De Machabeis

A corrected copy of the same poem. MARIUS VICTORINUS THE AFRICAN, OF CONSULAR RANK, A MOST LEARNED POEM ON THE MACCABEES. [FIRST EDITED BY JOANNES SICHARDUS.] There was once a very wealthy king, Antiochus of Syria, in whose kingdom a mother and her seven sons are said to have lived, born, as the story relates, from a holy race. Constant care of their lineage bade them remember, and to serve the law that was given; for thus, of their own will, the better people held fast to God's laws. The king, eager to change their faith, to change their fear, wished, and in order to mingle them equally with the wicked populace, he offers rewards to the mother, offers them also to the sons, and everything that his whole kingdom could search out, if they would change their minds and former sentiments, and compel their sons to fashion for themselves other habits. She refuses, and suppresses her silent grief deep in her heart. After no bribe could compel her, he first tried to overcome her with savage tortures. Yet she endured the groans, and did not fear the king's harsh scourges. When he saw himself defeated, "Alas, what shall I do?" he said, "I am conquered. Why say more? Though you grieve, you will not escape; there is more: you will grieve more. I will vent my savagery on your sons, even if you persist in your stubbornness.

By this reasoning, I shall surely heal my grief. She raised that hand, and looked up into the high heavens, sent forth groans, and spoke these words: Though you hand over treasures and kingdoms, tyrant, we are not captured by the gifts of kings, nor will gifts snatch away the promises of God from the saints. That hope is more certain, which promises us life for a long time. This I follow, this I have learned: not to touch slippery kingdoms. It is easy to take up riches, and to lose life. But even if you threaten flames after savage beatings, you can change nothing. In our earliest years we received virtue given with the law. It is certain for me to leave behind whatever you savagely order. As for your now ruling over my children, this alone you will be able to do: to disturb a mother with fear. For I have God as my hope, I have the certain hope of my own, through whom I now hope that you can conquer no one. *Heaven favor us, and the parent of heaven, we ask you justly. King Antiochus rages, and troubled hearts swelled; he shakes his savage face, testifying with his eyes. And he marvels long that a woman can do so much. *"Soldier," he says, "obey the king, and likewise, attendant, you servants obey me. Give the raging evil of a woman the torments of a kingdom. A woman compels me to rage; what is more, a woman conquers the commands of her own king. But she has not spoken with impunity. Let her perish limb by limb. For the treacherous woman holds seven sons within the kingdom, of whom the one who is considered first, let him perish first. Let all perish thus in order.

They placed them on wicker frames and set them to burn beneath, so that she herself might see her own, so she might see her harsh children, and what punishment awaits each; the servants must be swift. Meanwhile, the fertile mother, her hair already loosened, stood by, as if urging them on. Already with bared breast, extending her breasts, the nourishment of her children, she stood not confused. And when she saw her son advancing toward the fires with an unsteady, timid step, she said: "You, my offspring, you first, look back at your mother; you now are truly mine. Remember me now, my son; I bore you first; now imitate your parent, take on my ways. And conquer the king by silence; you will be able to endure long; thus you will conquer the treacherous times. Let not the king's violence overcome the holy ones. Use my counsel; do not fear the king's punishments; it is stronger than that stone and more powerful than it itself. Enter as a young man; patiently conquer the pain." He, now turning his face to his mother, now lifting it high, and while he is silent, and silently asks whom he ought, and prays, he did not feel the swift fires placed beneath the wicker frames; his body was empty. The mother rejoiced in her grief and said: "I have conquered; I will conquer if I pray more often. Let the virtue of my sons, unknown to the king, endure. But now it is known to God, who knows the hearts of the people." She had finished the grief of the first birth, but with fear remaining for the many, the mother was anxious, yet she dissembles, lest joy touch the king. King Antiochus is stunned. He does not believe that the following ones can...

of punishment of such a kind to overcome her sons. She ordered what had been begun to be completed. The mother remained undaunted. But when she saw her son standing pale, she turned over in her mind, already partly relieved: "Behold, a second childbearing is brought forth for me in a new age. How like his brother in handsome chest, if you follow the footsteps of my first childbirth, you can be mine. And thus restore your salvation, which your brother already has, by following your mother's precepts. Be mine. And despise the threats of the raging king. And the kingdoms, each small, having brief times, are given. After this, that king will not be able to harm you. Behold, a light fire is kindled and forced upon you; it is a place for virtue. Put aside your fainting fear. Take up the character of our race, if sense remains in you. This one who holds the scepter, who rages in this kingdom, compels empty time; he created both kingdom and life. And he, guilty, will suffer eternal fires when condemned; you will be secure. With a crowd of the pious accompanying you, receive my countenance, my son, and look to heaven, and to God the author, through whom a better life is prepared for you. Tread in the footsteps of your brother. Do not listen to what the king orders, but what God commands." As he was, warned, he looked at his mother and heaven, stood still, and with a joyful face began to despise the king, and laughing, rushed into the burning fires. And having collapsed and lying there, with his soul prevailing, he rested. When the mother saw this, she spoke with a stern face:

happy in some part. Now you see, nor can you, cruel tyrant, overcome all my sons by slaughtering them. A heavier punishment now awaits you, cruel one, which you will suffer shortly in the fire: for God here sees everything. Already two remained secure, having despised the King; the mother’s hope was better. Now the third stands—behold, the place of punishment. If it is punishment to conquer the King and serve God, it is praise, not punishment, for the raging one. The third youth is dragged forward at the tyrant’s command, for the madness within and the wrath raged equally, not yet healed, because he had seen the fearless hearts of the brothers overcome the King’s fury. He stood before the feet, a youth in his blooming years, outstanding in form, worthy to hold kingdoms, more worthy than Antiochus, and thus following better realms by God’s will. The mother speaks such words to him: “Take, my son, secure, your parent’s words. Take them; do not sluggishly render the honor of virtue. Your brothers already remain in the seat of piety; a better place now exists than the King’s falling kingdoms. If you touch their own feelings in your heart, you will be borne as victor among the peoples, having overcome the King, just as fame has already sent your brothers into all things. Come here, I beg you. These things are fitting for one who grieves: to have despised the crime and to abandon the laws of the untamed King, whom no pleasure awaits after these things.” But the youth sent forth his voice with a silent murmur.

like one praying, he stretched his palms upward. And with knee bent, he imprinted on his mother's face—where the gaze of the body was allowed, where the crowd held—that, once admonished, he mounted the gridiron onto the fire intrepidly, and with sure faith placed his limbs. And the holy soul that remained departed inviolate. The flames had subsided, the warm ash remaining; the earth, opened wide, received his body unharmed. But the mother, doubting, wondered whether to take up groans or joys. She hesitated, and spoke thus in a plaintive speech: "What now, cruel one, do you prepare? We obey your commands, all of us; but let no guardian of the offspring snatch away the gifts—but even if you yourself wish, I will not suffer, tyrant: for let all perish equally in such a contest, even if you yourself change your terrible punishment in time, and the same harsh sentence for my holy sons—but you prepare heavier threats, if there are heavier ones, and you see my face held in horror, how often you would rejoice in that part." But the king himself burned more fiercely, seized with swift anger. And he thought it contemptible, nor that the crowd of brothers should bear punishments like the others. He sensed that the mother sought this—harshly, to bring a fourth son to destruction. He almost turned his hand; for the weary ministers could bear neither the king's furies nor the king. O shame! He blushed to show his face to his mother.

born, and with a stunned mind began to be confused. After she saw him standing with downcast eyes, she approached him with such words, a warning to the fearful one: “From the first, the fourth birth to me, the fourth from the bottom, these words now for you. What can I say, my son? Only this, that hardened power may be with you together with virtue, and the author of holy origin. We owe that king whatever we are asked. He gave us Abraham with holy seed. Through him nobility, through him every race is proven, which remains in the Lord. Holy is Isaac who is born. Then, when old age could hope for no offspring of its own accord, because Sarah remained barren. Yet she gave birth, and the beginning of the family’s propagation, from the unexpected, remains for you: Sarah’s grandsons, Esau and Jacob, led into one fatherland. Whom Rebecca bore as twins through prayers, from here we are. From here we originate. This lineage, my son, you must seek. Open the path of your lineage for yourself. You, who are from the citadel of the ancestors, whose offspring, scattered throughout the whole world, suffers envy because it alone worships the powerful Lord with its mind and has not accepted the mixed, wicked crowd. Why do you have a sad face? Why do you keep your eyes fixed on the ground? Look rather at the sky, and the parent of the sky, do not doubt. Your mother shows you favorable things. Whatever it is, listen patiently, consent.

from the crowd of my offspring and urge on the number of followers. Nor had the parent finished the mingled decrees of grief and joy, the clear warnings, when he himself lifts the orbs of light and begins to attend to his mother with his eyes, bearing nothing sad now. His bearing and countenance confess that he had feared nothing except the sad wounds of his mother divided among her births; but he himself, slipping swiftly from her hands, ascended into the flames with rapid course—I shall speak of a marvel: the flame did not touch his hair, did not touch his face. As a lifeless body, the fire had overcome the flames, yet with mouth open, silently, where the spirit would go, whence it had been received, it fled together with the blood. The parent rejoiced in this very thing, that he who had just stood with a sad countenance, trusting in a safe breast, had obeyed the warnings, a despiser of the king and his wrath. Yet when the king hesitated against those who remained and gave forth groans, the pious crowd of ministers curse the king, complaining with such speech: "Delay, why do you hesitate? You must spare no one now. Nor can you, even if you wish, break the decree for anyone: I appeal to the king who rules the whole orb, who rules the sea, who rules the sky, to whom the stars of the sky are subject. Unless you bring them forth, fear is already pressing more slowly; already you feel whom the punishment seeks; already glory remains for us in either part; it is permitted to bring forth none: for all whom you have ordered to depart from your kingdom, perhaps you believe this to be death, raging tyrant.

Longer life is yours, and more powerful than that kingdom which you rule—do you now delay in the final part of this life? If you also fear these, those younger in age surpass you. At the same time, I have conquered your proud kingdoms through contempt. But carry out your command; do not divide my offspring. Give these also to the flames, and use the forces of your kingdom; yet you are mortal, and you will not hold your kingdom forever. Antiochus conceives furies, and the savage tyrant displays them. He rolls groans within his breast; his color agrees with his mind. Sad, he lifts his burdened face and speaks such words: "This is your freedom, and the dire power of your tongue, and this stiffness which you carry with a swollen neck—you will feel the anger of the King toward you. What times can do, if you are not yet sated with evils, and you try to feign joy, and turn your grief into rejoicing—I will not change the death. Rejoice, be glad, triumph, as long as you conquer in such a way that the end of your people is thus. Do you so madly rejoice at the funeral of your children? I also give this to the flames; no power can change these decrees. You, live happy, surviving your bereaved children, and let my orders not delay; let their course complete its order. Bring forth the son; let him not perish in vain fire, nor let the king doubt to see after these things. I think that there is no fear of a woman for me; you, a judge, are brought forth from your chief people—a boy of remarkable beauty, in whose breast is courage.

firm it remains, which already could have conquered the King. To him the mother spoke thus in a calm speech: If it were permitted, son, to give embraces to your mother, I confess I would have given them to you alone after your wounds. But harsh necessity forbids me, and the sad power of the King denies embraces. While we have free speech, and it is permitted to remember God, and to keep the law not given by a king, but which God, arbiter of the world and ruler of the universe, handed down, and which Moses sought and received and gave to the people, when the greatest praise is to know God, to whom we rightly pay honor. Do not hesitate now to obey your parent's commands: but let vigor and virtue, and deep in your whole breast a mind already full of God, remain. Thus a stronger age than the King could hope for—hope for, commanding. O how great is virtue, how great is the confidence of the brave? But yet why do you hesitate to overcome the flames in their midst? You will be victor, believe me, boy, and you will return victor. The sinew will mix bodies with strong bones, and will return saved souls again into new flesh. But lest perhaps the swift fire terrify you, take up the spirits of your brothers, and invoke the eternal divinity. He does what is ordered, and silently calling upon God, and prays with whatever murmur he could; his age does not hinder the boy. He no longer fears death. He obeyed his willing mother. And quicker than speech, he rushed into the fires.

The flames gave way, all pain gave way, and at once body and fire were one, the body had overcome the fire. Yet the spirit had first overcome the calm breezes. The mother grieves silently, joyful, and with suppressed grief, joy; and she turns her mourning into gladness. She does not dwell on the past but on the boyish years that remain, lest they perhaps refuse. Lest they perhaps conceive fear in their minds. Lest they prefer to kindle the king. The younger the age, the greater the fear. Anxiously she divides within herself both cares and hopes, and thus fear and hope struggle together; and they course through the vitals of the pious mother. Yet hope is better, since she saw her son brought forth. And from afar I see what hope can bring to me in this. He ought to recognize our faces, and here obey the number of his brothers. Perhaps only boyish hearts will touch this one. And he will bear it unworthily, that he is given thus like a victim. I will address him, and I will try to speak a few words: Let him be mindful rather of his lineage than of this time: if the nobility of your lineage touches you, if your origin touches you. Look back, my son, at your own; and look back also at us, my son. Do not recall your years, boy; begin secretly to bear God in your heart; the ages will hand down to the ages what you seek by your lot: let him now give examples for future times. Give yourself, I beg you, also more than this is.

Consider what you flee, and what better things are sought. Let the empty deceit of the King not disturb you: and now grow into the opposite as victor: the spirit extinguished the flames, then withdrew. The earth, opened wide, received the body which it had given. The holy soul which remains departed inviolate. Although the weary mother, through all her own wounds, endured the King, yet at the highest, with hands upturned, she uttered these words and spoke such things: "You who hold dominion over heaven, earth, and sea; who set the stars in the heavens; who give animals to the lands, fish to the waters, and who strike such things upon the breezes; at the first, the trust of my desiring rises; you who mix the entangled chaos in blind darkness, divide it into parts, and give both night and day, the moon with the varying sun, and who cause the seasons to be kept; you who command light to appear through the world by night and day; and after these, man, from whose seed the world is filled, the mortal race, and speech dissolves, discordant through the nations. Yet the taste is one for all, but He who changed it by the merits and tongues of men. It is a long delay to recount; it is certain to press on with what has been begun: you wished to hold the sea divided by a rod, while the people crossed the dry ground on foot through the water.

fleeing death from Egypt and from Pharaoh the king, who commanded the number of the saints to serve him, whom your majesty, with Moses as leader, transferred across the river, and redeemed entirely by your power. The earth gave fruits, which it bore at your compulsion. It occupied the sought-for water in every hiding place; there was no moisture; all, complaining with shouts, demanded that Moses give water to the thirsty. To them he spoke in a brief speech: "Believe that God can do whatever you ask of him; but still, let this rod and the river split the rock, so that springs may come throughout the whole region, long delayed." And he struck at the same time. Faster than speech, the rock sent forth all the springs with their first sweetness. I confess that the whole world is your debtor; whatever peoples can do, you alone can do all things. You care for the mortal race; you burden and you lighten. I beg you, with astonished mind, confirm the fearful one: let my lowliest infant not be absent from the number of the brothers, and ignorant of himself, whom I now see far off, held fast, with a frequent crowd surrounding him. For this one alone I shed tears, which age stirs up; for one remains, about whom I have the greatest care: that the tender one not be ignorant of what race he was created from. If I could seize him alone in secret, I would coax him and teach him his father's race and his fatherland.

But such comfort as I can, I will send: little boy, dearer to me than your tender years, dearer than my kingdom, dearer even than life itself. You can make your mother wholly victorious; you are the end of my labor, and the end of future evils. If any care for me touches you, if you hold your mother’s scent in your mind, though you are both dear and an infant, yet with a dutiful ear attend to your parent. First, child, learn what you will be after these things. If you are patient, then you will be dear to me; the deeds of your holy brothers, placed in their company, teach this. And you will be secure in rest, while the fierce ages run their course. When the long time is finished, seeking again this light, you will see eternal realms, unstained by evils, but there will be harmony with the saints. No place for death will exist, nor will wars be waged with swift horses; but eternal peace will remain. Believe your mother, who desires your salvation. Why do you reject these words of mine with a sad face? Why do you flee? Have pity on me, have pity on yourself. If it were allowed, I would go first. But see, I am forbidden; yet I will go then when I see you, my son, victorious over evils. What do you bid me hope? Do you alone delay my words? Do you alone renew for me, my son, an equal grief? Do you approve or condemn me, your brothers, and your race? Lest you perhaps wish that, I beg and entreat you: hear me. With these breasts, my son, I nourished you when you were little.

I beg you by these tears of mine, which I have poured out for my own, that you be willing to remain. You will remain alone, and your brothers will no longer give you the consolations of life; they have failed. One, the one that remains—your mother, your lineage, and your fatherland—if you reject such words. Alas, how much better you will preserve your life if you finally do whatever your predecessors did: boldly put aside fear, put aside dread. Conceive God in your mind; He will give you manly strength. While the mother does this, the boy looks back at his parent’s commands and sees that he alone has been left behind. He raised his face to the sky and his upturned palms, and thus, seeking with his voice, he adores the eternal divinity, and likewise with his mind and with a nod he was asking together with himself: that he might conquer the king and conquer the savage fires. And so, not sluggish nor in keeping with his boyish years, he leaps intrepid into the midst of the spreading flames. And he conquered whatever there was, so that his spirit entered into the deep and sought the secret places of his earlier brothers. While the boy does this, joy released the mother. And now, as she was worn out by evils, her voice now denied, sighing and collapsing among the hands of her own, she fell lifeless, and her loosened limbs rested. Thus she herself, along with her son, was received into the company of the saints. THE END.