St. Martin

Bishop of Tours and Confessor[1]

THE great St. Martin, the glory of Gaul and the light of the western church in the fourth age, was a native of Sabaria, a town of Upper Pannonia, the ruins of which appear upon the river Gunez, in Lower Hungary two leagues from Sarwar, upon the Raab, near the confines of Austria and Stiria. St. Gregory of Tours places his birth in the year 316, or before Easter in 317, the eleventh of Constantine the Great. His parents carried him with them in his infancy to Pavia in Italy, whither they removed, and the saint had his education in that city. His father was an officer in the army, and rose to the commission of a military tribune, not much different from that of a colonel or rather of a brigadier among us. Our saint from his infancy seemed animated with the Spirit of God, and do have to relish for anything but for his service though his parents were idolaters. At ten years of age he made his way to the church against the will of his parent and desired to be enrolled among the catechumens. His request was granted, and he assisted as often as possible at the instructions that were given to such at the church: by which he conceived so ardent a love of God, that at twelve years of age, he was for retiring into the desert; and would have done it had not the tenderness of his age hindered him. His heart, however, was always set upon the church and monasteries. An imperial order being issued to oblige the sons of veteran officers and soldiers to bear arms the saint's own father, who very much desired that his son should follow that profession, discovered him, and at fifteen years of age he was compelled to take the military oath, and was entered in the cavalry. He contented himself with one servant, and him he treated as if he were his equal: they ate together and the master frequently performed for him the lowest offices. All the time he remained in the army, he kept himself free from those vices which too frequently sully and degrade that profession, and, by his virtue, goodness, and charity, gained the love and esteem of all his companions. He was humble and patient above what human nature seemed capable of, though he was not yet baptized. He comforted all those that suffered affliction, and relieved the distressed, reserving to himself out of his pay only what was as sufficient for his daily support. 

            Of his compassion and charity St. Sulpicius has recorded the following illustrious example. One day, in the midst of a very hard winter, and severe frost, when many perished with cold, as he was marching with other officers and soldiers, he met at the gate of the city of Amiens a poor man, almost naked, trembling and shaking for cold, and begging alms of those that passed by. Martin seeing those that went before him take no notice of this miserable object, thought he was reserved for himself: by his charities to others he had nothing left but his arms and clothes upon his back; when, drawing his sword, he cut his cloak into two pieces, gave one to the beggar, and wrapped himself in the other half. Some of the bystanders laughed at the figure he made in that dress, while others were ashamed not to have relieved the poor man. In the following night St. Martin saw in his sleep Jesus Christ dressed in that half of the garment which he had given away, and was bid to look at it well, and asked whether he knew it. He then heard Jesus say to a troop of angels that surrounded him: "Martin, yet a catechumen, has clothed me with this garment." This vision inspired the saint with fresh ardor, and determined him speedily to receive baptism, which he did in the eighteenth year of his age; but still continued almost two years in the army at the request of his tribune, with whom he lived in the most intimate friendship, and who promised to renounce the world when the term of the service and commission in which he was then employed, should be elapsed. During this interval Martin was so entirely taken up with the obligations of his baptism, that he had little more than the name of a soldier, and expressed much impatience at being detained one moment from devoting himself solely to the divine service. Upon an irruption which the Germans made into Gaul, the troops were assembled to march against them, and a donative was distributed among the soldiers. Martin thought it would be ungenerous and unjust to receive the donative when he had thoughts of quitting the service. He therefore begged that his donative might be bestowed on some other person, and asked his dismission, that he might give himself up totally to the service of Christ. He was told that it was for fear of the battle that was expected next day, that he desired his dismission. Martin, with surprising intrepidity, offered to be placed in the front without arms, saying, "In the flame of the Lord Jesus, and protected not by a helmet and buckler, but by the sign of the cross, I will thrust myself into the thickest squadrons of the enemy without fear." That night the barbarians demanded and obtained peace; upon which Martin easily procured leave to retire, after having served in the army about five years according to the most probable act court. *  

            St. Martin, having quitted the camp, went to St. Hilary, who had been made bishop of Poitiers in the year 353 or 354. That great prelate soon became acquainted with the saint's extraordinary merit, and, in order to fix him in his diocese, would fain have ordained him deacon, but was not able to overcome his humility, and was obliged to be content only to make him exorcist. Martin was very desirous to pay his parents a visit in Pannonia; for which he obtained the leave of St. Hilary, who made him promise he would return to him again. In crossing the Alps he fell into the hands of a company of robbers, and one of them lifted up his sword over his head to kill him; but another held his arm. They admired his modesty and intrepidity, and asked him who he was, and whether he was not struck with fear at the sight of a sword lifted up to kill him. He answered that he was a Christian, and that he had never been more calm and secure than under that danger, because he certainly knew that the divine goodness is always most ready to protect us in life or in death, and is never more present to us than in the greatest dangers; but said he was only grieved that they, by the lives which they led, deprived themselves of the mercy of Christ. The robbers listened to him, admired the courage and confidence in God which virtue inspires, and he who had attempted to kill the saint put him in his road, became a Christian, led a penitential religious life in a monastery, and himself afterwards related this circumstance. Martin continued his journey through Milan into Pannonia, and converted his mother and many others; but his father remained in his infidelity. In Illyricum he with so much zeal opposed the Arians who prevailed there without control, that he was publicly scourged by them and banished the country. In Italy he heard that the church of Gaul was sorely oppressed by those heretics, and St. Hilary banished: upon which melancholy news he chose a retreat near the walls of Milan, where he entered upon a monastic life. Auxentius the Arian invader of the see of Milan, soon became acquainted with his zeal for the orthodox faith, and the council of Nice, and drove him out of that diocese. The saint in this distress fell into the company of a very virtuous priest, with whom he agreed to retire to the little desert island of Gallinaria, upon the coast of Liguria, near Albenga. Here, while he lived in great abstinence or roots and wild herbs, he happened unawares to eat a considerable quantity of hellebore, enough to have caused his death, if he had not been restored to his health when brought to the last extremity, by having recourse to prayer. Understanding, in 360, that St. Hilary was returning to his bishopric, he went to Rome to meet him on his road, and finding there that he was already gone by, speedily followed and overtook him, and being most affectionately received by him, accompanied him to Poitiers. It being Martin's earnest desire to pursue his vocation in holy solitude, St. Hilary gave him a little spot of land, called Locociagum, now Luguge, two leagues from the city, where our saint built a monastery which was standing in the eighth century, and seems to have been the first that was erected in Gaul. Among others who were received by the saint in this house, was a certain catechumen, who, shortly after, while St. Martin was absent for three days upon business relating to the divine service, fell ill of a fever, and died suddenly, beyond all expectation, and without baptism. The saint returning home found his monks in great affliction and the corpse laid out in order to be buried. Bursting into a flood of tears he fixed his eyes on the corpse; and feeling in himself a divine impulse to work a miracle, he ordered the rest to go out of the chamber, and, like an other Eliseus, stretched himself upon the dead body, and prayed for some time with great earnestness, till, perceiving that it began to revive, he rose up and stood by it, while, in less than two hours, the deceased person began to move his limbs, and at last opened his eyes. Being restored to life he related how, after his departure, his soul seemed to be presented before the divine tribunal, and sentenced to a dark dungeon, but that two angels represented to the judge that St. Martin poured forth his prayers in her behalf; and that the judge ordered them to restore her to the body, and raise it to life. The person was immediately baptized, and lived many years. Another time the saint restored to life, in the same manner, a slave of a neighboring rich man, who had hanged himself. These two miracles exceedingly spread his reputation. and in the year 371 he was chosen the third bishop of Tours, and consecrated on the 3rd of July. St. Gatian, who came from Rome about the same time with St. Dionysius of Paris, in 250, had first preached the faith there, founded that see, and governed it fifty years, as St. Gregory of Tours affirms. His successor, after the see had been several years vacant, was St. Litorius: upon whose death the people demanded St. Martin for their bishop. A stratagem was made use of to call him to the door of his monastery to give his blessing to a sick person, and he was forcibly conveyed to Tours under a strong guard. Some of the neighboring bishops, who were called to assist at the election, urged that the meanness of his dress and appearance, and his slovenly air, showed him to be unfit for such a dignity. But such objections were commendations of the servant of God, who was installed in the episcopal chair. 

            St. Martin in this new dignity continued the same manner of life, retaining the same humility of mind, austerity of life, and meanness of dress. He lived at first in a little cell near the church, but, not being able to endure the interruption which he met with from the many visits he there received, he retired to a monastery which he built two miles from the city, which is the famous abbey of Marmoutier, the most ancient that now subsists in France, and belongs to the congregation of St. Maur. The place was then a desert, enclosed by a high steep rock on one side, and by the river Loire on the other, and the entrance into it was only by one very narrow passage. The holy bishop had a cell built of wood: several of his monks had cells made in the same manner, but the greater part took up their dwellings in narrow holes which they dug in the side of the rock: one is still shown in which St. Martin is said to have lodged for some time. He had here in a short time about fourscore monks: among them no one had any distinct property: no one was allowed to buy or sell, as was the practice of the greater part of the monks with regard to their work and sustenance. No art or business was permitted among them, except that of writing, to which only the younger were deputed: the more ancient attended to nothing else but to prayer and spiritual functions. Very rarely any went out of his cell, except to the oratory where they assembled at the hours of public prayer; and they ate all together in the evening after the hour of the fast. Wine was never afforded to any one, unless sickness required it. Most of them had garments of camel's hair, that is, of coarse camlet, and it was esteemed a crime to wear any soft clothing. There were nevertheless many persons of quality among them, who had been educated in a tender and delicate manner. Many bishops were chosen out of this monastery; for there was not a city which did not desire so have a pastor who had been bred under the discipline of St. Martin. The bishop was frequently, employed in visiting all the parts of his diocese. Not far from his monastery stood a chapel and an altar, erected by the concession of his predecessors, over the tomb of a pretended martyr. The place was much reverenced by the people: but St. Martin, who was not over-credulous, would not go thither to pray, not hearing any assured account of the relics. He asked the eldest of the clergy what they knew of them, and not receiving satisfaction, he went one day to the place with some of his brethren, and standing over the tomb, besought God to show him who was burned there. Then turning to the left he saw near him a pale ghost of a fierce aspect, whom he commanded to speak. The ghost told his name, and it appeared that he had been a robber who was executed for his crimes, whom the people had honored as a martyr. None but St. Martin saw him: the rest only heard his voice. He thereupon caused the altar to be removed, and freed the people from this superstition. * Formerly bishops canonized saints, or declared them such; but, to prevent the danger of abuses, this has been long since reserved to the most mature discussion and solemn approbation of the apostolic see of Rome. To honor relics without a prudent or moral assurance of their authenticity, or without the due authority of pastors as the canons require, is to fall into superstition. Where these rules of prudence are observed, even though a mistake should happen, it is of the same nature as if a person by incapable inadvertence, kissed some other book instead of the Bible; and the primary object of such religious actions, which is to glorify God in his saints, is always certain, whatever mistakes may happen in facts, or such like human means which excite our devotion. But the example of St. Martin, St. Gregory the Great, St. Charles Borromeo, and all other holy prelates ought to excite all pastors to be diligent and severe in examining and removing relics which are not sufficiently warranted. 

            The utter extirpation of idolatry out of the diocese of Tours and all that part of Gaul, was the fruit of the edifying piety, miracles, and zealous labors and instructions of St. Martin. Soon after he had entered upon his episcopal charge he was obliged (probably on account of the heathenish temples, or some such affairs) to repair to the court of Valentinian I., who generally resided in Gaul. That prince, who was a good soldier, was a most passionate, rough, and proud man, and though he had been remarkable for his zeal in the reign of Julian the Apostate, seemed on certain occasions afterwards too favorable to idolatry; or too indifferent about religion, as appears amongst other instances from the following: The church never admitted comedians to baptism till they had quitted that profession, so that the pagans dreaded lest any of their comedians should turn Christians, as a prejudice to their public diversions. Valentinian therefore decreed that if any comedians in sickness desired baptism, the magistrates should be informed, that they might cause them to be visited, and see if they were really in danger, before they were allowed to be baptized. * This prince, knowing that St. Martin was come to beg of him something in favor of the Christian religion which he had no mind to grant, gave orders that he should not be admitted into the palace. Also his wife Justina, who was a furious Arian, endeavored to prepossess him against the holy bishop. St. Martin, having attempted in vain twice or thrice to get access, had recourse to his ordinary weapons. He put on hair-cloth, covered his head with ashes, abstained from eating and drinking, and prayed day and night. On the seventh day he was ordered by an angel to go boldly to the palace. Accordingly he went thither, found the doors open, and nobody stopping him he went to the emperor, who seeing him at a distance, asked in passion why they had let him in, and would not vouchsafe to rise; but the place where he sat was suddenly all in a flame; which soon forced him to get up, says Sulpicius Severus. * Then finding that he had felt the divine power, he embraced the saint several times, and granted him all that he desired, ever before he had time to mention his requests. After this, he gave him audience several times, often made him eat at his table, and, at his departure, offered him great presents, which the saint modestly refused, out of love to the poverty he professed This must have happened before the year 375, in which this emperor died. 

            St. Martin destroyed many temples of idols, and felled several trees that were held as sacred by the pagans. Having demolished a very ancient temple, he would also have cut down a pine that stood near it. The chief priest and other pagans opposed; but at length agreed that they themselves would fell it, upon condition that he who trusted so strongly in the God whom he preached would stand under it where they should place him. The saint, who was directed in these extraordinary events by a divine inspiration, consented, and suffered himself to be tied to that side of the tree on which it leaned. When it seemed just ready to fall upon him he made the sign of the cross, and it fell on the contrary side. There was not one in a prodigious multitude of pagans that were present, who did not upon the spot demand the imposition of hands in order to be received amongst the catechumens. Another time, as he was pulling down a temple in the country of Ædui, that is, in the territory of Autun, a great number of pagans fell upon him with great fury, and one attacked him sword in hand. The saint took away his mantle, and presented his bare neck to him: but the pagan, being miraculously terrified, fell backwards, and begged he would forgive him. His zeal exposed him on many occasions to the hazard of his life. Wherever he destroyed temples, he immediately built churches or monasteries; and continued frequently to perform great miracles. At Triers, he cured a maid who was sick of a palsy, and just ready to expire, by putting some oil that was blessed into her mouth. He restored to health a slave who belonged to Tetradius, formerly proconsul, that was possessed with a devil. At Paris, as he entered the gate of the city, followed by a great crowd, he kissed a most loathsome leper, and gave him his blessing, and he was forthwith healed. Small threads of the clothes or hair shirt of St. Martin often cured the sick when applied to them. One time the saint, as he was going to Chartres, passed through a village, the inhabitants of which were all idolaters, yet they all came out to see him pass by. The holy prelate seeing this multitude of infidels was moved with extreme compassion, and with earnest affection lifted up his eyes to heaven. Then he began to preach to them the word of God in the manner that he was accustomed, and sweetly to invite them to eternal salvation, with such pathetic words, voice, and energy, that it appeared plainly that it was not he who spoke, but God in him. A woman brought to him at that very time her only son, a child who was dead, and besought him, as the friend of God, to restore him to life. The saint judging that this miracle might occasion the conversion of many, made his prayer, and, in the presence of all the people, restored the child alive to the mother, who was amazed and out of herself for joy. The people who had seen this miracle, cried out aloud to heaven, ran to the saint, and cast themselves at his feet, beseeching him to make them catechumens, and to prepare them for baptism. St. Martin rejoiced at the conversion of so many souls to God, much more than any one could have done for the conquest of a kingdom, or all temporal advantages. Paulinus, who flourished with so great reputation for sanctity at Nola, being seized with a violent in his eye, where a cataract was beginning to be formed, St. Martin touched him with a pencil, and he was immediately cured. * Many other miracles wrought by St. Martin are related by St. Sulpicius Severus, especially in casting out devils, whom he did not expel with threats and terrors as other exorcists were accustomed to do; but clothed with rough hair-cloth, and covered with ashes, he prostrated himself upon the ground, and, with the arms of holy prayer, subdued them, and forced them at length to yield. The same venerable author recounts several instances of revelations, visions, and the spirit of prophecy with which the saint was favored by God. An extraordinary prudence, particularly in the discernment of spirits, was the fruit of his profound humility, perfect purity of heart, spirit of prayer, and contemplation. By this he discovered various subtle illusions and snares of the spirit of darkness. One day, when St. Martin was praying in his cell, the devil came to him environed with light, clothed in royal robes, with a crown of gold and precious stones upon his head, and with a gracious and pleasant countenance, told him twice that he was Christ. Humility is the touchstone which discovers the devil's artifices in all which a spirit of pride reigns. By this the saint after some pause discerned the evident mark of the angel of darkness, and said to him: "The Lord Jesus said not that he was to come clothed with purple, and crowned and adorned with a diadem. Nor will I ever believe him to be Christ who shall not come in the habit and figure in which Christ suffered and who shall not bear the marks of the cross in his body." At these words the fiend vanished, and left the cell filled with an intolerable stench. 

            While St. Martin was employed in making spiritual conquests, and in peaceably propagating the kingdom of Jesus Christ, the western empire was shaken with horrible convulsions. Maximus was proclaimed emperor by the Roman legions in Britain in 383, and, passing into Gaul, was acknowledged by the mutinous soldiery there, made Triers the seat of his empire, and defeated Gratian near Paris, who was betrayed by his own forces, and assassinated by Andragathius at Lyons on the 25th of August, in 383. The churches in Spain and Gaul were at that time disturbed by the Priscillianists, * who renewed many errors of Simon Magus, the Gnostics, and the Manichees, to which they added their favorite tenet of dissimulation and lying, it being an avowed principle amongst them, "Swear, forswear thyself; betray not the secret." Maximum found Ithacius a Spanish bishop the warmest accuser of the Priscilllanists, waiting for him at Triers. Idacius his colleague joined him there. The new emperor received them favorably, and commanded the ringleaders of the heretics to be conducted thither from Spain, and confronted with their two accusers. St. Martin happened to go to Triers to intercede with the tyrant in favor of certain persons who were condemned to death for adhering to their late master, Gratian. Many at the same time came from different parts to pay their court to Maximus with the most fawning adulation. But our saint always maintained his apostolical authority, imitating herein St. Ambrose, who had been there before him upon an embassy from Valentinian II., Gratian's younger brother, who remained in possession of Italy. Though St. Martin was Maximus's subject, which the other was not, he discovered the utmost reluctance to communicate with Maximus; and, when he was invited to dine at the emperor's table, he refused a long while, saying boldly, that he could not eat at the same table with a man who had deprived one emperor of his dominions, and another of his life. Maximus protested that he had not accepted of the empire voluntarily, but that it had been forced upon him by the soldiery, that his incredible success seemed to testify the will of God, and that not one of his enemies had perished, except those who lost their lives in the battle. St. Martin at length was prevailed upon to accept the invitation, which gave the emperor the utmost satisfaction, who ordered a great entertainment to be made, and invited the most considerable persons of his court, and, among others, his uncle and brother, both counts, and the prefect of the praetorium. The priest who accompanied St. Martin was seated in a most honorable place between two counts, and on the same couch; and St. Martin on a low seat near the emperor. In the midst of the entertainment, an officer presented the cup as usual to Maximus, who ordered it to be given to St. Martin, expecting to receive it from his hand; but, when the bishop had drank, he gave it to his priest, as the most worthy person in the company; which action was exceedingly applauded by the emperor and the whole court. The empress, who attended night and day to the bishop's discourses, sat always at his feet upon the ground, and would needs give him an entertainment in her turn, to which she invited the emperor consented with the utmost reluctance, for though he was above seventy years old, he never conversed with women except on necessary spiritual affairs. But he found it unavoidable, as he had several things to petition for; such as the delivery of prisoners, the recalling several that were in banishment, and restoring estates that had been confiscated. The empress herself waited upon him at table in the humble posture of a servant. 

            Neither St. Ambrose nor St. Martin would communicate with Ithacius or those bishops who held communion with him, because they sought to put heretics to death. We cannot wonder at the offense these saints took at their prosecuting Priscillian in such a manner, when we consider how much the church abhorred the shedding of the blood even of criminal.), and never suffered any of her clergy to have any share in such causes. St. Martin continually reproved Ithacius for his conduct, and pressed him to desist from his accusation. He also besought Maximus not to spill the blood of he guilty; saying, it was sufficient that they had been declared heretics and excommunicated by the bishops, and that there was no precedent of an ecclesiastical cause being brought before a secular judge Ithacius, far from hearkening to his advice, presumed to accuse him of this heresy, as he usually did those whose manner of life seemed to him too rigid. But Maximus, out of regard to St. Martin's remonstrances, caused the trial to be deferred all the while he stayed at Triers, and even promised him that the blood of the persons accused should not be spilled. But after the saint had left Triers, he suffered himself to be prevailed upon, and committed the cause of the Priscillianists to Evodius, whom he had made prefect of the praetorium. This severe judge convicted Priscillian of several crimes by his own confession, as of holding nocturnal assemblies with lewd women, of praying naked, and other such things. Ithacius was the accuser, and was even present when Priscillian was put to the torture. * Though after this he withdrew, and did not assist at their condemnation to death. Evodius laid the whole proceeding before Maximus, who declared Priscillian and his accomplices worthy of death. Evodius therefore pronounced sentence Priscillian his two clerks named Felicissimus and Armenius, Latroeinius a layman, and Euchroeia were beheaded. The bishop Instantius, who had been condemned by the council of Bourdeaux, was banished to the islands of Sylina, or the isles of Scilly, beyond Britain. Soon after Afarinus and Aurelius, two deacons, were condemned to death: Tiberian was sent to the same islands, and his estate confiscated, and others were punished for the same cause. * Ithacius and his associate bishops were supported by the emperor, so that several who disapproved their conduct, durst not condemn them. Only one bishop, named Theognostus, publicly declared against him. 

            The Ithacians prevailed upon the emperor to send tribunes into Spain with a sovereign power to search out heretics, and deprive them of their lives and possessions. No one doubted but many innocent persons would fall undistinguished in this search: for the paleness of a man's countenance, or his dress, was enough to bring him into suspicion with those people. The day after they had obtained this order, they heard, when they least expected it, that St. Martin was almost got to Triers; for he was obliged to go there very often about affairs of charity. The Ithacians were greatly alarmed at his coming, and when they found that he abstained from their communion, they told the emperor that, if the obstinacy of Theognostus was supported by Martin's authority, their reputation would be entirely ruined. Maximus therefore represented mildly to the holy man that the heretics had been justly condemned for their crimes by the imperial judges, not by the bishops. But perceiving that St. Martin was not moved, but urged that the bishops had carried on the prosecutions, Maximus fell into a passion, and going away, gave immediate orders that the persons for whom he came to intercede should be put to death. These were count Narses, and the governor Leueadius. who were obnoxious to Maximus for having adhered to Gratian's party. The holy man had still more at heart to prevent the tribunes being sent into Spain, and this not only for the sake of many Catholics, out also for the heretics, whose lives he was extremely desirous to save. His not communicating with the Ithacians was only meant by him to prevent the mischiefs which might arise from the scandal of their unjust deportment: but, as they were not excommunicated, it was no violation of any canon to communicate with them. St. Martin therefore in this extremity ran to the palace again, and promised the emperor to communicate with Ithacius, provided he would pardon those unfortunate persons, and recall the tribunes which had been sent into Spain. Maximus immediately complied with his demands. The next day being pitched upon by the Ithacians for the ordination of Felix, the newly elected bishop of Triers, St. Martin communicated with them upon that occasion, that so many people might be rescued from slaughter. The day following, he left Triers with some remorse, or a grief for his condescension. But he was comforted by an angel at prayer in the wood near Andethanna, now Echternach, five miles from Triers, who said to him, that he had reason to grieve for a condescension which was a misery, but charity rendered it necessary and excusable. * St. Sulpicius adds, that St. Martin used to tell them with tears in his eyes, that, from this time, it cost him more difficulty and longer prayers to cast out devils than formerly. Some weakness, imperfection, or venial sin is often an occasion of a substraction of sensible devotion or grace, till it be recovered by greater humility and compunction; though such substractions are frequently sent merely for trials. 

            St. Martin continued his journey to Tours, where he was received as the tutelar angel of his people. In his great age he relaxed nothing of his austerities, or of his zealous labors for the salvation of others; and he continued to the end of his life to confirm his doctrine by frequent and wonderful miracles, as we are assured by St. Sulpicius Severus. This great man * renouncing the world, chose for his first retreat a little cottage upon an estate which he had at a village upon the borders of Aquitaine, now in Languedoc, called Primuliac, and afterwards Mount Primlau, a place not now known. He made several visits to St. Martin, and squared his life by his direction. Upon his arrival, the blessed man himself presented water to him and his companions to wash their hands before eating, ordered them to be served with a moderate corporal reflection: then fed them with the spiritual food of his heavenly discourses, strongly exhorting them to renounce sensuality, and the pleasures and distraction of the world, that, without hindrance, they might follow the Lord Jesus with their whole hearts. In the evening he washed their feet with his own hands. St. Sulpicius assures us, that though a stranger to secular learning, he was in his discourses clear, methodical, pathetically vehement, and powerfully eloquent: that he was very ready in solving intricate difficulties of holy writ, in answering questions upon spiritual matters, and in giving to every one suitable advice that no one confuted errors and infidelity, or set off the truth of the Christian religion with greater perspicuity or force. This illustrious author adds, that he never heard any man speak with so much good sense, with so much knowledge and penetration, or with purer language: and that the gravity, dignity and humility, with which he delivered himself, were not to be expressed. Nevertheless, his strongest exhortation to perfect virtue was the almost irresistible influence of his example and wonderful sanctity. No one ever saw him angry, disturbed, sad, or vainly laughing: the same tranquillity of mind, the same serenity of countenance appeared in him in prosperity and adversity, and under all the vicissitudes of human accidents, even beyond what seemed possible in this mortal life. Christ was always in his mouth and in his heart. Nothing reigned there but sincere humility, piety, peace mercy, and goodness. He was very cautious never to judge others, and to interpret every one's actions, if it was possible, in the best part. Injuries, slanders, envy, and the jealousy of persecutors, which, in the whole course of his life were never wanting, he recompensed by weeping bitterly for their sins, and by seeking every opportunity of serving them, and of heaping benefits upon them, never excluding any one from his holy friendship. He would never lose any time in the day, and often passed whole nights in labors and watchings. To his body he allowed only that refreshment and repose which extreme necessity required, lying on the bare ground, covered with a coarse sackcloth. Amidst his exterior employments his heart was always closely united to God, and he seemed never to lose sight of his presence, either in words or actions. And as smiths, when they have no Iron bar before them to work on, strike sometimes on the anvil through use; so St. Martin, whether he read, or wrote, or treated with men, through habit was continually recollected in the interior man, and conversed sweetly with the heavenly Spouse, and with the Giver of all graces. He was accustomed to gather profitable spiritual lessons and thoughts, and to kindle holy affections from all things which occurred. Once when he saw a sheep newly shorn, he pleasantly said to those that were with him: "This sheep hath fulfilled the precept of the gospel, because having enough for two coats, it hath parted with one to such as have need: so should you likewise do." Seeing a man keeping swine, very cold, and but half covered with a poor scanty coat of skins, he said: "Behold Adam driven out of Paradise; but let us, leaving the old Adam, clothe ourselves with the new." In visiting his diocese, arriving once at a river, he saw a great quantity of fowl very busy in gorging up the fish; whereupon he said: "These ravenous birds resemble much our infernal enemies, which lie always in wait to catch unwary souls, and suddenly make them their prey." * But he commanded the fowls to leave the waters, and betake themselves to the hills and moors, which they instantly did. In this manner every creature served the saint's purified eyes as a lively glass of truth; and, from all things, he gathered without study or labor, and even with delight, wholesome lessons, to maintain his heart always in pure and heavenly thoughts. In like manner he endeavored that his subjects should exercise their souls constantly in prayer that they might be disposed to afford a clean and agreeable lodging to the heavenly Spouse. It was by keeping his mind ever fixed on God and by the excellent purity of his heart much more than by the natural vivacity of his wit, and by his reading, that he attained to so high a degree of true science, and heavenly eloquence, and acquired that strength with which, as a great captain of the spiritual warfare, he by all means continually waged war against the prince of this world, and wherever he went, dispossessed him of its ancient tyranny. 

            St. Martin was above fourscore years old, when God was pleased to put a happy end to his labors. Long before his departure he had knowledge of his approaching death, which he clearly foretold to his disciples. Being informed that a scandalous difference had arose amongst the clergy at Cande, a parish at the extremity of his diocese, at the confluence of the Loire and the Vienne in Touraine, upon the borders of Poitou and Anjou he went thither to compose the disturbance, attended as usual by a great number of his disciples. Having remained there some time, and settled all things to his satisfaction, he was preparing for his return, when he was seized with his last sickness, and found, on a sudden, his strength fail him. As soon as he was taken ill, he called his religious brethren about him, and told them that the time of his departure was come. At this news they all with tears and with one voice said to him: "Father, why do you forsake us? or to whom do you recommend us? The ravening wolves will fall upon your flock. We know you desire to be with Jesus Christ; but your reward is secure, nor will be a whit diminished by being deferred awhile. Have pity on our necessity, who are left amidst great dangers." The servant of God, moved with their tears, wept also, and prayed thus: "Lord, if I am still necessary to thy people, I refuse no labor. Thy holy will be done. As if he had said, says St. Sulpicius; my soul is unconquered by old age, weakness, or fatigues, and ready to sustain new conflicts, if you call me to them. But if you spare my age, and take me to yourself, be the guardian and protector of those souls for which I fear. By these words he showed that he knew not which was dearest to him, either to remain on earth for Christ, or to leave the earth for Christ; and has taught us in prayer for temporal things to remit ourselves with perfect resignation and indifference to the divine will, begging that God may direct all things in us and through us to his greater glory. The saint had a fever which lasted some days notwithstanding which he spent the night in prayer, lying on ashes and hair cloth. His disciples earnestly entreated him that he would suffer them at least to put a little straw under him. But he replied: "It becomes not a Christian to die otherwise than upon ashes. I shall have sinned if I leave you any other example." He continually held up his eyes and hands to heaven, never interrupting his prayer, so that the priests that stood about him, begged he would turn himself on one side, to afford his body a little rest. He answered: "Allow me, my brethren, to look rather towards heaven than upon the earth, that my soul may be directed to take its flight to the Lord to whom it is going." Afterwards, seeing the devil near him, he said: "What cost thou here, cruel beast? Thou shalt find nothing in me. Abraham's bosom is open to receive me." Saying these words, he expired on the 8th of November, probably in 397. * He died seven months after St. Ambrose, as St. Gregory of Tours assures us. They who were present wondered at the brightness of his face and whole body, which seemed to them as if it were already glorified. * The inhabitants of Poitiers warmly disputed the possession of his body; but the people of Tours carried it off. The whole city came out to meet it: all the country people and many from neighboring cities flocked thither, with about two thousand monks, and a great company of virgins. They all melted into tears, though no one doubted of his glory. He was carried with hymns to the place of his interment, which was in a little grove at some distance from the monastery, where certain monks lived in separate cells. The place was then five hundred and thirty paces from the city, as St. Gregory of Tours informs us, though at present it is part of it, and the walls were carried so far as to encompass it in the beginning of the roads of the Normans. St. Brice, St. Martin's successor, built a chapel over his tomb, and St. Perpetuus, the sixth bishop of Tours, about the year 470, founded upon that spot the great church and monastery, the saint's sumptuous tomb being placed behind the high altar. These monks secularized themselves in the seventh century. Towards the close of the eighth, pope Adrian I. at the request of Charlemagne, placed there regular canons, and Alcuin was shortly after appointed their abbot. These canons were secularized in the reign of Charles the Bald, in 849, and have continued so ever since. The king of France, from the time of Hugh Capet, is the abbot and first canon: besides eleven dignitaries, and fifty-one canons, &c., here are ecclesiastical honorary canons, namely, the patriarch of Jerusalem, the arch. bishops of Mentz, Cologne, Compostella, Sens, and Bourges, the bishops of Liege, Strasbourg, Angers, Auxerre, and Quebec; and the abbots of Marmoutier, and St. Julian's at Tours; and lay honorary canons, the dauphin, the dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, Brittany, Bourbon, Vendome, and Nevers: the counts of Flanders, Dunois, and Angouleme: also the earl of Douglas, in Scotland, before that family had changed its religion. The extraordinary devotion which the French and all Europe have expressed to St. Martin, and to this church for the sake of his precious tomb, would furnish matter for a large history. The Huguenots rifled the shrine and scattered the relics of this saint, but this church recovered a bone of his arm and part of his skull. * Before this dispersion, certain churches had obtained small portions which they still preserve. The priory of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields at Paris is possessed of a part: two of his teeth are shown in St. Martin's at Tournay. The cathedral at Tours was built by St. Martin in honor of St. Maurice: but since the year 1096, bears the title of St. Gatian's. Its chapter is one of the most illustrious in France; the bishop of Tours was suffragan to Rouen till he was made a metropolitan. A vial of sacred oil is kept at St. Martin's; with which Henry IV. was anointed king instead of that from Rheims. St. Sulpicius relates that St. Martin sometimes cured distempers by oil which he had blessed, and that this oil was sometimes miraculously increased. * 

            Many miracles wrought at the shrine of St. Martin, or through his intercession, immediately after his happy death, some of which are recounted by St. Gregory of Tours, Fortunatus, and others, excited exceedingly the devotion of the people. Some have imagined that he was the first saint publicly honored by the church as a confessor; but this is not so much as insinuated by any ancient author: and St. John the Evangelist, St. Thecla, and many others, were not properly martyrs, not to mention St. Petronilla St. Praxedes, and St. Prudentiana. The principal feast of St. Martin is kept on the of November; that of his ordination and the translation of his relics, on the 4th of July; that of bringing them back from Auxerre to Tours, called Relatio, on the 13th of December.

             The virtue of St. Martin, which was the miracle of the world, was founded in the most profound humility, perfect meekness, and self-denial by which he was dead to himself, in his continual meditation on religious truths, in his contempt of the world, to which his heart was crucified and; lastly, in the constant union of his soul to God, by the exercise of holy prayer, and by the entire resignation of himself to the divine will in all things, without reserve. Such a disposition could not but be accompanied with the most ardent fraternal charity, zeal for the divine honor, and all other virtues. Whatever our state and circumstances may be in the world, unless by learning the same virtues, and studying daily to improve them in our hearts, we put on the spirit of Christ, bear his image in our souls, and wear his livery, we cannot hope to be owned by him at the last day, or to find admittance into the company of his elect; but shall be cast forth with the reprobate into outer darkness.

 For the history of St. Martin we are chiefly indebted to his illustrious disciple St. Sulpicius Severus, no, in an elegant and classical style wrote his life some time before his death. The name of Constantius for Constantine, and some other such mistakes, crept into this work through the negligence of copyers, who often use abbreviations, especially in names. To supply omissions in this life, eight years after Martin's death, St. Sulpicius wrote three dialogues; in the first,  Posthumian introduces the discourse by relating certain miracles and edifying instances of virtue, especially of the love of poverty an the blind obedience of several Egyptian monks. In the second and third dialogues, St. Sulpicius on under the name of Gallus, a disciple of St. Martin, recounts several remarkable circumstances of his life. Others he mentions in four of his epistles; and in that to Bassula his wife's mother, then living at Triers, he relates the circumstances that attended the holy bishop's happy death. He speaks of him also In the account he gives of the Priscillianists, with which he closes his sacred history, 1 2, c. 50, 51. Though this author imitates the style of the purest ages, yet he declares that he neglects elegance, and he takes the liberty to use certain terms and phrases familiar in his time, or necessary to express our holy mysteries, which are not of the Augustan standard. These Clerc finds fault with, but even Cicero allows philosophers to invent new terms to express new notions or things. How shocking c de delicacy of Bembo, who conjures the Venetians per Deos. immortales, and Uses the words Deo Lauretanal or that of Justus Lipsius who used fatum or destiny for providence because this is not a Ciceronian word. for which some or his works were condemned, and by him recalled. A certain Paulinus of Perigueux, in 461, and Fortunatus of Poictiers about the year 590 wrote the life of St. Martin, rough heroic verse; wholly copied from St. Sulpicius Severus, so as only to have disfigured the colors by changing the canvass. St. Gregory of Tours speaks of St. Martin in his history, . 1, et 10, and finished his four books of the Virtues and Miracles of St. Martin; some of which miracles were was an eye-witness and the rest he learned from persons of credit Martinis at Tours, afterwards bishop of Horren, who was massacred in his mission, With all his attendants, by the Caraibes or Cannibals the 20th of November, 1729. See also the  critics of Dom. Bad Badier the Maurist monk, Hist. de l' Abbaye de Marmoutier, et de l'Eglise Royale de S.      

 SULPITIUS SEVERUS ON

ON THE LIFE OF ST. MARTIN[2]

PREFACE TO DESIDERIUS

SEVERUS to his dearest brother Desiderius sendeth greeting. I had determined, my like-minded brother, to keep private, and confine within the walls of my own house, the little treatise which I had written concerning the life of St. Martin. I did so, as I am not gifted with much talent, and shrank from the criticisms of the world, lest (as I think will be the case) my somewhat unpolished style should displease my readers, and I should be deemed highly worthy of general reprehension for having too boldly laid hold of a subject which ought to have been reserved for truly eloquent writers. But I have not been able to refuse your request again and again presented. For what could there be which I would not grant in deference to your love, even at the expense of my own modesty? However, I have submitted the work to you on the sure understanding that you will reveal it to no other, having received your promise to that effect. Nevertheless, I have my fears that you will become the means of its publication to the world; and I well know that, once issued, it can never be recalled. If this shall happen, and you come to know that it is read by some others, you will, I trust, kindly ask the readers to attend to the facts related, rather than the language in which they are set forth. You will beg them not to be offended if the style chances unpleasantly to affect their ears, because the kingdom of God consists not of eloquence, but faith. Let them also bear in mind that salvation was preached to the world, not by orators, but by fishermen, although God could certainly have adopted the other course, had it been advantageous. For my part, indeed, when I first applied my mind to writing what follows, because I thought it disgraceful that the excellences of so great a man should remain concealed, I resolved with myself not to feel ashamed on account of solecisms of language. This I did because I had never attained to any great knowledge of such things; or, if I had formerly some taste of studies of the kind, I had lost the whole of that, through having neglected these matters for so long a course of time. But, after all, that I may not have in future to adopt such an irksome mode of self-defense, the best way will be that the book should be published, if you think right, with the author’s name suppressed. In order that this may be done, kindly erase the title which the book bears on its front, so that the page may be silent; and (what is quite enough) let the book proclaim

its subject-matter, while it tells nothing of the author.

 CHAPTER 1

REASONS FOR WRITING THE LIFE OF ST. MARTIN

Most men being vainly devoted to the pursuit of worldly glory, have, as they imagined, acquired a memorial of their own names from this source; viz. devoting their pens to the embellishment of the lives of famous men. This course, although it did not secure for them a lasting reputation, still has undoubtedly brought them some fulfilment of the hope they cherished. It has done so, both by preserving their own memory, though to no purpose, and because, through their having presented to the world the examples of great men, no small emulation has been excited in the bosoms of their readers. Yet, notwithstanding these things, their labors have in no degree borne upon the blessed and never-ending life to which we look forward. For what has a glory, destined to perish with the world, profited those men themselves who have written on mere secular matters? Or what benefit has posterity derived from reading of Hector as a warrior, or Socrates as an expounder of philosophy? There can be no profit in such things, since it is not only folly to imitate the persons referred to, but absolute madness not to assail them with the utmost severity. For, in truth, those persons who estimate human life only by present actions, have consigned their hopes to fables, and their souls to the tomb. In fact, they gave themselves up to be perpetuated simply in the memory of mortals, whereas it is the duty of man rather to 4seek after eternal life than an eternal memorial and that, not by writing, or fighting, or philosophizing, but by living a pious, holy, and religious life. This erroneous conduct of mankind, being enshrined in literature, has prevailed to such an extent that it has found many who have been emulous either of the vain philosophy or the foolish excellence which has been celebrated. For this reason, I think I will accomplish something well worth the necessary pains, if I write the life of a most holy man, which shall serve in future as an example to others; by which, indeed, the readers shall be roused to the pursuit of true knowledge, and heavenly warfare, and divine virtue. In so doing, we have regard also to our own advantage, so that we may look for, not a vain remembrance among men, but an eternal reward from God. For, although we ourselves have not lived in such a manner that we can serve for an example to others, nevertheless, we have made it our endeavor that he should not remain unknown who was a man worthy of imitation. I shall therefore set about writing the life of St. Martin, and shall narrate both what he did previous to his episcopate, and what he performed as a bishop. At the same time, I cannot hope to set forth all that he was or did. Those excellences of which he alone was conscious are completely unknown, because, as he did not seek for honor from men, he desired, as much as he could accomplish it, that his virtues should be concealed. And even of those which had become known to us, we have omitted a great number, because we have judged it enough if only the more striking and eminent should be recorded. At the same time, I had in the interests of readers to see to it that, no undue amount of instances being set before them should make them weary of the subject. But I implore those who are to read what follows to give full faith to the things narrated, and to believe that I have written nothing of which I had not certain knowledge and evidence. I should, in fact, have preferred to be silent rather than to narrate things which are false.

CHAPTER 2

MILITARY SERVICE OF ST. MARTIN

MARTIN, then, was born at Sabaria in Pannonia, but was brought up at Ticinum, which is situated in Italy. His parents were, according to the judgment of the world, of no mean rank, but were heathens. His father was at first simply a soldier, but afterwards a military tribune. He himself in his youth following military pursuits was enrolled in the imperial guard, first under king Constantine, and then under Julian Caesar. This, however, was not done of his own free will, for, almost from his earliest years, the holy infancy of the illustrious boy aspired rather to the service of God. For, when he was of the age of ten years, he betook himself, against the wish of his parents, to the Church, and begged that he might become a catechumen. Soon afterwards, becoming in a wonderful manner completely devoted to the service of God, when he was twelve years old, he desired to enter on the life of a hermit; and he would have followed up that desire with the necessary vows, had not his as yet too youthful age prevented. His mind, however, being always engaged on matters pertaining to the monasteries or the Church, already meditated in his boyish years what he afterwards, as a professed servant of Christ, fulfilled. But when an edict was issued by the ruling powers in the state, that the sons of veterans should be enrolled for military service, and he, on the information furnished by his father, (who looked with an evil eye on his blessed actions) having been seized and put in chains, when he was fifteen years old, was compelled to take the military oath, then showed himself content with only one servant as his attendant. And even to him, changing places as it were, he often acted as though, while really master, he had been inferior; to such a degree that, for the most part, he drew off his [servant’s] boots and cleaned them with his own hand; while they took their meals together, the real master, however, generally acting the part of servant. During nearly three years before his baptism, he was engaged in the profession of arms, but he kept completely free from those vices in which that class of men become too frequently involved. He showed exceeding kindness towards his fellow-soldiers, and held them in wonderful affection; while his patience and humility surpassed what seemed possible to human nature. There is no need to praise the self-denial which he displayed: it was so great that, even at that date, he was regarded not so much as being a soldier as a monk. By all these qualities he had so endeared himself to the whole body of his comrades, that they esteemed him while they marvelously loved him. Although not yet made a new creature in Christ, he, by his good works, acted the part of a candidate for baptism. This he did, for instance, by aiding those who were in trouble, by furnishing assistance to the wretched, by supporting the needy, by clothing the naked, while he reserved nothing for himself from his military pay except what was necessary for his daily sustenance. Even then, far from being a senseless hearer of the Gospel, he so far complied with its precepts as to take no thought about the morrow.

CHAPTER 3

CHRIST APPEARS TO ST. MARTIN

ACCORDINGLY, at a certain period, when he had nothing except his arms and his simple military dress, in the middle of winter, a winter which had shown itself more severe than ordinary, so that the extreme cold was proving fatal to many, he happened to meet at the gate of the city of Amiens a poor man destitute of clothing. He was entreating those that passed by to have compassion upon him, but all passed the wretched man without notice, when Martin, that man full of God, recognized that a being to whom others showed no pity, was, in that respect, left to him. Yet, what should he do? He had nothing except the cloak in which he was clad, for he had already parted with the rest of his garments for similar purposes. Taking, therefore, his sword with which he was girt, he divided his cloak into two equal parts, and gave one part to the poor man, while he again clothed himself with the remainder. Upon this, some of the bystanders laughed, because he was now an unsightly object, and stood out as but partly dressed. Many, however, who were of sounder understanding, groaned deeply because they themselves had done nothing similar. They especially felt this, because, being possessed of more than Martin, they could have clothed the poor man without reducing themselves to nakedness. In the following night, when Martin had resigned himself to sleep, he had a vision of Christ arrayed in that part of his cloak with which he had clothed the poor man. He contemplated the Lord with the greatest attention, and was told to own as his the robe which he had given. Ere long, he heard Jesus saying with a clear voice to the multitude of

angels standing round — “Martin, who is still but a catechumen, clothed me with this robe.” The Lord, truly mindful of his own words (who had said when on earth — “Inasmuch as ye have done these things to one of the least of these, ye have done them unto me), declared that he himself had been clothed in that poor man; and to confirm the testimony he bore to so good a deed, he condescended to show him himself in that very dress which the poor man had received. After this vision the sainted man was not puffed up with human glory, but, acknowledging the goodness of God in what had been done, and being now of the age of twenty years, he hastened to receive baptism. He did not, however, all at once, retire from military service, yielding to the entreaties of his tribune, whom he admitted to be his familiar tent-companion. For the tribune promised that, after the period of his office had expired, he too would retire from the world. Martin, kept back by the expectation of this event, continued, although but in name, to act the part of a soldier, for nearly two years after he had received baptism.

CHAPTER 4

MARTIN RETIRES FROM MILITARY SERVICE

IN the meantime, as the barbarians were rushing within the two divisions of Gaul, Julian Caesar, bringing an army together at the city of the Vaugiones, began to distribute a donative to the soldiers. As was the custom in such a case, they were called forward, one by one, until it came to the turn of Martin. Then, indeed, judging it a suitable opportunity for seeking his discharge — for he did not think it would be proper for him, if he were not to continue in the service, to receive a donative — he said to Caesar, “Hitherto I have served you as a soldier: allow me now to become a soldier to God: let the man who is to serve thee receive thy donative: I am the soldier of Christ it is not lawful for me to fight.” Then truly the tyrant stormed on hearing such words, declaring that, from fear of the battle, which was to take place on the morrow, and not from any religious feeling, Martin withdrew from the service. But Martin, full of courage, yea all the more resolute from the danger that had been set before him, exclaims, “If this conduct of mine is ascribed to cowardice, and not to faith, I will take my stand unarmed before the line of battle tomorrow, and in the name of the Lord Jesus, protected by the sign of the cross, and not by shield or helmet, I will safely penetrate the ranks of the enemy.” He is ordered, therefore, to be thrust back into prison, determined on proving his words true by exposing himself unarmed to the barbarians. But, on the following day, the enemy sent ambassadors to treat about peace and surrendered both themselves and all their possessions. In these circumstances who can doubt that this victory was due to the saintly man? It was granted him that he should not be sent unarmed to the fight. And although the good Lord could have preserved his own soldier, even amid the swords and darts of the enemy, yet that his blessed eyes might not be pained by witnessing the death of others, he removed all necessity for fighting. For Christ did not require to secure any other victory in behalf of his own soldier, than that, the enemy being subdued without bloodshed, no one should suffer death.

CHAPTER 5

MARTIN CONVERTS A ROBBER TO THE FAITH

FROM that time quitting military service, Martin earnestly sought after the society of Hilarius, bishop of the city Pictava, whose faith in the things of God was then regarded as of high renown, and in universal esteem. For some time Martin made his abode with him. Now, this same Hilarius, having instituted him in the office of the diaconate, endeavored

still more closely to attach him to himself, and to bind him by leading him to take part in Divine service. But when he constantly refused, crying out that he was unworthy, Hilarius, as being a man of deep penetration, perceived that he could only be constrained in this way, if he should lay that sort of office upon him, in discharging which there should seem to be a kind of injury done him. He therefore appointed him to be an exorcist. Martin did not refuse this appointment, from the fear that he might seem to have looked down upon it as somewhat humble. Not long after this, he was warned in a dream that he should visit his native land, and more particularly his parents, who were still involved in heathenism, with a regard for their religious interests. He set forth in accordance with the expressed wish of the holy Hilarius, and, after being adjured by him with many prayers and tears, that he would in due time return. According to report Martin entered on that journey in a melancholy frame of mind, after calling the brethren to witness that many sufferings lay before him. The result fully justified this prediction. For, first of all, having followed some devious paths among the Alps, he fell into the hands of robbers. And when one of them lifted up his axe and poised it above Martin’s head, another of them met with his right hand the blow as it fell; nevertheless, having had his hands bound behind his back, he was handed over to one of them to be guarded and stripped. The robber, having led him to a private place apart from the rest, began to enquire of him who he was. Upon this, Martin replied that he was a Christian. The robber next asked him whether he was afraid. Then indeed Martin most courageously replied that he never before had felt so safe, because he knew that the mercy of the Lord would

be especially present with him in the midst of trials. He added that he grieved rather for the man in whose hands he was, because, by living a life of robbery, he was showing himself unworthy of the mercy of Christ. And then entering on a discourse concerning Evangelical truth, he preached the word of God to the robber. Why should I delay stating the result? The robber believed; and, after expressing his respect for Martin, he restored him to the way, entreating him to pray the Lord for him. That same robber was afterwards seen leading a religious life; so that, in fact, the narrative I have given above is based upon an account furnished by himself.

CHAPTER 6

THE DEVIL THROWS HIMSELF IN THE WAY OF MARTIN

Martin, then, having gone on from thence, after he had passed Milan, the devil met him in the way, having assumed the form of a man. The devil first asked him to what place he was going. Martin having answered him to the effect that he was minded to go whithersoever the Lord called him, the devil said to him, “Wherever you go, or whatever you attempt, the devil will resist you.” Then Martin, replying to him in the prophetical word, said, “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear what man can do unto me.” Upon this, his enemy immediately vanished out of his sight; and thus, as he had intended in his heart and mind, he set free his mother from the errors of heathenism, though his father continued to cleave to its evils. However, he saved many by his example. After this, when the Arian heresy had spread through the whole world, and was especially powerful in Illyria, and when he, almost single-handed, was fighting most strenuously against the treachery of the priests, and had been subjected to many punishments (for he was publicly scourged, and at last was compelled to leave the city), again betaking himself to Italy, and

having found the Church in the two divisions of Gaul in a distracted condition through the departure also of the holy Hilarius, whom the violence of the heretics had driven into exile, he established a monastery for himself at Milan. There, too, Auxentius, the originator and leader of the Arians, bitterly persecuted him; and, after he had assailed him with many injuries, violently expelled him from the city. Thinking, therefore, that it was necessary to yield to circumstances, he withdrew to the island Gallinaria, with a certain presbyter as his companion, a man of distinguished excellences. Here he subsisted for some time on the roots of plants; and, while doing so, he took for food hellebore, which is, as people say, a poisonous kind of grass. But when he perceived the strength of thepoison increasing within him, and death now nearly at hand, he warded off the imminent danger by means of prayer, and immediately all his pains were put to flight. And not long after having discovered that, through penitence on the part of the king, permission to return had been granted to holy Hilarius, he made an effort to meet him at Rome, and, with this view, set out for that city.

CHAPTER 7

MARTIN RESTORES A CATECHUMEN TO LIFE

AS Hilarius had already gone away, so Martin followed in his footsteps; and having been most joyously welcomed by him, he established for himself a monastery not far from the town. At this time a certain catechumen joined him, being desirous of becoming instructed in the doctrines: and habits of the most holy man. But, after the lapse only of a

few days, the catechumen, seized with a languor, began to suffer from a violent fever. It so happened that Martin had then left home, and having remained away three days, he found on his return that life had departed from the catechumen; and so suddenly had death occurred, that he had left this world without receiving baptism. The body being laid out in public was being honored by the last sad offices on the part of the mourning brethren, when Martin hurries up to them with tears and lamentations. But then laying hold; as it were, of the Holy Spirit, with the whole powers of his mind, he orders the others to quit the cell in which the body was lying; and bolting the door, he stretches himself at full length on the dead limbs of the departed brother. Having given himself for some time to earnest prayer, and perceiving by means of the Spirit of God that power was present, he then rose up for a little, and gazing on the countenance of the deceased, he waited without misgiving for the result of his prayer and of the mercy of the Lord. And scarcely had the space of two hours elapsed, when he saw the dead man begin to move a little in all his members, and to tremble with his eyes opened for the practice of sight. Then indeed, turning to the Lord with a loud voice and giving thanks, he filled the cell with his ejaculations. Hearing the noise, those who had been standing at the door immediately rush inside. And truly a marvelous spectacle met them, for they beheld the man alive whom they had formerly left dead. Thus being restored to life, and having immediately obtained baptism, he lived for many years afterwards; and he was the first who offered himself to us both as a subject that had experienced the virtues of Martin, and as a witness to their existence. The same man was wont to relate that, when he left the body, he was brought before the tribunal of the Judge, and being assigned to gloomy regions and vulgar crowds, he received a severe sentence. Then, however, he added, it was suggested by two angels of the Judge that he was the man for whom Martin was praying; and that, on this account, he was ordered to be led back by the same angels, and given up to Martin, and restored to his former life. From this time forward, the name of the sainted man became illustrious, so that, as being reckoned holy by all, he was also deemed powerful and truly apostolical.

CHAPTER 8

MARTIN RESTORES ONE THAT HAD BEEN STRANGLED

NOT long after these events, while Martin was passing by the estate of a certain man named Lupicinus, who was held in high esteem according to the judgment of the world, he was received with shouting and the lamentations of a wailing crowd. Having, in an anxious state of mind gone up to that multitude, and enquired what such weeping meant, he was told that one of the slaves of the family had put an end to his life by hanging. Hearing this, Martin entered the cell in which the body was lying, and, excluding all the multitude, he stretched himself upon the body, and spent some little time in prayer. Ere long, the deceased, with life beaming in his countenance, and with his drooping eyes fixed on Martin’s face, is aroused; and with a gentle effort attempting to rise, he laid hold of the fight hand of the saintly man, and by this means stood upon his feet. In this manner, while the whole multitude looked on, he walked along with Martin to the porch of the house.

CHAPTER 9

HIGH ESTEEM IN WHICH MARTIN WAS HELD

NEARLY about the same time, Martin was called upon to undertake the episcopate of the church at Tours; but when he could not easily be drawn forth from his monastery, a certain Ruricius, one of the citizens, pretending that his wife was ill, and casting himself down at his knees, prevailed on him to go forth. Multitudes of the citizens having previously been posted by the road on which he traveled, he is thus under a kind of guard escorted to the city. An incredible number of people not only from that town, but also from the neighboring cities, had, in a wonderful manner, assembled to give their votes. There was but one wish among all, there were the same prayers, and there was the same fixed opinion to the effect that Martin was most worthy of the episcopate, and that the church would be happy with such a priest. A few persons, however, and among these some of the bishops, who had been summoned to appoint a chief priest, were impiously offering resistance, asserting forsooth that Martin’s person was contemptible, that he was unworthy of the episcopate, that he was a man despicable in countenance, that his clothing was mean, and his hair disgusting. This madness of theirs was ridiculed by the people of Sounder judgment, inasmuch as such objectors only proclaimed the illustrious character of the man, while they sought to slander him. Nor truly was it allowed them to do anything else, than what the people, following the Divine will, desired to be accomplished. Among the bishops, however, who had been present, a certain one of the name Defensor is said to have specially offered opposition; and on this account it was observed that he was at the time severely censured in the reading from the prophets. For when it so happened that the reader, whose duty it was to read in public that day, being blocked out by the people, failed to appear, the officials falling into confusion, while they waited for him who never came, one of those standing by, laying hold of the Psalter, seized upon the first verse which presented itself to him. Now, the Psalm ran thus: “Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise because of thine enemies, that thou mightest destroy the enemy and the avenger.” On these words being read, a shout was raised by the people, and the opposite party were confounded. It was believed that this Psalm had been chosen by Divine ordination, that Defensor might hear a testimony to his own work, because the praise of the Lord was perfected out of the mouth of babes and sucklings in the case of Martin, while the enemy was at the same time both pointed out and destroyed.

CHAPTER 10

MARTIN AS BISHOP OF TOURS

AND now having entered on the episcopal office, it is beyond my power fully to set forth how Martin distinguished himself in the discharge of its duties. For he remained with the utmost constancy, the same as he had been before. There was the same humility in his heart, and the same homeliness in his garments. Full alike of dignity and courtesy, he kept up the position of a bishop properly, yet in such a way as not to lay aside the objects and virtues of a monk. Accordingly he made use, for some time, of the cell connected with the church but afterwards, when he felt it impossible to tolerate the disturbance caused by the numbers of those visiting it, he established a monastery for himself about two miles outside the city. This spot was so secret and retired that he enjoyed in it the solitude of a hermit. For, on one side, it was surrounded by a precipitous rock of a lofty mountain, while the river Loire had shut in the rest of the plain by a bay extending back for a little distance; and the place could be approached only by one, and that a very narrow passage. Here, then, he possessed a cell constructed of wood. Many also of the brethren had, in the same manner, fashioned retreats for themselves, but most of them had

formed these out of the rock of the overhanging mountain, hollowed into caves. There were altogether eighty disciples, who were being disciplined after the example of the saintly master. No one there had anything which was called his own; all things were possessed in common. It was not allowed either to buy or to sell anything, as is the custom among most monks. No art was practiced there, except that of transcribers, and even this was assigned to the brethren of younger years, while the elders spent their time in prayer. Rarely did any one of them go beyond the cell, unless when they assembled at the place of prayer. They all took their food together, after the hour of fasting was past. No one used wine, except when illness compelled them to do so. Most of them were clothed in garments of camels’ hair. Any dress approaching to softness was there deemed criminal, and this must be thought the more remarkable, because many among them were such as are deemed of noble rank. These, though far differently brought up, had forced themselves down to this degree of humility and patient endurance, and we have seen numbers of these afterwards made bishops. For what city or church would there be that would not desire to have its priests from among those in the monastery of Martin?

CHAPTER 11

MARTIN DEMOLISHES AN ALTAR CONSECRATED TO A ROBBER

BUT let me proceed to a description of other excellences which Martin displayed as a bishop. There was, not far from the town, a place very close to the monastery, which a false human opinion had consecrated, on the supposition that some martyrs had been buried together there. For it was also believed that an altar had been placed there by former bishops. But Martin, not inclined to give a hasty belief to things uncertain, often asked from those who were his elders, whether among the presbyters or clerics, that the name of the martyr, or the time when he suffered, should be made known to him. He did so, he said, because he had great scruples on these points, inasmuch as no steady tradition respecting them had come down from antiquity. Having, therefore, for a time kept away from the place, by no means wishing to lessen the religious veneration with which it was regarded, because he was as yet uncertain, but, at the same time not

lending his authority to the opinion of the multitude, lest a mere

superstition should obtain a firmer footing, he one day went out to the

place, taking a few brethren with him as companions. There standing

above the very sepulcher, Martin prayed to the Lord that he would reveal,

who the man in question was, and what was his character or desert. Next

turning to the left-hand side, he sees standing very near a shade of a mean

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and cruel appearance. Martin commands him to tell his name and

character. Upon this, he declares his name, and confesses his guilt. He says

that he had been a robber, and that he was beheaded on account of his

crimes; that he had been honored simply by an error of the multitude; that

he had nothing in common with the martyrs, since glory was their portion,

while punishment exacted its penalties from him. Those who stood by

heard, in a wonderful way, the voice of the speaker, but they beheld no

person. Then Martin made known what he had seen, and ordered the altar

which had been there to be removed, and thus he delivered the people from

the error of that superstition.

CHAPTER 12

MARTIN CAUSES THE BEARERS OF A DEAD BODY TO STOP

NOW, it came to pass some time after the above, that while Martin was

going a journey, he met the body of a certain heathen, which was being

carried to the tomb with superstitious funeral rites. Perceiving from a

distance the crowd that was approaching, and being ignorant as to what

was going on, he stood still for a little while. For there was a distance of

nearly half a mile between him and the crowd, so that it was difficult to

discover what the spectacle he beheld really was. Nevertheless, because he

saw it was a rustic gathering, and when the linen clothes spread over the

body were blown about by the action of the wind, he believed that some

profane rites of sacrifice were being performed. This thought occurred to

him, because it was the custom of the Gallic rustics in their wretched folly

to carry about through the fields the images of demons veiled with a white

covering. Lifting up, therefore, the sign of the cross opposite to them, he

commanded the crowd not to move from the place in which they were, and

to set down the burden. Upon this, the miserable creatures might have

been seen at first to become stiff like rocks. Next, as they endeavored,

with every possible effort, to move forward, but were not able to take a

step farther, they began to whiff themselves about in the most ridiculous

fashion, until, not able any longer to sustain the weight, they set down the

dead body. Thunderstruck, and gazing in bewilderment at each other as not

knowing what had happened to them they remained sunk in silent thought.

But when the saintly man discovered that they were simply a band of

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peasants celebrating funeral rites, and not sacrifices to the gods, again

raising his hand, he gave them the power of going away, and of lifting up

the body. Thus he both compelled them to stand when he pleased, and

permitted them to depart when he thought good.

CHAPTER 13

MARTIN ESCAPES FROM A FALLING PINE-TREE

AGAIN, when in a certain village he had demolished a very ancient temple,

and had set about cutting down a pine-tree, which stood close to the

temple, the chief priest of that place, and a crowd of other heathens began

to oppose him. And these people, though, under the influence of the Lord,

they had been quiet while the temple was being overthrown, could not

patiently allow the tree to be cut down. Martin carefully instructed them

that there was nothing sacred in the trunk of a tree, and urged them rather

to honor God whom he himself served. He added that there was a moral

necessity why that tree should be cut down, because it had been dedicated

to a demon. Then one of them who was bolder than the others says, “If

you have any trust in thy God, whom you say you worship, we ourselves

will cut down this tree, and be it your part to receive it when falling; for if,

as you declare, your Lord is with you, you will escape all injury.” Then

Martin, courageously trusting in the Lord, promises that he would do

what had been asked. Upon this, all that crowd of heathen agreed to the

condition named; for they held the loss of their tree a small matter, if only

they got the enemy of their religion buried beneath its fall. Accordingly,

since that pine-tree was hanging over in one direction, so that there was no

doubt to what side it would fall on being cut, Martin, having been bound,

is, in accordance with the decision of these pagans, placed in that spot

where, as no one doubted, the tree was about to fall. They began,

therefore, to cut down their own tree, with great glee and joyfulness, while

there was at some distance a great multitude of wondering spectators. And

now the pine-tree began to totter, and to threaten its own ruin by falling.

The monks at a distance grew pale, and, terrified by the danger ever

coming nearer, had lost all hope and confidence, expecting only the death

of Martin. But he, trusting in the Lord, and waiting courageously, when

now the falling pine had uttered its expiring crash, while it was now falling,

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while it was just rushing upon him, simply holding up his hand against it,

he put in its way the sign of salvation. Then, indeed, after the manner of a

spinning-top (one might have thought it driven back), it swept round to

the opposite side, to such a degree that it almost crushed the rustics, who

had taken their places there in what was deemed a safe spot. Then truly, a

shout being raised to heaven, the heathen were amazed by the miracle,

while the monks wept for joy; and the name of Christ was in common

extolled by all. The well-known result was that on that day salvation came

to that region. For there was hardly one of that immense multitude of

heathens who did not express a desire for the imposition of hands, and

abandoning his impious errors, made a profession of faith in the Lord

Jesus. Certainly, before the times of Martin, very few, nay, almost none,

in those regions had received the name of Christ; but through his virtues

and example that name has prevailed to such an extent, that now there is

no place thereabouts which is not filled either with very crowded churches

or monasteries. For wherever he destroyed heathen temples, there he used

immediately to build either churches or monasteries.

CHAPTER 14

MARTIN DESTROYS HEATHEN FEMALES AND ALTARS

NOR did he show less eminence, much about the same time, in other

transactions of a like kind. For, having in a certain village set fire to a very

ancient and celebrated temple, the circle of flames was carried by the

action of the wind upon a house which was very close to, yea, connected

with, the temple. When Martin perceived this, he climbed by rapid ascent

to the roof of the house, presenting himself in front of the advancing

flames. Then indeed might the fire have been seen thrust back in a

wonderful manner against the force of the wind, so that there appeared a

sort of conflict of the two elements fighting together. Thus, by the

influence of Martin, the fire only acted in the place where it was ordered

to do so. But in a village which was named Leprosum, when he too wished

to overthrow a temple which had acquired great wealth through the

superstitious ideas entertained of its sanctity, a multitude of the heathen

resisted him to such a degree that he was driven back not without bodily

injury. He, therefore, withdrew to a place in the vicinity, and there for

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three days, clothed in sackcloth and ashes fasting and praying the whole

time, he besought the Lord, that, as he had not been able to overthrow that

temple by human effort, Divine power might be exerted to destroy it.

Then two angels, with spears and shields after the manner of heavenly

warriors, suddenly presented themselves to him, saying that they were

sent by the Lord to put to flight the rustic multitude, and to furnish

protection to Martin, lest, while the temple was being destroyed, any one

should offer resistance. They told him therefore to return, and complete

the blessed work which he had begun. Accordingly Martin returned to the

village; and while the crowds of heathen looked on in perfect quiet as he

razed the pagan temple even to the foundations, he also reduced all the

altars and images to dust. At this sight the rustics, when they perceived

that they had been so astounded and terrified by an intervention of the

Divine will, that they might not be found fighting against the bishop,

almost all believed in the Lord Jesus. They then began to cry out openly

and to confess that the God of Martin ought to be worshipped, and that

the idols should be despised, which were not able to help them.

CHAPTER 15

MARTIN OFFERS HIS NECK TO AN ASSASSIN

I SHALL also relate what took place in the village of the Aedui. When

Martin was there overthrowing a temple, a multitude of rustic heathen

rushed upon him in a frenzy of rage. And when one of them, bolder than

the rest, made an attack upon him with a drawn sword, Martin, throwing

back his cloak, offered his bare neck to the assassin. Nor did the heathen

delay to strike, but in the very act of lifting up his right arm, he fell to the

ground on his back, and being overwhelmed by the fear of God, he

entreated for pardon. Not unlike this was that other event which happened

to Martin, that when a certain man had resolved to wound him with a

knife as he was destroying some idols, at the very moment of fetching the

blow, the weapon was struck out of his hands and disappeared. Very

frequently, too, when the pagans were addressing him to the effect that he

would not overthrow their temples, he so soothed and conciliated the

minds of the heathen by his holy discourse that, the light of truth having

been revealed to them, they themselves overthrew their own temples.

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CHAPTER 16

CURES EFFECTED BY ST. MARTIN

MOREOVER, the gift of accomplishing cures was so largely possessed by

Martin, that scarcely any sick person came to him for assistance without

being at once restored to health. This will clearly appear from the

following example. A certain girl at Treves was so completely prostrated

by a terrible paralysis that for a long time she had been quite unable to

make use of her body for any purpose, and being, as it were, already dead,

only the smallest breath of life seemed still to remain in her. Her afflicted

relatives were standing by, expecting nothing but her death, when it was

suddenly announced that Martin had come to that city. When the father of

the girl found that such was the case, he ran to make a request in behalf of

his all but lifeless child. It happened that Martin had already entered the

church. There, while the people were looking on, and in the presence of

many other bishops, the old man, uttering a cry of grief, embraced the

saint’s knees and said: “My daughter is dying of a miserable kind of

infirmity; and, what is more dreadful than death itself, she is now alive

only in the spirit, her flesh being already dead before the time. I beseech

thee to go to her, and give her thy blessing; for:I believe that through you

she will be restored to health.” Martin, troubled by such an address, was

bewildered, and shrank back, saying that this was a matter not in his own

hands; that the old man was mistaken in the judgment he had formed; and

that he was not worthy to be the instrument through whom the Lord

should make a display of his power. The father, in tears, persevered in still

more earnestly pressing the case, and entreated Martin to visit the dying

girl. At last, constrained by the bishops standing by to go as requested, he

went down to the home of the girl. An immense crowd was waiting at the

doors, to see what the servant of the Lord would do. And first, betaking

himself to his familiar arms in affairs of that kind, he cast himself down on

the ground and prayed. Then gazing earnestly upon the ailing girl, he

requests that oil should be given him. After he had received and blessed

this, he poured the powerful sacred liquid into the mouth of the girl, and

immediately her voice returned to her. Then gradually, through contact

with him, her limbs began, one by one, to recover life, till, at last, in the

presence of the people, she arose with firm steps.

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CHAPTER 17

MARTIN CASTS OUT SEVERAL DEVILS

AT the same time the servant of one Tetradius, a man of proconsular rank,

having been laid hold of by a demon, was tormented with the most

miserable results. Martin, therefore, having been asked to lay his hands on

him, ordered the servant to be brought to him; but the evil spirit could, in

no way, be brought forth from the cell in which he was: he showed himself

so fearful, with ferocious teeth, to those who attempted to draw near.

Then Tetradius throws himself at the feet of the saintly man, imploring

that he himself would go down to the house in which the possessed of the

devil was kept. But Martin then declared that he could not visit the house

of an unconverted heathen. For Tetradius, at that time, was still involved

in the errors of heathenism. He, therefore, pledges his word that if the

demon were driven out of the boy, he would become a Christian. Martin,

then, laying his hand upon the boy, cast the evil spirit out of him. On

seeing this, Tetradius believed in the Lord Jesus, and immediately became

a catechumen, while, not long after, he was baptized; and he always

regarded Martin with extraordinary affection, as having been the author of

his salvation.

About the same time, having entered the dwelling of a certain householder

in the same town, he stopped short at the very threshold, and said, that he

perceived a horrible demon in the courtyard of the house. When Martin

ordered it to depart, it laid hold of a certain member of the family, who

was staying in the inner part of the house; and the poor wretch began at

once to rage with his teeth, and to lacerate whomsoever he met. The house

was thrown into disorder; the family was in confusion; and the people

present took to flight. Martin threw himself in the way of the frenzied

creature, and first of all commanded him to stand still. But when he

continued to gnash with his teeth, and, with gaping mouth, was threatening

to bite, Martin inserted his fingers into his mouth, and said, “If you

possess any power, devour these.” But then, as if red-hot iron had entered

his jaws, drawing his teeth far away he took care not to touch the fingers

of the saintly man; and when he was compelled by punishments and

tortures, to flee out of the possessed body, while he had no power of

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escaping by the mouth, he was cast out by means of a defluxion of the

belly, leaving disgusting traces behind him.

CHAPTER 18

MARTIN PERFORMS VARIOUS MIRACLES

IN the meanwhile, as a sudden report had troubled the city as to the

movement and inroad of the barbarians, Martin orders a possessed person

to be set before him, and commanded him to declare whether this message

was true or not. Then he confessed that there were sixteen demons who

had spread this report among the people, in order that by the fear thus

excited, Martin might have to flee from the city, but that, in fact, nothing

was less in the minds of the barbarians than to make any inroad. When the

unclean spirit thus acknowledged these things in the midst of the church,

the city was set free from the fear and tumult which had at the time been

felt.

At Paris, again, when Martin was entering the gate of the city, with large

crowds attending him, he gave a kiss to a leper, of miserable appearance,

while all shuddered at seeing him do so; and Martin blessed him, with the

result that he was instantly cleansed from all his misery. On the following

day, the man appearing in the church with a healthy skin, gave thanks for

the soundness of body which he had recovered. This fact, too, ought not

to be passed over in silence, that threads from Martin’s garment, or such

as had been plucked from the sackcloth which he wore, wrought frequent

miracles upon those who were sick. For, by either being tied round the

fingers or placed about the neck, they very often drove away diseases

from the afflicted.

CHAPTER 19

A LETTER OF MARTIN EFFECTS A CURE,

WITH OTHER MIRACLES

FURTHER, Arborius, an ex-prefect, and a man of a very holy and faithful

character, while his daughter was in agony from the burning fever of a

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quartan ague, inserted in the bosom of the girl, at the very paroxysm of the

heat, a letter of Martin which happened to have been brought to him, and

immediately the fever was dispelled. This event had such an influence

upon Arborius, that he at once consecrated the girl to God, and devoted

her to perpetual virginity. Then, proceeding to Martin, he presented the

girl to him, as an obvious living example of his power of working miracles,

inasmuch as she had been cured by him though absent; and he would not

suffer her to be consecrated by any other than Martin, through his placing

upon her the dress characteristic of virginity.

Paulinus, too, a man who was afterwards to furnish a striking example of

the age, having begun to suffer grievously in one of his eyes, and when a

pretty thick skin having grown over it had already covered up its pupil,

Martin touched his eye with a painter’s brush, and, all pain being

removed, thus restored it to its former soundness. He himself also, when,

by a certain accident, he had fallen out of an upper room, and tumbling

down a broken, uneven stair, had received many wounds, as he lay in his

cell at the point of death, and was tortured with grievous sufferings, saw in

the night an angel appear to him, who washed his wounds, and applied

healing ointment to the bruised members of his body. As the effect of this,

he found himself on the morrow restored to soundness of health, so that

he was not thought to have suffered any harm. But because it would be

tedious to go through everything of this kind, let these examples suffice, as

a few out of a multitude; and let it be enough that we do not in Striking

cases [‘of miraculous interposition] detract from the truth, while, having

so many to choose from, we avoid exciting weariness in the reader.

CHAPTER 20

HOW MARTIN ACTED TOWARDS THE EMPEROR MAXIMUS

AND here to insert some smaller matters among things so great (although

such is the nature of our times in which all things have fallen into decay

and corruption, it is almost a pre-eminent virtue for priestly firmness not

to have yielded to royal flattery), when a number of bishops from various

parts had assembled to the Emperor Maximus, a man of fierce character,

and at that time elated with the victory he had won in the civil wars, and

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when the disgraceful flattery of all around the emperor was generally

remarked, while the priestly dignity had, with degenerate submissiveness,

taken a second place to the royal retinue, in Martin alone, apostolic

authority continued to assert itself. For even if he had to make suit to the

sovereign for some things, he commanded rather than entreated him; and

although often invited, he kept away from his entertainments, saying that

he could not take a place at the table of one who, out of two emperors, had

deprived one of his kingdom, and the other of his life. At last, when

Maximus maintained that he had not of his own accord assumed the

sovereignty, but that he had simply defended by arms the necessary

requirements of the empire, regard to which had been imposed upon him

by the soldiers, according to the Divine appointment, and that the favor of

God did not seem wanting to him who, by an event seemingly so

incredible, had secured the victory, adding to that the statement that none

of his adversaries had been slain except in the open field of battle, at

length, Martin, overcome either by his reasoning or his entreaties, came to

the royal banquet. The king was wonderfully pleased because he had

gained this point. Moreover, there were guests present who had been

invited as if to a festival; men of the highest and most illustrious rank, —

the prefect, who was also consul, named Evodius, one of the most

righteous men that ever lived; two courtiers possessed of the greatest

power, the brother and uncle of the king, while between these two, the

presbyter of Martin had taken his place; but he himself occupied a seat

which was set quite close to the king. About the middle of the banquet,

according to custom, one of the servants presented a goblet to the king. He

orders it rather to be given to the very holy bishop, expecting and hoping

that he should then receive the cup from his right hand. But Martin, when

he had drunk, handed the goblet to his own presbyter, as thinking no one

worthier to drink next to himself, and holding that it would, not be right

for him to prefer either the king himself, or those who were next the king,

to the presbyter. And the emperor, as well as all those who were then

present, admired this conduct so much, that this very thing, by which they

had been undervalued, gave them pleasure. The report then ran through the

whole palace that Martin had done, at the king’s dinner, what no bishop

had dared to do at the banquets of the lowest judges. And Martin

predicted to the same Maximus long before, that if he went into Italy to

which he then desired to go, waging war, against the Emperor

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Valentinianus, it would come to pass that he should know he would indeed

be victorious in the First attack, but would perish a short time afterwards.

And we have seen that this did in fact take place. For, on his first arrival

Valentinianus had to betake himself to flight but recovering his strength

about a year after. wards, Maximus was taken and slain by him within the

walls of Aquileia.

CHAPTER 21

MARTIN HAS TO DO BOTH WITH ANGELS AND DEVILS

IT is also well known that angels were very often’ seen by him, so that

they spoke in turns with him in set speech. As to the devil, Martin held

him so visible and ever under the power of his eyes, that whether he kept

himself in his proper form, or changed himself into different shapes of

spiritual wickedness, he was perceived by Martin, under whatever guise

he appeared. The devil knew well that he could not escape discovery, and

therefore frequently heaped in suits upon Martin, being unable to beguile

him by trickery. On one occasion the devil, holding in his hand the bloody

horn of an ox rushed into Martin’s cell with great noise, and holding out to

him his bloody right hand, while at the same time he exulted in the crime

he had committed, said: “Where, O Martin, is thy power? I have just slain

one of your people.” Then Martin assembled the brethren, and related to

them what the devil had disclosed, while he ordered them carefully to

search the several cells in order to discover who had been visited with this

calamity. They report that no one of the monks was missing, but that one

peasant, hired by them, had gone to the forest to bring home wood in his

wagon. Upon hearing this, Martin instructs some of them to go and meet

him. On their doing so, the man was found almost dead at no great distance

from the monastery. Nevertheless, although just drawing his last breath, he

made known to the brethren the cause of his wound and death. He said

that, while he was drawing tighter the thongs which had got loose on the

oxen yoked together, one of the oxen, throwing his head free, had wounded

him with his horn in the groin. And not long after the man expired. You see

with what judgment of the Lord this power was given to the devil. This

was a marvelous feature in Martin that not only on this occasion to which

I have specially referred, but on many occasions of the same kind, in fact

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as often as such things occurred, he perceived them long beforehand, and

disclosed the things which had been revealed to him to the brethren.

CHAPTER 22

MARTIN PREACHES REPENTANCE EVEN TO THE DEVIL

NOW, the devil, while he tried to impose upon the holy man by a thousand

injurious arts, often thrust himself upon him in a visible form, but in very

various shapes. For sometimes he presented himself to his view changed

into the person of Jupiter, often into that of Mercury and Minerva. Often,

too, were heard words of reproach, in which the crowd of demons assailed

Martin with scurrilous expressions. But knowing that all were false and

groundless, he was not affected by the charges brought against him.

Moreover, some of the brethren bore witness that they had heard a demon

reproaching Martin in abusive terms, and asking why he had taken back,

on their subsequent repentance, certain of the brethren who had, some

time previously, lost their baptism by falling into various errors. The

demon set forth the crimes of each of them; but they added that Martin,

resisting the devil firmly, answered him, that by-past sins are cleansed

away by the leading of a better life, and that through the mercy of God,

those are to be absolved from their sins who have given up their evil ways.

The devil saying in opposition to this that such guilty men as those

referred to did not come within the pale of pardon, and that no mercy was

extended by the Lord to those who had once fallen away, Martin is said to

have cried out in words to the following effect: “If thou, thyself, wretched

being, wouldst but desist from attacking mankind, and even, at this period,

when the day of judgment is at hand, wouldst only repent of your deeds,

I, with a true confidence in the Lord, would promise you the mercy of

Christ.” O what a holy boldness with respect to the loving-kindness of the

Lord, in which, although he could not assert authority, he nevertheless

showed the feelings dwelling within him! And since our discourse has here

sprung up concerning the devil and his devices, it does not seem away

from the point, although the matter does not bear immediately upon

Martin, to relate what took place; both because the virtues of Martin do,

to some extent, appear in the transaction, and the incident, which was

worthy of a miracle, will properly be put on record, with the view of

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furnishing a caution, should anything of a similar character subsequently

occur.

CHAPTER 23

A CASE OF DIABOLIC DECEPTION

THERE was a certain man, Clarus by name, a most noble youth, who

afterwards became a presbyter, and who is now, through his happy

departure from this world, numbered among the saints. He, leaving all

others, betook himself to Martin, and in a short time became distinguished

for the most exalted faith, and for all sorts of excellence. Now, it came to

pass that, when he had erected an abode for himself not far from the

monastery of the bishop, and many brethren were staying with him, a

certain youth, Anatolius by name, having, under the profession of a monk,

falsely assumed every appearance of humility and innocence, came to him,

and lived for some time on the common store along with the rest. Then, as

time went on, he began to affirm that angels were in the habit of talking

with him. As no one gave any credit to his words, he urged a number of

the brethren to believe by certain signs. At length he went to such a length

as to declare that angels passed between him and God; and now he wished

that he should be regarded as one of the prophets. Clarus, however, could

by no means be induced to believe. He then began to threaten Clarus with

the anger of God and present afflictions, because he did not believe one of

the saints. At the last, he is related to have burst forth with the following

declaration: “Behold, the Lord will this night give me a white robe out of

heaven, clothed in which, I will dwell in the midst of you; and that will be

to you a sign that I am the Power of God, inasmuch as I have been

presented with the garment of God.” Then truly the expectation of all was

highly raised by this profession. Accordingly, about the middle of the

night, it was seen, by the noise of people moving eagerly about, that the

whole monastery in the place was excited. It might be seen, too, that the

cell in which the young man referred to lived was glittering with numerous

lights; and the whisperings of those moving about in it, as well as a kind of

murmur of many. voices, could be heard. Then, on silence being secured,

the youth coming forth calls one of thelt brethren, Sabatius by name, to

himself, and shows t him the robe in which he had been clothed. He again,

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filled with amazement, gathers the rest together, and Clarus himself also

runs up; and a light being obtained, they all carefully inspect the garment.

Now, it was of the utmost softness, of marvelous brightness, and of

glittering purple, and yet no one could discover what was its nature, or of

what sort of fleece it had been formed. However, when it was more

minutely examined by the eyes or fingers, it seemed nothing else than a

garment. In the meantime, Clarus urges upon the brethren to be earnest in

prayer, that the Lord would show them more clearly what it really was.

Accordingly, the rest of the night was spent in singing hymns and psalms.

But when day broke, Clarus wished to take the young man by the hand,

and bring him to Martin, being well aware that he could not be deceived by

any arts of the devil. Then, indeed, the miserable man began to resist and

refuse, and affirmed that he had been forbidden to show himself to Martin.

And when they compelled him to go against his will, the garment vanished

from among the hands of those who were conducting him. Wherefore, who

can doubt that this, too, was an illustration of the power of Martin, so

that the devil could no longer dissemble or conceal his own deception,

when it was to be submitted to the eyes of Martin?

CHAPTER 24

MARTIN IS TEMPTED BY THE WILES OF THE DEVIL

IT was found, again, that about the same time there was a young man in

Spain, who, having by many signs obtained for himself authority among

the people, was puffed up to such a pitch that he gave himself out as being

Elias. And when multitudes had too readily believed this, he went on to

say that he was actually Christ; and he succeeded so well even in this

delusion that a certain bishop named Rufus worshipped him as being the

Lord. For so doing, we have seen this bishop at a later date deprived of his

office. Many of the brethren have also informed me that at the same time

one arose in the East, who boasted that he was John. We may infer from

this, since false prophets of such a kind have appeared, that the coming of

Antichrist is at hand; for he is already practicing in these persons the

mystery of iniquity. And truly I think this point should not be passed

over, with what arts the devil about this very time tempted Martin. For,

on a certain day, prayer having been previously offered, and the fiend

35

himself being surrounded by a purple light, in order that he might the more

easily deceive people by the brilliance of the splendor assumed, clothed

also in a royal robe, and with a crown of precious stones and gold

encircling his head, his shoes too being inlaid with gold, while he presented

a tranquil countenance, and a generally rejoicing aspect, so that no such

thought as that he was the devil might be entertained — he stood by the

side of Martin as he was praying in his cell. The saint being dazzled by his

first appearance, both preserved a long and deep silence. This was first

broken by the devil, who said: “Acknowledge, Martin, who it is that you

behold. I am Christ; and being just about to descend to earth, I wished first

to manifest myself to thee.” When Martin kept silence on hearing these

words, and gave no answer whatever, the devil dared to repeat his

audacious declaration: “Martin, why do you hesitate to believe, when you

see? I am Christ.” Then Martin, the Spirit revealing the truth to him, that

he might understand it was the devil, and not God, replied as follows:

“The Lord Jesus did not predict that he would come clothed in purple, and

with a glittering crown upon his head. I will not believe that Christ has

come, unless he appears with that appearance and form in which he

suffered, and openly displaying the marks of his wounds upon the cross.”

On hearing these words, the devil vanished like smoke, and filled the cell

with such a disgusting smell, that he left unmistakable evidences of his real

character. This event, as I have just related, took place in the way which I

have stated, and my information regarding it was derived from the lips of

Martin himself; therefore let no one regard it as fabulous?

CHAPTER 25

INTERCOURSE OF SULPITIUS WITH MARTIN

FOR since I, having long heard accounts of his faith, life and virtues, burned

with a desire of knowing him. I undertook what was to me a pleasant

journey for the purpose of seeing him. At the same time, because already

my mind was inflamed with the desire of writing his life, I obtained my

information partly from himself, in so far as I could venture to question

him, and partly from those who had lived with him, or well knew the facts

of the case. And at this time it is scarcely credible with what humility and

with what kindness he received me; while he cordially wished me joy, and

36

rejoiced in the Lord that he had been held in such high estimation by me

that I had undertaken a journey owing to my desire of seeing him.

Unworthy me! (in fact, I hardly dare acknowledge it), that he should have

deigned to admit me to fellowship with him! He went so far as in person

to present me with water to wash my hands, and at eventide he himself

washed my feet; nor had I sufficient courage to resist or oppose his doing

so. In fact, I felt so overcome by the authority he unconsciously exerted,

that I deemed it unlawful to do anything but acquiesce in his arrangements.

His conversation with me was all directed to such points as the following:

that the allurements of this world and secular burdens were to be

abandoned in order that we might be free and unencumbered in following

the Lord Jesus; and he pressed upon me as an admirable example in

present circumstances the conduct of that distinguished man Paulinus, of

whom I have made mention above. Martin declared of him that, by parting

with his great possessions and following Christ, as he did, he showed

himself almost the only one who in these times had fully obeyed the

precepts of the Gospel. He insisted strongly that that was the man who

should be made the object of our imitation, adding that the present age was

fortunate in possessing such a model of faith and virtue. For Paulinus,

being rich and having many possessions, by selling them all and giving

them to the poor according to the expressed will of the Lord, had, he said,

made possible by actual proof what appeared impossible of

accomplishment. What power and dignity there were in Martin’s words

and conversation! How active he was, how practical, and how prompt and

ready in solving questions connected with Scripture! And because I know

that many are incredulous on this point, — for indeed I have met with

persons who did not believe me when I related such things, — I call to

witness Jesus, and our common hope as Christians, that I never heard

from any other lips than those of Martin such exhibitions of knowledge

and genius, or such specimens of good and pure speech. But yet, how

insignificant is all such praise when compared with the virtues which he

possessed! Still, it is remarkable that in a man who had no claim to be

called learned, even this attribute [of high intelligence] was not wanting.

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CHAPTER 26

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE THE EXCELLENCES OF MARTIN

BUT now my book must be brought to an end, and my discourse finished.

This is not because all that was worthy of being said concerning Martin is

now exhausted, but because I, just as sluggish poets grow less careful

towards the end of their work, give over, being baffled by the immensity

of the matter. For, although his outward deeds could in some sort of way

be set forth in words, no language, I truly own, can ever be capable of

describing his inner life and daily conduct, and his mind always bent upon

the things of heaven. No one can adequately make known his perseverance

and self-mastery in abstinence and fastings, or his power in watchings and

prayers, along with the nights, as well as days, which were spent by him,

while not a moment was separated from the service of God, either for

indulging in ease, or engaging in business. But, in fact, he did not indulge

either in food or sleep, except in so far as the necessities of nature

required. I freely confess that, if, as the saying is, Homer himself were to

ascend from the shades below, he could not do justice to this subject in

words; to such an extent did all excellences surpass in Martin the

possibility of being embodied in language. Never did a single hour or

moment pass in which he was not either actually engaged in prayer; or, if

it happened that he was occupied with something else, still he never let his

mind loose from prayer. In truth, just as it is the custom of blacksmiths, in

the midst of their work to beat their own anvil as a sort of relief to the

laborer, so Martin even when he appeared to be doing something else, was

still engaged in prayer. O truly blessed man in whom there was no guile —

judging no man, condemning no man, returning evil for evil to no man! He

displayed indeed such marvelous patience in the endurance of injuries, that

even when he was chief priest, he allowed himself to be wronged by the

lowest clerics with impunity; nor did he either remove them from the

office on account of such conduct, or, as far as in him lay, repel them from

a place in his affection.

38

CHAPTER 27

WONDERFUL PIETY OF MARTIN

NO one ever saw him enraged, or excited, or lamenting, or laughing; he was

always one and the same: displaying a kind of heavenly happiness in his

countenance, he seemed to have passed the ordinary limits of human

nature. Never was there any word on his lips but Christ, and never was

there a feeling in his heart except piety, peace, and tender mercy.

Frequently, too, he used to weep for the sins of those who showed

themselves his revilers — those who, as he led his retired and tranquil life,

slandered him with poisoned tongue and a viper’s mouth. And truly we

have had experience of some who were envious of his virtues and his life

— who really hated in him what they did not see in themselves, and what

they had not power to imitate. And — O wickedness worthy of deepest

grief and groans! — some of his calumniators, although very few, some of

his malingers, I say, were reported to be no others than bishops! Here,

however, it is not necessary to name any one, although a good many of

these people are still venting their spleen against myself. I shall deem it

sufficient that, if any one of them reads this account, and perceives that he

is himself pointed at, he may have the grace to blush. But if, on the other

hand, he shows anger, he will, by that very fact, own that he is among

those spoken of, though all the time perhaps I have been thinking of some

other person. I shall, however, by no means feel ashamed if any people of

that sort include myself in their hatred along with such a man as Martin. I

am quite persuaded of this, that the present little work will give pleasure

to all truly good men. And I shall only say further that, if any one read

this narrative in an unbelieving spirit, he himself will fall into sin. I am

conscious to myself that I have been induced by belief in the facts, and by

the love of Christ, to write these things; and that, in doing so, I have set

forth what is well known, and recorded what is true; and, as I trust, that

man will have a reward prepared by God, not who shall read these things,

but who shall believe them.

39

THE LETTERS OF

SULPITIUS SEVERUS

LETTER 1

TO EUSEBIUS

AGAINST SOME ENVIOUS ASSAILANTS OF MARTIN

YESTERDAY a number of monks having come to me, it happened that amid

endless fables, and much tiresome discourse, mention was made of the

little work which I published concerning the life of that saintly man

Martin, and I was most happy to hear that it was being eagerly and

carefully read by multitudes. In the meantime, however, I was told that a

certain person, under the influence of an evil spirit, had asked why Martin,

who was said to have raised the dead and to have rescued houses from the

flames, had himself recently become subject to the power of fire, and thus

been exposed to suffering of a dangerous character. Wretched man,

whoever he is, that expressed himself thus! We recognize his perfidious

talk in the words of the Jews of old, who reviled the Lord, when hanging

upon the cross, in the following terms: “He saved others; himself he

cannot save.” Truly it is clear that, whoever be the person referred to, if he

had lived in those times, he would have been quite prepared to speak

against the Lord in these terms, inasmuch as he blasphemes a saint of the

Lord, after a like fashion. How then, I ask thee, whosoever thou art, how

does the case stand? Was Martin really not possessed of power, and not a

partaker of holiness, because he became exposed to danger from fire? O

thou blessed man, and in all things like to the Apostles, even in the

reproaches which are thus heaped upon thee! Assuredly those Gentiles are

reported to have entertained the same sort of thought respecting Paul also,

when the viper had bitten him, for they said, “This man must be a

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murderer, whom, although saved from the sea, the fates do not permit to

live.” But he, shaking off the viper into the fire, suffered no harm. They,

however, imagined that he would suddenly fall down, and speedily die; but

when they saw that no harm befell him, changing their minds, they said

that he was a God. But, O thou most miserable of men, you ought, even

from that example to have yourself been convinced of your falsity; so that,

if it had proved a stumbling-block to thee that Martin appeared touched

by the flame of fire, you should, on the other hand, have ascribed his being

merely touched to his merits and power, because, though surrounded by

flames, he did not perish. For acknowledge, thou miserable man,

acknowledge what you seem ignorant of, that almost all the saints have

been more remarkable for the dangers they encountered, than even for the

virtues they displayed. I see, indeed, Peter strong in faith, walking over the

waves of the sea, in opposition to the nature of things, and that he pressed

the unstable waters with his footprints. But not on that account does the

preacher of the Gentiles seem to me a smaller man, whom the waves

swallowed up; and, after three days and three nights, the water restored

him emerging from the deep. Nay, I am almost inclined to think that it was

a greater thing to have lived in the deep, than to have walked along the

depths of the sea. But, thou foolish man, you had not, as I suppose, read

these things; or, having read them, had not understood them. For the

blessed Evangelist would not have recorded in holy writ an incident of that

kind — under divine guidance — (except that, from such cases, the human

mind might be instructed as to the dangers connected with shipwrecks and

serpents!) and, as the Apostle relates, who gloried in his nakedness, and

hunger, and perils from robbers, all these things are indeed to be endured in

common by holy men, but that it has always been the chief excellence of

the righteous in enduring and conquering such things, while amid all their

trials, being patient and ever unconquerable, they overcame them all the

more courageously, the heavier was the burden which they had to bear.

Hence this event which is ascribed to the infirmity of Martin is, in reality,

full of dignity and glory, since indeed, being tried by a most dangerous

calamity, he came forth a conqueror. But let no one wonder that the

incident referred to was omitted by me in that treatise which I wrote

concerning his life, since in that very work I openly acknowledged that I

had not embraced all his acts; and that for the good reason that, if I had

been minded to narrate them all, I must have presented an enormous

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volume to my readers. And indeed, his achievements were not of so

limited a number that they could all be comprehended in a book.

Nevertheless, I shall not leave this incident, about which a question has

arisen, to remain in obscurity, but shall relate the whole affair as it

occurred, lest I should appear perchance to have intentionally passed over

that which might be put forward in calumniation of the saintly man.

Martin having, about the middle of winter, come to a certain parish,

according to the usual custom for the bishops to visit the churches in the

diocese, the clerics had prepared an abode for him in the private part of the

church, and had kindled a large fire beneath the floor which was decayed

and very thin. They also erected for him a couch consisting of a large

amount of straw. Then, when Martin betook himself to rest, he was

annoyed with the softness of the too luxurious bed, inasmuch as he had

been accustomed to lie on the bare ground with only a piece of sackcloth

stretched over him. Accordingly, influenced by the injury which had, as it

were, been done him, he threw aside the whole of the straw. Now, it so

happened that part of the straw which he had thus removed fell upon the

stove. He himself, in the meantime, rested, as was his wont, upon the bare

ground, tired out by his long journey. About midnight, the fire bursting up

through the stove which, as I have said, was far from sound, laid hold of

the dry straw. Martin, being wakened out of sleep by this unexpected

occurrence, and being prevented by the pressing danger, but chiefly, as he

afterwards related, by the snares and urgency of the devil, was longer than

he ought to have been in having recourse to the aid of prayer. For, desiring

to get outside, he struggled long and laboriously with the bolt by which he

had secured the door. Ere long he perceived that he was surrounded by a

fearful conflagration; and the fire had even laid hold of the garment with

which he was clothed. At length recovering his habitual conviction that his

safety lay not in flight, but in the Lord, and seizing the shield of faith and

prayer, committing himself entirely to the Lord, he lay down in the midst

of the flames. Then truly, the fire having been removed by divine

interposition, he continued to pray amid a circle of flames that did him no

harm. But the monks, who were before the door, hearing the sound of the

crackling and struggling fire, broke open the barred door; and, the fire being

extinguished, they brought forth Martin from the midst of the flames, all

the time supposing that he must ere then have been burnt to ashes by a

42

fire of so long continuance. Now, as the Lord is my witness, he himself

related to me, and not without groans, confessed that he was in this matter

beguiled by the arts of the devil; in that, when roused from sleep, he did

not take the wise course of repelling the danger by means of faith. and

prayer. He also added that the flames raged around him all the time that,

with a distempered mind, he strove to throw open the door. But he

declared that as soon as he again sought assistance from the cross, and

tried the Weapons of prayer, the central flames gave way, and that he then

felt them shedding a dewy refreshment over him, after having just

experienced how cruelly they burned him. Considering all which, let every

one who reads this letter understand that Martin was indeed tried by that

danger, but passed through it with true acceptance.

43

LETTER 2

TO THE DEACON AURELIUS

SULPITIUS HAS A VISION OF ST. MARTIN

SULPITIUS SEVERUS to Aurelius the Deacon sendeth greeting, —

After you had departed from me in the morning, I was sitting alone in my

cell; and there occurred to me, as often happens, that hope of the future

which I cherish, along with a weariness of the present world, a terror of

judgment, a fear of punishment, and, as a consequence, indeed as the

source from which the whole train of thought had flowed, a remembrance

of my sins, which had rendered me worn and miserable. Then, after I had

placed on my couch my limbs fatigued with the anguish of my mind, sleep

crept upon me, as frequently happens from melancholy; and such sleep, as

it is always somewhat light and uncertain in the morning hours, so it

pervaded my members only in a hovering and doubtful manner. Thus it

happens, what does not occur in a different kind of slumber, that one can

feel he is dreaming while almost awake. In these circumstances, I seemed

suddenly to see St. Martin appear to me in the character of a bishop,

clothed in a White robe, with a countenance as of fire, with eyes like stars,

and with purple hair. He thus appeared to me with that aspect and form of

body which I had known, so that I find it almost difficult to say what I

mean — he could not be steadfastly beheld, though he could be clearly

recognized. Well, directing a gentle smile towards me, he held out in his

right hand the small treatise which I had written concerning his life. I, for

my part, embraced his sacred knees, and begged for his blessing according

to custom. Upon this, I felt his hand placed on my head with the sweetest

touch, while, amid the solemn words of benediction, he repeated again and

again the name of the cross so familiar to his lips. Ere long, while my eyes

were earnestly fixed upon him, and when I could not satisfy myself with

gazing upon his countenance, he was suddenly taken away from me and

raised on high. At last, having passed through the vast expanse of the air,

while my straining eyes followed him ascending in a rapidly moving cloud,

44

he could no longer be seen by me gazing after him. And not long after, I

saw the holy presbyter Clarus, a disciple of Martin’s who had lately died,

ascend in the same way as I had seen his master. I, impudently desiring to

follow, while I aim at and strive after such lofty steps, suddenly wake up;

and, being roused from sleep, I had begun to rejoice over the vision, when a

boy, a servant in the family, enters to me with a countenance sadder than

is usual with one who gives utterance to his grief in words. “What,” I

enquire of him, “do you wish to tell me with so melancholy an aspect?”

“Two monks,” he replied, “have just been here from Tours, and they have

brought word that Martin is dead.” I confess that I was cut to the heart;

and bursting into tears, I wept most abundantly. Nay, ever now, as I write

these things to you, brother, my tears are flowing, and I find no

consolation for my all but unbearable sorrow. And I should wish you,

when this news reaches you, to be a partaker in my grief, as you were a

sharer with me in his love. Come then, I beg of you, to me without delay,

that we may mourn in common him whom in common we love. And yet I

am well aware that such a man ought not to be mourned over, to whom,

after his victory and triumph over the world, there has now at last been

given the crown of righteousness. Nevertheless, I cannot so command

myself as to keep from grieving. I have, no doubt, sent on before me one

who will plead my cause in heaven, but I have, at the same time, lost my

great source of consolation in this present life; yet if grief would yield to

the influence of reason, I certainly ought to rejoice. For he is now mingling

among the Apostles and Prophets, and (with all respect for the saints on

high be it said) he is second to no one in that assembly of the righteous as I

firmly hope, believe, and trust, being joined especially to those who

washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. He now follows the Lamb as

his guide, free from all spot of defilement. For although the character of

our times could not ensure him the honor of martyrdom, yet he will not

remain destitute of the glory of a martyr, because both by vow and virtues

he was alike able and willing to be a martyr. But if he had been permitted,

in the times of Nero and of Decius, to take part in the struggle which then

went on, I take to witness the God of heaven and earth that he would

freely have submitted to the rack of torture, and readily surrendered

himself to the flames: yea, worthy of being compared to the illustrious

Hebrew youths, amid the circling flames, and though in the very midst of

the furnace, he would have sung a hymn of the Lord. But if perchance it

45

had pleased the persecutor to inflict upon him the punishment which

Isaiah endured, he would never have shown himself inferior to the

prophet, nor would have shrunk from having his members torn in pieces

by saws and swords. And if impious fury had preferred to drive the

blessed man over precipitous rocks or steep mountains, I maintain that,

clinging to the testimony of truth he would willingly have fallen. But if,

after the example of the teacher of the Gentiles, as indeed often happened,

he had been included among other victims who were condemned to die by

the sword, he would have been foremost to urge on the executioner to his

work that he might obtain the crown of blood. And, in truth, far from

shrinking from a confession of the Lord, in the face of all those penalties

and punishments, which frequently prove too much for human infirmity,

he would have stood so immovable as to have smiled with joy and

gladness over the sufferings and torments he endured, whatever might have

been the tortures inflicted upon him. But although he did in fact suffer

none of these things, yet he fully attained to the honor of martyrdom

without shedding his blood. For what agonies of human sufferings did he

not endure in behalf of the hope of eternal life, in hunger, in watchings, in

nakedness, in fastings, in reproachings of the malignant, in persecutions of

the wicked, in care for the weak, in anxiety for those in danger? For who

ever suffered but Martin suffered along with him? Who was made to

stumble and he burnt not? Who perished, and he did not mourn deeply?

Besides those daily struggles which he carried on against the various

conflicts with human and spiritual wickedness, while invariably, as he was

assailed with divers temptations, there prevailed in his case fortitude in

conquering, patience in waiting, and placidity in enduring. O man, truly

indescribable in piety, mercy, love, which daily grows cold even in holy

men through the coldness of the world, but which in his case increased

onwards to the end, and endured from day to day! I, for my part, had the

happiness of enjoying this grace in him even in an eminent degree, for he

loved me in a special manner, though I was far from meriting such

affection. And, on the remembrance, yet again my tears burst forth, while

groans issue from the bottom of my heart. In what man shall I for the

future find such repose for my spirit as I did in him? and in whose love

shall I enjoy like consolation? Wretched being that I am, sunk in affliction,

can I ever, if life be spared me, cease to lament that I have survived

Martin? Shall there in future be to me any pleasure in life, or any day or

46

hour free from tears; or can I ever, my dearest brother, make mention of

him to you without lamentation? And yet, in conversing with you, can I

ever talk of any other subject than him? But why do I stir you up to tears

and lamentations? So I now desire you to be comforted, although I am

unable to console myself. He will not be absent from us; believe me, he

will never, never forsake us, but will be present with us as we discourse

regarding him, and will be near to us as we pray; and the happiness which

he has even to-day deigned to bestow, even that of seeing him in his glory,

he will frequently in future afford; and he will protect us, as he did but a

little while ago, with his unceasing benediction. Then again, according to

the arrangement of the vision, he showed that heaven was open to those

following him, and taught us to what we ought to follow him; he instructed

us to what objects our hope should be directed, and to what attainment

our mind should be turned. Yet, my brother, what is to be done? For, as I

am myself well aware, I shall never be able to climb that difficult ascent,

and penetrate into those blessed regions. To such a degree does a miserable

burden press me down; and while I cannot, through the load of sin which

overwhelms me, secure an ascent to heaven, the cruel pressure rather sinks

me in my misery to u the place of despair? Nevertheless, hope remains,

one last and solitary hope, that, what I cannot obtain of myself, I may, at

any rate, be thought worthy of, through the prayers of Martin in my

behalf. But why, brother, should I longer occupy your time with a letter

which has turned out so garrulous, and thus delay you from coming to me?

At the same time, my page being now filled, can admit no more. This,

however, was my object in prolonging my discourse to a somewhat undue

extent, that, since this letter conveys to you a message of sorrow, it might

also furnish you with consolation, through my sort of friendly

conversation with you.

47

LETTER 3

TO BASSULA, HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW

HOW ST. MARTIN PASSED

FROM THIS LIFE TO LIFE ETERNAL

SULPITIUS SEVERUS to Bassula, his venerable parent, sendeth greeting.

If it were lawful that parents should be summoned to court by their

children, clearly I might drag you with a righteous thong before the tribunal

of the praetor, on a charge of robbery and plunder. For why should I not

complain of the injury which I have suffered at your hands? You have left

me no little bit of writing at home, no book, not even a letter — to such a

degree do you play the thief with all such things and publish them to the

world. If I write anything in familiar style to a friend; if, as I amuse myself

I dictate anything with the wish at the same time that it should be kept

private, all such things seem to reach you almost before they have been

written or spoken. Surely you have my secretaries in your debt, since

through them any trifles I compose are made known to you. And yet I

cannot be moved with anger against them if they really obey you, and have

invaded my rights under the special influence of your generosity to them,

and ever bear in mind that they belong to you rather than to me. Yes, thou

alone art the culprit — thou alone art to blame — inasmuch as you both

lay your snares for me, and cajole them with your trickery, so that

without making any selection, pieces written familiarly, or let out of hand

without care, are sent to thee quite unelaborated and unpolished. For, to

say nothing about other writings, I beg to ask how that letter could reach

you so speedily, which I recently wrote to Aurelius the Deacon. For, as I

was situated at Toulouse, while you were dwelling at Treves, and were so

far distant from your native land, owing to the anxiety felt on account of

your son, what opportunity, I should like to know, did you avail yourself

of, to get hold of that familiar epistle? For I have received your letter in

which you write that I ought in the same epistle in which I made men; lion

of the death of our master, Martin, to have described the manner in which

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that saintly man left this world. As if, indeed, I had either given forth that

epistle with the view of its being read by any other except him to whom it

purported to be sent; or as if I were fated to undertake so great a work as

that all things which should be known respecting Martin are to be made

public through me particularly as the writer. Therefore, if you desire to

learn anything concerning the end of the saintly bishop, you should direct

your enquiries rather to those who were present when his death occurred.

I for my part have resolved to write nothing to you lest you publish me

everywhere. Nevertheless if you pledge your word that you will read to

no one what I send you, I shall satisfy your desire in a few words.

Accordingly I shall communicate to you the following particulars which

are comprised within my own knowledge.

I have to state, then, that Martin was aware of the period of his own death

long before it occurred, and told the brethren that his departure from the

body was at hand. In the meantime, a reason sprang up which led him to

visit the church at Condate. For, as the clerics of that church were at

variance among themselves, Martin, wishing to restore peace, although he

well knew that the end of his own days was at hand, yet he did not shrink

from undertaking the journey, with such an object in view. He did, in fact,

think that this would be an excellent crown to set upon his virtues, if he

should leave behind him peace restored to a church. Thus, then, having set

out with that very numerous and holy crowd of disciples who usually

accompanied him, he perceives in a river a number of water-fowl busy in

capturing fishes, and notices that a voracious appetite was urging them on

to frequent seizures of their prey. “This,” exclaimed he, “is a picture of

how the demons act: they lie in wait for the unwary and capture them

before they know it: they devour their victims when taken, and they can

never be satisfied with what they have devoured.” Then Martin, with a

miraculous power in his words, commands the birds to leave the pool in

which they were swimming, and to betake themselves to dry and desert

regions; using with respect to those birds that very same authority with

which he had been accustomed to put demons to flight. Accordingly,

gathering themselves together, all those birds formed a single body, and

leaving the river, they made for the mountains and woods, to no small

wonder of many who perceived such power in Martin that he could even

rule the birds. Having then delayed some time in that village or church to

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which he had gone, and peace having been restored among the clerics, when

he was now meditating a return to his monastery, he began suddenly to fail

in bodily strength, and, assembling the brethren, he told them that he was

on the point of dissolution. Then indeed, sorrow and grief took possession

of all, and there was but one voice of them lamenting, and saying: “Why,

dear father, will you leave us? Or to whom can you commit us in our

desolation? Fierce wolves will speedily attack thy flock, and who, when

the shepherd has been smitten, will save us n from their bites? We know,

indeed, that you desire to be with Christ; but thy reward above is safe, and

will not be diminished by being delayed; rather have pity upon us, whom

you are leaving desolate.” Then Martin, affected by these lamentations, as

he was always, in truth, full of compassion, is said to have burst into

tears; and, turning to the Lord, he replied to those weeping round him only

in the following words, “O Lord, if I am still necessary to thy people, I do

not shrink from toil: thy will be done.” Thus hovering as he did between

desire and love, he almost doubted which he preferred; for he neither

wished to leave us, nor to be longer separated from Christ. However, he

placed no weight upon his own wishes, nor reserved anything to his own

will, but committed himself wholly to the will and power of the Lord. Do

you not think you hear him speaking in the following few words which I

repeat? “Terrible, indeed, Lord, is the struggle of bodily warfare, and

surely it is now enough that I have continued the fight till now; but, if thou

dost command me still to persevere in the same toil for the defense of thy

flock, I do not refuse, nor do I plead against such an appointment my

declining years. Wholly given to thee, I will fulfill whatever duties thou

dost assign me, and I will serve under thy standard as long as thou shalt

prescribe. Yea, although release is sweet to an old man after lengthened

toil, yet my mind is a conqueror over my years, and I have no desire to

yield to old age. But if now thou art merciful to my many years, good, O

Lord, is thy will to me; and thou thyself wilt guard over those for whose

safety I fear.” O man, whom no language can describe, unconquered by

toil, and unconquerable even by death, who didst show no personal

preference for either alternative, and who didst neither fear to die nor

refuse to live! Accordingly, though he was for some days under the

influence of a strong fever, he nevertheless did not abandon the work of

God. Continuing in supplications and watchings through whole nights, he

compelled his worn-out limbs to do service to his spirit as he lay on his

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glorious couch upon sackcloth and ashes. And when his disciples begged

of him that at least he should allow some common straw to be placed

beneath him, he replied: “It is not fitting that a Christian should die except

among ashes; and I have sinned if I leave you a different example.”

However, with his hands and eyes steadfastly directed towards heaven, he

never released his unconquerable spirit from prayer. And on being asked

by the presbyters who had then gathered round him, to relieve his body a

little by a change of side, he exclaimed: “Allow me, dear brother, to fix my

looks rather on heaven than on earth, so that my spirit which is just about

to depart on its own journey may be directed towards the Lord.” Having

spoken these words, he saw the devil standing close at hand, and

exclaimed: “Why do you stand here, thou bloody monster? Thou shalt

find nothing in me, thou deadly one: Abraham’s bosom is about to receive

me.”

As he uttered these words, his spirit fled; and those who were there

present have testified to us that they saw his face as if it had been the face

of an angel. His limbs too appeared white as snow, so that people

exclaimed, “Who would ever believe that man to be clothed in sackcloth, or

who would imagine that he was enveloped with ashes?” For even then he

presented such an appearance, as if he had been manifested in the glory of

the future resurrection, and with the nature of a body which had been

changed. But it is hardly credible what a multitude of human beings

assembled at the performance of his funeral rites: the whole city poured

forth to meet his body; all the inhabitants of the district and villages, along

with many also from the neighboring cities, attended. O how great was the

grief of all! how deep the lamentations in particular of the sorrowing

monks! They are said to have assembled on that day almost to the number

of two thousand, — a special glory of Martin, — through his example so

numerous plants had sprung up for the service of the Lord. Undoubtedly

the shepherd was then driving his own flocks before him — the pale

crowds of that saintly multitude — bands strayed in cloaks, either old men

whose life-labor was finished, or young soldiers who had just taken the

oath of allegiance to Christ. Then, trio, there was the choir of virgins,

abstaining out of modesty from weeping; and with what holy joy did they

conceal the fact of their affliction! No doubt faith would prevent the

shedding of tears, yet affection forced out groans. For there was as sacred

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an exultation over the glory to which he had attained, as there was a pious

sorrow on account of his death. One would have been inclined to pardon

those who wept, as well as to congratulate those who rejoiced, while each

single person preferred that he himself should grieve, but that another

should rejoice. Thus then this multitude, singing hymns of heaven,

attended the body of the sainted man onwards to the place of sepulcher.

Let there be compared with this spectacle, I will not say the worldly

pomp of a funeral, but even of a triumph; and what can be reckoned

similar to the obsequies of Martin? Let your worldly great men lead before

their chariots captives with their hands bound behind their backs. Those

accompanied the body of Martin who, under his guidance, had overcome

the world. Let madness honor these earthly warriors with the united

praises of nations. Martin is praised with the divine psalms, Martin is

honored in heavenly hymns. Those worldly men, after their triumphs here

are over, shall be thrust into cruel Tartarus, while Martin is joyfully

received into the bosom of Abraham. Martin, poor and insignificant on

earth, has a rich entrance granted him into heaven. From that blessed

region, as I trust, he looks upon me, as my guardian, while I am writing

these things, and upon you while you read them.