Vita Operaque [Firmino Et Viventio Episcopis]

IN THE YEAR OF THE LORD 542, SAINT CAESARIUS, BISHOP OF ARLES.

THE LIFE OF ST. CAESARIUS, BISHOP.

BOOK ONE.

BY THE AUTHORS CYPRIAN, FIRMINUS, AND VIVENTIUS, BISHOPS.

From the manuscript of St. Martin of the Fields, Paris, of the Cluniac order, collated with the edition of Mabillon. — The Bollandist commentary which was prefixed to the Life, omitted here through the carelessness of the printers, we present below.

PREFACE.

Because, reverend virgin Caesaria, together with the choir of sisters committed to you, you ask of us that, recounting from the beginning, we should commit to writing the life and manner of living of our founder, of blessed memory, Saint Caesarius [Mabillon: your founder], through which his life enjoys its reward, whose excellence cannot be set forth in the speech of mortals: although long ago throughout the whole world, while he himself was still flourishing here, it was spread abroad with veneration: yet we believe it to be no wrong if we do not fail to comply with so holy a desire: especially since by this it can be, for your monastery, or rather for himself, in the place of his presence; and while we speak of him, we rejoice in some measure to see him himself also. With God's help, therefore, we shall undertake to fulfill what you ask. And indeed many things concerning this most blessed lord [Mabillon adds: Caesarius] we have learned by reasoned account, many things we have seen ourselves, some things also we have learned as brought forth by the report of venerable presbyters or deacons, his disciples, but especially [Mabillon...

from the venerable Messianus the priest and the most faithful man Stephen the deacon, who served him from adolescence, only those things which burden less and have been removed from prolixity.

1. This one thing, however, in the devotion of the present little work we ask of readers: that if by chance we simple narrators should reach the ears and judgments of the learned, they not criticize us because our style seems destitute of the pomp of words and the caution of the grammatical art, since for us narrating with truth the acts and words or merits of so great a man, the light of his works suffices and the ornaments of his virtues. For indeed the aforementioned lord Caesarius, whom we hold in this work, was accustomed to say: Some avoid the rusticity of speech, and do not turn aside from the vices of life. For this too the pure sincerity of the virgins of Christ deserves, that nothing feigned, nothing composed by worldly art, be offered either to their eyes or to please their ears: but let them receive words flowing from the fountain of simple truth, of the purest account. And therefore this our discourse, content with the religion of integrity, has refused worldly pomp, and has rejected with its works the boasting of worldly glory; and rather delights to agree with the eloquence of fishermen than of rhetoricians. Now therefore let each one desire to follow by living what he hastens to know by reading.

CHAPTER ONE.

The homeland, parents, clerical and religious life of the saint up to his episcopate.

The holy and most blessed Caesarius, bishop of Arles, is reported to have been a native of the territory of Chalon: his parents were of equal lineage (which is a great and preeminent example of honor and nobility), and they flourished above all their fellow citizens rather in faith and morals. This venerable and holy man, when he was in his seventh year or beyond, used to give to the poor, without any hesitation, out of the garments he had about him. Often the blessed man would return home half-naked, and when he had been seen by his parents, he was sternly questioned as to what he had done with his clothes; he would only answer that they had been stolen from him by passers-by.

Therefore, just as certain little trees are wont to bear fruit from noble stocks before they grow, in which indeed the younger the age, the more gracious the abundance: so in that holy man, even amid the very rudiments of infancy, the joyful shoot of a budding hope burst forth so greatly that, before he flourished in the span of age, he abounded in the fruit of his mind.

When, therefore, he was in his eighteenth year, without the knowledge of his household or parents, desiring to attain the kingdom of heaven, he cast himself with supplication at the feet of Saint Silvester, the pontiff of that time, asking that, with his hair cut and his habit changed, the pontiff might consign him to the divine service, and that he might no longer be able to be recalled by his parents to his former estate and affections. Therefore, while the pontiff gave thanks to Christ, there was no delay to his excellent vows. And when he had served there for two years or more under this beginning, inflamed by the prompting of divine grace, he resolved to consign himself more strictly and more readily to the divine service according to the Gospel, so that for the love of the heavenly kingdom he might be made a stranger not only to his parents but also to his homeland.

Having therefore salutably seized the freedom of flight from the shackles of the world, the holy recruit sought the monastery of Lérins. And when he made the journey with only one companion, in the presence of the inquirers sent by his mother, crossing the river, he was not seen by them. But the devil, having entered into a certain wretched man, following his route, cried out incessantly behind him: Caesarius, do not go. He immediately cured him by handing him a cup of blessed drink; which, having been learned from the report of his aforementioned companion, it was established that he had performed this as his first miracle.

Received, therefore, by the holy abbot Porcarius and by all the elders, he began to be prompt in vigils, solicitous in observance, swift in obedience, devoted in labor, preeminent in humility, singular in meekness, so that those who had received him to be trained in the beginnings of regular discipline rejoiced to have found him perfect in the full growth of the whole institution.

After a short time, therefore, he is chosen for the storehouse of the congregation. Carefully and zealously, then, he began to wish to give to those to whom it was necessary, or even if out of love of abstinence they asked for nothing; but to those whom he had proven had no need, he gave nothing, although they wished to receive. Hence it came about that those against whom holy discretion stood opposed begged the abbot that he should be removed from the storehouse; and this was done. Soon, with that care set aside, he at last mortified himself with the desired assiduity of reading, psalm-singing, praying, and keeping vigil, so that the invalid body of his youth, which ought rather to have been cherished than weakened, he made both bent and broken by excessive austerity of the cross, so that from the meager cooking of a vegetable or a little porridge, which he prepared for himself on the Lord's day, he dragged out his sustenance until another Lord's day.

These, then, in the beginnings of his merits, were the good things that brought him honor; and in the life that followed they were increased by manifold virtues. For he wore down the strength of the flesh, so that he might strengthen the virtue of the spirit by the solidity of hope and faith. And he, as the Apostle says, triumphing over himself for himself, so that he might deserve a crown, conquering, transcribed the outward things of the inner man, and by the commands of his noble mind cast off the rebellious incitements of the body. After these things, however, when his stomach was failing, he fell into the swelling of a quartan fever. And when the holy abbot was gravely disturbed by his illness, and the sickness was, as it were, divided between master and disciple—so that the former labored in mind and the latter in body—and the holy father reflected that no remedy could be provided for him in the monastery, where, even if a physician were present, the boy's fervent habit toward spiritual things would not allow him to be relaxed from the reins of abstinence and the rigor of vigils, he orders him—indeed, the most blessed abbot compels him—to be brought to the city of Arelate for the sake of recovering his health.

At that time, therefore, there was a distinguished man, Firminus, who feared God, and his mother, Gregoria, the most illustrious of women in the aforementioned city of Arles. Through their zeal and vigilance and care for the clergy and monks, and for the citizens and the poor of the city, the aforementioned city was made more illustrious. For both of them did not consume their own wealth in worldly luxury, but sent it ahead to paradise for themselves by the transporting of the poor. These received the aforementioned Saint Caesarius into their household for the sake of mercy. Now there was a certain man most intimate with their household, by name Pomerius, a rhetorician by learning, an African by birth, whom a singular and clear doctrine of the art of grammar rendered distinguished there. Therefore these noble persons conceived in their mind that Saint Caesarius seemed to be so filled with such great grace of God, and so supported by the gift of Christ in such great memory, that the simplicity of the monastic life in him excelled over the disciplines of secular learning.

But he did not receive the fictions of human learning, whom divine grace had prepared to be instructed by itself for its own purposes. And so the book that the teacher had handed to him to read, wearied by wakefulness he had placed at night under his shoulder on the bed; and when he had nonetheless fallen asleep over it, he was presently struck by a terrifying vision sent from God; and, resolved somewhat into slumber, he saw, as it were, the shoulder on which he lay, and the arm on which he had leaned, being gnawed by a binding dragon from the book. Roused therefore from sleep, terrified by the very vision, he began to reproach himself all the more terribly for that deed, because he had wished to join the light of the saving rule to the foolish wisdom of the world. Therefore he straightway despised these things, knowing that the adornment of right instruction would not be lacking to those in whom spiritual understanding had shone forth.

After some days, however, the aforementioned persons suggested to Saint Eonius, bishop of the city, saying that there was among them a certain venerable monk and outstanding in every praise, whose person he ought to come to know by familiar and private questioning. He therefore orders him to be brought to him. When he had been presented to him, the venerable bishop Eonius questioned Saint Caesarius more diligently, asking what citizen he was, and by what parents he had been begotten.

And when he had made known the city of his dwelling and the origin of his parents, the bishop, rejoicing with holy gladness, said: You are mine, son, both fellow citizen and kinsman; for I remember your parents very well, and through blood relationship I embrace you with the affection of a parent. He therefore began to regard the young man, not as a stranger or foreigner, but with more attentive respect, with the inward eyes of the heart. Soon, then, he sought him from his abbot, the holy Porcarius. And so, at the request of the blessed man Bishop Eonius, he was granted, though reluctantly. At once he was ordained deacon, then priest.

Nevertheless, never abandoning the monastic canonical modulation, never the institutes of the Lérins monks, even in small measure, in order and office he remained a cleric, in humility, charity, obedience, and cross a monk. At the church, indeed, at morning and other assemblies, he was the first of those entering and the last of those going out. Neither what was seen nor what was heard drew the mind of the blessed man away from the nectar of heavenly goods, so that a certain quality of his countenance always seemed to shine with something heavenly. After this, moreover, when the abbot had died on the suburban island of the city, the blessed father Caesarius was directed by the holy Eonius, so that the monastery, which had been recently left destitute by the death of its ruler, he himself, succeeding in the same authority of reverence, might form to the discipline of an abbot.

He therefore gladly took up his life in the suburban monastery, a life which he always cultivated even within the city by his daily actions and always desired in his vows; and the aforesaid monastery he so formed by daily insistence and divine offices that there, with God's favor, it is preserved even today.

CHAPTER II.

He is promoted to the episcopate against his will; he arranges the divine offices, and fervently devotes himself to preaching; he cares for the sick, captives, and the poor; falsely accused, he is relegated; when his innocence is afterward recognized, he is honorably recalled; he quenches fire, obtains rain, etc.

While therefore the aforementioned island [Mabillon adds: a little] for more than three years he was engaged in the office of abbot, Saint Eonius addresses the clergy and citizens, and through messengers the lords of the region themselves, that, when he himself, God willing, had departed to Christ, they should choose no other as his successor than Saint Caesarius: so that the brotherhood might rejoice that the ecclesiastical vigor, which he complained had been weakened in many rules by his illness, was restored to its former state and vigor through Caesarius, the servant of Christ; and that the labor of the successor might be in some measure the gain of the predecessor, so that, in leaving such a one as his successor, he might receive an increase of eternal inheritance even in the election of this most holy man; and that after his passing there might not be lacking a partner of his election to fulfill his vow, one who even while he survived was the author of the decree.

Accordingly, when all these things had been arranged by divine Providence in order, the blessed Eonius, secure concerning a successor, departed to the Lord. When therefore the true report reached the notice of him of whom we speak, our Father, that he was to be ordained bishop, he sought a hiding place among certain tombs. But he could not remain hidden, whom not his fault but grace revealed. And so he is dragged alive from a certain tomb, whom the brightness of his life showed not to be dead but hidden.

Therefore, compelled, he took up the burden of the episcopate, and as a gentle beast of Christ he bore the load laid upon him with the moderation of restraint. And so, solicitous and provident as a pastor for the progress of all, he immediately established that each day the clergy should chant the work of the third, sixth, and ninth hours with hymns in the basilica of Saint Stephen, so that if any of the secular or penitents should happen to desire to perform the holy work, he might be able to attend the daily office without any excuse. But he himself, spurning all earthly solicitude and care, after the manner of the apostles entrusted the diligence of cultivation in the administration to the ordinaries and deacons, to be committed under an oath before God, and he devoted himself wholly to the word of God and to reading, and even to unceasing preaching.

Truly, like a spiritual physician who would cure the vices of diseases and prevent the things that would be born from evil thoughts, God gave him such grace of speaking about himself that whatever he had been able to see with his eyes, he would set forth for the edification of his hearers by way of comparison and consolation. He commended so great a series of sacred volumes, and always gathered recent ones in such a way that he lost nothing of the old, like a temple of God which both receives new guests daily and cherishes the old; and so it always grows by the entrance of those arriving that it is never diminished by the departure of the old. Thus, however great it was, if the matter demanded it, he recounted copies and the series of divine volumes as though reciting things known from a book, not as though bringing forth from the treasury of memory things read long ago, fulfilling that other saying of the Gospel concerning the man who brings forth from his treasury new things and old. But when bishops or presbyters arrived, and all ministers of the divine order, whether citizens of the place or even strangers, after he had greeted and prayed for them, he inquired a little about the affection and welfare of his fellow citizens or his own people.

Soon indeed, having taken up the arms of holy preaching, disputing about the shadow of things present and persuading concerning the perpetuity of blessedness, he invited some with sweet speech, deterred others more sharply, corrected some by threatening and others by coaxing, recalled some from vices through charity and others through severity, admonishing some generally as if in proverbs, rebuking others more harshly and under divine adjuration, so that they would follow his warnings; with tears he threatened eternal punishments, for he knew the virtues, or the customs, or the vices of each individual. He delivered this preaching so that he might both stir up the good to glory and recall the wicked from punishment. Like a good physician, he provided with foresight different remedies for different wounds, bearing not what would delight each person but rather what would cure him; not looking to the will of the sick man but desiring the health befitting the infirm, and he rebuked greatly the holy pontiffs themselves and the other rulers of the Church, that they might ceaselessly minister spiritual food to the people entrusted to them, saying: You are employed in the name of Christ in the place of the first order of spiritual warfare, brother; attend with pastoral diligence to the talents entrusted to you, so that you may restore them doubled to the banker. Hear the prophet: Woe is me, because I have been silent! Hear the Apostle saying with anxious care: Woe is me if I do not preach the gospel.

See that, while you occupy the place of the chair, another perhaps may be shut out and that saying be applied to you: They have taken away the key of knowledge; they themselves do not enter, nor do they allow others to enter, who perhaps could have responded better to the Lord's advances. This, however, by God's inspiration, he had as his own peculiar gift: that while he brought forth individual points one by one, he set before each person's eyes the course of his own life, so that one who heard him would believe him not only a searcher of the heart, but would confess him as a witness of his own conscience. And as he was most severe toward himself, so he appeared strict toward others for their amendment.

He further added and compelled the multitude of the laity to prepare psalms and hymns, and to sing with lofty and modulated voice, like the clergy—some in Greek, others in Latin—proses and antiphons, so that they would not have room in church to be occupied with idle talk. He also instituted and introduced most compunctionate preachings, suited to the season or the festivals. For the infirm, indeed, he took counsel above all, and assisted them, and assigned a most spacious room, in which, if perhaps because of some noise in the basilica they could not hear the holy work of the readings, he established lecterns, with a person at their expense to attend and care for them; and he did not deny them a place and freedom to suggest [their needs], along with captives and the poor.

He would constantly instruct his servant, saying: "See whether any of the poor are standing at the doors, lest perhaps, for the sake of our quiet, the power that stands waiting in fear and reverence for our sin should suffer injury." And drawing long sighs from the depth of his heart, he would say: "Truly Christ has become a waiter, and a babbler, and deaf, and yet he asks all, persuades, admonishes, calls to witness." He would add also that the poor, without doubt, are sharers in our progress in the present age, to whom now, with Christ as guarantor, we should entrust on earth what we would afterward receive in heaven.

But after a few days the adversary, the devil, disturbed the tranquility of this holy man with envy; and against him whom he had no base bodily crimes to charge, he brought the crime of a traitor. For after some time a certain lost man among the notaries of the blessed man, by name Licinianus, undertook to act against the apostolic man what the disciple Judas did not fear to perpetrate against our Savior, the Son of God. For armed with the poison of a savage accusation, he suggested through whisperers to King Alaric that the most blessed Caesarius, who had his origin from the Gauls, was striving with all his might to subject the territory and city of Arles to the dominion of the Burgundians: although that most excellent pastor, on bended knees, was continually asking of the Lord, by day and by night, peace for the nations and quiet for the cities.

For this reason it is all the more to be believed that the barbarian ferocity of the devil was stirred up to the exile of the holy man. For that one is not acceptable or pleasing to the enemy who prays that his works be opposed.

Therefore, by the instigation of those present, neither is faith attended to in the innocent man, nor is the truth of the accusation demanded; but condemned by false and unlawful accusations, when he had been dragged away from Arles, he was relegated as if into exile in the city of Bordeaux. But so that the grace of God might not lie hidden in him, it happened by chance that one night the city was burning with a savage fire, and the people, running swiftly together to the man of God, cried out: Holy Caesarius, by your prayers extinguish the raging fire. When the man of God heard this, moved by grief and piety, he prostrated himself in prayer against the approaching flame, and at once he fixed and repelled the balls of flames. When this was seen, by the voices of all who ran together, praise of the divine power was celebrated through him. After this miracle he was held in such great admiration by all that in the same city he was regarded not only as a priest but as an apostle, and the author of the persecution, that is the devil, was confounded, who saw him whom he had striven to assert as guilty shining forth by the miracles of divine work. We have learned that this was done so by faithful report.

And so he taught both there and everywhere that the Church should always render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's; that according to the Apostle she should be obedient to kings and authorities when they command what is just, and should hold in contempt the depravity of the Arian dogma in a prince. Thus, as the truth bears witness, the lamp placed upon the mountain could not be hidden, but wherever he came he enlightened all, shining upon his lampstand.

After this, when the innocence of the blessed man had been established, the wicked prince demanded that the holy bishop return to his former Church and present himself equally to the city and the clergy; but the king ordered that his accuser be stoned. And now the people were already gathering stones when suddenly the king's command reached his ears; at once the holy man rose up in haste and by his intercession desired that his accuser be given over not so much to his own vengeance as that he preferred, by his own supplication, that he be reserved for penitence; so that the Lord might heal by penitence the soul which the enemy had made captive through false betrayal; and, foolishly indulgent to a domestic foe, he would twice conquer the ancient adversary in one cause with a pure conscience. This too the servant of God was especially careful to observe: that whether of slaves or of freeborn persons who were obedient to him, no one should ever receive punishment beyond the lawful discipline, that is, thirty-nine lashes.

But if he had been caught in a grave fault, he permitted that after some days he be beaten again with a few blows; and he warned the overseers of the Church that if anyone should order a negligent man to be beaten further, and a man should die on account of that very discipline, he would be guilty of homicide, by whose command it was done. And when it had been announced that the man of Christ was returning and was near the city, the whole brotherhood went out to meet him, and every sex with candles and crosses, singing psalms, awaiting the entrance of the holy man. And because Christ makes his own to leap for joy by his virtues, and confounds the faithless by the open light of wonders, at the arrival of his servant the Lord drenched the parched earth, which had suffered a very long drought, with a most abundant rain, so that fruitfulness should follow the fruit, when the steward pleasing to him was returning.

After this, on a certain day, looking out from the atrium, he saw some people leaving the church after the Gospels had been read, who disdained to learn first the word of the blessed man, that is, his preaching. Immediately running to meet them, he cried out to the people: What are you doing, O sons? Where are you being led outside, subverted by evil persuasion? Stand for your souls at the word of admonition, and listen carefully. You will not be permitted to do this on the day of judgment. I warn and cry out and testify: therefore do not be fugitives or deaf. Behold, the trumpet of my mouth—as if the soul of each of you had been slain by the devil's sword. I will not be held guilty for having kept silent.

For this reason he very often ordered the doors closed after the Gospel reading, until, God willing, those who had been fugitives might rejoice in their correction and progress.

CHAPTER III

A monastery built for sacred virgins, and a rule written for them; the saint assailed by slanders is thrust into prison, and then led to Ravenna; captives redeemed; miracles.

The man of God therefore conceived in mind, under the ever-reigning Lord, by divine instinct, that the church of Arles should be adorned not only with countless companies of clerics but also with choirs of virgins, and the city fortified; so that as a not unfruitful farmer he might store a full harvest in the heavenly granaries, and, once received, might teach by his own following that it be brought in. But against these arrangements the adversity of diabolical envy stood in the way for a time. For while the Franks and Burgundians were besieging the city—King Alaric having already been slain in battle by the most victorious Clovis—Theodoric, king of Italy, had entered that province with dukes sent ahead. In this siege, therefore, the monastery which he was beginning to build for his sister and the other virgins was for a great part destroyed, its boards and upper rooms alike plundered and overthrown by the ferocity of the barbarians. And when he saw the work, which he had pressed on hastily and built with his own hand and sweat, being overturned and destroyed, he began to be consumed by doubled grief.

Then a certain cleric, a fellow citizen and blood relative of his, terrified by fear of captivity and moved by youthful levity, at the devil's instigation against the servant of God, lowering himself by a rope over the wall at night, of his own accord presented himself the next day to the most wicked enemies who were besieging. When the Goths inside learned of this, they rushed upon the holy man, with the sedition of the populace and the crowd of Jews alike clamoring and shouting excessively, that the bishop had sent a fellow countryman to the adversaries by night for the betrayal of the city. Nothing, then, was reserved for faith, nothing for proof, nothing for a pure conscience, especially since the Jews and heretics were shouting this very thing without reverence and moderation: Let the bishop be dragged out from the house of the church and handed over to the strictest custody in the palace, so that under cover of night he might either be drowned in the depths of the Rhone, or certainly be held thrust down in the camp of Ugernum, until through his exile and tribulation the adversity might revel all the more. Therefore the house of the church and the bishop's chamber were packed with the dwellings of the Arians. Yet one of the Goths themselves who, against the objections of the others, laid himself down on his bed, struck by the Divinity, died the next day, so that no one thereafter dared to violate the place of the servant of God with a polluted conscience.

When, therefore, the Goths could not, by God's will, raise from either bank the vessel by which he had been enticed, because of the enemy's siege, they brought the holy man back at night into the palace, concealing his person in silence, so that no one of the catholics could know whether he was alive. So then, while the devil exulted, these things were being done amid the rejoicing of the Jews, who everywhere belched insults against our people without any regard for their perfidy. One night, one man from the Jewish crowd, from the place where they had by chance undertaken the duty of keeping watch on the wall, threw to the adversaries a letter tied to a stone, as if to strike the enemies; in it, designating his name and sect, he invited them to send ladders at night to the place of their watch, provided that, in return for the benefit conferred, no Jew within should suffer captivity or plunder. In the morning, when the enemies had withdrawn a little from the wall, certain men going out beyond the outer rampart, among the partition walls, as is customary, carried the letter they found inside and published it to all in the forum. Soon the person is produced, convicted, and punished. Then indeed the savage enormity of the Jews, hateful to God and men, is at last confounded in open light. Soon our Daniel also, that is, Saint Caesarius, is led out from the lions' den, and the accusation of the satraps is made public; and it was fulfilled concerning their author: He opened the pit and dug it, and he fell into the ditch which he made.

But when the Goths had returned to Arles with a vast multitude of captives, the sacred basilicas are filled, and the house of the church is filled too with the crowding of unbelievers; and in their great scarcity the man of God lavishly supplies them with food and clothing alike, until he might free them one by one by the gift of redemption, having spent the silver which his venerable predecessor Eonius had left to the table of the church, keeping in mind that bread which the Lord dipped in a platter, not in a silver vessel, and that he commanded his disciples to possess neither gold nor silver. And the holy work is carried through to the administering of the divine ministry: for with censers, with offerings, and with the doors given for their redemption, the consecrated vessels of the temple are sold for the redemption of those same captives. It is even seen that the blows of axes strike the podiums and the cancelli, while from there the silver ornaments of the columns are struck off. This the man of God did, saying, lest a rational man redeemed by the blood of Christ, having lost the status of freedom, be made, on account of his bondage, either an Arian or a Jew, either a slave from a free man, or a free man from a slave.

For he adorned and protected it, and did not disfigure the church; he made the womb of the mother open to her sons, not to their condemnation, saying this very often: I would that some of the Lord's priests, or the rest of the clergy, who, I know not by what love of excess, are unwilling to give unfeeling silver and gold from the gifts of Christ for the slaves of Christ, would say and give me a reason. I would, I say, that they would say, if these adversities happened to them by chance, whether they would wish to be freed by unfeeling gifts; or perhaps they would reckon it a sacrilege if anyone were helped by the divine little gifts. I do not believe it is contrary to God that a redemption be given from his ministry, who delivered himself for the redemption of man. We see that some praise the deed of the holy man in this matter, and yet in no way imitate it. Did not the blood of Christ hang and shine for us in glass, and his most precious body on wood? We nevertheless believe and trust in the Lord God through the mercy and faith or prayer of the blessed Caesarius, that in his days the city of Arles was so besieged by enemies that it did not deserve captivity nor succumb to plunder. Then it passed from the Visigoths to the kingdom of the Ostrogoths. Thus even today in the name of Christ it is subject to the royal dominion of the most glorious Childebert, so that, as we read, they passed from nation to nation and from one kingdom to another people, and God did not permit harm to come to his people of Arles under that man.

Meanwhile, therefore, he rebuilt that distinguished monastery which he had begun to prepare for his sister, after the pattern of the earlier rule and with the seclusion of a cloister. But he himself (since nothing stands in the way of a mystery that befits a Christian), like a newer Noah of our time, on account of the storms and tempests, builds an ark for his brothers and sisters at the side of the church of the monastery, and summons from the monastery of Marseille his venerable sister Caesaria, whom he had sent there precisely so that she might learn what she was to teach, and be a disciple before a teacher, and he places her in the dwellings already prepared with two or three companions for the time being. Thither come multitudes of virgins in throngs, renouncing their possessions and their parents alike, spurning the deceitful and equally fleeting flowers of mortals. They seek the bosom of Caesarius as father and of Caesaria as mother, so that with the same lamps lit they may await the gate of the heavenly kingdom, and having entered worthily, may deserve to cling to the everlasting embraces of Christ; so enclosed that, until the day of their passing, no one may be permitted to go out through the door of the monastery.

For this reason, then, and because of this zeal, without doubt the devil, swelling with rage like a lion, against the servant of Christ, having again completed an accusation, caused the bishop to be dragged from Arles and brought under guard into Italy, to Ravenna; so that there might be fulfilled in him, "As gold and silver are tested in the furnace, so are the hearts of the elect with God." He therefore approached the palace, and with Christ as his guide he came to greet the king, Theoderic. But when the king saw the fearless and venerable man of God, he rose up reverently to greet him, and having taken the ornament from his head, he graciously returned his greeting, first asking about his labor and his journey, then affectionately inquiring about his Goths and about the people of Arles. Therefore, when the holy man had gone out from the king's presence, the king addressed his own men, saying: "May God not spare those who have caused this man of such learning and holiness to be vexed in vain by so long a journey. What sort of man he is, is shown from this: that when he entered to greet me, I trembled all over. I see," he said, "an angelic countenance, I see an apostolic man; I consider it a sacrilege to think any evil of so venerable a man.

After this, having been received at the lodging, he sends as a gift, for the one about to dine, a silver dish whose weight came to about sixty pounds, with three hundred solidi added, asking and saying likewise: "Receive, holy bishop, your son the king asks that your blessedness deign to accept this vessel as a gift and keep it for use as a remembrance of him."

But he, who never had silver for the use of his table except spoons, on the third day had it appraised by his servants and publicly sold, and with its price he began to free very many captives. Soon, they say, his servants reported to the king: "Behold, we saw the lord's gift among the goods for sale, for sale, with whose price Saint Caesarius is freeing multitudes of captives." Indeed, such a great throng of the poor was in his thought and packed in the courtyard of his house that, because of the density of the wretched people pressing in, he could scarcely be approached to be greeted. For we even saw countless crowds of the unfortunate rushing through the streets—that is, going and returning to the man. When Theodoric learned that this had been done, he set it forth with such great praise and admiration that the senators and nobles attending his palace vied with one another in desiring that the reward of their offering be dispensed through the right hand of the blessed man, proclaiming that they had been looked upon by God because they had been worthy to see such a pontiff, who in those times, in words and deeds, appeared as a true successor of the apostles and apostolic.

And because nothing travels faster than fame, as the most holy work spread, the holy reputation of the holy man at once flew to Rome, and there he began to be so ardently desired in love by the senate and nobles, by the pope also and the clergy, and likewise by the common people, that he clung to the embrace of each one's heart before he was seen by their bodily eyes. Meanwhile, all the captives beyond the Durance, and especially those of the town of Orange, which had been wholly given over to captivity, and part of whom he had already freed by redeeming them at Arles, as soon as he found them in Italy he redeemed, as best he could. And so that a fuller liberty might be restored to them, he laid them on beasts and wagons at his own expense for the journey, and by the comfort and direction of his own men he caused them to be brought back to their own homes.

Meanwhile, in the aforesaid city of Ravenna, a certain widow had a young son serving in the offices of the prefect, who supported his mother's need by his earnings and his own pay. This boy, through a sudden illness, lay lifeless. And when all hope and comfort of human healing had failed him, at once his mother, having left and lost her son, ran swiftly to the man of God; and with her body cast down and her eyes streaming, adding wailing besides, with faith alone prevailing, she embraced the knees of the blessed man and cried out, saying: I believe that the divine mercy has led you here, holy one, for this purpose, that you might restore a son to his mother.

To the woman pleading tearfully he refused a little; and yet, thinking it harsh if he did not listen to such tears, moved by his customary compassion—wishing, that is, both to pay the debt of loving affection and to show forth power in God's name in such a way that he might shun vanity in all things—he came secretly to her lodging. And so, with prayer poured out and prostrate in his usual manner, when he sensed through the Holy Spirit that the divine power of his calling had come to him, he departed. But to his notary at that time, now the venerable priest Messianus, whom he had left behind, he instructed that when the youth returned to him, he should report it to him at once. While he kept watch before the bed of the one lying ill, when the hour was scarcely complete, the boy was recalled from the shadows of death, and immediately, with the circles of his eyes opened, he addressed his mother, saying: "Go, mother, to the servant of God quickly and hasten, by whose prayers I have been restored to you and to life, and give thanks because God has granted effect to his merits and virtues." She, flying swiftly, ran up, giving thanks not so much in words as in tears and cries and rejoicings, and asking that the one whom God had restored to this light through him he should not, as he returned to the Gauls, suffer to depart from her service. But that blessed man of loftier understanding replied that she should rather give thanks to him whose power and piety is accustomed to be present to all who mourn and cry out.

The magnitude of this miracle therefore spread not only through that city but through the whole province by the devoted reports and messengers of the faithful.

The physician and deacon Elpidius also, distinguished by royal authority and diligent service, was worn down by diabolical infestation alone amid various other snares, and was also quite frequently assailed by a shower of stones in his own house; he begged the saint of God that he might deserve to be freed from that vexation itself by his prayers. Entering his house to sanctify it, he sprinkled an infusion of blessed water and so freed him from the troubles of the customary vexation that nothing of the kind ever happened there again.

CHAPTER IV.

Having set out for Rome, he obtains various things from the pontiff; then, returning home, he shines with various virtues and miracles.

After this, coming to Rome, he was presented to the blessed Pope Symmachus and then to the senators and their wives. All gave thanks to God and to the king because they had deserved to behold with bodily eyes him whom they had long since looked upon with the eyes of the heart. Therefore, approving the apostolic man no longer by spreading rumor but by his bodily presence, they began eagerly to love and venerate him. For this reason Pope Symmachus also, moved by the great dignity of his merits, not only raised him most truly to the honor of metropolitan, but also adorned him with the privilege of the pallium specially granted. He made his deacons stand out by the garb of dalmatics, after the manner of the Roman Church.

Then, having returned to his own affairs, he entered the city of Arelate and was received with psalms; and having quickly arranged the payment of eight thousand solidi, he brought it back from Italy with him, he who had gone there to be exiled. For on the day he entered the city, he went into the church toward evening to give the blessing; and behold, one of the women, seized by trembling, shrieking with foam and crying out, burst forth while all were terrified; and she, taken by the hands on this side and that, was immediately brought before the blessed man at the altar, with all entreating that he would drive out the plague and restore the woman to health. Then he, in his customary manner, prostrated himself in prayer on her behalf, and placing his hand on her head, he anointed all her senses and her face with the touch of sacred oil. This done, the affliction, having been driven out in the name of Christ, never again seized the woman.

Meanwhile, among his other concerns, he had a particular solicitude for captives; and in this administration he was so great and so distinguished that no one's account could fully express it. For on a certain day, when there was lacking in his holy hands any appearance of gold or silver to be given to the needy, being entreated by a poor man, he said: What shall I do for you, my poor wretch? What I have, this I give you. Entering therefore his cell, and bringing out the cloak which he used as a traveling garment, and his white paschal garment, he gave it to him, saying: Go, sell it to any cleric you wish, and with its price redeem your captive.

For not only were those who sought him out freed from the chains of captivity, but he himself also set out for the city of Carcassonne to ransom captives. For indeed, many times he sent abbots, deacons, and clerics through various places for the redemption of the wretched.

Moreover, he alone merited to possess so many powers of divine grace as scarcely flourished in very many who serve God. Yet he always cultivated each individual office in himself in such a way as if he had that one alone entirely; and his preceding deeds seemed most beautiful and most pleasant for as long as they were surpassed by those that followed. For who could explain his patience, who his purity, who his charity, who his fervor of spirit, who his discretion, who his kindness, who his holy zeal, who his ceaseless meditation day and night in the law of the Lord? Assertor of the faith, model of priests, ornament of churches, preacher of grace, extinguisher of quarrels, seedbed of charity, norm of discipline, weigher of morals, balance of counsel, defense of orphans, redemption of captives. Never did detraction proceed from his mouth, never a lie, never a curse against any person whatsoever. And not only did he not detract from anyone, but he did not even patiently listen to one who did.

If any of his people swore suddenly, or perhaps cursed, he corrected it in him wholesomely according to the person's character. Yet this was his blessing in return for the curse: if he was ever moved against someone, "May God blot out your sin, may God take away your sins, may the Lord chastise your offense, so that it may not be kept for you there; may the Lord correct your error here." His outward self revealed his inner self. For with a face always calm and angelic, so that according to Scripture, with a glad heart his countenance bloomed. Thus he was never more relaxed in righteous laughter, nor ever weighed down by excessive sorrow, except perhaps when he wept for the sins of others. He never held anyone in hatred, and he prayed with the whole affection of his heart not only for friends but even for enemies. Nor did he teach in words what he did not fulfill in examples. For no hour of the day passed without meditation on the divine word, nor did one pass while he slept; for often he seemed both to sleep and to meditate. And when he seemed to cease from meditation on the psalms or from preaching, a reader or a notary did not stop reading before him, so that he rightly and truly said: "The meditation of my heart is always in your sight.

At a certain time, then, while he was on a journey around the Alpine regions, the venerable man Saint Eucherius the bishop was with him. It happened that in the middle of the road an unfortunate and weak woman met them, with her hands and feet contracted, crawling along the ground. When he had looked at her, he asked Saint Eucherius himself what this was, that she dragged herself along the ground in this way. He questioned the woman. She answered that for many years she had been paralytic and was contracted in all her limbs. Then blessed Caesarius said to Saint Eucherius: "Get down and make the sign over her." He began, as it were, to tremble and to excuse himself; but the other would by no means desist unless he did it. So he got down and made the sign over her and said: "Behold, I have done what you ordered." Caesarius again said: "Put forth your hand and take hold of her hand, and raise her up." He answered: "I will do whatever else you, Eucherius, order, but this thing I will not presume to attempt." But this was a deed to which God gave the power to heal both the souls and the bodies of the sick. Saint Caesarius answered him: "For now, do what I say." And when he resisted strongly and humbly and tearfully excused himself, and contended for a long while, he said to him: "You were about to go into the fire for obedience, and you are not even ready, for mercy's sake, to do what charity commands? Put forth your hand, therefore, in the name of the Lord, and raise her up.

Then, obedient to the command, he raised the woman with his outstretched hand; restored in her feet and all her limbs, she walked home safe and sound.

For who could recount with what great miracles he shone forth? It happened that in the field of his suburban monastery wild boars gathered frequently. The counts of the city and the rest of the soldiers would go out and would not permit men to live or work in their houses, but struck them down with excessive slaughter, to drive them off. But they, no longer enduring the injuries and disturbances for so long, came and appealed to the lord himself, crying out and saying: Do with us what you command; for we can neither serve you nor remain there. He anxiously asked what their complaint was. They answered: On account of the boars, the counts and the Goths and various hunters come and kill us. But he, with a public voice, with eyes and hands raised, looking into heaven, said: Lord Jesus Christ, let the boars have no further access in this place. From that hour until the present day they were never again seen there, as they had been accustomed, nor did any appear that could be hunted. Deservedly did he command the beasts, who drove all vice from himself. He was able to obtain from God, whose commandment he never transgressed.

It also happened that the son of the most illustrious man Parthenius the patrician, who was set over the servants of the household and was held foremost by his master, through a certain most wicked temptation often fell to the ground with his mind overthrown, since in truth the harassment of his enemy seemed to be an affliction of the mind rather than of the body, he was anointed with oil consecrated by the blessing of the most blessed man. When this was done, the malignant temptation departed from him so that, when the care of the earthly physician ceased, Christ restored him to health through the servant of the Most High, and his own master set him over his own household as an example of terror. And what can be more a cause of dread under admiration, to declare the merit of the most holy man, it is a sin to pass over his memorable deed in silence.

While the saint, then, was going around his dioceses, when he had been received by their own masters in a village called Launico, in the cell in which he had his lodging, after his departure, a certain pestilent physician named Anatolius, greatly to be pitied for such a crime, sought out the harlot of a prostitute on his bed; whereupon, immediately seized by his inciter, the devil, with a public vexation, he was dashed to the ground in the sight of men; and with a public voice, for the presumption for which he had been corrected, while he confessed the power of the servant of God, he made public the admission of his crime.

We know also that the Lord performed many miracles through the intercession of the man of God, which it would take long to recount in order. For when one of our number, who wrote these things, had asked for oil consecrated by him as a blessing for his own aid, he carefully carried home the little flask he had received full from him, and strove to keep it as though it were the greatest of relics. And when after some time he was pressed by the burning heats of a tertian fever, he asked that the little flask in which the oil was be hung at his head with the greatest reverence and as a mighty protection. And when it had been wrapped in the purest linen cloth, as we believe, through the negligence of the servants, it was broken. But the oil remained within it in such a way that no liquid fell to the ground or onto the linen. When this was seen, while it was being transferred with the utmost speed into another vessel, when it had been thoroughly emptied, the broken flask at once fell apart, and from that same man who truthfully recalls these things, with the Lord's help, the fever departed without any delay.

CHAPTER V.

His zeal in preaching, both personally and through others; a certain statue of his; his teaching called into suspicion and approved at Rome; his hospitality.

But who could tell how great was the grace that shone in him in expounding the Scriptures and in elucidating obscure passages? So much so that it was the greatest delight to him if someone provoked him to discuss obscure matters. And he very often urged us, saying: I know that you do not understand everything; why do you not ask questions, so that you may be able to learn? For it is not always the cows that run to the calves, but sometimes the calves to the cows, so that from their mothers' udders they may satisfy their hunger. This is exactly what you too ought to do, so that by questioning you may also exercise us, so that we must search out how we can bring forth spiritual honey for you. In him each of the virtues shone forth individually: virginity with sincerity, modesty with shyness, wisdom with simplicity, sincerity with gentleness, teaching with humility; in short, a life immaculate, a life irreproachable, a life always equal to itself. Woe to me, wretched Cyprian, who have been so lukewarm in learning, that now I come to know it and repent! Why did I not drink from the stream of such a great fountain as much as my dryness needed?

But who could ever imitate the ardor of his charity, by which he loved all men? For this above all he carried in both heart and mouth, and with most gentle exhortation, by word and example, he laudably taught that we ought to love even our enemies. Scarcely anyone prayed with the affection for dear friends that he prayed with for enemies; and although there were no causes by which anyone could be an enemy to him, unless perhaps some seemed to be so out of envy or correction, yet he loved them not only with a father's but even with a mother's affection, often impressing upon us that when love is extended even to enemies, it cannot be that the neighbor is not loved.

He also taught from memory, as long as he could, and always preached in the church in another voice. In this work his provision was so pious and salutary that, when by reason of infirmity he could no longer come to perform that office himself, he imbued and appointed presbyters and deacons to preach in the church; so that more easily no bishop might suspend himself from this exhortation, necessary for all, by the excuse of any inability whatever, saying: If the words of the Lord and of the prophets or apostles are read aloud by presbyters and deacons, why are those of Ambrose, Augustine, or my own littleness, or of any of the saints, not read aloud by presbyters and deacons? A servant is not greater than his lord.

To those who have been given the authority to read the Gospel, I believe it is also permitted to cite in church the homilies of the servants of God or the expositions of the canonical Scriptures. I divest myself of this by instituting it; the holy priests who have scorned to fulfill this should know that they will have to give an account of their reasons on the day of judgment. Indeed, I do not believe that anyone has a mind so hardened that, when God says to him: Cry, do not cease, he himself should neither cry out nor permit others to cry out. Let him fear that: Woe to those who are silent about you, since many are talkative [mute]. And that of the Apostle [rather, of Isaiah 56:10]: Dumb dogs, not able to bark. For how many sheep have wandered astray while the priest was silent, for the souls of so many he will have to render an account.

He also composed preachings suited to festivals and places, but also against the evil of drunkenness and lust, and against discord and hatred, against anger and pride, against sacrilegious men and soothsayers, against the most pagan rites of the Kalends as well, and against augurs, tree-worshippers, spring-worshippers, and the vices of various kinds, and he so prepared them that if any of those arriving asked, he not only did not refuse to share, but even if the least person suggested that he ought to receive, he would nevertheless offer it to him to carry away and read himself.

Yet to those placed far away in Francia, in Gaul and in Italy, and in Spain, and established in diverse provinces, he sent through priests what he should have them preach in their churches, so that, casting aside frivolous and fleeting things, they might become, according to the Apostle, followers of good works.

Therefore the good odor of Christ was spread far and wide through him, and it blazed everywhere when brought to those whose eyes it was not presented; it touched the hearts of those whose limbs it did not touch. He further added this, that he would never ordain a deacon in his church before the thirtieth year of his age. Indeed he also added this, that not even at any greater age should anyone be ordained unless he had first read the books of the Old Testament four times in order, and four times those of the New. I, a sinner, am witness to his holy conscience, because whatever he commanded others he himself did, and for God's sake he always fulfilled it. But whatever he forbade to be done, he himself avoided doing; all things were in the zeal of God.

Nothing did he do or think in a carnal way; and he never wished to be idle from the work of God, but he arranged and built a threefold basilica within one enclosure, whose middle section he constructed in honor of the holy Virgin Mary with more eminent worship, on one side he joined it to the house of the lord John, on the other to that of Saint Martin. And so that he might remove from the sacred virgins whom he had gathered the care of necessary burial, he newly had cut from huge rocks movable [perhaps immovable] chests most suited for burying bodies, and he had them laid out over the entire pavement of the basilica in close-packed rows, so that whichever member of that congregation had departed from this light might find a place of burial most ready and most holy. Not much later, therefore, when the mother of the monastery, his own sister the holy Caesaria, was migrating to the rewards of Christ, he buried her in their midst, in the middle of the pavement, next to the tomb which he had prepared for himself, with Caesaria the mother, who now survives, succeeding her, whose work with her sisters flourishes so exceedingly that amid psalms and fastings, vigils too and readings, the virgins of Christ write out the divine books beautifully, having her herself as their teacher.

Accordingly, as was his custom, the blessed man persisted in prayer, reading, and almsgiving, and in preaching unceasingly on every Sunday and on all feast days; frequently also at matins and at vespers, homilies were read out on account of people who had come, so that there would be no one who could excuse himself on the ground of ignorance. He invited the obedient, he instructed the careful, but he sharply rebuked the resistant, because just as a worthy reward was to be bestowed on the faithful at the day of judgment, so also the vengeance of worthy indignation would follow these. He also established as a rule that, out of reverence for the blessing, a blessing should be given in the basilica to those who were marrying three days before their union. In short, by the bestowal of divine grace he had so many good things in himself, both from the progress of his hearers and from the followership of his disciples and from the consecration of virgins, that he was crowned not by one merit alone, but amid so many and manifold crowns, girded with his flashing merits, he was wholly transformed into a crown for the Church.

Many rivals indeed rose up to resist his teaching concerning grace. But O enviable happiness! For by the whispering and evil interpretation of certain persons, a left-handed suspicion arose in vain throughout the regions of Gaul against the preaching of the man of God. On this account the bishops of Christ dwelling beyond the Isère, gathered together by the love of charity, came together in the city of Valence; where also the blessed Caesarius, for the sake of his usual infirmity, was unable to hasten, as he had arranged. Yet he sent the most distinguished men from among the bishops, together with presbyters and deacons, among whom also the holy Cyprian of Toulon shone forth great and renowned, affirming all that he said from the divine Scriptures, and proving it from the most ancient institutions of the Fathers: that no one can by himself seize upon anything for divine progress, unless he has first been called by the prevenient grace of God. But while they sought to establish their own righteousness, they were not subject to the righteousness of God, not remembering that God said: Without me you can do nothing. And, I chose you, not you me. And, No one has anything unless it has been given to him from above. And through the apostle Paul: By the grace of God I am what I am. And through another: Every good gift is from above. And the prophet: The Lord will give grace and glory. And that then man truly recovers free will, when he has been redeemed by the liberation of Christ, under which release he may be able to attain the effect of perfection.

To their intent the man of Christ gave a true and evident account from apostolic tradition. For even Boniface, pope of the Roman Church, of blessed memory, having learned of that same struggle, trampled upon the intent of the quarrellers and confirmed the advocacy of Saint Caesarius by apostolic authority; with Christ granting it, the bishops of the churches gradually received what the devil had wished to cease through sudden vehemence.

This he preached frequently to whomever he could, saying: If you love the word of God, you will surely keep undiminished what I have instilled; for the sum and perfection of the Decalogue was fittingly joined to divine love: so that what the charity of Christ has bound to itself in you, you also should share with your fellow man by a generosity in which he partakes. But lest you believe that only the souls of parents, friends, or dependents are to be fed by this address of ours, I warn you before God and his holy angels: you will be guilty for the salvation of your servants, whoever they are and however weak, if, when you return, you do not instill into them what we have preached, just as into friends or parents. For you should know that in the present life a servant is subject to you by the condition of the body, not bound by the chain of eternity. And again he said to those whom he had addressed: What have we said, brothers? What have we discussed, little sons, I ask you—what have our words been in this gathering until now? If you love them, you retain them; if you retain them, you have without doubt enclosed what was said in your hearts. By provoking them in this way he even wrung from the unwilling a zeal for retaining it.

But to his table for dinner and for supper, day by day without ceasing, it was supplied, so that both the inner and the outer man, satisfied with a twofold refreshment, might rejoice. In this narrow and cramped confinement, then, many of those who heard him, with sweat—I confess—and great shame, were soon forgotten after being recognized before him, while a few, which is worse, had been able to unfold the entrusted little tale in leapingly brief summaries. But in the house of his church, as it was when he was present, so also when he was absent, a banquet was always prepared for the clerics, or for any who came. No one came to Arles as if to a foreign city, but as to his own home. And because out of his countless deeds we have presumed to touch upon these few, let the manifest things suffice, even if the hidden things are concealed. Yet you, holy brothers, the priest Messianus and the deacon Stephen, to whom many things about him are well known, because from your youth you were in his service, I ask that you join your contribution to this little work.

BOOK TWO.

BY THE AUTHORS MESSIANUS THE PRESBYTER AND STEPHANUS THE DEACON; FROM THE EDITION OF MABILLON.

CHAPTER ONE.

Various miracles, among which certain admonitions and virtues are interspersed.

1. Messianus the presbyter and Stephanus said: About the conduct and virtues of the holy and most blessed Father and priest and our teacher, lord Caesarius, we are about to speak of those things which we have learned concerning him either together or singly, or which we have seen equally with the most holy fellow bishops, that is, lord Cyprianus and lord Firminus and saint Viventius; who also, recounting from the beginning the things which were written above concerning him, brought them to a conclusion at the end of the section, and deigned to permit and command us that each one of us should faithfully narrate whatever things concerning his deeds were well known to him. We have no need, even if secular eloquence were at our disposal, because the truth of holy actions surpasses every ornament of worldly eloquence; to demonstrate which most fully, that purity and simplicity suffice for us, by which that most blessed Father himself also performed the miracles which are to be related by us, especially since frequently this same lord also had it in common speech, that what was said with learning would minister understanding only to the learned; but what was said simply would fittingly instruct both the learned and the simple at the same time.

Therefore, those things which we have known to have been truly done and said by him, with God's favor we shall undertake to make known to faithful hearers in unadorned and sound words, to the extent that we are able, so that from them compunction may be supplied to the weak, joy to the perfect, and an example to those pressing on toward perfection. We shall begin, then, just as we remember, briefly to unfold his holy works, with God's help.

The daughter of Peter the deacon of this church, in whom the whole usefulness of his household seemed to consist, was lying mute for three days already, afflicted by a grave illness. For this reason one day he cast himself at the feet of the most blessed man, saying: Have mercy, servant of Christ, on my old age; pray for my daughter, because I trust that nothing will be denied you by the Lord. Place your hand upon her, and she will be saved. For already for three days she has lain mute with her eyes closed, and at every hour and moment I await her death. Hearing this, he was moved and compelled by the old man's tears, and went to his house; when he had entered, and saw all in that house weeping bitterly with the father, he prostrated himself in prayer; there, like another Elijah, he drew himself to her head amid the cramped space between the chest and the bed. After the prayer, which he poured out with tears, he at once began to return to the house of the church.

For it was his habit that, when by the Spirit's prompting he recognized that his prayers on behalf of the sick were being heard, he would immediately depart from there with haste, lest, if what he had obtained from the Lord by his prayers were done in his presence, some occasion for arrogance should arise. And indeed he frequently and sweetly said, as it were in a figure, so that no one could understand: He to whom the care of souls has been entrusted ought strongly to fear to exercise the pleasure of bodies. Finally, divine grace granted this to the simple rather than to the learned. Would that in those things which the merciful Lord has given us, he may grant us a discretion pleasing to himself! That is by no means to be presumed by us unworthy men. Therefore, as he was departing, the father began again and again to cry out after him as he went: I know that if you had prayed to your God, he would have restored my daughter to me. Then he left one of his chamber attendants, saying: Go, watch there, and after a little while come and tell me what is happening. And behold, when the hour was completed, he reported to him: Lord, he said, the girl over whom you prayed has come back to herself; and she says this: The lord bishop was here, by whose prayers I have been restored and made well. For this reason the father came giving thanks, and declares that his daughter has already been recalled from death through your prayers. For, with the Lord finally granting it today, she herself stands as a living witness of this matter.

But although (as is the custom of God's servants) they always make excuses when virtues are to be performed, yet this man, pre-eminently a servant of Christ, even when he trusted that something was being granted to him for the present by the Lord's prompting, did not then wish rashly to seize upon it, but cautiously to slip away from it. Yet whether he stood firm or fled, God never failed him when he asked. Him he always had with him in his heart, not only in prayer and supplication, but also at the banquet, on the journey, in conversation, in sitting together, in prosperity, in adversity, even in sleep. In short, we ourselves, or our fellow servants who remained in his cell, know what we are saying—that he, amid the pauses of sleep, which his age not only demanded but also at times pressed upon him because of infirmity, with his spirit always keeping watch, would say [the sense is imperfect], as if addressing the one who was reciting the psalm: "Come now, here." There is no doubt that either he was singing spiritually with the saints, or certainly he fulfilled that prophetic word: "I sleep, and my heart keeps watch." Frequently, even when placed in slumber, he would preach about the future judgment or the eternal reward. Meanwhile it is not due to my merits that I, unworthy, should report such splendid things about the servant of God.

When, therefore, I had been assigned by his judgment to the service of his cell as deacon, among other duties he had ordered me to keep watch also over the night hours. And so, when I had gone outside from the lower cell where I was staying—because the holy man always wished to keep moderation in all things—he was especially most vigilant in observing the night offices, so that, apart from what he himself said privately, with God alone as witness, none of his own who stayed with him was to be awakened before the lawful hour. Then in sleep he would say in a slow voice: "There are two; there is nothing in between: there are two; either one ascends to heaven, or one descends to hell." As I was returning from outside, he awoke and said to me: "What," he said, "is it now the hour for the night office?" I said: "It is not the hour; it is still before the time." And he: "It truly is the hour"—and indeed so it was. Then we completed the night office. And he said to me: "I was crying out in sleep to someone with great intensity: 'There are two; there is nothing in between: either one goes to hell, or to heaven.'" I answered: "It is your custom to cry out these things incessantly." Then I, a sinner, judged that he always spoke of God and with God. For this man, as was said above, was so great a lover of all virtues that there was no good thing which he did not either practice himself with eagerness, or wish and teach others to have with fervor of spirit.

Among all the good things, then, which he taught should be done generally, and the evils which he declared should be done in no way at all, he especially (as your kindly and sincere conscience knows) utterly abhorred with the greatest intolerance the vices of faithlessness, lying, pride, and luxury and drunkenness. Good Jesus! With what groans, with what sighs, with what weeping he pleaded for sinners! So that you would see the man of God as if in the present beholding a wretched sinner destined for the punishments of hell. In short, according to the Apostle, he never lived for himself alone, he never prayed for himself alone.

At a certain time, therefore, when, as if to the summit of his merits, captives to be ransomed were being brought to Arelate from all sides, not in vain, a great multitude of freeborn and of many noble ransomed persons were daily fed by that holy man himself. Then his steward came and began to appeal to him and say: These captives, lord, go about through the streets and beg for something to eat; because if today they have been fed from the church in the customary way, tomorrow you will not have bread to give them at your table. Then he, more confidently entering the cell, fleeing to the customary aids of prayer (where he never wished to have a man as witness), asked of the Lord that sustenance be given to the wretched. For if anyone by chance had come upon him as he lay praying on the ground, he abhorred the thought. And so he wept so profusely that he immediately obtained what he asked.

Then, therefore, going out from there with eagerness and confidence, in a manner rebuking the unbelief of the ordainer, he said to the venerable man Messianus, at that time a presbyter and notary: Go into the granary and sweep it so that, if possible, not even a single grain remains there; and let loaves be made according to custom, and let us all eat together; and if tomorrow there is nothing to eat, let us all fast, provided that today well-born men, or the rest of the captives, do not go through the streets begging while we sit and drink. Calling one of us aside, however, he said in his ear: Tomorrow God will give, because he who gives to the poor will never be in need. For as yet it was not permitted to those captives themselves to return to their own lands.

What more? What he ordered is done. All those dining at the church murmur, wondering where they were to dine from that day on. But he who had provided a widow woman for Elijah, so that by coming to her he might be sustained a little, had without doubt suggested to this man as well, when he prayed, that by distributing everything to captives and strangers and reserving nothing at all for himself, he would always be more richly enriched. Then on the next day, when those who were supported by the resources of the church feared that the pale light would dawn, and were awaiting with no small sighs what was to be done, Gundebald and Sigismund, kings of the Burgundians, knowing how eagerly the servant of the Lord hastened to works of mercy, before the very light of day grew bright, sent three ships, which the older ones call latenae, full of wheat.

And all those who the day before had feared the danger of famine through unbelief, seeing that the Lord never failed his servant, kept giving the greatest thanks with joy to God, who came to their aid in their need.

At a certain time, therefore, the patrician Liberius, with the Goths, whom they call Visigoths, lying in ambush, was pierced by a wound from a lance all the way to his vital organs. And because that danger had taken place beyond the Durance, with everyone thrown into confusion and running together after the striker, he alone remained. Terrified by the danger of his wound and despairing of hope for his life, as much as a man can, until he should become bloodless, he fled on his own feet nearly not less than five hundred paces or more to the other bank. But when he reached the place Arnaginem, where the men of that village were able to meet him, he fell and lay there altogether without any hope or breath of life. For almost the whole city knows this. Nevertheless, what we say we learned, with tears and great admiration for the virtues of the holy man, from the report of that most magnificent man himself. Then, they say, that man used to tell us: Nothing else came to my memory at my final breath except that I cried out with tears: All remedies have ceased; ask my lord Caesarius to come to my aid. This we learned with speed to be true through the one who had been sent.

For when he had wished to rest a little in the field of his holy monastery and to set certain matters in order, he had begun to linger there for a short while; and behold, suddenly the one who had been sent came running, breathless, humbly entreating: "Hurry, lord," he said, "come quickly; your son asks to see you before his death." And since the man of God had never wished anyone to depart from this world without the medicine of penance, he especially did not wish him to go without this remedy. And so we came at once to the village of Arnagine. Therefore, as I said above, I shall set forth those things which the man himself recounted to me from very many instances.

For while he lay so lifeless that he recognized not only none of his other relatives, but not even his wife or his only daughter, then he himself declared under oath that it had seemed to him that he heard a human voice speaking to him in the air [perhaps "in his ear"], which said: "Behold, the holy bishop is coming." At once, at that very voice, I opened my eyes, and I recognized the servant of God himself as he came. But when he approached me, I began eagerly to kiss his hands, as much as was needful for me, who had lost all hope of life. Then therefore, as I believe, with God inspiring me, a sinner, I seized the maniple of my lord himself and placed it upon my wound. But when I had held a portion of his garment there for a little while, in that same hour the blood, which had by no means ceased to flow, thereafter stopped so completely that not only health but even the greatest strength was restored to me. And if I had been permitted, I was striving to hurry to the city, sitting on horseback.

And this was established as most true even among us who were present.

Therefore that most illustrious woman Agretia, a matron of the same man, since she was laboring under infirmity—not unlike that woman who touched the outermost fringe of the Lord's garment in her faith and devotion—was set free. When I had come to meet her, she deigned familiarly to address my lowliness, disclosing her infirmity as it were with matronly modesty, and began with many entreaties, under adjuration of the Lord, to demand of me that I bring to the woman one cloth from his tiles, which he had worn against his naked body. And when I was in the cell of the blessed man, I could easily have done what she hoped; yet I began to fear lest, while she sought a remedy for herself, I should incur sin through theft. Then I indicated the matter to the chamberlain, to whom the holy garments belonged, that someone had asked for a tile of his to be brought to her. For which reason he did not delay to give me an old one. O Lord Jesus Christ, you are glorious in your saints, and who is like you? Yet you promised that whoever believes in you would himself do the works that you do. For while that cloth was already being kept by me to be brought, since it was to be done in the evening, the custom was that before she rested—that is, went to bed—heated tiles were applied to her at the fire, and when others were removed, others were applied. They were brought out, as the one who served judged necessary.

To whom he said: "Not these," he said, "but others, and that one and that one of such a kind, I want." Other old men were brought out. "He is not here," he said, "whom I seek"; they were seeking what he was not accustomed to, so as to become known, because in the spirit he foresaw. Then by nods I and he who had given me [the token] began to recognize that our theft could not have lain hidden from the servant of God: so that it was clear and evident that your servant, O Dolius, could say to us unworthy ones concerning those gifts which you yourself had bestowed: "Someone has touched me."

Then I, as if in place of that woman whom you, Lord Jesus, healed through the prayers of your servant—I, I say, fearing and trembling, began to confess to your servant what had been done, saying: "Forgive me, lord; I myself have the cloth which you are seeking; your daughter." (Up to this point he allowed me to speak.) But he, with a hiss of silence, said: "Be silent"; and with great piety taking hold, he even gave me yet another token, and said: "Go," he said, "and carry both to the basilica of lord Stephen, and put them beneath the altar, and let them remain there; and one, whichever you wish, carry in the morning to her who asked you, and bring the other back to me." As he commanded his unworthy servant, I did: and yet, to whom I carried it, he never asked me, nor did he ask for the token back. And when that woman did not cease to be insistent, that I should carry what she had asked for, and seeing me coming from afar, with hands stretched out, before I could give it, and already about to snatch what I was presenting, she came to meet me with a rush.

Before I raised it from the little hut under which I was carrying the cloth itself, she was hurrying to snatch what the faith of the people had sought. But when I had brought out the little token itself, I gave it to her, and she sewed it to herself upon her garments around her, first bringing it to her eyes, and kissing it with devotion, she honored it as was fitting. And without delay, with the Lord granting it, the effect of her faithful petition was at once present. And now through the garment of the Lord's servant they had what they are known to have even after his passing. Finally, as she herself used to confess, when she had placed that cloth upon her breast, immediately, as if people are accustomed to be sprinkled with cold water, all her limbs and even her veins were suspended in a gathering chill with even a little pain, so that her body shook somewhat with horror and trembling at the same time. But at once the Lord's mercy was present, and the flux that was there departed, and never again returned to her, and it was fulfilled in her: Go, daughter, according to your faith be it done to you.

CHAPTER II.

Various miracles performed through the holy man.

It came about that at a certain time four bishops came to meet him, and with them he went down to the lucernarium, that is, vespers, at the basilica of Saint Stephen. And when, the lucernarium being finished, he had given the blessing to the people, as they were going out, a certain woman met them in the vestibule; she had contracted so terrible an infirmity that day and night her hands were ceaselessly twisted together in this way, as though they were wanting to turn something. She cried out tearfully: Lord Caesarius, have mercy on a wretched woman; pray for me, that my hands may be restored to me. As was his custom, he prostrated himself in prayer with the other bishops. And when each had risen, he bowed his head and said to one of the holy bishops: Command, my lord, I pray, that the hands of this woman be signed. He obeyed most readily, but nevertheless the hands of the aforesaid woman kept twisting with a leap, as it were. She, crying out more vehemently, said: Lord Caesarius, I appeal to you, I beg you, do you sign her. Again I prostrated myself in prayer; and rising, I made the sign of the cross over the infirm hands. And they stood still at once. The woman, giving thanks to God and to the holy man, returned healed.

Thus he came every year on the proper days to the baptistery to bless the oil. And entering the apse, when he sat down to sign the infants, the little boys or girls sent there by their parents ran eagerly, presenting their little vessels with water, others with oil, so that he might bless them. And when those who were carrying the little pots and flasks against one another, because of the crowd of people, kept striking together, the sound of them knocking was heard and seen; and yet the glass in which the blessing of Christ's servant had been poured out was never broken.

At another time, while he was visiting his dioceses, and we came to the fortified town called Luco, there was a certain matron named Eucheria [variant: Euthyria], who, bringing forward her maidservant, prostrated her at his feet; she tearfully begged him to entreat the Lord on her behalf. But he, examining the case, as he was a man full of God and most searching in all things, asked what infirmity she had. They said: A demon, which the country folk call Diana; she is so afflicted that she is almost every night continually beaten, and often she is even led into the church between two men so that she may remain there; and she is so secretly worn out by diabolical scourges that her voice is heard continually, and she cannot answer at all those who cling to her. Then, with all who were present with Christ's servant asking that the truth of the matter be made manifest, they begged to see it.

With the lord himself permitting it, the holy priest Lucius and the deacon Didymus, who at that time were traveling through the parishes, hastened to see her more privately, and in their company I too proceeded. If my faithful brethren believe me, I speak before God: with my own eyes I saw the wounds that she had received on her back and shoulders a few days before come to healing; but on the previous day, and on that very day, there were impressed upon her fresh wounds among those woven in with the ones she had earlier endured. Then, when she was again brought before him, she appeared with her eyes so disturbed and her face confused and turned away from him, that it was clear to all that she could not look upon the face of the servant of God at all. But he, placing his hand upon her head, gave a blessing; then he blessed oil, with which he ordered her to be anointed during the night hours; and immediately she was so healed that thereafter the temptation of the demon did not return to her.

At another time, when we had come into the dioceses, a child about eight years old, living in the clerical habit, came to the altar; there, after the preaching (which he did not at all delay to deliver from memory by himself, not only in the city but also in all the parishes, whenever he could), when he had been called back from the chancel to the altar, he had already begun to celebrate Mass. But the man himself began to be grievously vexed by a most wicked spirit; for he was horribly shaken with trembling and foaming. Then no small terror seized them all.

But he, raising his eyes to heaven, directed prayers to the Lord for her recovery, and began again, setting that aside, to turn to celebrating masses. Then a certain presbyter of the Church of Catarascum, by name Ursus, threw the little infant herself before his feet. He, taking this amiss, said: "May God spare you, blessed one: that is the work of others, not mine." And although he refused because of human arrogance, nevertheless divine power did not fail his servant. Immediately, therefore, when the child was thrown before his feet, she rose up healed; nor did the wicked spirit ever return to her, whom I also saw as a subdeacon in that same church.

For when he had come to the parish of Citarista for the sake of visiting, the daughter of a certain man named Novatus seemed to have incurred a demon so abominable and of a new kind that whenever she had put a foot outside the door of her house, immediately a multitude of crows would rush upon her face, tearing at it, and shaking her with trembling or rolling her about with foam, they would disfigure whatever they found of her body naked, that is, her face, her neck, or whatever else they found. When she had been brought before the holy man, we saw crows coming upon her as far as the basilica which she entered, where the man of God was, flying over her. Yet not even then did the troublesome creatures dare to rush in. For when she had come before him, seeing her face disfigured by tearing, we secretly...

he said to you: "I have never read, seen, or heard that the devil has laid snares of this kind for anyone." Then, placing his hand on her head before the holy altar, he blessed the oil and anointed her eyes and ears, and while all were watching, she returned home through the street healed; and for the two days that we were there, she went up to the church, and that attack never afterward returned upon her.

When some time had passed from there, he came to a field of our church, where the dioceses also are, which is called Succentrionae. Baths had been built there with great lofty roofs; if anyone happened to pass by there at any moment, he was immediately called by name; at once he would see huge stones falling either before his feet or behind him with fear, and everyone took care never to pass through there. Hence all who did not know were warned not to fall into that danger, so that they did not dare to pass by. And behold, when the man of God, having been sought out there [perhaps "having been asked"], was proceeding to another church, the cleric whose task it was to carry his staff (which was the office of the notaries), in which I, the least and useless one, was serving, forgot it. Then the inhabitants of that place, when they had found it, said rejoicing that it had been granted to them by the Lord that they had found something of his; they marvel and give thanks to God, and they hang that very staff on the wall; and immediately the snares of the devil were put to flight, and the adversary himself has never to this day presumed to do that most wicked evil to anyone in that place.

It also happened at that time that a certain man from Gaul, Benenatus by name but not in deed, came and lamented that he was a captive with his grandsons. He had a little girl, whom he dressed in boy's clothing and presented to him, saying: "This is my grandson Incus, and he and his sister, who is hurrying here after us, are held captive with me." Then the man of God, grieving over their captivity out of the affection that the Lord had inspired in him from infancy, gently kissed the one who had presented the girl, and the girl herself, believing her to be a boy. So, when the ransom had been received by both, they returned to where they had come from. After two days he brought the same girl back again, as if in her own proper dress, so that he might receive more solidi. This was done through the suggestion of the holy priest Jacob, who in his holy simplicity kept assuring him that the man was seeking everything in truth. Then he received the ransom for this girl a second time. For those who were then concerned discovered that he had afterward presented the same girl whom he had first shown in boy's clothing. When this was reported to the holy man of God with indignation, not only by me but also by the aforementioned priest, and with shame, he, being always most gentle and kind toward strangers, said to the priest: "Do not be angry, holy one; you did well to commend the stranger; God will repay you for your good will.

And may God forgive that poor wretch for this sin—he who made me kiss the girl. And may the girl herself receive this reward: that, because she presumed to kiss even an unworthy priest, he may make her such a holy virgin that she never kisses another man. But because God, the judge of things to come, knew that she could without doubt not persevere in virginity, lest the prayer of the servant of God be made void, she departed from this world on the very next day. At Arles, at the basilica of the Apostles, where he himself had had his lodging, these deeds are known to have been celebrated.

20. At another time, a certain matron in the city of Marseille had so dislocated her foot that for a long time she could not set that foot on the ground; but supported by the hands of her servants, she could scarcely be led to church, enduring the most severe pain. But because the mercies of the Lord are many, when he himself willed it, he brought it about that the man of God walked to that city. When the woman heard of his arrival, she had herself brought to him to greet him. Having received prayer and blessing from him, she did not presume to mention her case to him at all. But after returning from him, she asked that she be allowed to approach his chair. Touching faithfully the weakened place with the upper coverlet that covered the chair, she immediately received her former health, and as if she had never suffered the ailment, she returned safe on her own feet, with no one supporting her, giving thanks to the Lord even to the present day.

On a certain day, therefore—something many people knew—fire seized the house of a certain John in this city, next to the monastery of virgins. It began to draw near, so that no one doubted that everything there would be burned up. The handmaidens of God, therefore, thrown into confusion—since they were not permitted to go outside—kept throwing books and belongings, and even themselves, into the cisterns, where by God's dispensation the water was then lacking, so that despair might not overwhelm them. And the officials of the monastery ran and reported to their father that the fire was already close to his own cell. He went out hurriedly at midnight, came over the wall to the place where the flame was, prostrated himself in prayer, and, giving instructions to them and shouting from the wall, said: "Do not be afraid, blessed ones." Soon, the flame, feeling the power of his virtue, abandoned the fire.

Nor will I pass over this in silence. At a certain time, it is proclaimed as a very famous event, something happened in the Alpine regions. While a persistent storm was wearing down the lands of a certain most noble man with destructive downpour, and the force of hail was devouring all the fruits of that place, so that year after year no hope of relief remained there; it happened again that his staff by chance remained there, from which the owner himself ordered a cross to be made, and, armed with faith, he fixed it in a higher place, so that when the hail came, the staff of the disciple might oppose it—the cross of the master.

God was working such great power there in honor of his servant on the day he was born, that afterward he gave the greatest abundance there, where he had driven away the storm.

Likewise, on a certain day fire seized the house of a certain Vincent, whose wooden upper room was yielding to the flames. He, seeing that he could do nothing, ran with all the speed he could to the lord himself, fell at his knees, and begged him to pray. And going outside, he made the cross against the flame, which immediately recoiling, was so quenched that not even a mark appeared on the boards of the upper room.

CHAPTER III.

Other miracles; his care in instructing disciples, and his exhortation of his own people to repentance; his virtues and visions.

A certain priest also recently reported to us that some years ago, while he was still a layman, his daughter was tormented by a demon. Grieving and fleeing, he said to one of his friends: What shall I do, wretched man, because my daughter is tormented by a demon? It would have been better for me if she had never been born, or at least if she had died. He answered him: Do not weep, but go, lead her to the lord Caesarius, and offer her to him secretly, so that he may cure her. He, doubting nothing, came to Arelate, and going, met him, and threw himself at his feet with tears, saying: Lord, have mercy on wretched me; cure my daughter. He, asking carefully what was wrong with her, answered: A demon. He said to him: Be silent, and turn back to your house.

In the morning, when matins are being said, return and bring with you the girl herself and her mother, and wait—that is, keep watch—during the said matins in the atrium of Saint Stephen; and when you see that it is private, come to the cell and call. He did as he had been ordered. But he, going out secretly, knelt on the ground and prayed with the girl's father and mother, and rising he signed her and sent her away healed.

Again, walking through the city's square, he saw across the way in the forum a man who was driven by a demon. When he had noticed him across the way, keeping his hand under his cloak so that he would not be seen by his own people, he made the sign of the cross against him; and he was at once freed from the enemy's temptation.

For how holy and sweet was that, when through the days he ceaselessly pressed the word of God upon those who wished it in season and upon those who did not out of season: when he had already come late to rest, so that not even in the moment of that hour would he be free from the divine Scriptures and holy instruction, he would say to us: Tell me, he said, what did we have for dinner today? What sort of dishes did we have? We, silent, sighed, because our understanding was being led to that place to which he was accustomed to provoke us, because he wished to speak of spiritual food; and for that reason he would question us. He would say again: I know, he said, that if I have been anxious about what we had for dinner, you also remember what you had for lunch. But if we ask what was set on the table, we do not remember.

From this it can be understood that what we retain tasted sweet to us, but what we do not retain not only yielded no savor on the palate of our heart, but perhaps even produced loathing. And groaning, he would say: "Unhappy forgetfulness of good things, than which nothing is more unhappy!" And beginning from the start, he would repeat what had been read or expounded; and to us wretches he would say with a prophetic voice and a groan: "Gather, gather the Lord's wheat; for I tell you, it will not be long before you gather it. See what I say. Gather, because you will seek this time; truly, truly, you will seek these days and greatly long for them."

And although at that time our sloth received this grudgingly, yet now we prove that what he said has already come. That prophecy has been fulfilled in us: "I will send a famine upon the land—a famine," he says, "not of bread and water, but of hearing the word of God." Although the sermons he established are recited, yet that ceaseless voice has ceased which fulfilled that prophecy: "Cry out, do not cease," often adding this: "When anyone's palate disdains the word of God, his soul is feverish; when it has come to health, then it hungers and thirsts for what, while it was sick, it rejected and neglected." For that sweetest and most holy refrain—who could ever explain it in words! Thus, he said, did the servant of Christ speak to us: "The supper," he says, "we have now, as best we could, dispatched.

But by those standing by or by the chamberlains it was suggested to him (on account of his weariness, because, exhausted, he could scarcely breathe) that he should rest himself. He answered: "You speak well," he said. "But wait a little." Then the chamberlains: "Lord, what are you saying? The table has been waiting a long time, you have tired yourself with much speaking, and until now you have not been silent; now refresh yourself a little." He, with the greatest sweetness, again answered: "You speak well," he said; "but because we have finished dinner, we are going to do no business."

He who knows the secrets of the unknown knows what I say: that when the Holy Spirit had begun to pour forth through him, he would unfold the vices of all so, and so smite them with the lashes of his instruction, and anointing them with divine medicines, recall them to health without any delay, as a spiritual and holy organist he touched the hearts of each one; so that, going out from him, we would ourselves echo somewhat of what had been said, saying: "For this let each one of us give thanks to you, O God, because I no longer retain my wrongdoing, nor does my mind rage against that brother of mine; because surely the things your servant preaches are true, and I prefer to suffer injury than that this holy man be produced as a witness against me on the day of judgment." Another said the same about pride, and another about envy, and another who had labored under any vice whatsoever said likewise; and all of us, sound in mind and relieved, returned to our beds, giving thanks to God.

For what kind of countenance, good God, holy Creator, what kind of face, what kind of person could anyone ever set forth? But we desire in you, holy Father, the teaching, the form, the countenance, the person, the knowledge, the sweetness, which you had as something special from the Lord among other men. How holy was your life, how pure and sweet your affection! Lord Jesus, how great things you gave to him, who can either think, let alone set forth in words! For when he came forward to bless the fonts, as those who saw and who hear what I say are themselves suitable witnesses for themselves, because they believe themselves. For who ever believed that he was an earthly man in that procession? Lord God of heaven, I say confidently for the truth, that through those forty years in which he administered, whoever saw him coming forward on that day, as if they had never seen him before, so he always appeared new in the eyes of all. His countenance shone together with his soul, because truly his life so grew by continuous advances that he always became better than himself. Not without merit did what was carried within appear on the outside.

To him, indeed, visitations not only of certain saints were often shown, but also—what is above all—the Lord Jesus with all his disciples revealed himself to him in a vision. He did not boast of this indiscriminately, nor was he puffed up in spirit, but confessed it to only one person sufficiently faithful, under a bond of secrecy, so that he would keep silent, swearing before God that it had been done to him. Moreover, even two years before his passing, the whole preparation of what he was to receive for all his works in heaven was shown to him in the spirit, and it was said to him: Rejoice in the Lord, because behold what you will receive for your service. And because there are still many and great things which we pass over for the sake of brevity, many of those who know them with us will grieve that we have without doubt passed over so very many things which they certainly know along with us. We ask them to forgive us, because it is quite unseemly and burdensome, or barbarous to learned ears, to presume to speak longer; or, when one cannot speak, to mutter further. May God grant that we may reach the end before, out of love, out of nourishment, out of charity, out of preaching, out of the wholly holy remembrance of our lord and our holy father Caesarius, we make an end in our minds. Nevertheless, the few things which were also done after his passing concerning his relics, even before these things were written, I shall relate.

CHAPTER IV.

Certain miracles wrought after his death; the age of the saint and the time of his episcopate; his pious preparation for his foreseen death, and his blessed death; the grief of all at his passing and burial.

A public registrar named Desiderius, when for a long time he had been so severely afflicted by quartan fevers that he had even lost his once vigorous youth, drank a little of the water in which that holy body had been washed, and was so healed that not only did the fever itself no longer recur in the young man, but even his former strength and vigor returned to him, with the Lord's assent.

But the son of the illustrious man Salvius, when he was rather gravely afflicted by tertian fevers, and, as is the zeal of such a man, he strove to cure this illness with frequent potions suited to it, could be helped not at all. Then, as a Christian, he said: Run, my son, and seek the water in which the lord bishop was washed, or at least wash relics from his garment, and drink, and the Lord will give healing. As soon as it was done, all the fever and whatever was troublesome departed from him.

The son also of the illustrious man Martianus was once so grievously afflicted by the distress of fevers that he was even despaired of by the physicians. But he, as God in his mercy inspires those whom he wills to heal, began with faith and eagerness to ask that something from the garments of the Lord's servant be given him to wash in and to drink. Then a rush was made to me, or to the others who were absent and had kept back something of it for themselves; it was sought from someone, found, and given from the garment that was produced; he took the water itself and was made well, and he himself stands as a witness of this miracle.

At another time, as I was passing through the square, a certain Frank, already wholly bent over and trembling with the chill of quartan fever, was walking before me. And when I made ready to go quickly where I had begun to go, he began to cry out after me: "Blessed one, if you have any, give me from the cloth of Saint Caesarius on account of the chills, for it avails many; I wish to drink." I, who wished to hurry quickly where I had begun to go, said: "If you wait for me, tomorrow I will give you what you seek." But he said: "I have today, and already I am all atremble; when am I to wait for you?" Then I, thinking that he had often been set before me in the square, said to him: "Come, young man, I will give you what you seek." At once we both turned back; and when we had entered my cell and both had washed our hands, I brought out a linen cloth with which the holy body of the sweet lord had been wiped.

I took a small piece of it to give to him; and that Frank, in great fury [or: fear], said to me: "Take it away, man—why do you lie? I have heard that the blessed man used not linen but rags for his use, and I wish to wash them and to drink from the water." Then I said with tears: "You speak well; you have heard the truth. But this—that is, this linen cloth—is what his holy body was wiped with when it passed away." And he said: "Give it, then, if I am to be healed." Having received it, therefore, he immediately felt healing from the Lord in that same hour.

But because the benefits of the prayers of the Lord's servant, which Christ bestowed through him upon bodies and souls, no tongue can worthily set forth—although the rusticity of my eloquence resounds as if foolishly, since I am not skilled in speech—yet, as my speech is with the wise, even a few testimonies are great gains of things; those who receive true words with a faithful mind have their own understanding as testimony. Nevertheless I should not pass over that which he recently did in his cell, where his little body rested, from which he departed to the things above. As the holy brothers were saying the little chapters there, with them presiding [or: present], one of the chamberlains whom he had in his service, while he was arranging the same [cell], slipped from his hands onto the stone: and it neither turned over, nor broke, nor was extinguished.

While therefore this evangelist, as we say, carried on the excellent and supreme work of the word in season and out of season, and while he fulfilled his sacred office, there was present by God's will—not by the gift of the man himself, as the Arians charged, but nonetheless continually praying for all—in the city of Arles, with tranquility and quiet, the most glorious Childebert's most catholic kingdom in the name of Christ, gentle in power, affable in severity, distinguished in humility, not striking the priests of the Lord with terror but binding them with reverence, more eminent than all in the Gauls, equal in privilege to all the Churches, recognizing the city in human terms. Refreshed therefore by this and likewise glad, the man of God despised the threats of the Ariomanites and their frequent accusations, falsehoods, and contrived pretenses. He saw therefore and rejoiced, and was gathered to his fathers in a good old age, in the name of Christ, full of days.

Since therefore weakness often rendered him half-alive before our eyes, and amid these things he was passing the seventy-third year of the whole course of his life, of which the fortieth cycle of his episcopate was completing its round, he perceived by the Spirit that the day of his departure was at hand, and amid the no small pains he was suffering, he inquired how near was the day of the deposition of the most blessed Augustine. And when he had learned that his commemoration was at hand, he said: I trust in the Lord that he will not separate my departure far from his; because, as you yourselves know, as much as I loved his most catholic mind, so much do I reckon that I, though unequal in merits, am nevertheless not separated by any longer distance of my deposition's day from the time of his passing. Meanwhile the departure of Israel from the land of Egypt grows and is added to, that is, of the holy soul; from this world, the migration of the bodily life.

He therefore ordered himself to be carried in a chair by the hand of serving women to the monastery of virgins which he himself had founded, as if to console the anxious, from whom the suspicion of his passing had taken sleep and food into forgetfulness. And with the sound of the psalms interrupted by tears, they returned a lowing instead of singing, and a groaning instead of Alleluia. Having therefore consoled and addressed the daughters, he did not bring them cheerfulness but heaped up grief. For it was plain to recognize that the pious Father was now about to depart to the divine homeland.

And so he addresses first, as was his custom and with his characteristic sweetness, the venerable mother Caesaria, superior of more than two hundred maidens, and he consoles her and urges her to press on toward the prize of the heavenly calling; and he admonishes them to hold fast the rule which he himself had established some years before; and thus in this manner he also commends them by his letters, together with the bishops who would succeed him, and the rest of the clergy of the prefecture, as well as the counts and citizens, so that they might bear no burden at all in the time to come. The constitution of his monastery at that time was in full years. He therefore gives them a prayer and a blessing, speaking a final farewell, while they wept aloud, and returns to the church. For on the third day after the feast of Saint Genesius, that is, the sixth day before the calends of September, before the day of the deposition of Saint Augustine the bishop, and after the day of the dedication of his own monastery, when he had already said farewell to all the day before, as the first hour drew near, amid the hands of the bishops, presbyters, and deacons who were present, he joyfully sent forth his blessed soul to Christ.

Even the garments of his holy body were torn away by the pious violence of the grieving and faithful peoples of various kinds, so that, with us his priests and ministers standing by, he could scarcely be restrained even by the patience of those receiving the relics. From these relics, by God's enabling, as I said above, healings of the sick are continually and most frequently celebrated. He indeed made wondrous joy in heaven, but on earth he left behind an intolerable mourning; and that mourning was shared not only by the good but even by any of the wicked who saw it. For who, at that funeral, whether saint or stranger, sang a psalm on account of tears? Rather all alike, good or evil, just and unjust, Christian or Jew, those going before and those following, raised their voices: Woe, woe, and daily more woe, because the world was not worthy to have such a herald or intercessor any longer. And so he was buried in the basilica of Saint Mary ever virgin, which he himself founded, where the sacred bodies of the virgins from his monastery are laid. Let us also on earth venerate him with faithful devotion and due diligence; whose soul we trust, rejoice, and glory that it shines forth in heaven, to the praise and honor of Jesus Christ our Lord, who with the eternal Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns as God for infinite ages of ages. Amen.