontier, a fierce enemy had begun to ravage the Gallic countryside. The prince prepares to go to meet him and, by command, exhortation, entreaty, and largesse, gathers all the maniples called to war. For those whom fear holds back, gifts entice and presents overcome fear. But a mind full of God fears nothing, despises all things,

he laughs at terror, tramples on earthly gifts and rewards. Therefore, when those who had gone before had received the gift in turn, after the order was completed, the holy man is summoned according to custom. The presence of the king offering gifts he spurns, and with such words he speaks against the tyrant's words. "Prince, give these earthly gifts, these coins, to another: greater rewards from a greater king await me. This is the wage of war: let those who wish to fight take them." At these words the prince blazed up in savage anger, alleging that in time of war he was a coward, a forgetter of glory, who had invented pretexts of fear. But he replied: "There is no fear of imminent danger, nor do steadfast hearts fear an easy death. Finally, what words express, deeds will prove. I will go first, casting aside weapons, leading the ranks, not seizing a man's arms, but the signs of salvation, trusting not in the cover of a shield, but in the name of Christ, and placing the cross on my brow as a helmet for aid, I will meet all dangers with an intrepid heart." He nodded assent, and so that proofs might confirm the faith of his word, the pious man is ordered to be kept in harsh custody. And already the first day was sprinkling the lands with new light: a suppliant embassy came to the king, submitting their necks to the dominion of the commander. What, I ask, do we see accomplished here by men, by arms? What did the iron battle line avail, what did terror and the sword? What wedge fell to javelins, what squadron to arrows? One man and the sole trust in the eternal king.

He conquered countless nations without the wound of slaughter. This, Martin, is your triumph, with Christ fighting, so that you would not violate your holy face with blood, nor would the deaths of the dying afflict your pious mind. Therefore, cheerful in merit and more eager from that very success, having crushed the enemies, he hastens to conquer the world. He seeks out Hilarius, the teacher of faith proven through so many proofs, lest the wound of boasting inflict itself or the judgment of his own heart exalt him. Already a teacher, he acts as a disciple and is proven greater, while he desires to be lesser: for to spurn praise is praise. Thus, although already worthy of the foremost see, he refused to be distinguished even by the honor of a deacon, and scarcely took a place, demanding lower walls for himself, which he had long surpassed in holy action, as an exorcist in rank, but already a priest in virtue. Lest even earthly piety mark him, whom divine piety so preeminently ruled, he hastens with a vow to visit his parents, and better to turn their estranged minds. For a headlong and deviant error was pressing his father and mother too strongly, worshipping sacrilegious rites and stones or air, living while dead.

Therefore, as he began the journey, piety accompanied him, and an angel sent by the Lord had paved all the shores, so that the ascent was gentle, the slope laid low, and the path lay open, nor did steep and hollow places cause headlong falls. And while he was swiftly crossing the cloud-bearing Alps, he was waylaid by the ambushes of savage bandits, with his hands bound behind his back before their drawn swords—he laughed and, with unmoved countenance, defied the perils. Moreover, to recall the marvels of such a deed, he is said to have preserved the guard's safety by his warnings, this guard being a truer guardian of the spirit than that one of the body. For the one did not even have control over his own limbs, while the other had bound the inner recesses of the mind, turned away. Yet both taught the path to be followed: one showed the way of the rampart and learned the way of salvation. Therefore, he completes the journey begun and draws near to his homeland, having crossed the Alps and entered the fields of Hesperia. Here again, the enemy, with constant holy efforts, fashioning a human appearance with a feigned body, presented himself face to face, daring to ask from him whither he was going and what this haste demanded. He replied: "For me, the only way and guide is Christ; in Him is the fulfillment of the vow, from whom the will was granted.

But the demon, gnashing his teeth, went against him with all his efforts, opposing him with such great force. To him the saint said: 'The Lord protects; the enemy does not harm. With God as helper, no adverse power can be feared. He who fears the Lord scorns danger. That fear itself makes me unafraid.' After he had spoken such words, the shadow, driven from his sight, vanished. Then, as he reached the shores of his parents with the Lord as his guide, and when ruin, hardened by long habit, held his father back, refusing the words of salvation offered to him, at least he received his mother, given by Christ. O blessed in such a birth and in the child she bore, through whom she was born to God—both mother and infant made by one childbirth! The mother, to be reborn, first bore him in her womb, through whom she now arose from the font. Yet many yielded to this salutary example, rightly marveling at the marks of such great character. And then, by chance, the evil error of a deadly doctrine had spread its poison among peoples of incautious heart who followed it, a poison poured forth from the mad mouth of Arius. Yet this plague especially held Illyricum infected, having raged throughout with its venom. Here, while he, powerful in steadfast virtue, dared to press against it and, with breast opposed, broke the waves, often restraining priests and often the people,

Oppressed by the snares of all, suffering blows, driven to the extreme, he left behind earthly dwellings: yet he held to faith with his mouth or salvation in his heart. Therefore, thinking he must yield, lest the madness of a subverted world overwhelm the lingering saint, he sought again the Gallic countryside and retraced his steps along the observed path, not forgetful of his faith. But when the deadly error raged throughout the whole world and these crimes pressed even the farthest Gauls, and when the madness of the world had thrust even Hilary himself, the very wall of faith and strong pillar, into exile, Paulinus decided to build a cell and rest here a little, where, rejoicing in the shades of a grove or vine, Milan, most beautiful, paints Italy. Driven from here as well, he departed, leaving lands and walls and seeking the sea and its waves, because the wave was more trustworthy than hospitality, and the storm of the people and the mob was more to be feared than that of the sea. A presbyter of the same merit and similar peril accompanies him as he goes. An island is chosen as a lodging, far from every guest. Grass suffices as food. Using its roots, with such a barren diet, they double the fasts of the saint. And while they indiscriminately examine the meager fare, whatever the untried bowels of the earth provided.

The grass of hellebore suddenly felt the deadly poison spreading through all its limbs. They hasten to the Lord with all the power of prayer, but piety preceded the prayers. Nothing was achieved by arts, but the sole hope of salvation was the medicine present. Let us see—we who are accustomed to seek life with all our wealth, pouring out the price of a fee to physicians so that our times of living may grow with our money—what did these chosen ones accomplish with cups of juices and remedies once collected in ancient books? Here, certainly, swift health without expense or art was earned by the heart and given by the word: let us marvel, rejoicing. The voice is silent, and the case is established by the clamor of the silent. The physician is felt but not seen: all limbs, with pores closed, admit the entire cure to the vitals. Meanwhile, the holy priest is reported to return at last from unjust exile by the king’s command, with whom there had been associations of a splendid life while the teacher of the Pictavi flourished in those regions, handing down precepts of salvation to untamed peoples. And although swift piety of affection had quickly snatched the rejoicing saint, yet he, impatient of delays, had already left the lofty walls of Rome, to be brought back more quickly to the Pictonic shores. Therefore, following the preceding footsteps with a pious course, he earned the heart’s desire and the end of his labor.

Here he builds a cell, solace for his weary limbs: for his mind, full of God, remained in a heavenly abode. If now we recall the ancient songs of the poets, when sudden miracles would shake their astonished senses, the mad frenzy of Phoebus would cry out the wretched man, nor would it allow the false Muses even to rest, the Delphic temples would be shaken by a feigned Apollo, and the whole crowd of deaf sisters would be seized, roused, or fill all madness with monsters: we, from whom sense or words are sought from Christ, we pray, Martin, inspired by Christ, inspire us a little. You, who were able to restore life to the dead, supported by the Lord’s help, restore health to me: I will be the first to work miracles of granted life, I will be the first to break open the foul prison of the tomb. I, dead in my whole heart, pray rightly to my patron, so that my living mind may speak the titles of such great praise. Therefore, although the powers of speech are overcome by sublime deeds, and the measure of prayer does not equal the praises, I will proceed. You, whoever reading these worthless poems despises them, while you mock the words, you will marvel at the deeds. A certain man, seeing the miracles of such a bright life, chose to join himself to so great a master,

The mystic water had not yet renewed him. Fever, consuming all his marrow, had wrung a thin life from his wasted body. And then the teacher happened to be absent; but the brothers' zealous piety mourned the lifeless corpse in sorrow, grieving for the brother's suffering, not for the flesh's death. The saint, arriving, wets his face with abundant tears, pitying the dead man's sad fate, and fills the whole place with his cries. Soon, with the witness removed, he burst into the sad cell with its sad funeral. Then he threw himself upon his lifeless friend, embracing all his cold limbs, breathing a thin breath over his stiff face. Yet all hope is wholly referred to the Lord: accustomed piety is prayed for, known mercy is sought, and the merit of faith is earned by believing. The trust of a pure heart saw that God was present, and the flesh felt the effect of the holy breath. No delay: the prayer is suspended for scarcely two hours. Gradually, the linen cloths are stirred over the shaken limbs, the dry joints are moistened with the moisture of veins, the icy chest grows warm with the breath of life, and the sight, closed over, is opened by the infused light. 'Blessed are those to whom, at the rising of the light, it was granted to see Martin in the early world.' The whole body is raised with a sudden effort.

And the skin, already sallow from the long-consumed limbs, received a purple blush from a better hue. His voice was easy, his step steady, his hand capable, his heart vigorous: the whole man, from various causes that had formed his body, took up one life in a diverse function. Great joys soon draw forth a great voice: the tongue sounds praises, the messenger of a grateful mind, the shout of the mouth proclaims the heart’s affection. Soon a crowd burst through the doors and filled the cell, and a harmonious symphony sang the saint’s praises. But he, as if he were renewing life utterly after death, at once shone forth, renewed by the eternal water, and happily drew out his old age for many years, being a witness of so clear a deed for no short time. For often he used to tell the same story to many: that he had trembled before the tribunal of the eternal judge, assigned to the worthless crowds and submerged in darkness, until a prayer uttered in angelic words offered a vow to the Lord and brought back his life. This first revealed Martin to our shores; by this approach the glory of his other praises arrived. Nor had much time flowed by after these miracles: a new glory hastens a famous deed. For while he was passing by the neighboring field of Lupicinus—not a humble man of little account, but almost throughout the world—

distinguished by the man's virtue, so that the glory, confirmed by such a witness, might shine more brightly, enticing the unlearned crowd through so many miracles. Hearing from afar the pitiful wailing of mourners, he stopped; he inquired into the cause and learned it in turn, and just compassion stirred his pious grief. For one servant, with a noose constricting his throat, had broken the bounds of a life wrenched from its senses, a mad act. He hurried quickly, embracing the sad corpse—the eyes sunken, the throat dry of blood, the face too grim in death and menacing. Again tears to the Lord, again sighs and groans, a cry of the heart, a great voice of one silent: one faith of merit, nor unequal the grace of the gift. He is received by a rejoicing throng, a crowding multitude: they display to all the miracles of the Lord Christ and the spoils of the enemy, the joy of the believing people. BOOK TWO. Behold, a new sea opens, and favorable winds have drawn the leaky keel into the midst of the waves, and while the joys of a calm sea carry me away,

He burst into the vast deep with a rash skiff, barely grazing the shores near the lands. Now what am I to do, and whither, in my doubt, do I direct my anxious prow? The winds urge my course, I dread the return. Let us go on, since land is far off, whither the wave may draw me: only that Martin’s spirit may spread a calm breeze and grant such a gentle wind to me as I go, that a favorable wind may sustain the rotting sail. Hitherto, as I recounted the monk’s habits or deeds, there was a shore: now the sea will be the teaching of the chair. Now I shall unfold the glorious deeds of the great priest. Once, in the Gallic lands, the city of Tours flourished greatly, spread out with fields and filled with peoples. But, desiring more to flourish with such a bishop, it burned with all its prayers to summon Martin. But his humble mind, thrusting pride deep from his heart, remained unmoved by frequent prayers, until, with composed words and forced tears, they overcame his just severity with excessive falsehood. For a certain man, aware of such great piety, pitying the sad distress of his sick wife, begged that he deign to visit the suppliant in accordance with a vow:

Whether he would come quickly for the sake of salvation, or of death, if a harsh sentence delayed his prayers. Sighs are joined with feigned words at the same time, and sobbing voices with broken murmurs. He kisses her knees, he gathers her footprints with his arms, exceeding true grief through so many pretenses. What wonder if a simple soul, a holy mind, follows the one calling, since God compels? For he would betray his own deceitful nature more, unless he approved what was to be done. The crowd of people receives him as he emerges, making a kindly violence, and a throng of suppliants blocks the way, a sedition of calm motion, a tumult without bile, and a night-long watch also stations guards and keeps watch, guarding its own master while being guarded. They exult with equal joys in shared prayers. They go to meet him, rivalry and popular favor rush to all the gates, a single will in all and no division of mind in their pursuits. A certain corrosive envy infects some with the black bile of poison, and, burning the hearts of the wretched with goads, a fleshly opinion drags them back to the opposing side. Some, even, they say—which it is a sin to believe—priests with learned minds drew a similar madness, laughing at what should be rejoiced in for themselves, that no grace had adorned a reverend face, that with hair cut off

he would place the whole sign of the Lord on his free brow, nor would he press his eyes with a cloud of trembling hair, and the filthy garment would testify to the brightness of his heart, betraying the zeal of the one praying, because often, with his limbs rolled to the ground and his body pressed prostrate, the dust clung to his rough, squalid fleece. Rightly, therefore, did such a perverse will yield to the people, and the sounder judgment of the common folk overcame the nobles. For truly, no one was permitted to be ignorant of Christ's call, proven through so many testimonies. For the rest, whom a savage faction had unjustly allied to itself, desiring the opposite, one bishop, Defensor, was more violent: by which name they perhaps thought to defend the efforts of their false counsel, with God refusing, who approved what was just. For the pious people were celebrating the customary honor in the holy assembly, visiting the mysteries in a crowded gathering, while the denser throngs packed the altars and their supporters hung frequently on their vows, nor could the reader pass through the obstacles placed before him. But a deacon, who happened to be present, having snatched up a codex, which the first page of a psalm, quickly opened, had offered, suddenly and hastily seized a verse, chanting these words of the ancient prophet: "From the mouth of infants and from the small murmur of praise of those nursing, you have made tender tongues unroll, on account of the hated, so that this perverse thing may destroy.

Praise from the small brought forth a defender. A shout is raised to heaven, and the present judgment is proven by God crying out: the sentence of Christ overwhelms the opposing party with a thunderbolt of words. For the same verse approved the vows of those praising and checked the envy of those opposing. Nor was the monk's labor less thereafter, because his glory increased by right of the priest. Deeds teach what must be done: the work of example persuades more than the grace of speech. Thus for him, with a most worn garment as his covering, thus the precious modesty of the saint's humble heart, thus the blessed sentence of his constant life endures. First, then, a cell joined to the sacred altars was his. Soon, so that he might avoid the frequent crowds, with prayer withdrawn from the constant throngs, he departed two miles from the city. Nor did the remoteness of such a distant cell harm him: a secret lodging for the monk, a small path for the teacher, a house near for the doctor, far for the one at leisure. On one side, a natural rock with a cut edge had surrounded him in a small curve of the hollowed cliff; on the other, the Loire with its curved banks in a small bend had enclosed the land, hemmed in by the outstretched stream; one narrow entrance lay open between the rock and the river, where the river's flow, with the path slightly narrowed, touches the mountain's border.

here he preferred to weave a small cell from a pile of wood, recognizing the mysteries of the holy wood, the most exalted guest succeeding to a humble roof, so that the learned modesty of the gathered brothers might learn from such scant expense to despise pomp, eagerly imitating the master’s precedent by their own examples. But for others, not even wood pleases; rather, a hollowed-out mountain offers nearby recesses dug into the rock. Eighty brothers were drawn there by just admiration for such great virtue, so that from that place blessed imitation might take up the observed customs. Nothing was private for anyone; all things were common to all: love took its share from the common store. No one was granted the ability to sell anything, lest the wicked hunger for tasted gold should grow. He forbids the practice of any craft. Only one pursuit is permitted: the study of writing, which occupies the mind, eyes, and hands, and holds all at once in a single point—the gaze by sight, the heart by senses, the right hand by order. Yet these matters occupy only the younger age. For a mind already mature has enough of prayer, so that, when an elder’s judgment strengthens its understanding, it may strive and keep watch in seclusion to purify the inner eye, lest it be deprived of Christ’s light, clouded by the hidden sin of a lurking fault. No one’s progress was easy: each one’s own cell held him. Only then was a reason for association given

of the company, had gathered all together at the accustomed hour of prayer, and with harmonious symphony they were rendering praise to God in their hearts; or when, loosening the fasts for their weary limbs, they would at a fixed time repeat the common tables, so that the end of the completed day, the flesh now subdued, and the succeeding labor of the night to be kept vigil, would divide the most sparing times of a modest dinner. Only for the infirm was it permitted, by a relaxed rule, to taste wine, whereby the odor of wine sprinkled into cups would sustain the wasting of a sick body. For many, the garment was woven from camel's hair, which would touch the wakeful limbs with light pricks, excluding soft sleep through the punctured flesh, lest soft fleeces nourish a lascivious body with flux, and the garment float with a thin covering, such as the abundance of a former life had been accustomed to. For it was a prudent judgment that had drawn many, illustrious from their former bloodline, to such a life. Wherefore it is more to be wondered at that, after silken couches and cushions, this garment and such rigor should have pleased those who entered. Finally, the neighboring peoples and the nearby cities, marveling at the insignia of such great morals, sought the saints from here as their own rectors with competing zeal, so that the teaching of God, flowing from such a fountain, would scatter irrigating streams into the thirsty innards of those who sought.

But now the time has come to touch at least upon a small part of such a great mass of mighty virtues. And although the disciples adorn the titles of right virtue, and it is the deed that should be shown forth as to be done, yet I will touch upon very few of his own deeds, showing forth the greatest praises by brief signs. There was a tomb nearby, which vain superstition, deceived by falsehood, had often consecrated as a martyr’s, always paying it celebrated honor. Moreover, earlier priests had dedicated a venerable altar there, so that religion might remain more firmly established, strengthened by the added cult of sacred rites. But after Martin took up the reins placed upon him and received the holy governance of the people entrusted to him, he immediately inquired into the name and titles of the martyr being venerated, and at what time or under what judge he had earned such a bright palm of victory. But when no history appears that can reveal the truth, and all antiquity refuses to know this, he rejects believing such great things on doubtful words, and the lying fable of the crowd is not enough for faith. Therefore, for doubtful matters without the weight of a witness, it pleases him to seek counsel from the Lord, to whom all times, past and present ages, are always subject.

He hastens to the tomb with few companions, so that to many the miracles might bear witness to faith. Therefore, as soon as he touches the adjacent mass of the sepulcher, the prayers, through the flesh resolved into cold ashes, return to heaven: the footprints of the flesh are joined to the tomb, but the mind passes beyond the stars. Then, having prayed with the whole power of his faith that the Lord might reveal the merit and name of the buried one to the ignorant, he suddenly looks to the left and sees a squalid shadow, a blackened form which betrayed its countenance with a mournful face and displayed the most wretched fate of the guilty, the condemned, confused and conscious with a trembling expression. A voice, also, rendered with the tearful words of a mourner, expressed frequent sighs with such complaints: "Let the ancient error cease to add punishment to the lamented hands by returning a false title, lest he, for whom there is enough punishment from the crime alone, have this burden doubled and increased by an added honor. And would that the saints, to whom this homage is referred as a right, might deign to sprinkle our perpetual flames of the wretched with a small drop. They, rejoicing, enjoy perpetual light; us, a horrendous chaos has enclosed in eternal darkness. The confusion of night is far from the merits of light." This voice reached the ears of many far and wide, but the form was revealed to Martin alone, whose lighter mind passed through the frail weights of the flesh, transmitting the bodily mass through the light of the heart. Immediately, with the altar removed, all is driven away.

vain superstition, a counterfeit of sacred rites. The mysteries of worship pass over, transferred to true things. What, finally, can compare to these titles, that art infected with magical deceits or steeped in poisons, weaving lies with composed words, or examining stinking entrails by probing their veins, so that, sought through the silent darkness of Tartarus, a mad demon bellows with a deceptive murmur, assuming a feigned countenance under a thin image? Here, certainly, a simple mind and the sole religion of the one praying dissolves the bonds of infernal law; and although the limbs were pressed down by the mass of the sepulcher, yet the confession lived on into the present time. Nor is this truly the end of the titles, nor do the stems of the miracles cease, even if briefly interrupted by time. For grace, an inseparable companion, always clings to the saint, nor is it confined by any fixed limit of places. It follows his progress, remains undivided with him who remains; if there is a reason for the journey, it gladly accompanies him as he goes. For while, hastening, he traverses the pathless countryside, where wild Gaul lies spread out in broad plains, while a crowd of pagans follows the wretched corpse, and the linens, lightly shaken by the wind, tremble, with sight stretched out over the long, open plains, they think the funeral observance is the cult of an unspeakable demon, and the rite of bearing the wretched sacred objects, with necks bowed to idolatrous figures of bacchants. He immediately raises the holy and venerable sign, and by the display of the cross, he blocks those coming quickly.

unsteady steps he halts by the weight of the standard. Then indeed it was possible to see the wretches held in numbness, their limbs stiffened as if bound, their many attempts frustrated by entangled members, their footsteps slowed by the motionless star, the crowds confined within a commanded limit, unable to cross the obstacles of a wall stretched before them, an immense barrier opposed from all sides, until gradually, as the sight drew nearer, the honor borne in the funeral procession became clear. Then, again, by the same standard and that very sign, freedom was restored. Thus, by the command of the cross and the power of faith, he had the authority to bind the wandering and to release the bound. I touch upon these things hastily, reading them, because the abundance of signs urges me to mention the praiseworthy deeds briefly, lest a page of very cheap words delay minds hastening to such great miracles. I am again caught up by the weight of greater matters. A temple, once sacrilegious, with its summit cast down, he had leveled to the ground, shattering the idols with broken beams and crushing the images under the whole ruin. Near this place, a pine tree, stretched out, spread its green branches, ancient and with far-reaching arms it had woven a green forest in its leafy top, and with a lattice of foliage it kept off all heat, a dense grove from a single tree: perpetual shade concealed a constant mildness under a false spring. This pine tree also he attempts to join to the ruins of the temple, desiring to bury it in a like tomb,

whatever was drawing the hearts of the wretched into error. Then indeed, inflamed with the madness of a senseless mob, they strive eagerly to rescue the beloved tree with haste and to block the pious vow with all their might. Reason avails nothing for the insane, holy words avail nothing for the profane minds, no voice for the deaf, no light for the blind. It is shouted that a man cannot confer salvation on another, which they cannot secure for themselves, that trees cannot help the masters of trees: these obey the nods of him who wishes to serve, subject to the subjected, the same one who, gathering from the forests what is to be burned, leaves what is to be venerated. In response, those who desire far different things cry out, their hearts steeped in idolatrous poison: "Cease to compel the unwilling with lengthy words. If you prove things by deeds, this condition will rightly please and bring faith: we ourselves will immediately set about cutting down our pine tree. If you bring true proofs of faith, catch it as it falls and gladly meet its desired ruin, trusting in the Lord, nothing is heavy." So harsh a condition is approved, nor does the most just man refuse the unjust demand, trusting in the power of God, to whom ready power is present to prevent the ruin even by a word. Without delay, bonds are tied around the bound limbs, and he is placed in that part where the trunk, about to be crushed, hung prone with its whole weight, and already with the branches leaning and the weight tottering.

the impending mass of ruin, unquestionably threatening, terrified them. They press on with all their vows, contending joys. They ply with constant blows and repeated axes. Hope, near at hand, supplies spirit and strength to the weary. Vengeance shuts out affection, anger puts pain to flight. The monks grow pale and lifeless; the danger is greater from faith too greatly confounded by such terror, until the tree, gradually overcome by wounds, gave way with a crash and, toppled, was driven headlong into the holy man with a full leap, outstripping the swift vows and furies in its haste, its shattered limbs now almost touching him. But he, with faith forbidding fear, having banished terror, awaited the imminent ruin with steadfast heart, lest, seeing the pine quickly turned, faithlessness should recall the work to its fall and deny the merit, while it thought it an accident. But now, with the danger nearer, he raises his right arm, armed with the protection of the sign, and opposes the cross. At once all the impetus is broken, and the pine, swiftly recalled in a rapid rotation, is borne in a different direction by its swift whirlwind upon the authors of the crime. Now those who were rejoicing nearby, trembling, feared the ruin turned upon themselves: they who cautiously believed they had chosen a safe place for such a spectacle, scarcely recovering their senses, see the seats pierced through by the shattered branches. A shout is raised to heaven, and the astonished parties re-echo, and voices are reported from the whole assembly:

Joys bear witness, the monks, the miracles conquered. Christ sounds on the tongue, Christ simultaneously with kindly mouth the ignorant and the learned sing: this part acknowledges favor, that seeks faith. Thus, in harmony, seized quickly among the discordant, with Christ uniting, will both earned the gift of faith and then persuaded belief. For certainly there was no one at all in that throng who did not bring back the gifts of hoped-for health, added to the Lord's flocks by the protection of the sign, and the places, which, foul with gloomy shrines, stank, soon the mother Church covered with true temples. Thus you conquer, Martin, thus you overwhelm your enemies, thus a heavy sentence crushes the oppressed: that harsh victory made them gentle brothers. Therefore, the outcome sharpens the mind and the happy victory nourishes the zeal to conquer the rebels continually. For scarcely had the idols smoked, collapsed in flames, and nearby, fine ashes fluttered in the fire, when a similar one renews the repeated fires of the temple, the most just right hand exulting in frequent flames. But while the blazing vapors far and wide the whirlwind sows, and the fierce madness, seething with frequent waves, belches a swift cloud of flames, increasing its gathered fury by the nearby slaughter, it attacks, not far removed, the whole building with its entire column, licking the neighboring roofs with deadly flames.

After the holy man, trembling, saw that danger was pressing and that flames, already mixed with the ignited timbers, had enclosed the roof in a whirlpool of fire, he swiftly climbed to the top in a leap, where the densest mass of fire pressed the house excessively, and he offered his limbs, placed opposite, to the oncoming flames. Then indeed, the flames, bent back by the opposing wind, returned against the wind, and although the storm was pressing, the greater power of the command acted and forced the insane wind to yield immediately to the returning fires. Thus nature, overwhelmed, obeys the command of the one who orders. The flames are not driven by the blasts, but the blasts by the flames, and the fire, following the commands, managed both: seizing what was decreed for it, leaving defended what was to be spared. Thus, after the temple was conquered through just fires, he proceeds to the destruction of another, which Leprosus, once a wealthy village, had cultivated with a perverse mind. But after the repeated madness of the common people recalled the attempted work and a violent whirlwind of frenzy opposed the whole undertaking, he returns to the solitary retreats of lonely places, and there he presses more violently with holy prayers, continuing the intention of praying for three lights and joining as many hours of vigils through the nights.

and covered with a cloak woven of bristles, he constantly pricked his worn limbs with a needle, so that the excessively rough garment would chafe his thin skin, and his flesh, when touched, would shrink from the protruding goads, bruising his limbs on hard stones with his bones even harder, prolonging his days into late fasts, drenching his whole face with a stream of tears, so that the perpetual mercy of the Lord Christ, pitying the excessive labor of his innocent servant, would grant the fulfillment of his vow and accomplish what was attempted, completely removing the efforts of the opposing side. Meanwhile, he sees armed men standing nearby with angelic radiance, and recognition is not slow: the familiar confidence of their faces is ready, and moreover, the reason for their coming is taught by words, that he should not tremble, nor fear violence, nor dread their arms, recognizing present favor through such signs: whatever crowd may arise in opposing tumult, the help of God is sufficient, who can immediately subdue all throngs by the power of his word: that they themselves both bring aid and report commands. Therefore, with a sharper spirit, having inwardly received strength, believing that these arms of the two are enough for war, he revives for the work he had begun, and rushes into the midst of the throngs, with constancy restored to his trembling heart. Temples are utterly overturned and laid flat in ruins: the fallen idols receive the entire masses, and the broken images succumb beneath the collapsed roofs. Dust, mixed together, envelops everything equally,

beams, altars, statues, cement, stones, metal. Nor indeed does anyone from the advancing column dare to go forth to meet him. He remains undaunted, seeing the terrified hearts of the men he has conquered. The peoples wait unmoved. The breasts of the threatening ones grew stiff, and their innards were stunned with astonished fibers. Their limbs do not facilitate movement, their words do not produce a tumult: the limbs of the wretches grew rigid, their voice stuck in their throats, the hands of those attempting fell, and the shout of those gaping. As the sea, which, when a violent whirlwind of a storm, stirred up from the deepest bottom, pressing upon the waves, dashes whole rocks with foaming spray and oversteps the opposite banks with a hoarse murmur, while the broken masses beat the hollow shores and the neighboring shallows mix the entire deep: soon, when the winds have fallen silent with the motion laid aside, a vast plain of calm waters spreads out, the smooth surfaces settle with the wind laid down, and the transformed appearance of the element lies motionless, disturbing the light boats on the covered flood: not otherwise did the madness of the furious mob fall silent and lay aside the storm and release the blasts, and only this did it shout, subjected, with true words, that Martin's lord is to be worshipped throughout the whole world at once, that they know this one alone as god. For deaf idols could never bring salvation to a petitioner, bringing it to themselves, nor hand over any gift which they lack: the one who begs from a needy being is more destitute.

Thus, with the true light of deep radiance received, this crowd also grew, devoted to the pious camp. With heart ever refreshed by such triumphs, he again desires war: increased faith removes fear, hope animates merit, dread of danger yields. For a similar disturbance soon arose from a similar cause, while a mad rusticity, too excessive in its usual harshness, hastened to overturn a temple, rushing to its aid, augmenting its headlong ruin with an immense mass of fury. Finally, such madness overwhelmed all sense that one man, threatening, ran up with drawn sword, daring to brandish sacrilegious iron for wounds. And when the saint, rejoicing, offered his bared neck, with covering cast aside, that man, drawing back nothing, rose furious with sword raised high. He lifted his insane right hand higher into the air, raising his whole body with swift effort, stretching his steps with headlong haste, so that the blow, coming from higher, might fall more violently: when suddenly his sinews stiffened, his entrails rigid, and the motion, consumed in the thin air, halted, and his right hand, extended, suspended the iron in vain, and the entire blow perished with limbs growing numb, and his hand, fixed, remained with its attempt mocked. Thus his whole body, collapsing with its mass, fell backward to the ground in a headlong ruin.

bones, crushed, resounded, buried among the limbs, and lay prone on the rocky heap of earth. Then at last groans were wrung out and tears forced, and, with threats laid aside, a too pitiable ambition, begging, turned back to a healthful plea for pardon. What, I ask, recalled your greedy hand from blood? Why do you spare one whom no one asks? What delays your blow, if anger remains? You certainly do not wish to forgive: why do you hold back the sword? Behold, the innocent neck lies exposed, bared to your wounds: why do you delay the vows, you who have the mind of the striker? Why is vengeance postponed while the crime remains intact? You do, even if the hand ceases, what you desire to have done. If the will is not changed, the guilt remains: the heart's judgment is enough for the merits. Nor indeed from this alone did the astonished, trembling hearts of the people see the gift of safety preserved. For soon, when a similar madness brought a similar death with a drawn sword, suddenly the blade's edge, shattered, abandoned the striker with a fruitless blow, and the maddened right hand sought a weapon that had been wrested away, and the deceived eyes saw all the gathered prayers of fury vanish, the sword lost. Yet sometimes he had been accustomed to persuade with healthful speech and to change fierce minds with words and to soften rigid hearts with holy address, illuminating the ancient night with the light of teaching.

Moreover, it was easy for him to restore health to the sick, gait to the lame, and sight to the blind. For certainly no one was so overwhelmed by the violence of such a disease that he did not, having seen the saint, rejoice to recover and bring back the desired remedies of health. This can become clear even from the following event. Once, within the walls of Trier, an unmarried virgin had wasted away, consumed by a severe paralytic disease, and her limbs, sluggish in all motion, lacked their proper functions. Already, with her flesh abandoned, a faint breath breathed in her cold chest. Her relatives, pale with fear at her imminent death, watered her withered limbs with a fountain of tears, and a sad procession of attendants had gathered for the mournful duty of preparing the funeral honors, when a messenger, bursting in with open mouth, interrupted the weeping murmurs, bearing word that Martinus had come, to whom was granted the ready power to provide the desired healing through holy prayers. As soon as that voice reached the father’s sorrowful ears, he rushed breathlessly, threw himself at the knees, begging for help, and sprinkled the footprints with abundant weeping, and sobs broke the sighing words, and tears spoke more than words in the prayers. But the saint, on the other hand, strong in modest piety, shared the affection but denied the merit. He refused to possess the power by which he might provide aid, but in his heart he felt the grief.

joices in the sharing. He shuns pomp, but laments misery, and proves his merit by avoiding honor. Thus he stands higher with a humble heart. He adds to his praise what he takes from his honor. Seeing this, his father presses all the more vehemently, until, moved by persistent and just entreaty, the holy ambition, joined with the father's priestly prayers, rightfully compelled the reluctant one to visit the mournful depths of a grieving parent. The people stand before the doors: the hearts of the astonished crowd hang in suspense, awaiting the miracles of Christ. When he saw the half-dead limbs, wasted by disease, and the eyes languid from consumed cheeks, the skin clinging to the bones on the dried body, and the color of the skin corrupted by infused bile, and the tongue's murmur withdrawn and completely constricted, breathing a scant breath from an icy chest, and the threads of the veins, their pulse broken, perishing and seeking to leave the right side in a severed order: he immediately throws himself prone on the ground with his whole body, seeking remedies of the word from the Lord, for whom it is enough to command and to conquer art with a nod. He sensed that God was present. He demands that oil be brought forth. The holy blessing approaches the offered liquid. Then, rejoicing in the changed unguent of the juice, he touches each limb with the medicated chrism. The pious right hand, applied, drives out the old pain, and the happy gifts of health, once obtained,

At the touch of the physician, the limbs gradually return, infused anew. Thus, with all diseases driven from the parts of the body, restored vigor succeeds in the enlivened flesh. Soon the girl rises strong, while the people marvel, and, planting steady steps by divine gift, gives praise to the Lord Christ at the holy altars. After this work of power filled the most crowded assembly within the walls, all rushed eagerly, those whose minds a demon or whose bodies disease had overwhelmed, praying for healing for heart and limbs. These departed steady in step, those sound in mind. Yet especially among all the miracles which the grace of Christ deigned to work through His servant, one present healing of a slave stood out, whom a demon held wholly captive in its power. Finally, when the saint, moved by the great entreaty of those begging, ordered the wretch to be led to the holy threshold, no one could bind the raging man. Thus he drove all away, raving with maddened mouth, gnashing his teeth: blood from his torn body had covered him everywhere, and wounds bristled on his bare limbs. Then his master, too exalted in high office, adorned with the rods of a proconsul, forgetful of this ambition, is present and prostrates himself at the kindly knees, and, prone, wraps his flattering arms around the feet, begging that, since neither force nor bonds could avail to drag the servant raving with maddened heart, he himself might approach the roof under which for a long time now

kept the servant confined under constant guard. But the saint refused to set foot on the threshold of the profane, nor would the just man enter beneath the idolatrous beams, discerning the stench of the temple from the chrism of Christ. The other, however, clinging violently to his holy knees, promised that if healed he would believe in the minister, whatever the teaching of so great a master might hand down. Then at last, moved by such a just plea from the suppliant, he brought his longed-for steps to the threshold to be saved, and to the master, who prayed with equal justice, he brought the same healing that he had to the servant. Both rejoiced, the one glad in the faith received, the other in his recovered mind. And immediately after these miracles, a new event roused the astonished people to such great proclamations. For, happening to enter the threshold of a neighboring house, he cried out that he saw at the very doors a terrible shadow of a raging demon, horrible to behold. Without delay, the enemy, now betrayed, began to rage with seized cook, to stir up turmoil in the inner chambers of the house, to gnash his jaws, to bare his threatening teeth from the captive mouth, exercising his innate anger in bites not his own, while the madness of the demon shook the possessed body, so that the rabies raged with a human mouth, armed for its own frenzies with another's tooth. The terrified fled, and no one dared to stand against it.

dares and sharpens the final fears with examples. But trusting in the Lord, the saint laughs at the swaying throngs and, with a swift advance, offers himself face to face. And even when the maddened jaws shook with trembling, grinding the wretched teeth with a funereal murmur and repeating bites with a nodding head, he steadfastly thrust his fingers into the gaping throat, halting the most savage laws of the hostile bandit. The greedy jaws stuck fast, their wound deferred; the insolent fury of the wide-open mouth hung rigid; the tongue, subjected to the healing touch, rejoiced, and the soft lips pressed kisses upon the inserted right hand. Then, since no escape lay open from the blocked mouth, the expelled flux of the belly left the emptied entrails, drawing only the stench from the body. Meanwhile, suddenly everything is thrown into turmoil by the uproar of the walls. A reckless rumor brings word of barbarian movements, scattering countless fears through credulous hearts. Yet no messenger of this report stood forth, so that the spoken belief might be confirmed by a manifest author. Therefore, when he saw such fires stirred up in doubtful affairs and the peoples held by uncertain terror, he orders that the demon shut up in the captive body reveal from where the story had spread the new rumor. Immediately driven by the word of the torturer to confess,

he proclaims himself the cause, the crime, and the head of all evils: that he with his companions had sown these false phantoms, so as to oppress the trembling people with fear. Therefore this true confession of the deceitful brigand freed the sorrowful minds, with the demon tormented. Now truly, to unfold the deeds of such great piety, neither my barren mind nor my humble page will suffice. O truly excellent good is ready compassion, a humble mind! He who loves all despises none. For a certain man, a shameless leprosy had covered with a horrible disease, infecting all his flesh with a covering of blotches and scattering thick drops in his corrupted body. When the frequent disgust of the healthy took note of him, and the most unjust mind, ignorant of its own condition, would despise the sad diseases in another's body, the saint, entering the gate with a crowd preceding him—such a crowd as had gathered in attendance of so great a patron, thronging the thresholds of the walls with dense masses—gave kisses to the wretch, joined in face and mouth, and, not fearing to soil his face by such a touch, he pressed the seals of peace with joined lips. The minds of others were stunned. But he, rejoicing, felt in the touch the gifts of a divine boon, and health quickly returning through his limbs, and a swift radiance spreading and renewed in his flesh. O truly precious is the worth of your peace

and healing, which ever flows from his holy mouth. Whether you touch the limbs with your lips or the hearts with his words, his kisses will heal the sick and his words will instruct those in need of teaching. And would that such mercy might touch our own afflictions, and that the blessed Martin, in his prayer, might wish to drive away the stains of our wretched heart from his holy mouth. Then, I believe, I would be recalled to the joys of true peace, raising my healed face to the sacred mysteries, and after the overturned fortune—which a portion had given—my hope would hang on the merciful Lord’s mouth, and, leaving behind the food of pigs or the pleasures of the flesh, I would receive the sure tokens of true faith. Indeed, even mere contact or the hem of his garment, and threads snatched in rivalry from a torn fleece, brought swift cures in all cases. For, to pass over what was done no less clearly among humble men, which lay hidden, will it, I ask, remain hidden that Arborius, who enjoyed the world’s highest honor, renowned for the lofty peak of the prefecture, who guided the reins of Roman governance with granted authority, and no less excellent in the probity of his pious character? His only daughter, with her limbs already utterly consumed by wasting disease, had cast her languid, weakened body upon the bed, whom a fever, with a law of constant recurrence,

Returning to the fourth day, she had so cast off the covering of flesh by repeatedly renewing her collapses, that the afflicted body could feel nothing of healing even in the midst of days near to fever, while one relapse claims for itself the passing agitation, and another trembles at the coming fall. Therefore, while the sad father cherishes the girl with affection, and passes over her icy limbs with the warm breath of his paternal mouth, with frequent panting, a letter came to her trembling right hand, which the pious bishop was sending to his sad friend. When he, rejoicing at the gift of the read letter, pressed kisses upon the absent one’s right hand, rejoicing with her, he quickly closed the venerable volume with a swift motion and hastened to apply it to his panting stomach. O truly precious faith! The fever is driven away and banished, and the flame of burning heat is removed. The present blessing penetrates the parched veins and waters the exhausted marrow with the dew of words, swiftly restoring health through the Lord’s mercy: to whose praise we shall rightly give thanks, marveling at what faithful servants have been able to accomplish. Nor did this medicine grant only bodily healing, but it added true salvation to the heart, with faith increased. For immediately through him the virgin offers her vows to God, consecrated to the Lord, through whom she was saved from disease.

Thus the grace of this gift was granted to three at once: the bishop consecrates, the father offers, the virgin is consecrated. Likewise, a similar healing restored health to Paulinus, whom the widespread glory of his remarkable faith had exalted. His sight lay hidden, covered by a cloud, and a darkness stretched out, infused with shadows, which, with a covering of spots, kept all light at bay. A light sponge, suspended with a gentle and delicate touch, dispelled this darkness, scarcely brought near the eye by the gift of a blessed right hand nearby. The pupil, having learned to bear the returned light, received the new light in wonder. And would that the healing of our holy patron might deign to touch the darkness of our heart with such light, so that the mystery of the ancient deed might be renewed—the same name, the same healer, the same cause of healing. We certainly marvel, seeing so many and such great things from the pious physician's remedies. Let us also marvel at that healing which the physician merited, with Christ as the healer, through whom he is both generous and grateful for the gift, rejoicing in the gifts well spent and those retained. For, striving to ascend to a lofty part where a house hung supported by high columns, while he fixed his slippery steps on the stairs, he fell headlong and, renewing his fall repeatedly on the steps,

He collapsed to the ground, his body pressing the earth. But behold, while his weary limbs groaned with fierce pain, an angel stood by the afflicted one, bringing sudden solace, venerable in holy countenance, hastening to wash the wounds with poured water, gradually applying an unknown ointment of juice, drawing forth a thin liquid with a lighter touch. From this, the limbs, moistened, quickly felt healing, their bodies softened with wet veins, and at once the joints grew strong and stable, the pains yielding everywhere at the Lord's command. Swift steps, a lively mind, joys of heart and mouth, a face harmonious with a grateful breast. While he praises the Lord, he claims nothing for himself from this; he revealed his merit because he denied that he had merited it. BOOK THREE. Why do you again call, with a barren reed and a voice sent forth from broken stalks? This glory is certainly worthy to swell the voices of greater trumpets, nor can such a great voice burst forth from small reeds, which would be able to fill even lofty clarions. But if the narrow pipe is helped by even a thin breath, which the blessing of a holy mouth has sent, if it cannot utter great things, it will speak sweet ones. Therefore, ambition will hold the first part of the book conquered. This door will unlock the remaining praises, through which, after degenerate fears for many ages, lost freedom shone forth in a corrupted world.

Once, Maximus, elated by wars successfully waged, and already proud from the death of one lord, from the exile of another, had increased his crime, a stain clinging to his evil character, by his success; and his perverse nature’s wounds, often reopened by his unhappy pride of heart, were destined to fall more heavily in times of prosperity. Therefore, from various sides, many shepherds of God approached this king, whose constant care was either to preserve the pious flock of the Lord or to feed the people, striving to release the guilty, to free the bound, to restore rest to the weary, comfort to the sad, to pray for a homeland for exiles and to beg for pardon, to earn wealth for the wretched proscribed and life for them. And while they strove with kind zeal to hasten these things, gradually, with trembling submission to the swelling ruler, the holy gravity of the fathers began to be too much debased, given over to flatteries—not the kind that the ancient gravity of priests was accustomed to offer, but the foul ambition of clients, prostrated at the nod of a haughty patron. Among them, alone with constant heart and speech, Martin infected his pious soul with no pretense, nor did base cowardice oppress with its shameful blemish a mind humble before Christ, though lofty toward worldly heights. Indeed, even in his very prayers, he pressed steadfastly; if there was any cause for petitioning the swollen king, he fulfilled the suppliant’s wish as if by right of command. Often, too, ambition assailed the holy man with repeated entreaty, that he might come, though so often scorned, even late to the king’s banquets.

He, indeed, scorning pride and reviewing his deeds, utterly refused to join the table of one whose crimes he thought it a sin to connect his holy mind even by a slight assent, casting up the slaughter of lords and an empire gained by blood, the death of a king and the reign of a tyrant. But when, by constant prayers wearying his pious heart, he would wash away the faults, purging the charges and crimes, he would say that the rule of the empire, imposed upon him by the terror of the commanding, was a crime, that power extorted by iron and arms should not be crushed by the weight of envy, being empty of ambition: nor indeed were small signs of his favor to have sent the lord on such a triumph, nor that anyone, however tepid and small of faith, was ignorant that the moments of waging war for a man hang on the nod of God: but more clearly, if one more confident in number, valor, and men, yet inferior, conquers, this one has conquered with Christ as judge: nor indeed had he himself done anything cruel in spirit after the wars, and the fury of iron had prevailed nothing after the battle, after arms and trumpets the innocent swords had ceased from the crime of slaughter, and peace was stained with no blood at all. Repeating such things often and praying more insistently, he softened the holy man's rigor by frequent reasoning, so that, forgiving the fault and conquered by zeal, he approached the previously scorned royal table of the feast. Hope exults, now nearer from such a gift. The festive day rejoices to grow bright with a glad gathering.

Noble couches are added, near the royal heights, whose neighboring splendor connects them with honor, men distinguished by their trabeae, holding the judgment of laws and arms, or the rights of the forum or the war-trumpets. Among them, in the middle, where the circle bends, the presbyter reclined. On the right and left, the order of the powerful, with their limbs placed on golden couches, pressed the purple of precious fleece beneath them. On the king’s right, the elder, venerable in his holy countenance, sat down, as Moses, bringing back pious laws, descended from the sacred mountain-top, his changed face gleaming with excessive radiance, when the splendor of his heart revealed itself on his face, and the coverings could not contain the new light. The silent, rejoicing crowd of attendants marvels, and the court, devoted to modest services, vies to serve such a holy man. One care is common to all: the desired office; the reverence for the king is less. Even the king himself, present, prefers Martin to excel. The royal dishes crowd the subject tables; rich purple gleams on the high couches; soft silks sway with crimson dye; and gold, worked without fleece, gleams in skillfully drawn threads, and metal softened into threads is mixed with purple. On the proud thresholds, stretched awnings tremble; at the doors, the mobile curtain of the hangings nods. Everything shines with varied adornment, above and below: ceilings with pigments, floors with marble, roofs with metals. Crystal vessels hold capacious waters, and both the appearance of the shell and the wave seem present, nor would you think the enclosed liquid is contained by the barriers.

Drinks are poured from gems and drunk from gems, amber's mass is distinguished by tawny gold. Art was in the price, the price more precious than art. Some vessels shine with gems, some stand out with engravings, some are rough to the sight but smooth to the touch, and there are platters and gleaming dishes and open bowls. There are fruits of the air and of the grove, of the earth and of the sea. After hunger was removed by the feast, then only the will remained to relieve the parched thirst. The servants snatched up ice and snow-water enclosed in gold; others offered dewy cups. The desire of those asking is anticipated by the care and eagerness of the servants. Then the king orders a hesitant servant to offer to Martin, yielding to his office, while at the same time reversing the order, ardently wishing to succeed to such a holy right hand, so that the cup, more precious by the touch of such a mouth, might infuse the poured liquid with a celestial dew. But a very tiny drop of wine sprinkled the man, scarcely moistening his lips, it failed at the touch. When the king stretched out his right hand to seize the cups, he handed it to his own presbyter, measuring the honor of faith. The merit of the heart, not the king's purple, conquered. The diadem yielded to the faith that was preferred. The onlookers were stunned, their minds fixed in amazement.

hearts of men, and even spurned the king's constancy, pleased more than it was wondrous, nor did the scorch of envy burn him who weighed the burden of such a deed. Who, even great, would dare so much for the sacred right of a priest under a petty judge? Fear did not conquer the steadfast man, nor favor the just man, nor the zeal of a feasting companion, nor the anger of a powerful man. O virtue near to God, thus with heart removed, you are as if far away yourself. To overcome the present world. Nor did he fear, whatever the nourishing spirit had revealed to him, filling his pious innards with a bestowed gift, to steadfastly disclose to the king himself things not to be doubted: the varied outcomes of war, first favorable battles, then soon a sad disaster in another contest. All of which, as his fiery mind saw with pure perception, so did the swift outcome prove them as if seen. For first he routed the king, overwhelmed in battle, then soon the captive submitted his neck to the returning leader. Nor is it wondrous that such a sagacious mind saw, leaving all cares with lofty heart and flying with ethereal sense far above the stars. For often, as he mingled words with angelic speech, faithful monks standing before the doors were amazed. Thus no bodily or transient thing did his body or limbs perceive, and with his mind already enjoying freedom

The weights of the flesh, not at all subdued, harmed him. Even the demon, with whatever face he might try to deceive, stood revealed in his vain effort, clear to see, nor was he allowed to play with changed forms. Finally, when no escape lay open in his deep fear, he breathed out savage venom through raging words, desiring to inflame the unharmed man with snares through speech, to tear with the poison of his tongue what had slipped from his teeth, pouring out futile angers with his movements already broken. Indeed, shaking a right hand dripping with pitiable blood and displaying the crimes of slaughter with a horn, rejoicing in evils with blood and laughing at sorrow, he burst into the holy cell with a funereal murmur, pouring out a Tartarean voice through insolent words: "Behold," he said, "the proofs of madness finally fulfilled. This chance gave arms, I drove this weapon violently, conquering by the service of a beast, but by our crime. The greater the fruit of the crime, that one of yours and your band fell for the solace of our wrath, renewing spent strength with longed-for blood." Immediately he orders all the summoned nobles to visit the cells of the monks quickly with swift affection, lest the deceptive words of the robber

they would at least have spoken truly of their own crime, as is the usual voice of sad defendants when, about to be punished by a harsh torturer, they confess. Then they report that none of the brothers is marked by that sign. He himself immediately counted the entire flock of saints, which, enclosed in the fold, scorned the rage of wolves gnashing at the bars, a flock which the vigilant Martin nourished for the eternal king. Yet, having received a certain payment, one man had departed, to ward off the cold with wood brought by cart. Martin orders that this man be met quickly, believing that he, made a companion to the monks through commerce, had fallen prey to a robber's ambush. No delay, and the present conjecture is proven. Not far from the threshold, as they go out, they see the poor man half-dead, breathing out his last breaths of life. He, however, releasing his languid eyes from death, with a barely stammering murmur from his cut-off tongue, drew a thin voice from his icy chest, explaining the causes of his wound. For a bullock, while the loosened bonds of the harness are tightened, more free with a wandering neck and rebellious against its master, had pierced his soft groin with a hellish horn. After he explained this, he fell silent, his mouth pressed shut.

crime. Then, weary, he laid down his head for death, and a saffron pallor suffused his icy body over face and limbs. Thus he perished. Yet even this end shows us Martin’s merit, for he was so permitted to know the future that the veils of the flesh in no way slowed his swift mind beneath its earthly weight. In vain did the deceitful and cunning enemy try either to conceal his wiles by ambush or to deceive by shapes, wasting all these efforts so often; he dared to counterfeit the forms of false gods and to fashion the likeness of those whose honor he was feigning—now the unchaste face of Jupiter and the fury of Mars, Mercury with false wings bound to his feet, Vulcan with his tongs, Phoebus with his lyre or plectrum, Minerva insane with shield and crests, lascivious Venus, Diana shaking the groves, the sister defiled by unlawful law of the marriage bed, losing the name of sister through her brother’s crime. Displaying such shapes worthy of his own deeds and betraying his own crimes with a feigned countenance, he could in no way slip away, but with his fraud uncovered, the demon, mocked, lost his cunning machinations.

He breathed out his last venom through insolent words, and, unharmed, assailed the man with vices or voice. All this the patient man endured with unmoved countenance, scorning flattery, laughing at insults and abuse, and recognizing the deceitful enemy in both guises. He could be neither harmed by crime nor moved by praise, opposing the darts of words with the signs of salvation and shattering the robber’s weapons by the shield of the cross. Often the impious one, attacking pious hearts with harsh complaints, dared, alas, to reproach the pious man for his love of piety, crying out thus in the presence of many witnesses, so that his deadly words were revealed. “Why,” he said, “if you condemn crimes, do you receive those hateful to the Lord, and, blaming vice, seek fellowship with sinners? Perhaps the deeds of your men are hidden from you, done at my urging, which I have often persuaded and in which I was a great part. Who, I ask, will approve a man hostile to deeds, but equal to those who do them?” He replied: “Serpent swollen with ancient poison, this is not the sentence of the Lord Christ concerning the wretched. He, if he sees that guilt is ended, casts aside his anger, setting no time for punishment except the time of the offense, warning that sins do not remain, forgiving them when ended, gentle toward the past if correction is present, recalling the erring, granting pardon for crimes to those recalled, patient with the perverse, and merciful, calm, and gentle toward those who return.

the life of men, the death of faults, a merciful one to both; he orders the cause of ruin to be the occasion of salvation. Nor would I despair, trusting in proven goodness, that although your crimes surpass all offenses, without which no one commits any sin, and to all who ... mingled with faults. Rightly to mingle with punishments. If you would at least grieve, even late, for your long-committed sins, so that mercy might snatch you from the midst of the flames.' O blessed piety, that anyone should so trust in the goodness of the Lord God, as to dare to promise kindly even those things which he confesses are not promised, while he tries to recall the very author of the crime from his usual offense, removing the sin from its source, and cutting down the hated stock from the first root. But since, striving to sing of frequent triumphs, our murmurs have touched the Tartarean tyrant, and while wishing to recount the series of wars among the titles of praise, we have repeated the name of the enemy, we shall also speak, in the words that Christ has given, of this thing which was done at that time, and which we greatly marvel at. Once, added to the companions of the saints and the ministers of Christ, a young man, both in deed and name Clarus, had placed his cell not far from the holy teacher,

bringing in many brothers to just communities, so that harmonious glory resounded with linked tongues, as a symphony chanted pious hymns in modulated song. A certain young man, deceitful and bearing feigned deceits composed with cunning, and having completely counterfeited the appearance of an innocent, deceiving under the name of a monk, sought entry in the clothing of sheep but with the mind of wolves, breathing ancient venom from a corrupted breast. At first, mixed with the saints even only in body, the pretender acted out the appearance of common life. Later, accustomed to boast of himself with angelic speeches, he had raised his deceitful mind to vain heights, about to fall from the summit of a heart puffed up with pride. Moreover, persuading by wonders, he compelled incautious hearts, as if his merits were already proven by evidence, to believe more in his swollen words because of trivial signs. He even used to boast sometimes of the Lord's own address to him, as if a frequent messenger from the heavenly seat constantly brought news to him, showing great favor in his companion's speech. Nor did he fear to compare himself to the holy prophets, breathing the lying words of a deceitful bandit. And already he had driven many to believe his fabricated words. Only Clarus, with a steadfast heart, repelled the deceitful murmurs from his holy understanding, and although the madman feigned the Lord's anger, he could neither frighten the grave man nor deceive the cautious one.

promising that virtue would be proven through many signs. For, in order that miracles might seize deceived minds, he wished to confound those astounded by such words: "This night," he said, "the Lord, lest the grace which he wished to bestow upon our merits be thought empty, will grant me a garment clad in snowy fleece. When these gifts lie open to your eyes, if you hesitate to believe words, at least believe what you see, and praise the favor easy to behold." Then indeed the watchful expectation turned to such a portent, wondering to what end the order of the predicted novelty would proceed. But behold, at about the time of midnight, when the divided day looks upon both sides not far off, near to the coming and not far removed from the past, the earth shook, a vast crash thundered horribly everywhere, and a fire more terrible than darkness flashed with a terrifying lamp and a false light. Trembling hearts were terrified by the sudden sight. Immediately, therefore, the eager man, more keen by the very success with which the order of the predicted fraud had proceeded, gave a fleece to be touched and seen by a certain person. That person quickly summoned the others, lest the new form of the contrived deceit deceive only one. Those summoned marveled at the garment, conspicuous nearby for its whiteness and purple, and at the weavings yielding gently to anxious hands, soft as the slender threads of the web ran through.

Nor yet could it be known by what fleece it was led, though, when brought near, the cloak shone bright to the eye; but the garment, seen by sight or believed by touch, held a false form in both, once received. Then Clarus urged all with salutary exhortation, that, amid such great wonders and confusion, they should return to the Lord with prayers, since He alone could reveal the hidden tricks and the robber’s deceit, bringing it forth from its own darkness. At once the whole watchful crowd hastens to the sweet melodies of the accustomed psalms and seeks comfort in holy hymns, to drive off sluggish sleep from the roused body, and to overcome the night’s silences with sacred songs. Tears follow the psalms, sighs follow the voice: the heart cries out, even if the tongue is silent; every moment is joined in praise of the Lord, by turn of mind and mouth. Meanwhile, as soon as they see the night’s shadows thinning with the approaching light—when the dawn, herald of the sun, spreads its accepted blush, and veils the wandering stars with saffron dye— they strive to bring the seized one to Martin’s cell, so that, at last, the demon’s deceitful fabrications, scattered and put to flight, might lose their power, revealing the exposed fraud before such a judge. But he, resisting, with danger now nearer, refuses and tries to escape the holy hands that seize him.

She struggled, halting in step and resisting with her voice, shouting that she was forbidden to approach the cell of the blessed Martin and to bring forth that garment from the threshold. Then indeed they press on: trembling betrays the deceit, and pale cowardice reveals the contrived tricks. The image of the garment vanished in the hands of those grasping it, and the apparition, slipping away, left the attentive eyes behind: just as the fleecy clouds of the air, woven from threads, which fill hollow valleys with a feigned flood, when the bright sun raises its orb higher, reveal the bare plains, the scattered darkness dispelled. Nail this trophy too to the cross of the holy Martin, with which you despoil the savage tyrant by means of a feigned garment, tearing apart the lying coverings of an airy web and shattering the floating fleeces of a hollow cloud. Does fury never cease? Do you rise again, though so often crushed? So often losing your efforts, you rush in and fall, and does your audacity set no limit, nor does success drive your purpose? Then, impious one, you counterfeit the face of the Lord, and with shadows you try to deceive the light, thinking that such a form, with contrived shapes, could delude the holy man, though you breathe out a poison that is extreme yet without a wound, and you exhale a spent rage with empty jaws? You do not penetrate the pure mind with your foul darkness, nor do the shadows of clouds block the true sun,

And although you, gleaming with purple and glittering with gems, have placed a false gold beneath your feet with lying steps, accusing the true king with a false diadem, alas, crying out that you, treacherous one, are the eternal Christ, so that, veiled under a pious name, perhaps the impiety that lied about God might lie hidden, persuading the blessed to believe in a deceitful appearance under the guise of a divine enemy and to bend pious limbs in honor of a demon, so that it might make him sacrilegious—alas, a religion wrongly believed to be holy and faith, by believing in merits, would lack faith— and the deceitful cups of poison, wrongly offered, would conceal the dire juice with the sweetness of honey. Spread these snares for ignorant minds, plot these ambushes for recruits, men who have not yet tried to prelude with untried weapons the war trumpets. But he who, accustomed to sweating under arms not as a novice, and to enclosing favorable standards with an advanced rampart, covers his gray hair, venerable, with a helmet earned by service, he who, learned by much experience, will have foreseen everything, carefully examining which places are safe for setting ambushes or which, again, are suspect and to be avoided, with what skill to direct his shield, with what whirlwind his weapon, which titles might capture the king, which crimes might harm him: that man will resist with such constant gravity against all.

by such snares and such great deceit he will guard with reason, lest the enemy, broken by conflicts, accomplish through fraud what he cannot through valor. Flourishing with such strength was Martin a warrior, when the trumpets of Christ overthrew the corruptions of a tainted world utterly. He knew how to recognize the sign of his own king and to trample these pomps in the name of the Crucified. You, with your purple robe, falsely imitate Christ, and with gold and gems, with the foreign thread of the Seres, you adorn this spectacle, wretch—alas, you do not even know how to deceive. Thus, your schemes, so often frustrated, wasting your plans, you dissolve again into thin air and confess your flight by a foul stench. But you, holy man of God, triumph, immovable, steadfast in virtue, to whom you cling in perpetual strength. You have established your character, unconquered against all vices: gentle, patient, just, pious, upright, fair, meek, confident, humble, kindly without bitterness, learned, courteous, approachable, placable, zealous, a holy bishop, a good teacher, a beloved host, admirable for signs, yet the same to be imitated in character, humble in heart, exalted in mind, venerable in both, while you seize praise by fleeing it, you earn it by avoiding it, leading the neighboring people into late fasts under the suns.

and barely, with the most sparing of foods, always the most frugal, relieving his weary stomach without the burden of flesh. Thus was food expelled, thus was the pleasure of sleep cast aside, lest this earthly burden weigh down his wakeful mind, but so that the body might grow accustomed to the light command of the spirit, vigilant in the zeal of prayer and the zeal of reading. These times clung to those continuous cares, and this alone, and rest, pleased him: to exchange labor with another succeeding, unceasing, without end, in praying. Let us all, rejoicing, marvel that even nature yielded to the man. Although some cleric, forgetful of such great honor, had wronged him, neither did he, injured, swell with bile, nor did he ever burn with the love of vengeance, by right of a judge, against his subjects. Hatred did not rouse fury, nor joy laughter, nor grief sorrow. The saint, with venerable gravity, an angelic countenance shone in his reverend body, a face that could reveal the face of his holy heart, and bring forth the light locked in his sacred breast. Always God on his lips, always compassion. He held peace by counsel and by vow. For often he was accustomed to arm the throats infected with the venom of envy with reproaches, and to inflame even the priests themselves with dire bile, so that they would rather tear him apart with their tongues than equal the pious man in deeds. Yet not even thus did anger compel his mind, at least, to the desire of returning the favor. Indeed, he even wept brotherly tears over such a great crime.

He poured forth tears with a wet face, a merciful compassion, beseeching the Lord Christ with a river of tears that he might spare the deceitful words by granting forgiveness. Thus with a heart always steadfast against all wounds, it was not hatred that roused fury, but the cause that stirred grief: like a martyr following the Lord’s footsteps, enduring a savage ruin of stones like a cloud, when he breathed out a thin life from his blessed breast, he demanded that the mad crowd be forgiven their crimes, grieving more for the sins of the people than for the wounds of his flesh. BOOK FOUR. The translation, once begun, had finished the volume it had taken up, running through the pure exemplars of the saint’s book, when suddenly the glory of a hidden history was offered to us, goading the efforts of our vow: not that it might become clearer from my poor mouth what the page of so clear a heart had marked, since the power of words, flashing with living force, would lose its innate vigor, softened by meter. But because not all seek the innermost depths of a clear fountain to be examined, a great part often drinks from nearer streams, neglecting the cold water.

We also, who can produce nothing worthy for the learned, extend murky cups to the sluggish from not far off. Often, too, hisses emitted from a tangled book attempt to equal the blare of trumpets, and one who is accustomed to rest beneath a lofty pine sometimes penetrates the lowly thickets of a willow grove. You also, who desire to succeed from evils to lights, if the path of a distant grove perhaps wearies you, hasten to burst into the thicket offered close at hand. The holy man was proceeding to the threshold of the blessed temple, to bear the accustomed mysteries to the eternal Christ. But behold, a trembling pauper, with the chill of ice, knocking together his wretched teeth with a nodding head, and fitting his hands brought to his pale cheeks, was catching a thin warmth from his breathing breath. A growing icicle was hardening his frequent tears. His voice, too, not fully resounding with tearful words, broken off by weeping sounds and speaking with a groan, was indicating his entire complaint with his cause crying out. These things would perhaps have softened even a harsh rigor; how much less could Martin's already known piety dissemble the misery of this wretched mourner. Immediately he commands the deacon standing by, whom, by the custom of his predecessors, the bishop had chosen as guardian of the sacred chest, to buy, at the Lord's expense and with coins,

He would hasten to fit a garment onto the shivering body. Therefore, what he wished to be done, he left as if already done. Then, entering the secluded dwelling of the cell—which, though he was about to proceed to the sacred mysteries, had also kept the holy man apart from the neighboring crowds—he received the monk, soon to send him forth as a minister. But what do the wretched not penetrate, whom hardship compels to expose the worn-out shamelessness of their brow? What was not open even to the presbyters, destitution broke through, pleading the querulous case of a delayed gift. Then truly compassion seized his entire sense, and it did not please him again to bring the risk of the command. He covered his head with a cloak. Then, with the witness removed, he gradually drew his bent arms back to his limbs, shaking out the gathered garment against his leaning chest. Nor did the naked pauper’s body lie exposed under the clothed one. So swiftly did the outer covering, stripped off, cover him, that the poor man’s hasty wish was anticipated, and he made the recipient, ignorant of the deed, joyful with the gift—hidden from the witness, manifest to the needy. Tell me, you who, spurning the joys of the world, have chosen to seek life by casting aside wealth: who covered the naked with his own garment, himself stripped bare? Who, what he grieved another to bear, himself shunned? Who, wishing to be wretched, restored the wretched by pitying him?

You have surpassed the ancient examples of men, Martin, and yourself as well. You were admirable then in your poor cell, when even a divided portion of a garment remained. Yield to yourself! You have doubled that ancient palm with this service. Meanwhile, as was the custom, the deacon reminds him that the hour for the solemn assembly of the people to be conducted was at hand. He says: "The teaching of the holy prophet must be fulfilled. Let compassion precede the Mass. This is a more pleasing sacrifice. First, covering the naked, fulfill the commandment." Having gone out a little, he again seeks the poor man, but he is not found, nor is he discovered by the offering. "Come then," says the saint, "bring forth the gift: the needy one will not be lacking." Then the other, indignant, throws before the saint's feet a garment bought for scarcely an eighth part of a solidus, woven with knotty threads of bristly fleece. Having moved the deacon aside a little, he eagerly rejoices, confining his precious limbs with such a cheap covering. Thus, heading for the altar, the hero goes forth much more adorned in this attire, like a soldier returning to his king after war, covered in sweat and dust, more beautiful for his titles the uglier he is in his limbs. For the work of virtue surpasses the appearance, as the strength of a deep root outlasts the seasons of the leaves. Nor did a doubtful conjecture soon prove this vow. For while he heaps up pious gifts with solemn entreaty and follows up his vows with immortal sacred words, a flame, gleaming from a bright summit, shone forth.

splendor pouring upon the head, harmless to the hair, stretched upward and raised in a clear line, breaking through the liquid air with a fiery furrow. Continue, glory, driven by the constant rotation of the titles, set in motion by such an easy course of virtues, that, running with reins fully loosened into joys, you undertake what must be begun before you leave what is closed behind. A certain wealthy man, Euanthius, and although bound by the tenacious chains of this world's cares, yet of unharmed faith and a kindly heart, preserving a pure mind from earthly sin, with his marrow deeply eaten away by a violent fever, often shaking his trembling vitals with panting breath and breaking his sighs with a sobbing pulse, a suppliant with a dry tongue in confused murmur, and the plectrum of his voice hindered by the palate's parched glue, often struggling with broken speech to signify his feeling, he begs that the blessed one's coming to him be obtained as quickly as possible by the pitiable ambition of the petitioners, and if either the care of pain or the love of piety urges someone, seeking the remedies of salvation, that he alone approach: Martin's appearance surpasses all cures for renewing the times of life. Nor does delay slow the just man's vow. He believed, by the divinely granted signs of the wished-for things, that this faith was enough. Soon the matter itself proved it.

Hardly had even half the labor been traversed (a great part of the journey still remained) when grace anticipated him as he went. It sent ahead the gifts of hoped-for salvation, a swifter virtue outstripping his slow limbs. The strong man met the physician. Each rejoiced that health, transferred into the heart, followed the healed body, while the cure of the flesh increased through the merits of faith. Therefore, as soon as the cause of all delays was removed, though he wished to return immediately, overcome by much entreaty, he granted the space of a single day, won by prayer. But what was brief in time was ample in miracles: a constrained time is compensated by an unconstrained operation. For a boy, whom a wicked serpent had fatally struck with its bite, infected with the venom’s gall, when the livid poison was already distending his limbs and had deeply drunk even into his vitals, and the serpent’s mad evil, as if death were already accomplished, was dissolving his drooping eyes in infernal sleep—the master himself, bending his pious back to a just labor, carried him to the true patron’s holy footsteps, not doubting, through merits proven by so many proofs, that he who, on his arrival, had put diseases to flight by terror alone could now drive out the poison by his touch.

No delay: the touch of his right hand cleansed the wound with healing, purging the numbed limbs of foul poison; and wherever the holy hand ran over the body, death fled, but life returned. Soon the gathered pestilence withdrew to a single place. Then, at the wound alone, it forced the commanded poison to burst forth at once, and the boy, steadying his steps with fearless effort, ran with unalarmed paces while his master rejoiced. You depart rich with this reward, you receive these gifts, counting the added happy gifts of health. What time was empty of virtues in that very heap? What road did not seek heaven, though a guest on earth? He was surveying the folds of the shepherd flock entrusted to him, with which the pious church enclosed the rural people, lest perhaps the tricks of thieves or the rage of wolves seize the unwary sheep while the guardian was away. Meanwhile, perhaps having left his companions behind for a while, he was making his way ahead, where the public causeway extends its raised mass through the level plains, so that the road, paved and elevated with laid stones, would channel the poured-out rains into the hollows beneath, and the heavy wheel would not sink into a rut on the hard path, nor would the sunken deep swallow the wagons in mud, but the summit of the road's surface would barely be grazed by the spinning wheels, marking no furrow with their tracks.

But the iron, struck from a distance, betrayed itself by its ringing; this Martinus, having gone a little ahead, was doing, when suddenly, as he was hastening, a huge chariot rushing headlong met him face to face, which by chance was carrying men swollen with the terror of military service. No order could compose their frenzy, no reason their insane mind. Ambition, drunkenness, shouting, fury, anger, tumult were mingling their disordered breasts with various monsters, and among the lifeless mules and the trembling drivers, the blows of those beating them resounded, and the words of those shouting. No law of standing still was present, nor did care for danger slow their swift course over plains and over steep places. To such men, therefore, different in habit and in countenance, the saint met them face to face. The mules feared his reverend countenance. Trembling, they gave way from the middle of the road, with a sounder heart on the part of the mule, their trembling bodies entangled in the twisted reins: as once, when the holy people were forbidden to curse, a reading tells that a profane ass scorned its master, pressing down with its leaning body the plant that was crushed. Then truly, their hearts suffused with mad poison, they leap down. Hope of their wish is present, a cause for raging is given: they dare to stretch out sacrilegious right hands against the saint, and vying with each other to strike the pious man with blows, his body.

was striking the innocent, solitary, gentle, peaceful, patient man—who, angry, unstable, many, swollen with rage, furious, meeting him face to face with blows, not even uttering a word—they push, they hold back, they dash him down. His face grows wet with blood, his bruised chest bursts his breath, his throat, blackened with livid bruises, is crushed, and his failing eyes, from the light of Christ alone, make up for the present darkness. His sight fails in the gloom of night, but hope shines in his heart. When the companions saw their master in such a state, the crowd grows pale at the sight of their lifeless patron, stretching out humble hands for support and pressing gentle kisses on his bloodied limbs. Then they hasten to leave the grim place of slaughter. A donkey, subjected, took up the venerable burden, accustomed to carrying its usual load. But with his body bent, the half-dead burden, leaning on his limbs, sways and threatens to fall at any moment, endangering uncertain outcomes. Meanwhile, the men, their hearts sated with rage, returned to the cart. Then, more swiftly, they force the beasts to burst forth in a headlong leap, so that whatever delays had occurred in the deadly slaughter might be immediately compensated by the whirlwind speed of their rush. But they apply these efforts in vain. The beasts, fixed, rebel against the harsh command. The mules, bound, stiffen like statues at the will of their master. Then their rage burns worse in insane tumult. Neither shouts nor whips avail. The blows rebound, bruised.

their groins. They seize nearby woods for beatings—rocks, clubs, stakes, goads—whatever each man’s searching anger turns into a weapon, they consume in blows. Yet these cannot loosen the rigid sinews or move the fixed limbs. You would think they were frozen bronze or figures carved from stone. Finally, with their fury utterly spent and broken, their senseless madness admitted a sane perception, so that they understood that the mules, bound amid so many blows, were numbed by the judgment of God, and that the cause of the delay came to the wretches not without divine will. Then at last, stunned by the marvels and their rage laid aside, mindful of their sin, they ask who that man was who, with his reverend body, received the sacrilegious blows of the strikers. But behold, upon hearing the name Martinus, they fall prostrate, run up, their hair torn and fouled with dust, drenching their cheeks with streams of tears, they entwine humble arms around his blessed feet, begging pardon and confessing their fault together. Nor indeed was the pitiable entreaty of the suppliants long delayed: clemency cut short their long weeping, and the gift of pardon anticipated the prayers of the askers. Without delay, freedom to depart was restored: with a swift word he loosened the reins of the commanded delays. Tell me, what does your king’s swift conveyance accomplish when God delays? Compare the gleaming brows of gems and the bristling coverings of hides, the titles of virtues and the processions of commanders. Then at least, taught by the weight of the saint’s merits, prefer his command to your king’s.

Continue, then, to weave the garlands of virtues in an unbroken line, my Muse, and set forth the priest’s story, and my own talent. Touch with your aid the plectra of my heart or my mouth. Let the mad seize the frenzied Muses, raving, to their wild breasts: let Martin guide me. Such a change of mind is welcome to me; such a fountain my vitals thirst for. Let frantic hearts demand Castalian waters: other cups befit men reborn in the Jordan. Again the holy man began his venerable journey, through the open plains where the walls of Carnutum lie. So here, while he passed through the fertile fields of the countryside, a just wonder filled the neighboring village. Countless people gather from all sides; every sex and age is present. Such great glory of the man strips the fields bare of their farmers. Care for homes is now less. To have seen Martin is enough. This name, even the profane rightly marveled at as a title of praise, and although they had not yet received the virtue of faith, they rushed together swiftly at the fame of so great a teacher. A dense crowd of country folk thronged around him: a just wonder had covered the exposed fields. What fruit of such a harvest of salvation, eager, you would rejoice to store in the entrusted folds,

looking at the empty stalks, devoid of the weight of grain! when suddenly the mother, embracing the lifeless corpse of her son, is present, beating her empty jaws against his vitals and plunging her wailing breast against his icy lips, mingling trembling words among her sighs and watering her pale cheeks with a river of tears. The mind, full of God, perceived the neighboring gifts of a favoring God. Grace quickened the pure sense, so that such a great people might be called to such divine rewards, once the power of the Lord was seen to be invoked. Therefore, as the suppliant mother placed the corpse of her wretched son upon her blessed arms, the limbs began to move, the opened eyes to open wide, and gradually to become accustomed to the infused light, and the tongue, striking the plectrum of the moist palate, to distinguish the voice expressed from the throat into words: and, rejoicing, he sought to hang from Martin’s neck with entwined arms, embracing him, having neglected his mother. Open wide your bosom, enriched by the peoples received, and gladly embrace the added people to yourself, bride of God, snatching the whole world to your vitals. But you, idols, in your wretched tombs, long stinking, finally mourn the triumphs you should have rejoiced in. What hearts did not yield to you, O holy one, when teaching? What savagery was not gentle? When always, even in kings, the obstinacy opposed to your wishes—

the prior mercy of the Lord Christ would soften. But Valentinian, more savage than the rest with the vice of pride and anger, was ruling his terrible throne; and when Martin, as a suppliant, often approached him as his leader, pleading the difficult case under a harsh prince, the king, offended by the constant ambition of the petitioner, lest he repeatedly beat upon his blocked ears with complaints, orders the holy man to be barred from the doors. Repulsed, he abandons the troubled palace of the hostile king, preferring to knock at the eternal threshold of Christ and to enter that court which grants law to kings themselves, confining their times within fixed limits, restraining their stiff mouths with strong bridles. Therefore his whole mind returns to its accustomed rigor, afflicting his thin flesh on his weary body, goading his worn skin with a hairy covering, spending the day in fasting, the night in vigil, and joining both periods with continuous weeping. And if ever his eyes yielded briefly to sleep, the bare ground was enough to support his slight slumber, until Christ, pitying the grief of his holy foster-son, sent friendly comfort to the afflicted one, conveyed through a pious address. For an angel, gliding down from on high, speaks these words of the Lord's command:

Go on, and enter the blocked palace without fear. Nothing is closed to a merciful God; for him to whom the palace of heaven lay open through prayer, these earthly barriers will open. Nor was there any delay: with so great a guarantor of divine favor, his faith was certain. Fearlessly he sought to enter the tyrant’s threshold, which was to be penetrated. The guard of the swollen king and the weapons set for the watches, objects of dire threats, gave way. When the king suddenly saw him from his high throne, he was stunned, astonished at the sight, and, trembling, he looked fiercely at his ministers from his royal seat, threatening them. Meanwhile, to seize comfort as if scorning the saint, he, standing close by, deigned him no honor, and pressed his seated limbs motionless upon the subject throne. But behold, a fire, a terrible avenger sent by divine gift, wrapped the king’s throne and part of him who sat there in a swift, crackling whirlwind of flame. Then at last, leaping swiftly from the fires, he fixed his trembling footsteps with shaken limbs, and, having been forced, gladly restored the honor to the pious man and removed the cause of the petition with a flattering affection, submitting his fierce breast to holy precepts and bending his teachable character to the commanding words. Then he also heaped up royal gifts in ample preparation. But the mind, rich in God, wished to take nothing from the world’s wealth, leaving behind earthly rewards, while storing up the eternal gifts of Christ.

Now because the most humble verses with their plebeian words have burst into the lofty palaces, we shall speak in continuous discourse, as Christ shall grant, of the proud heights of kings brought low by the merits of saints. After, as the page of the book marked in passing indicated, Maximus had purged the crimes of the imposed reign, he prudently strove to preserve the favor he had begun through constant services. For he rejoiced to summon the saint in this way, eager to drink in the irrigating faith from the divine stream of the word, to draw the nectar-like liquor of teaching from the blessed mouth, to learn the titles of the saints and the deeds of the pious—what battles they sweated out in their struggles, what rewards the victors received, what glory awaits the just, what punishment the guilty, how the father’s clemency fosters, how much the king’s sentence affects. As he sought such things, the saint rejoiced with him and unfolded each one, recalling the light and driving out the darkness. Nor was the queen, so great a husband, inferior; she, diligent, surpassed the king in devoted services. Hanging always from the sanctifying mouth of the narrator and scattering the ground with abundant tears, she equaled the merit of that blessed woman who, with her hair, first washed the Lord’s footsteps with tears and dried them. But she considers these things small, girding herself separately with special affection, preparing to serve alone, so that the happy queen, with attendants removed, might set the tables.

Nor did she cease from her prayers, often contending with her husband when he was present, until by her constant weeping and persistent ambition she forced the holy man to yield. She sets out a table, places a stool, and of her own accord brings forth linens for drying hands and water for washing, and the foods she had joyfully prepared in service she herself hastens to bring in conspicuous baskets. And as much as she had labored tirelessly in her duty, she made up for the toil by the constant virtue of standing, gathering the venerable gift of crumbs as the reward for such great work, with which the precious touch of faith would satisfy her holy hunger. O blessed one, by your virtue you prefer these royal treasures to riches, choosing to serve a blessed man rather than to excel over the whole world entirely, referring the honor of ruling to the name of a handmaid. The starry temples gleaming with gems and the silks stiff with gleaming threads, and the gold more precious than purple woven together, did not change your mind. You, O queen, have justly equaled by such faith that woman who, like you in the lofty honor of the throne, came from the ends of the earth to acknowledge Solomon, seeking in herself what she had long since advanced in her heart. You offer the wealth of your heart with the love of a wise word, catching with your ear what you retain with a teachable mind. Thus you have trampled the obstacles of the world beneath you, a woman equaled to the titles of ancient men.

For often in many a contest she conquered invincible kings, only deadly pride refusing the yoke. Rightly, then, did you receive the special gift of the saint, so that, with your harshness softened a little and set aside, the gentle secrets of a starry heart lay open to you. How many waves, though released by a small clearing, did a pious brow mercifully command to subside! How many storms did a gentler breeze calm, and a brief brightness shine through the clouds! How many guilty did this table set free, what chains did a permitted little liberty loosen, how many fetters did a brief hour of relaxed strictness shake off! For time, person, and place stand by wise counsels and govern the mind with sudden reason. Nor should you, envious one, put forward the names of the female sex: not the limbs, but the hearts will prepare merit. Nor is nature lesser in a person when grace is equal, nor does race, sex, and age differ in merit of faith— man, woman, slave, free, foreigner, and heir. The merit of the believer prevails, not the glory of the flesh. Finally, what this sex merited through faithful zeal I have learned, and I wish to touch upon with brief signs; this I will unfold in whatever speech Christ will grant. While the venerable saint was making his blessed journey, as day drew toward night, he sought nearby shelter, and, received under the roof of a rejoicing village, he hastened to the sanctuary of the holy temple.

And here, as always, a guest of the blessed threshold, he allowed his weary body to rest a little, relaxing his failing eyes with a brief and scanty sleep, so that, renewed by even a short and moderate slumber, his very slender limbs might suffice for the unceasing toil and bear up his vigilant mind through its supports. But when he had passed the darkness and the light shining from the night, after all the works were solemnly performed in haste, he again set out on his journey in haste. Then indeed the faithful band of maidens, whom holy virginity had consecrated to the Lord, untouched in flesh and chaste in heart, lest the fragile corruption of the flesh press down to earth the mind hastening to the heights of heaven, burst rejoicing into the inner chambers of the saint, blessed by the pious hospitality, and drew in the fresh breezes and absorbed the infected air with their breath. Then with humble reverence they adore the teacher's seat, and with the duty of the mouth they hastily mark each place which the feet of the standing one touched, which the limbs of the reclining one touched, which the blessed food hallowed, which the seat pressed, or which was placed beneath the prostrate limbs of the one praying. But when they beheld the blessed straw of the bed, warmed by the pious body, they tried it, and a violent modesty vied for the discovered prize, as each woman snatched a part for herself, and with their bosoms filled, the light stalks of straw pricked their compressed breasts and repelled the thin garments from their stimulated chests.

What would true faith not accomplish? There was a certain maiden of the virginal cohort, chaste in heart no less than in body. When a demon, by violent right, was forcing a wretched man to break out into commanded frenzies, shaking sound sense from his captive breast, she, trusting in the help of God and the merit of the patron, wisely squandering a portion of the seized prey, thrusts hay into the jaws of the wretched man and hangs the pressed hay, blessed by the body, around the neck of the raging man. Without delay, at the touch, the terrified enemy immediately flees the dry stubble as if from savage fires, unequal to the stalks of hay that had touched Martin's body. And yet, though so often crushed and so often put to flight, you dare, mad one, to meet him in changed forms, to try the proven man, to bring your eyes before the reverend one, and, hiding your appearance, to show your fury. For, sitting on the back of a beast, shaking the leaping animal with frenzies and plunging yourself into its entrails, you had driven out the nature of the beast with deadly rage. Or when you pressed the back of a captive heifer, so that it might bear, not only in body, the monster placed upon it, you filled it with madness infused through its possessed limbs and adapted its service to the movements of a bacchant, scattering bloody dew from its shaken head, while red drops run across its light temples and fiery horns precede its angry forehead, and it exhales, with difficulty, frequent alternating breaths, and stirs up a dusty cloud with its bent knee.

and the trembling foot scatters fine sands upward. Indeed, among the scattered, frenzied throngs, the heifer, gentle at the sight of the saint once its rider was driven off, stood still and, having cast off its burden but recovered its mind, joyfully joined the companion herds. Cease now, at least, to immerse yourself in the flocks of Christ, after the saint left you no rights even over beasts. We yield: the glory of the virtues surpasses the trembling words of the speaker, being more revealed by clear deeds than by sounds to be uttered by the tongue. Let obscure poets set forth things into light by speaking: we are overcome by the light of praise and, oppressed by such splendor, lie hidden. And would that our night might grow somewhat less dark through contact with such a bright patron, lest we cover the light of history with a darkened heart and the sins of the speaker diminish the title of praise. What heart was not calm before the saint, what rebellious anger, what ferocity was not gentle? The Molossian hounds felt his command, when, with the hunt ranging across the open plains, the playful youth rushed about, seizing with swift leap either level or steep ground. The swift horses were drenched with much sweat and breathed out thin air through their wide nostrils. The hoof resounded with a terrifying, rapid beat, leaving behind a dusty cloud in swift tracks. Nor was the so swift course of the horses enough. Their hanging chests equaled their prone foreheads,

so that the delay of the hoofed beasts would slow the wishes of the riders, and the motion of the drivers would pass beyond the course of the mounts. The eager Molossian hounds vied to equal the winds, and to fulfill the frenzy of the spectators by their zeal to conquer, and from afar their hanging tongues, with open throats, shook with trembling, alternating breaths. This great labor, this expense—to what end, alas? What fruit or what utility is there in catching fleeting little beasts and rejoicing in the fearful flight of hares? You wisely scorned such madness, Martin, pitying the sad plight of the innocent, making the gaping mouths of dogs and their trembling steps grow still. Now if he had perhaps relaxed his constant severity, with which he used to relieve the cares of his companions by the salt of his words and refresh their attentive ears a little, he was shrewd with gravity, witty with piety, sprinkling the virtue of his heart with the flower of charm. Seeing a swineherd covered with a garment of skins, he said: "Behold, another Adam! Such a covering veiled the naked parent, wrapping his cold limbs, and providing small comforts for his new shame, after the deadly poison of Tartarean venom, when the slippery body, deceived, perceived the hissing. But for us, utterly stripped and utterly buried by old sin, new grace now veils us." The same man, smiling, looked at a sheep from which the fleece had been plucked. Then immediately from there

Taking up from the deed itself examples for teaching, he says: "See that a lowly shepherd has fulfilled a command. From his twin garments he gave one to the beggar, unwilling to keep the former when the other was growing in its place. But how shameful it is for us to yield to a brute beast, if it surpasses us in generous wealth by being more munificent." On the other side, the backs of the meadows lay open, distinguished by different conditions. One part had endured voracious swine, and the green color had been lost, the backs blackening with upturned clods. Another part, shorn by the grazing of cattle, had been laid bare, the turf gnawed away, saddened by the hungry and greedy mouths of oxen, which had stripped away the covering of the fertile earth, while the dewy grasses are cropped with wide bite, drawn to the curved jaws by the roughness of the tongue, which, licking ahead, gathers the tender herbs so that the avid teeth may cut down the dense fodder. Nor had the hoof, pressing and striking repeatedly, crushed the green shoots any less. Another part, the field flourishing with unharmed turf, nature adorned, arranging it with varied beauty. The green grasses rippled with a gentle breeze, and a light wind moved the stirred plants. Moreover, countless flowers lying across the plains painted the level surfaces with inserted gems, distinct. Some, dyeing with rosy purple, were tinged with red, while others shone with snowy whiteness, among which, distinguishing the grasses with saffron marks, the golden grace of yellow flowers gleamed.

The purple drops bend the gem-like buds, and the dewy beads of amber bow the grasses. A gentle fragrance, striving to rival the pleasing color, mingling joys of equal forms in shared delight, fed the sight with its appearance, the nostrils with its breath. The sparse leaves offered welcome shade, and the azure branches swayed, interlaced. The birds, hidden in the foliage, vied in singing, modulating their whistles with sweet-sounding tongues. A pure stream fed the neighboring herbs and, brushing the grass with its flowing moisture, cherished it. Beneath, the transparent pebbles, visible to the penetrating eye, rippled the glassy waters through the smooth obstacles, nor could the submerged beauty be hidden from sight, the form being both visible through the water and covered by the stream. Why do I attempt to describe these forms with my rustic speech? These things cannot be expressed in words, which the grace of nature, better portraying them by the gift of Christ, has painted. Beholding this beauty, then, marked by its varied form, Martin says: "Compare for a moment the individual places of a grazed, dug-up, and untouched meadow to the crime of harlots, or to wives bound by a lawful covenant, or to virgins who vow their holy bodies to Christ, adorned with the gems of rosy modesty. Just as there the beauty does not remain in a dug-up field, so, when forgotten through vices, the image of Christ does not shine. Just as here the root remains safe, but the grass is cut, so for wives faith is safe, but without the flower of modesty.

The color and sheen smile in the flowering field. Thus the pure glory of the bright flesh will shine.' While he was giving such clear proofs of his vigor, a certain monk, attentive and always intent on divine rewards, approached him—a man who had gained this name through neglected military service, who, after the trumpets and war-calls of battle, had preferred to surrender himself to the standards of the true king, better following the sacred banners of the holy cross. Moreover, he had drawn his partner from the marriage bed to the communities of life, commanding his companion to be among the holy virgins, releasing the claims of the marriage bed or of the flesh. But when wanton, revived pleasure began again to goad his mind and deeply implant in his marrow the despised mortal joys of the world, he desired to relax his barely tasted austerity, returning again to the embraces of marriage and the vows, renewing the name of husband after the titles of monk. Indeed, he even began to assail the teacher with frequent uproar, mixing such complaints with his prayers: 'If Christ grants me the comforts of marriage, deigning to join the different sexes in the marriage bed, who will snatch from me the gifts of God? Who by a new law will dare to overturn the ancient law of the Lord?' As he poured forth such murmurs with a hasty mind, the healing remedy of the holy patron gently approached him:

Say, if you recall the times of your past life, did you ever clash with a fierce enemy in close combat? Since you remember that this happened very often, consider this: whether among the trumpets or the war clarions, the javelins hurled by terrifying arms, the drawn swords, and the silken banners swelling with wind, imitating the coils of serpents or the wrath of war, did the female sex ever disgrace the battle lines? What place have distaffs for shields, what place have girls for arms? Was the light sprinkling of dust on faces ever fitting? But if these things are not suitable for earthly camps—that anything feminine should befit the standards of men—will not the mingling of the despised sex be even more shameful for you, who wage war with sweat close at hand? In a time of idleness, such wanton pleasure may find a laughable chorus. But when the battle lines of men hasten to the fields and the iron-clad columns gleam, let the walls defend the female crowds; let them, distrustful of arms, strive to shut themselves behind gates. He who hastens to war should scorn comforts.' With such words he healed the wounds of the unbridled mind, and gave new joys to the composed heart, and sent the warlike man back to war with peace. But who could worthily recount how much patience adorned such a teachable charm? Perhaps among the holy maidens, both in heart and in flesh,

perpetual and always precious flowers of modesty, which virginity, dedicated to Christ, had joined to the Lord by a bond of the mind, not by a covenant of the flesh, and which had surpassed all virtues by a certain zeal of study, adding this special honor to the titles of modesty: that, once removed from the eyes of all men, she preserved the begun rigor with a constant heart, nor did she, a woman, waver with an unstable, fickle mind, overcoming by the weight of virtue her inborn sex and the scarcely rare examples of men who had gone before. The just admiration of this resolve impelled the holy man to approach such a one, rightly venerated, drawn by so great a flower of virtues in the girl. But the faith already devoted to the Lord remained so fixed in her constant breast that the barriers of modesty, fenced by men, preserving the titles of a clear palm, could not be opened even by the merit of so great a patron. Yet he did not blush at the votive repulse; rather, the faith rejoiced in the resolve, and he, kindly, counted as his own honor all that had brought hope, attending more to the gains of the soul than to the joys of the flesh. What part of your breast, O ambition, inflated by the insane wind of pride, will you snatch from him, from the holy man? Now lie utterly prostrate. Christ can have nothing in common with vices. Those who swell with praise desire to exalt themselves. He sufficiently approves himself who wishes to lie hidden, who scorns the heights of the world,

than to the Lord alone, to whom he pays the honor he avoids. But you who would rather be cheapened for Christ than praised, you also add this judgment to your blessed titles: by avoiding praise, which you flee, you earn it by avoiding it. BOOK FIVE. Now that I have once spoken in praise of so great a patron, why, my tongue, do you fall silent, shutting up the uncouth murmurs of your voice and your untaught sounds in long silence? If it is shameful to speak of such great things, this law should have been set for modesty earlier. You try to stretch these veils too late over a brow already too much worn. But if you are held by the vile torpor of idleness, so that the gloomy image of dark death may depart, shake off the languid sleep from your oppressed breast, so that, with death shaken off, you may rise again, vigilant, to Christ. If you lie prostrate by your own fault, trust in your patron. Why do you, guilty of punishment, tremble, when you are guilty of a vow? Therefore, go on and entrust your extinguished embers to the Lord, so that the stiffness of your talent may grow warm with Christ breathing upon it, and Martin's prayer may melt the ice of your heart.

and make the mute voice burst forth as soon as possible, as once a similar deed merited miracles. The walls of Chartres lie in the open plains, and Gaul is spread far and wide with vast fields; here a girl who had been silent for twice six years, blocked and unable to open her mouth with any speech, the saddest care of her grieving parents, increased their constant sorrow by living, and the wounds of grief grew with the passage of time. Alas, how often they grieved that the gifts of power granted to others by God had perished for them, when they often saw little ones barely crawling burst into words and broken names come forth from tender lips, when a doubtful murmur, anticipated by affection, marked it, recognizing an uncertain voice with an interpreting love, catching sounds as if spoken and snatching up things to be said. This gift, which after the first cradle is granted to others, a rival affection had mourned for twice six years, when, grieving for twin lustra and two years, she wished for a first voice at the time for marriage: until, clinging and attached to Martin's knees, the lifeless father, with tearful and pitiable face, would add the whole complaint revealed by his groans, drawing sighs from the depths of his chest, breaking into a tearful murmur with frequent sobs, and drenching his wet breast with a shower of tears. And already the love of his accustomed piety had shaken Martin's kindly mind. But the cause of delay was his concern for probity, the care for precious modesty.

and always join modesty with illustrious deeds, lest boasting destroy what merit has conferred, and presumption of heart vitiate the work of virtue. Therefore he says: 'I consider myself unworthy of so great a miracle, and with trembling neck I dread the burden, which I, being weak, cannot bear, lest the too great weight press me down and I, infirm, labor under the excessive load. But for Christ no cure is difficult, who rightly entrusts these signs to other ministers, so that the Lord's miracles may reveal the merit of the saints. Behold, two men stand here, illustrious in probity, faith, and virtue, whom such a life has rightly raised to this place. Will not the Lord's medicine give to them more readily what exceeds our great merit, but is not arduous for the saints?' Often repeating such words of a modest heart, and by refusing merit proving himself more worthy, he shows that precious modesty accompanies his other virtues, and he who fears to compare himself flees envy. Seeing this, the father more vehemently urges the saint, also joining to his prayers those whose faith he had said was to be chosen, lest it be permitted to delay what a pious will, with Christ inspiring, and the grace of a concordant right of equal authority had urged. Therefore, the crowds having been removed, lest the confused murmur of the people disturb him when he received the prayer, or boasting display its own powers, he joined only those companions whom the height of honor had made his equals and who had an equal care for praying.

by equal zeal, by connected faith, by joined will. And the trembling father is added, whom the gifts of Christ made more faithful by the vows that made him more eagerly desirous. Then, with mind raised high, but body prone, placing the holy heart above, but the limbs below, he lies in flesh, but thrives in mind. The mind, joined to God, ascends on high; the boastfulness of the flesh is pressed down. Thus a dissimilar path is joined to a harmonious act; thus the humble hasten to where the faithful have gone before. Without delay, the saint, accustomed to such signs, perceived the familiar tokens of favor, rejoicing constantly with Christ as his guest, often opening the doors of his heart to such gifts. Then, blessing, he ordered oil to be brought forth, infusing the offered liquid with the nectar of his words, through which medicine came in a transformed fluid. After it was poured into the girl's grateful mouth, immediately the bonds of her tied tongue were loosened, and, filling her moistened throat with sudden breath, a sweetly murmuring voice, the long-awaited speech, revived. And first he bade her trembling speech to mark her father's name with uncertain sounds. This was her first voice, and from her first speaking mouth the father snatched it and buried the heard sound in his heart. Then, prostrate, he falls at the saint's feet with his limbs, and, suppliant, embraces his knees with outstretched arms. And he who alone had offered prayers while the girl was silent, now repays thanks to the Lord with more than one voice.

Nor indeed is the admiration for the other deed lesser, of which I recall the infusion of the medicated juice and the blessing of the chanted oil. That oil, whenever the help of piety demanded its medicinal aid, sanctified unequal causes with equal grace. For, as the faithful often do with cautious heart, they fill a vessel with oil for vows of preserving health, and either offer it to just men or store it in holy places by religious devotion—places where either the present working of martyrdom reveals the merited patrons by their power, or where manifest faith or reading discloses that the Word came into the blessed cradle, or where, cutting short the times of contiguous light, the dreadful crime of a savage people, shuddering, inserted sudden night amid the poured-out darkness, or where the happy hollows of a burst rock rejoiced at the touch of a lawless tomb of God, soon to be subjected to rising limbs, or where the blessed earth, rejoicing at the stars, received the last footprints of Christ now returning, which, preserving the gifts of such a holy touch, whatever the right hand devised for ornament, scornfully cast far from its sands, breaking the fragile wickerwork with transfused dust and dissolving the enclosures of stretched metal: in these places very often, to which this vicinity grants it, they set out the peaceful liquid in pure vessels, to be changed by the nectar of dew poured from above,

where the celestial grace flows into the holy juice. And those whom the intervening spaces of long roads, far removed, hold back in a distant region, believing that the Lord is not confined by the limits of places and that the help of the merciful exceeds all boundaries, with unhesitating faith demand the present gifts of the present Lord, who, for the sake of the power of favor, does not weary the prayers of those coming to him from afar, but touches those who pray everywhere, even those brought near, and does not avoid the slow, but stands closer to the swift, and the end of the journey becomes the sole effort of the traveler. Those who bear this in their heart, wherever they are called, have the gift of the Lord, whether they entrust their vows to holy men or store whatever is to be sanctified in consecrated places. Christ, whom he did not approach in his holy body, covers with his power, although he has long since returned to the heights of heaven and reigns in his body. Often revolving these things within herself, spurred on by faith, surpassing the fragile sex by the power of faith, a woman of not womanly but lofty heart, believed, when she offered the holy oil sent forth, that the piety of the neighboring minister would favor her prayers with Martin praying, no differently than if, swiftly carried by rapid flight, she were to bear her vows into the very tomb of the Lord, embracing the banner of the cross and the wood of salvation. Filled with such faith, with glowing diligence she poured the green oil into a glass vessel with careful hands. The descending liquid changes its snowy color, and flowing silently into the hollows beneath with a gentle slip, it grows by the gradual increase of the shining liquid,

and the sound, falling silent, swells with rich substance. Yet so that the empty throat would open to the barrier, and the jar would not wobble, too full with the flow, where the rounded neck rises from the base, a wide opening of the still-empty mouth remained. Then the boy, taking the oil, hurried to the saint, bearing both the prayers and the words of the suppliant. Nor does the work of piety delay. Swift grace commends the just man’s zeal, lest by delaying it put off the faithful or a brief hesitation make the favor doubtful. And at once God, through the granted signs, proved how great a gift the present blessing would confer, lest faith perhaps waver with trembling mind. The men present were amazed (whom Christ had ordered to be present as chosen witnesses to such great miracles) that the liquid had so increased with Martin praying, that the rising wave of the swelling, lifted upward, filled the empty part with its suspended flood, and thus, hastening continuously to the top, it would not leave the bottom, it would seethe overflowing, settle and remain full, increase from what was poured in, but not be emptied by what was received: until the joyful servant, carrying the blessed gifts back to the lady, would go forth exulting, and the right hand of the blessed man would offer the merit, rejoicing at such great signs. Such was the holy blessing of the famous prophet, when the widow had finished her meager supply with lavish expense, and the empty vessels were filled with lasting gifts, so that, what the proofs of faith had given generously, she, richer from the expenditure, would be secure in what she had sought.

Nor indeed, as I fear to touch upon the other praises and virtues of the man, shall I at least be able to recount these, in which a similar blessing of the liquid worthily demands the panegyrics of a manifold voice. The faith is one, the remedy frequent: the action does not differ, but the number differs, equal in signs, different in gifts. A witness is present, the admirable Severus, learned in speech and following Christ with all the strength of his heart, illustrious by the titles of the world, but more illustrious by that virtue of holy faith with which he spurned the world, powerful in nobility, but far more noble by the worship of Christ than by the birth of blood. This man, compressing the sacred canon and the writings of extended history, enclosed everything in twin books, whatever he had run through from the first ages. The same man, unfolding the titles or deeds of Martin, a cautious investigator of truth and a faithful reporter, brought forth into the midst the insignia of so bright a life, thus holding a just balance with an equal examination, so that he would neither assert doubtful things in speaking nor be silent about certain things. This man very often piously adhered, associated with the saint, as in a mirror the perception of a kindred mind is wont to unite similar figures of character. By which it is more to be believed that the witness is more proven, who teaches things learned in person, since he speaks of things seen. Therefore, among other things, he sought proofs of affection, that he might receive the special gift of the liquid from the saint. After the blessed man faithfully gave it to his friend

rejoicing in the assistance of virtue, the monuments of favour, he brought into the house along with the religion of faith, believing that he was conveying the granted salvation to himself, and he placed it in a high part of a lofty window, where the stretched windowpanes close off the pure daylight, facing the blasts of the winds and permeable to light. Here he covered the snow-white flask with the veil of a pall, so that the stretched linens would keep away wandering glances, meeting the eyes, but not barring the minds. But a boy, ignorant of the haste of the rushing right hand, while he snatched the coverings with incautious effort in his hurry, dashed the glass vessel against the underlying marble. The servant, pale, stood aghast as the master grew pale, and the sound returned to the heights with a rapid pulse, and the wandering murmur, filling everything at once, struck itself at the top, rose from the bottom. The flask, struck, did not feel such great crashes, and the glass coverings remained unharmed. Thus the inner liquid, enclosed in a fragile covering, hardened the outer hollow drum of the crate, so that you would think the marble had been completely changed into feathers, having received that fall through soft supports. Thus your merit, Martin, thus the grace of the perpetual, sanctified piously, receives, blessed, protects. A certain man, when the savage violence of a dread Molossian hound rushed in, shaking its jaws with a furious throat, drawing back its wrinkled nostrils from the covering of its mouth,

striking his bared teeth together with a constant grinding sound, terrified by such sudden fear, not by a club nor a blow, but by the name of Martin alone he closed his rabid mouth. As soon as that name resounded, the compressed barks stuck fast, the erect manes fell, and the fierce, threatening eyes, with their bloodshot flames, closed, having laid aside their threats. Then he more gently soothed his ears, swept the ground with his twisted tail, and lowered his head, bending his neck forward. What, Martin, do not your merits yield even to fierce beasts, when you overcome such rage by your name alone? Why now should we marvel that the hearts of savage men yield and grow gentle toward you in human emotions? As once men were amazed that the cruel power and harsh authority of Avitianus yielded to you, Avitianus, to whom excessive ferocity was joined, and whose sole pleasures were the hoof, executioners, torturers, whips, chains, the death of men, the voice of mourners, the pallor of the accused, the devouring prison, the destruction of the confessed, the torments of the denier. A most savage beast of a Tartarean heart, breathing countless slaughters from his furious breast, raging with inhuman ferocity, had entered the city, which the holy bishop Martin ruled with honor. The unhappy line of pale, wretched prisoners clung to him, bound by chains around their squalid necks, rattling the clanking fetters on their broken limbs.

and its movement; with slow steps, his chest bent low. Such spectacles Falaris was leading for Martin, preparing diverse slaughters for the nearby benches. The rabid crowd of Furies' ministers hastened, vying to seek out instruments for savage punishments. They brought forth little vessels from Tartarean flames, in which, with the enclosed fierce heat of vapor, melted pitch would feed the crackling of a cruel fire, which, overflowing from a distance in a gulf of deadly flame, would roast the body, caught in a sulfurous cavern. Others, with maddened hearts, prepared the wood of beams stretched upward (a grim ministry), so that flesh, quickly hanging loose from distended limbs, would expose torn limbs to be tortured by the torturer, drenching his Tartarean right hand with the wretch's blood and scattering gory gore through frequent wounds. And so that the same punishment might satisfy a twin fury, the striker shook the torn limbs of the body, shattering the bonds of the joints by breaking the limbs. Others brought torches and, with much oil, soaked the long-woven bonds of papyrus, not so that that light might overcome the scattered darkness, distinguishing the night with flowing fire, but so that a funereal fire might kindle the wretches, fixing burning flames to their torn limbs. Should these things have been seen in Martin's city, and a peaceful mind pierced by such a wound, so that at least this report might touch his holy ears, or even a mere rumor shake his pious heart?

Therefore, as his mind was struck by the funereal preparation, a messenger scattered the savage signs of the tyrant's dreadful schemes beforehand throughout the neighboring area; just compassion ran through all his marrow and spread the swift flame of piety's warmth. And although the recollection of human misfortune would compel one to weep for the wretched deaths of the guilty, moved by clemency, no lesser cause of grief was present: that the same one who was the patron of the crime, the avenger of the offense, would first make himself guilty by punishing the guilt. A thicker darkness had enveloped the covered world. Welcome rest had spread a gentle slumber through all the elements, and everything languished in damp sleep, and the murmurs of silent voices were hushed. The excessively deep silences of midnight were terrifying, and the darkness, infused with its own color, had covered everything, snatching away from all things their distinctive shapes. But Martin had no care for seizing rest; rather, holy vows for human salvation stood by, with affection goading his mind. Therefore, with urgent step, he seeks the furious threshold of the bloody judge. He goes alone, intrepid, through the dark silences of the vast night and the hidden, obscure paths. I believe, indeed, that all the bands of shades, which the evil demon incites to nocturnal crimes, gave way, and that other dread Molossian hounds fell silent, their terrifying bark checked at the entrance. Therefore, when he arrived at the obstructed threshold of the dreadful judge and the deadly enclosure of savage fury,